by Nevil Shute
Peter said, “But using cobalt, she couldn’t follow up and take Shanghai.”
“That’s true. But she could make North China uninhabitable for quite a number of years by spacing the bombs right. If they put them down in the right places the fall-out would cover China to the sea. Any left over would go around the world eastwards across the Pacific; if a little got to the United States I don’t suppose the Russians would have wept salt tears. If they planned it right, there would be very little left when it got around the world again to Europe and to western Russia. Certainly she couldn’t follow up and take Shanghai for quite a number of years, but she’d get it in the end.”
Peter turned to the scientist. “How long would it be before people could work in Shanghai?”
“With cobalt fall-out? I wouldn’t even guess. It depends on so many things. You’d have to send in exploratory teams. More than five years, I should think — that’s the half-life. Less than twenty. But you just can’t say.”
Dwight nodded. “By the time anyone could get there, Chinese or anyone else, they’d find the Russians there already.”
John Osborne turned to him. “What did the Chinese think about all this?”
“Oh, they had another angle altogether. They didn’t specially want to kill Russians. What they wanted to do was to turn the Russians back into an agricultural people that wouldn’t want Shanghai or any other port. The Chinese aimed to blanket the Russian industrial regions with a cobalt fall-out, city by city, put there with their intercontinental rockets. What they wanted was to stop any Russian from using a machine tool for the next ten years or so. They planned a limited fall-out of heavy particles, not going very far around the world. They probably didn’t plan to hit the city, even — just to burst maybe ten miles west of it, and let the wind do the rest.” He paused. “With no Russian industry left, the Chinese could have walked in any time they liked and occupied the safe parts of the country, any that they fancied. Then, as the radiation eased, they’d occupy the towns.”
“Find the lathes a bit rusty,” Peter said.
“I’d say they might be. But they’d have had an easy war.”
John Osborne asked, “Do you think that’s what happened?”
“I wouldn’t know,” said the American. “Maybe no one knows. That’s just what this officer from the Pentagon told us at the commanding officers’ course.” He paused. “One thing was in Russia’s favour,” he said thoughtfully. “China hadn’t any friends or allies, except Russia. When Russia went for China, nobody else would make much trouble — start war on another front, or anything like that.”
They sat smoking in silence for a few minutes. “You think that’s what flared up finally?” Peter said at last. “I mean, after the original attacks the Russians made on Washington and London?”
John Osborne and the captain stared at him. “The Russians never bombed Washington,” Dwight said. “They proved that in the end.”
He stared back at them. “I mean, the very first attack of all.”
“That’s right. The very first attack. They were Russian long-range bombers, II 626’s, but they were Egyptian manned. They flew from Cairo.”
“Are you sure that’s true?”
“It’s true enough. They got the one that landed at Puerto Rico on the way home. They only found out it was Egyptian after we’d bombed Leningrad and Odessa and the nuclear establishments at Kharkov, Kuibyshev, and Molotov. Things must have happened kind of quick that day.”
“Do you mean to say, we bombed Russia by mistake?” It was so horrible a thought as to be incredible.
John Osborne said, “That’s true, Peter. It’s never been admitted publicly, but it’s quite true. The first one was the bomb on Naples. That was the Albanians, of course. Then there was the bomb on Tel Aviv. Nobody knows who dropped that one, not that I’ve heard, anyway. Then the British and Americans intervened and made that demonstration flight over Cairo. Next day the Egyptians sent out all the serviceable bombers that they’d got, six to Washington and seven to London. One got through to Washington, and two to London. After that there weren’t many American or British statesmen left alive.”
Dwight nodded. “The bombers were Russian, and I’ve heard it said that they had Russian markings. It’s quite possible.”
“Good God!” said the Australian. “So we bombed Russia?”
“That’s what happened,” said the captain heavily.
John Osborne said, “It’s understandable. London and Washington were out — right out. Decisions had to be made by the military commanders at dispersal in the field, and they had to be made quick before another lot of bombs arrived. Things were very strained with Russia, after the Albanian bomb, and these aircraft were identified as Russian.” He paused. “Somebody had to make a decision, of course, and make it in a matter of minutes. Up at Canberra they think now that he made it wrong.”
“But if it was a mistake, why didn’t they get together and stop it? Why did they go on?”
The captain said, “It’s mighty difficult to stop a war when all the statesmen have been killed.”
The scientist said, “The trouble is, the damn things got too cheap. The original uranium bomb only cost about fifty thousand quid towards the end. Every little pipsqueak country like Albania could have a stockpile of them, and every little country that had that, thought it could defeat the major countries in a surprise attack. That was the real trouble.”
“Another was the aeroplanes,” the captain said. “The Russians had been giving the Egyptians aeroplanes for years. So had Britain for that matter, and to Israel, and to Jordan. The big mistake was ever to have given them a long-range aeroplane.”
Peter said quietly, “Well, after that the war was on between Russia and the Western powers. When did China come in?”
The captain said, “I don’t think anybody knows exactly. But I’d say that probably China came in right there with her rockets and her radiological warfare against Russia, taking advantage of the opportunity. Probably they didn’t know how ready Russia was with radiological warfare against China.” He paused. “But that’s all surmise,” he said. “Most of the communications went out pretty soon, and what were left didn’t have much time to talk to us down here, or to South Africa. All we know is that the command came down to quite junior officers, in most countries.”
John Osborne smiled wryly. “Major Chan Sze Lin.”
Peter asked, “Who was Chan Sze Lin, anyway?”
The scientist said, “I don’t think anybody really knows, except that he was an officer in the Chinese Air Force, and towards the end he seems to have been in command. The Prime Minister was in touch with him, trying to intervene to stop it all. He seems to have had a lot of rockets in various parts of China, and a lot of bombs to drop. His opposite number in Russia may have been someone equally insignificant. But I don’t think the Prime Minister ever succeeded in making contact with the Russians. I never heard a name, anyway.”
There was a pause. “It must have been a difficult situation,” Dwight said at last. “I mean, what could the guy do? He had a war on his hands and plenty of weapons left to fight it with. I’d say it was the same in all the countries, after the statesmen got killed. It makes a war very difficult to stop.”
“It certainly made this one. It just didn’t stop, till all the bombs were gone and all the aircraft were unserviceable. And by that time, of course, they’d gone too far.”
“Christ,” said the American softly, “I don’t know what I’d have done in their shoes. I’m glad I wasn’t.”
The scientist said, “I should think you’d have tried to negotiate.”
“With an enemy knocking hell out of the United States and killing all our people? When I still had weapons in my hands? Just stop fighting and give in? I’d like to think that I was so high-minded but — well, I don’t know.” He raised his head. “I was never trained for diplomacy,” he said. “If that situation had devolved on me, I wouldn’t have known how to handle it.�
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“They didn’t, either,” said the scientist. He stretched himself, and yawned. “Just too bad. But don’t go blaming the Russians. It wasn’t the big countries that set off this thing. It was the little ones, the Irresponsibles.”
Peter Holmes grinned, and said, “It’s a bit hard on all the rest of us.”
“You’ve got six months more,” remarked John Osborne. “Plus or minus something. Be satisfied with that. You’ve always known that you were going to die sometime. Well, now you know when. That’s all.” He laughed. “Just make the most of what you’ve got left.”
“I know that,” said Peter. “The trouble is I can’t think of anything that I want to do more than what I’m doing now.”
“Cooped up in bloody Scorpion?”
“Well — yes. It’s our job. I really meant, at home.”
“No imagination. You want to turn Mohammedan and start a harem.”
The submarine commander laughed. “Maybe he’s got something there.”
The liaison officer shook his head. “It’s a nice idea, but it wouldn’t be practical. Mary wouldn’t like it.” He stopped smiling. “The trouble is, I can’t really believe it’s going to happen. Can you?”
“Not after what you’ve seen?”
Peter shook his head. “No. If we’d seen any damage . . .”
“No imagination whatsoever,” remarked the scientist. “It’s the same with all you service people. That can’t happen to me.” He paused. “But it can. And it certainly will.”
“I suppose I haven’t got any imagination,” said Peter thoughtfully. “It’s — it’s the end of the world. I’ve never had to imagine anything like that before.”
John Osborne laughed. “It’s not the end of the world at all,” he said. “It’s only the end of us. The world will go on just the same, only we shan’t be in it. I dare say it will get along all right without us.”
Dwight Towers raised his head. “I suppose that’s right. There didn’t seem to be much wrong with Cairns, or Port Moresby either.” He paused, thinking of the flowering trees that he had seen on shore through the periscope, cascaras and flame trees, the palms standing in the sunlight. “Maybe we’ve been too silly to deserve a world like this,” he said.
The scientist said, “That’s absolutely and precisely right.”
There didn’t seem to be much more to say upon that subject, so they went up on to the bridge for a smoke, in the sunlight and fresh air.
They passed the Heads at the entrance to Sydney Harbour soon after dawn next day and went on southwards into the Bass Strait. Next morning they were in Port Phillip Bay, and they berthed alongside the aircraft carrier at Williamstown at about noon. The First Naval Member was there to meet them and he was piped aboard Scorpion as soon as the gangway was run out.
Dwight Towers met him on the narrow deck. The admiral returned his salute. “Well, Captain, what sort of a cruise did you have?”
“We had no troubles, sir. The operation went through in accordance with the orders. But I’m afraid you may find the results are disappointing.”
“You didn’t get very much information?”
“We got plenty of radiation data, sir. North of twenty latitude we couldn’t go on deck.”
The admiral nodded. “Have you had any sickness?”
“One case that the surgeon says is measles. Nothing of a radioactive nature.”
They went below into the tiny captain’s cabin. Dwight displayed the draft of his report, written in pencil upon sheets of foolscap with an appendix of the radiation levels at each watch of the cruise, long columns of small figures in John Osborne’s neat handwriting. “I’ll get this typed in Sydney right away,” he said. “But what it comes to is just this — we found out very little.”
“No signs of life in any of those places?”
“Nothing at all. Of course, you can’t see very much, at periscope height from the waterfront. I never realized before we went how little we’d be able to see. I should have, perhaps. You’re quite a ways from Cairns out in the main channel, and the same at Moresby. We never saw the town of Darwin at all, up on the cliff. Just the waterfront.” He paused. “There didn’t seem to be much wrong with that.”
The admiral turned over the pencilled pages, stopping now and then to read a paragraph. “You stayed some time at each place?”
“About five hours. We were calling all the time through the loud hailer.”
“Getting no answer?”
“No, sir. We thought we did at Darwin just at first, but it was only a crane shackle squeaking on the wharf. We moved right up to it and tracked it down.”
“Sea birds?”
“None at all. We never saw a bird north of latitude twenty. We saw a dog at Cairns.”
The admiral stayed twenty minutes. Finally he said, “Well, get in this report as soon as you can, marking one copy by messenger direct to me. It’s a bit disappointing, but you probably did all that anybody could have done.”
The American said, “I was reading that report of Swordfish, sir. There’s very little information about things on shore in that, either in the States or in Europe. I guess they didn’t see much more than we did, from the waterfront.” He hesitated for a moment. “There’s one suggestion that I’d like to put forward.”
“What’s that, captain?”
“The radiation levels aren’t very high, anywhere along the line. The scientific officer tells me that a man could work safely in an insulating suit — helmet, gloves, and all, of course. We could put an officer on shore in any of those places, rowing in a dinghy, working with an oxygen pack on his back.”
“Decontamination when he comes on board again,” said the admiral. “That makes a problem. Probably not insuperable. I’ll suggest it to the Prime Minister and see if he wants information upon any specific point. He may not think it worth while. But it’s an idea.”
He turned to the control room to go up the ladder to the bridge.
“Will we be able to give shore leave, sir?”
“Any defects?”
“Nothing of importance.”
“Ten days,” said the admiral. “I’ll make a signal about that this afternoon.”
Peter Holmes rang up Mary after lunch. “Home again, all in one piece,” he said. “Look, darling, I’ll be home sometime tonight — I don’t know when. I’ve got a report to get off first, and I’ll drop it in myself at the Navy Department on my way through — I’ve got to go there, anyway. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Don’t bother about meeting me — I’ll walk up from the station.”
“It’s lovely to hear you again,” she said. “You won’t have had supper, will you?”
“I shouldn’t think so. I’ll do myself some eggs or something when I get in.”
She thought rapidly. “I’ll make a casserole, and we can have that any time.”
“Fine. Look, there’s just one thing. We had a case of measles on board, so I’m in a kind of quarantine.”
“Oh, Peter! You’ve had it before, though, haven’t you?”
“Not since I was about four years old. The surgeon says I can get it again. The incubation time is three weeks. Have you had it — recently?”
“I had it when I was about thirteen.”
“I think that makes you pretty safe.”
She thought quickly. “What about Jennifer, though?”
“I know. I’ve been thinking about her. I’ll have to keep out of her way.”
“Oh dear. . . . Can anyone get measles when she’s as young as Jennifer?”
“I don’t know, darling. I could ask the surgeon commander.”
“Would he know about babies?”
He thought for a moment. “I don’t suppose he’s had a great deal of experience with them.”
“Ask him, Peter, and I’ll ring up Dr. Halloran. We’ll fix up something, anyway. It’s lovely that you’re back.”
He rang off and went on with his work, while Mary settled down to her besetting sin, the
telephone. She rang up Mrs. Foster down the road who was going into town to a meeting of the Countrywomen’s Association and asked her to bring out a pound of steak and a couple of onions. She rang the doctor who told her that a baby could get measles and that she must be very careful. And then she thought of Moira Davidson who had rung her up the night before to ask if she had any news of Scorpion. She got her at teatime at the farm near Berwick.
“My dear,” she said. “They’re back. Peter rang me from the ship just now. They’ve all got measles.”
“They’ve got what?”
“Measles — like you have when you’re at school.”
There was a burst of laughter on the line, a little hysterical and shrill. “It’s nothing to laugh about,” Mary said. “I’m thinking about Jennifer. She might catch it from Peter. He’s had it once, but he can get it again. It’s all so worrying. . . .”
The laughter subsided. “Sorry, darling, but it seems so funny. It’s nothing to do with radioactivity, is it?”
“Oh, I don’t think so. Peter said it was just measles.” She paused. “Isn’t it awful?”
Miss Davidson laughed again. “It’s just the sort of thing they would do. Here they go cruising for a fortnight up in parts where everyone is dead of radiation, and all that they can catch is measles! I’ll have to speak to Dwight about it, very sharply. Did they find anyone alive up there?”
“I don’t know, darling. Peter didn’t say anything about it. But anyway, that’s not important. What am I going to do about Jennifer? Dr. Halloran says she can catch it, and Peter’s going to be contagious for three weeks.”