Project Icewind will do. Right now the generators on those six starships are producing magnetic fields that are already altering the upper atmospheric wind currents of Earth. Specifically over North America.”
“For what purpose?”
“It will take a few days, but very soon the weather pattern over this continent will change rather abruptly from late summer to midwinter.”
Lydia’s large eyes narrowed. “Just what is this supposed to accomplish, even presuming what you say is possible?” “Oh, it’s possible. You can be assured of that. What will it accomplish? It’s part of a much larger plan. ...”
“What plan?”
“My, but you’re full of questions, Lydia. That’s all I think you need to know at this point.”
“You seem to be overlooking something,” Lydia hissed. “Cold weather is what makes the red dust effective against us. Are you sure this Project Icewind of yours won’t get out of control and cool off areas of the planet that haven’t ever had winter before? If that happens, you’ll be giving the red dust the chance to spread.”
“I’m the scientist,” Diana flared. “You’re delving into things you know nothing about. Leave advanced concepts to me. As a matter of fact, Icewind is merely the first stage in a strategy that will bring more of the planet under my control, not less. Computer modeling gives us every reason to believe that after we freeze the humans with early winter and make them use up more of their precious oil and gas reserves just to avoid mass death and starvation, we’ll be able to heat up the planet’s overall climate. In case you haven’t grasped the significance of that, it will render the red dust harmless in more areas.”
Lydia shook her head in astonishment. “If you change the climatic balance of Earth, you’re courting total disaster. You could cause floods on the coasts. You could turn croplands and forests into deserts. You could destroy vast numbers of animals and humans —our food supply —and dry up the planet’s water—the same kind of changes that turned the homeworld into a wasteland.”
Diana steepled her fingers. “Poor, poor Lydia. You have such a limited vision of the universe. Creatures like you can’t see beyond their fears, can’t imagine the great ideas that change worlds and make us strong enough to conquer any world we set our sights on.”
“We have our different perspectives all right. I prefer my own,” Lydia answered, standing tall. “And in my view, you’re perverting your precious science and turning it into a dangerous weapon that could blow up in all our faces.”
“Science is simply another tool,” said Diana. “There’s no point to science at all if we can’t use it to bend nature to our needs. That’s our destiny. And if you try to get in the way, you’ll be courting your own destruction. That I can promise you.”
Chapter 5
A summer of rationed water had turned the lush green grass of Yankee Stadium to a prickly brown thatch, and the rich soil of the infield crescent had become hard and dusty. As he sat in a box seat just behind the Yankee dugout, Peter Forsythe knew how much the head groundskeeper, Ray Lally, must be suffering. Ray had always prided himself on the sterling condition of the stadium’s playing field. And Ray’s crew worked like hell to keep it that way. The old ball park, with its white concrete shell and electric-blue seats, was one of the last holdouts—no artificial turf for Alex Garr. When he’d purchased the team, Garr had sworn before a roomful of Big Apple sportswriters that the smell of fresh green grass would never be replaced by the sterile odor of plastic carpet, not while he was alive and in charge.
Garr was dead now, killed in the climactic airport battle on the day the first Visitor invasion was finally beaten back. Garr had died a hero in Pete’s arms on that bloody airstrip on Long Island. But the grass remained. Dry and scruffy perhaps, but hanging on. Kind of
“For what purpose?”
“It will take a few days, but very soon the weather pattern over this continent will change rather abruptly from late summer to midwinter.”
Lydia’s large eyes narrowed. “Just what is this supposed to accomplish, even presuming what you say is possible?” “Oh, it’s possible. You can be assured of that. What will it accomplish? It’s part of a much larger plan. ...”
“What plan?”
“My, but you’re full of questions, Lydia. That’s all I think you need to know at this point.”
“You seem to be overlooking something,” Lydia hissed. “Cold weather is what makes the red dust effective against us. Are you sure this Project Icewind of yours won’t get out of control and cool off areas of the planet that haven’t ever had winter before? If that happens, you’ll be giving the red dust the chance to spread.”
“I’m the scientist,” Diana flared. “You’re delving into things you know nothing about. Leave advanced concepts to me. As a matter of fact, Icewind is merely the first stage in a strategy that will bring more of the planet under my control, not less. Computer modeling gives us every reason to believe that after we freeze the humans with early winter and make them use up more of their precious oil and gas reserves just to avoid mass death and starvation, we’ll be able to heat up the planet’s overall climate. In case you haven’t grasped the significance of that, it will render the red dust harmless in more areas.”
Lydia shook her head in astonishment. “If you change the climatic balance of Earth, you’re courting total disaster. You could cause floods on the coasts. You could turn croplands and forests into deserts. You could destroy vast numbers of animals and humans —our food supply —and dry up the planet’s water—the same kind of changes that turned the homeworld into a wasteland.”
Diana steepled her fingers. “Poor, poor Lydia. You have such a limited vision of the universe. Creatures like you can’t see beyond their fears, can’t imagine the great ideas that change worlds and make us strong enough to conquer any world we set our sights on.”
“We have our different perspectives all right. I prefer my own,” Lydia answered, standing tall. “And in my view, you’re perverting your precious science and turning it into a dangerous weapon that could blow up in all our faces.”
“Science is simply another tool,” said Diana. “There’s no point to science at all if we can’t use it to bend nature to our needs. That’s our destiny. And if you try to get in the way, you’ll be courting your own destruction. That I can promise you.”
Chapter 5
A summer of rationed water had turned the lush green grass of Yankee Stadium to a prickly brown thatch, and the rich soil of the infield crescent had become hard and dusty. As he sat in a box seat just behind the Yankee dugout, Peter Forsythe knew how much the head groundskeeper, Ray Lally, must be suffering. Ray had always prided himself on the sterling condition of the stadium’s playing field. And Ray’s crew worked like hell to keep it that way. The old ball park, with its white concrete shell and electric-blue seats, was one of the last holdouts—no artificial turf for Alex Garr. When he’d purchased the team, Garr had sworn before a roomful of Big Apple sportswriters that the smell of fresh green grass would never be replaced by the sterile odor of plastic carpet, not while he was alive and in charge.
Garr was dead now, killed in the climactic airport battle on the day the first Visitor invasion was finally beaten back. Garr had died a hero in Pete’s arms on that bloody airstrip on Long Island. But the grass remained. Dry and scruffy perhaps, but hanging on. Kind of
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