by Kris Neville
do,David?"
"Well, I guess I'd try to organize some relief organization orsomething."
"But David. Anything you diverted to care for these people would limityour ability to fight back, wouldn't it? They would be cluttering up allyour transportation, frustrating effective retaliation. Your second movewould be to take the bombs which destroy people and not property and ...use them on your own cities."
Captain Arnold drained his glass. "That would be...." He did not finish.
"Insane, David? No. Rational. Field Commanders must be realists. The jobcomes first. In this case, the job of defeating the enemy.... But whatdoes that have to do with us? Nothing, eh? You're right. Sometimes Ilike to talk, and I suppose that's one of my privileges. I'm not theidealist I used to be, I guess. I remember when I was your age. I sawthings differently than I do now. What used to seem important no longerdoes. Each stage of development has its unique biological imperatives: achild, a youth, a mature man, look out on the world from a body held infocus to different chemistries. But the job remains." General Shorterheld up his glass. "Cheers." He drained it.
Again there was silence.
"David, do you think I'm in much trouble?"
"I'm afraid so, General. The Committee is due to arrive tomorrow."
"I know," the general said. "This suicide isn't going to help us.Tomorrow. Is it that soon? I thought ... yes, I guess it is tomorrow....Well, we've been here long enough to lose our immunity, so we'll allcatch colds."
Captain Arnold stood. "I better get started on my report."
"Poor Sergeant Schuster," General Shorter said. "If anyone's to blame,it must be me."
"He obeyed the orders."
"What did you say?"
"I said he obeyed the orders, sir."
"Of course he obeyed the orders," the general said. "What else could hehave done?"