Whiplash

75

“So we’re supposed to sit here and watch them launch the missile?” asked Hera after Danny told her what was going on. “What if the bombers don’t get here in time?”

Danny ignored her, examining the missile site. There were a dozen men working on the weapon, pumping fuel from underground tanks and making adjustments to the warhead and engine mechanisms. They clearly didn’t think they were in any danger: There were no guards on the runway, and the only sentries the Voice had seen were near the rocket, alternately helping and standing guard.

“So what if the bombers don’t get here?” Hera asked again. “Then what?”

“They’ll get here. The question is where we want to be when they do.”

“And?”

“The other side of this ridge. The hill will absorb or deflect most of the blast.”

“It’s not going to explode?”

“You mean, go nuclear?”

“Hell yeah.”

“No. The warhead may even end up intact. If not, it won’t be a big deal.”

“We won’t get fried?”

“Nah.”

“You’ve done this before, right?” Hera’s voice betrayed more concern than she would have liked.

“Don’t worry,” said Danny. “I’ve done it before.”

In fact he had done it before; once, when he’d disarmed a warhead a few seconds before it went off. The scientists analyzing the bomb later confided they’d guessed about which of the wires he should cut as time ran down.

Then they’d tried reassuring him that the weapon hadn’t been made particularly well, and rather than yielding the twelve megatons it was designed for, would probably only have delivered six or seven.

“Which means it would have only blown up everything within six miles, right?” he had answered. “Rather then twenty.”

They didn’t get the joke.

He’d never been around when a nuke had been bombed. Nor had he pulled one out of a fire. And even if he had — those things were past.

If he had to defuse the bomb now, could he? He remembered getting the instructions over the radio. It had been nerve-wracking.

It would be worse now, ten times worse. A hundred times worse. He’d lost something. He wasn’t a hero — wasn’t the hero he’d been.

He was thinking too much. He used to hear people say that about other commanders, about guys who, to him, seemed to have lost a step, gotten older and more cautious. It wasn’t age maybe, not directly — just experience.

Thinking too much. About what? The cost.

“Looks like they’re finished with the fuel,” said Hera.

Danny looked up, surprised. “Already?”

“Look.”

“No, it’s the oxidizer,” he said. “Shit.”

The fuel and oxidizer were loaded separately, but it took roughly the same amount of time to load each one. They must be nearly done, Danny realized. The missile crew was moving quickly, much more quickly than he would have thought possible.

The men swarmed over the erector, getting ready to raise the missile.

“The bombers aren’t going to make it,” said Danny, jumping up.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, they’re going to launch that sucker any minute. Come on.”