been needed, we should have had the orders.’
The doctor remained quiet for a full half minute, making up her mind. Then she said, forthrightly:
‘I think you had better understand this, Michael. If there is not some use made of these missiles very soon, or if there is not some intelligible statement about them from H.Q., you are going to have a mutiny on your hands.’
The Commander sat quite still on the corner of the desk, looking not at her, but towards the window. Presently:
‘As bad as that?’ he asked.
‘Yes, Michael. About as bad as it can be, short of open rebellion.’
‘Hm. I wonder what they think they’ll get out of that.’
‘They aren’t thinking much at all. They’re worried sick, frustrated, feeling desperate, and needing some kind - any kind - of action to relieve the tension.’
‘So they’d like to unhorse me, and poop off major atomic missiles, just for the hell of it.’
She shook her head, looking at him unhappily.
‘It’s not exactly that, Michael. It’s - oh dear, this is difficult - it’s because a rumour has got round that they should have been sent off.’
She watched him as the implication came home. At length, he said, with icy calmness:
‘I see. I am supposed to have the other Nelson touch - the blind eye?’
‘Some of them say so. A lot of the rest are beginning to wonder.’
‘There has to be a reason. Even a Command Officer must be supposed to have a motive for dereliction of duty amounting to high treason.’
‘Of course, Michael.’
‘Well, I’d better have it. What is it?’
Ellen took a deep breath.
‘It’s this. So long as we don’t send those missiles we may be safe: once we do start sending them we’ll probably bring down retaliation, either from the Russian Station, if it still exists, or from one of their satellites. Our nine medium missiles haven’t been a serious matter - not serious enough to justify them into provoking us to use our heavies. But, if we do start to use the major ones, it will almost certainly mean the end of this station. Your own view of the primary importance of the station is well known - you admitted it to me just now.... So, you see, a motive can be made to appear...
‘The American Station has almost certainly gone; possibly the Russian, too. If we go as well, there will no longer be anyone on what you called the “threshold of the universe”. But , if we were able somehow to ride out the war, we should be in sole possession of the moon, and still on the threshold ... Shouldn’t we?’
‘Yes. You make the motive quite uncomfortably clear,’ he told her. ‘But an ambition is not necessarily an obsession, you know.’
‘This is a closed community, in a high state of nervous tension.’
He thought for some moments, then:
‘Can you predict? Will it produce a revolution, or a mass-rising?’ he asked her.
‘A revolution,’ she said, without hesitation. ‘Your officers will arrest you, once they have plucked up the courage. That could take a day or two yet. It is a pretty grim step - especially when the C.O. happens to be a popular figure, too....’ She shrugged her shoulders.
‘I must think,’ he said.
He went round behind the desk and sat down, resting his elbows on it. The room became as quiet as the construction of the station permitted while he considered behind closed eyes. After several minutes he opened them.
‘If they should arrest me,’ he said, ‘their next move must be to search the message files: (a) to justify themselves by finding evidence against me, and (b) to find out what the orders were, and whether they can still be carried out.
‘When they discover that, except for three sets of three medium missiles, no launching orders have been received, there will be a panic. Such of my officers as may have been persuaded into this will be utterly shattered - you can’t just apologize to your C.O. for arresting him as a traitor, and expect it to be left at that.
‘There will be
The doctor remained quiet for a full half minute, making up her mind. Then she said, forthrightly:
‘I think you had better understand this, Michael. If there is not some use made of these missiles very soon, or if there is not some intelligible statement about them from H.Q., you are going to have a mutiny on your hands.’
The Commander sat quite still on the corner of the desk, looking not at her, but towards the window. Presently:
‘As bad as that?’ he asked.
‘Yes, Michael. About as bad as it can be, short of open rebellion.’
‘Hm. I wonder what they think they’ll get out of that.’
‘They aren’t thinking much at all. They’re worried sick, frustrated, feeling desperate, and needing some kind - any kind - of action to relieve the tension.’
‘So they’d like to unhorse me, and poop off major atomic missiles, just for the hell of it.’
She shook her head, looking at him unhappily.
‘It’s not exactly that, Michael. It’s - oh dear, this is difficult - it’s because a rumour has got round that they should have been sent off.’
She watched him as the implication came home. At length, he said, with icy calmness:
‘I see. I am supposed to have the other Nelson touch - the blind eye?’
‘Some of them say so. A lot of the rest are beginning to wonder.’
‘There has to be a reason. Even a Command Officer must be supposed to have a motive for dereliction of duty amounting to high treason.’
‘Of course, Michael.’
‘Well, I’d better have it. What is it?’
Ellen took a deep breath.
‘It’s this. So long as we don’t send those missiles we may be safe: once we do start sending them we’ll probably bring down retaliation, either from the Russian Station, if it still exists, or from one of their satellites. Our nine medium missiles haven’t been a serious matter - not serious enough to justify them into provoking us to use our heavies. But, if we do start to use the major ones, it will almost certainly mean the end of this station. Your own view of the primary importance of the station is well known - you admitted it to me just now.... So, you see, a motive can be made to appear...
‘The American Station has almost certainly gone; possibly the Russian, too. If we go as well, there will no longer be anyone on what you called the “threshold of the universe”. But , if we were able somehow to ride out the war, we should be in sole possession of the moon, and still on the threshold ... Shouldn’t we?’
‘Yes. You make the motive quite uncomfortably clear,’ he told her. ‘But an ambition is not necessarily an obsession, you know.’
‘This is a closed community, in a high state of nervous tension.’
He thought for some moments, then:
‘Can you predict? Will it produce a revolution, or a mass-rising?’ he asked her.
‘A revolution,’ she said, without hesitation. ‘Your officers will arrest you, once they have plucked up the courage. That could take a day or two yet. It is a pretty grim step - especially when the C.O. happens to be a popular figure, too....’ She shrugged her shoulders.
‘I must think,’ he said.
He went round behind the desk and sat down, resting his elbows on it. The room became as quiet as the construction of the station permitted while he considered behind closed eyes. After several minutes he opened them.
‘If they should arrest me,’ he said, ‘their next move must be to search the message files: (a) to justify themselves by finding evidence against me, and (b) to find out what the orders were, and whether they can still be carried out.
‘When they discover that, except for three sets of three medium missiles, no launching orders have been received, there will be a panic. Such of my officers as may have been persuaded into this will be utterly shattered - you can’t just apologize to your C.O. for arresting him as a traitor, and expect it to be left at that.
‘There will be
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