FA+
Shop
THE STARRY MESSENGER Pg 5/5 -- Standard text
Date posted: Feb 28/2012
Page Five of Five.
© 2008 Fred Brown
............................................................................................................................................
............................................................................................................................................
❱❱❱❱ NOTA BENE: This copy is in a brighter, better-readable font, and can only be read on DARK screens.
The Enhanced text copy that's readable on cyan screens is here: THE STARRY MESSENGER -- Enhanced text
Main account is here:
fwbrown61
............................................................................................................................................
|
| Page Links: ▪1▪ ▪2▪ ▪3▪ ▪4▪ ▪5▪
|
=============================================================================
"All right!!" Rashidkova snarled, as her paws angrily pounded in the
commands. "Firing sequence start, damn you!! Ignition systems are running!
Beam Control config is ready! Brace for shock! Shot detonation in five seconds,
and four, three..."
Two and one were unnecessary. Every console and light in the command
module dimmed from the power drain. And then...
WHAM!! WHAM!! WHAM!! WHAM!! WHAM!! WHAM!!
A thudding of concussions. The command module came back to life. A
tsunami of data flooded every screen as every sensor and recording device they
had belched out numbers. Allendale and Rashidkova anxiously tried to look
everywhere at once to see if anything, anywhere had glitched.
Then finally settled back in their crash couches. Nothing had glitched. "Clean
shot," Rashidkova whispered. "As clean as it gets. Firing time is down to three
point two seconds. Beam Control gave us eighty beams per shot. Damn. You did
it. Shotgun. When the ducks hit the water they'll be cooked and ready to eat."
"That's a 'we did it,' Gunner," Allendale said, breathing hard. "Your excellent
work on the BCM. Sorry Ah barked at you back there, by the way."
"Forgiven. I'll only spank you a little bit to punish you. What was that about
Laura?"
But Allendale was distracted, looking out the window. "Oh yeah, it worked all
right," he whispered. "Now that's what Ah call a light show. She'll see that with
her eyes closed."
Rashidkova raised her eyes. Sure enough, the four hundred and eighty beam
salvo had left its mark. Spread across the sky, Allendale's firing pattern had
imprinted a massive aurora on the atmosphere.
But instead of bars, this aurora was made up of sharply defined glowing
dots, each one several kilometers across. The whole array was nearly a thousand
kilometers long and two hundred tall.
Allendale looked at his watch. "Let's see how long it takes the GruppeKaptain
t' figure it out," he said.
"Allendale, those are... dots in the sky," Rashidkova said slowly. "But they're
also... letters? Words?"
"Ah'll give you two words right here. Weasel words, but words: Plausible
deniability."
Rashidkova blinked, then looked at Allendale. "Plausible whosits?"
"If y' didn't know what Ah was planning, and if this goes pear-shaped on us,
you don't get shot," Allendale said quietly. "Since Ah think Ah've got it covered
Ah don't expect anybody t' get shot but something as big as what we just did, Ah
can't discount a blowback risk. You're covered whatever happens. Merry
Christmas. Some presents y' can't wrap, y'know?"
Rashidkova looked stunned. She shook her head; all she could do for a
second. She looked out the window again.
"Words," Rashidkova whispered. "I... can't read it. It's mirror-reversed from
our viewpoint. You sent a message after all. To Laura. Come nighttime at least
three-quarters of the planet will be able to see it. Allah preserve his Marine ass,
he used a twenty billion dollar weapon system to send a Christmas card to his
wife!!"
"To more than her. When Ah was seven, Grandpa showed me this old, old
computer he had in the garage. An 'Atari,' it was called. Dumb as a brick to what
we've got now but still worked. So did the old printer that came with it. Made
letters by making ink dots on paper. A batch of metal pins driven by magnets
whapped an ink ribbon and made a pattern of dots. The print head zoomed back
and forth and laid the dots down where the computer said to. No idea how people
put up with it; noisy as hell."
Allendale waved a paw. "So: Dot's on paper. Dots in the sky. Same principle.
Just a slightly more expensive printer."
"Suppose the ink's a little more expensive too," Allendale added.
Rashidkova choked. "Unless that old printer was nuclear powered, no shit!"
Allendale's eyes twinkled. "Wall, we did get our electricity from th' Green
River fusion plant, so technically..."
Rashidkova just snorted and peered out the window again. "Now wait, some
of the letters are the same forwards or backwards," she mused. "And at the end,
dropped down below..., that's the letter A. And a period. That's almost as if..."
She got it. "You signed it?" Rashidkova exclaimed. "Just an initial, but..."
"Ah think Laura'll be able to figure it out," Allendale whispered, looking out.
"Even if somebody don't tell her."
Rashidkova stared at the aurora. "That's a P. That's an E. Another A..."
Then she got all of it. Rashidkova gasped. Her paws came up to her muzzle.
"Allendale!! Your message!! It says..."
To Allendale's left, his comm console virtually exploded with urgency, angry
bleeps, red lights, and overrides.
Allendale looked at his watch. "Hmmm. Six minutes. Th' GruppeKaptain's
slowin' down these days. But sounds like she's figured it out too. " He reached
out and tapped to open the channel.
"Howdy GruppeKaptain. Allendale. How goes your day? Did you collect any
good data on our test shot?" He winked at Rashidkova.
"GOOD DATA!!! I'LL GIVE YOU GOOD DATA!!!"
German is a very excellent language for swearing. The GruppeKaptain
demonstrated her considerable expertise for a few moments. Rashidkova winced.
What German she understood was not required to know that there was a
thermonuclear-temperature-angry officer on the other end of the line.
"Ah'm sorry, GruppeKaptain, lemme jest kick in the translation software.
Could you repeat that?" Allendale said sweetly.
Rashidkova put a paw over her eyes and groaned inwardly. Bad time to play
let's-tweak-an-officer's-nose, Marine. This would not end well.
"Not without peeling another layer of paint off the walls of our command
module." The GruppeKaptain's voice was as chilly as space itself. "Allendale, do
you have any idea what you've done?"
Ah, but it was a setup. "Yes, GruppeKaptain, we know. We figured out how
to shoot down about 300 attacking missiles inside of twenty seconds, give or
take. Better firing pattern might get that up to 800 per minute. My compliments
to th' folks who designed our last drill, by the way. Gave us th' idea."
It was that good? Rashidkova's muzzle sagged. Which was probably what
the GruppeKaptain was doing too. There was a long silence.
Then a weak: "...What?"
Allendale smiled as a predator again. "From a targeting point of view an
attacking flock of missiles bears a resemblance t' something Ah've seen before.
Won't go into the whole story--it's in mah report--but upon some thinking Ah
realized that the concept behind th' weapon Ah used on that occasion could be
useful here. We'll send you the whole package on the technical configurations,
but metaphorically speaking y' might say we figured out how t' put a shotgun
load into the chamber of this here sniper rifle we're driving. Instead of gettin' a
few high-power beams per shot, we can now get a whole passel of lower power
beams that don't need as precise targeting. But they do pack enough punch to
either take out or damage an attacking missile. Which, by definition, is not
hardened, and can't ever be, and is therefore vulnerable to a low-power shot.
Provided we can get off a massed volley. Now this is th' case."
Allendale took a breath. "And since Ah'm startin' to quote from my own
report Ah'll shut up here. Whaddya think so far?"
Another silence. Longer this time. Then speaking slowly: "Allendale, if you're
right on this, you're about to be buried under commendations. If you're wrong,
just plain buried, and I'll be the one holding the shovel in light of the 'firing
pattern' you chose to use for your test. If your report's not in my comp before
we're finished talking I'm coming over there myself with a crowbar to dig it out of
yours. As for how big a dent that crowbar's also going to put in that Marine skull
of yours, I haven't decided."
"She hasn't decided. Ah think that's an optimistic sign, don't you?" Allendale
murmured to Rashidkova, who rolled her eyes.
Allendale tapped on the comm screen. "Transmitting report and test shot
data to you now, under filename AR-Shotgun. Commendations are also due to
Gunnery Officer Rashidkova, who did not know the precise details of the firing
pattern, but who did the essential changes on the Beam Control Module. That's A
as in Allendale, R as in Rashidkova. Name-credit on this technique should include
hers."
More silence. Then: "Provisionally accepted, pending review of your report.
Assignment of culpability is also pending. I have a hard time believing you got
this past her, Allendale. And about that verdammndt fire pattern..."
Allendale smiled at Rashidkova and held up two crossed fingers. Uh oh. This
was where he was really going to lay it on thick.
"You study the history of World War Two, GruppeKaptain?" Allendale said
quietly.
Yet again, silence. Then tightly: "Of all people, you have to ask me that?"
"We're up here because of what happened at end of that war, of course. But
it's possible to study that war and miss something important. It relates to that
pattern. Or rather the message it put up."
"Get to the point, Allendale."
"That war was fought with bullets, and shells, and bombs, and damn near
any other killing technology that people could dream up. But it was also fought
with words, with images, with movies, with sound and music, all deployed usin'
every piece of mass media technology available."
Allendale swallowed. "Propaganda, GruppeKaptain, propaganda," he said
softly. "Megatons of it. The Germans were the experts, paws down, but the
Russians got damn good at it too. The Japanese effectively brainwashed
themselves with it. The Kamikazes were largely volunteers. Americans and British
and Canadians, well, different techniques, not as intensive, but worked well
enough. It was propaganda that helped start it, it was propaganda that helped
keep millions of people fighting it, and after the war it was propaganda that
helped fuel the Cold war too. Damn near turned it hot a few times."
"So what we've got out there now is the biggest, brightest, most visible piece
of propaganda in the history of th' art, up there in the sky, and the content of the
message and the timing of it couldn't be better. Message delivered by an
American Marine and a Russian Sergeant. Shitload of symbolism in that fact,
GruppeKaptain. Very helpful."
"If... you're telling me you pulled this stunt just for PR purposes..."
"No!" Allendale barked. "Ah did this because Ah've got a beautiful Collie wife
down there in Atlanta, and Ah'm up here, and Ah'd like to send her a message for
Christmas, but Ah can't...!!"
Allendale stopped to collect himself. "So Ah did it anyway. With the only
means at my disposal, which is how Marines tend t' look at problems, y'know?
Not, why can't it be done, but, how do Ah do it?"
Rashidkova cut in on her comm console. "GruppeKaptain, Rashidkova. I've
studied a little propaganda theory. Almost mandatory before they let you out of
high school where I come from. He hasn't discussed all this with me. Allendale's
flying by the seat of his pants over here, but his concept's sound. Any other time
of year, it's a useless gesture. But the timing, the content, the sending a message
to a loved one, the American-Russian angle: It's got all the elements of a
propaganda masterstroke. And the fact that he weaseled his way around the
comm silence rules at great risk to his career. Put that way, you have an
argument here that could be extremely helpful to you over the next few hours, in
terms of deflecting the mega-flak that's probably on its way to your comm
console even as we speak."
"Since you're involved I could consider that a little self-serving, Sergeant."
"I am motivated to help pull his chestnuts out of the fire, yes. Or the
crusher. I'm very fond of his chestnuts. The kicker, though, is the fact that he's
come up with a trick that greatly boosts our deterrence, at almost zero cost, that
could help save several billion lives. Anybody tries to nail him to the mast over
this, they'll be creating a Marine-sized martyr."
Allendale looked at Rashidkova in astonishment. Grinning, she held up a pair
of crossed fingers.
Over the speaker there came not the GruppeKaptain but the sounds of a
muffled conversation. Shadsworth, among others, was putting an oar in. A heated
conversation. It went on for a while.
Finally, and wearily: "Allendale, Rashidkova, if this is the kind of present
Santa gives me when I've been good, I shudder to think about what I'd be
handed for naughtiness... Stop smirking, Shadsworth, you naughty cat. Stand by
to receive our data on your shot, you're on indefinite furlough pending
investigation, and this is a direct order: No more test shots until further notice.
Alert level three. Oh, and Allendale?"
"Yes, GruppeKaptain?"
"You're not precisely on the hook, but you're not entirely off it either. Yet.
This may change. But for now..."
"Yes, GruppeKaptain?"
"For now: Good job. Merry Christmas. Off."
"Merry Christmas. Off," Allendale murmured. He tapped on the comm
console and cut the channel.
The lights and screens of the command module flickered away. The faint
mechanical sounds of the station's systems rumbled in the background. Allendale
and Rashidkova lay back in their crash couches. There was nothing to do for a
while but look out the window at the aurora--the message--so that's what they
did.
Finally, Rashidkova slowly reached out and dropped her paw down to his
thigh. "I think... you got away with it," she whispered.
"Since Ah didn't hear anybody order you t' put a bullet in mah fool brain,
may be. Just may be."
"Don't you dare do anything like that again. Ever. If you want to talk to
Laura, use semaphore next time."
"Y'know, that's actually a practical idea? All she needs is a big telescope. Ah
go for a spacewalk with a couple of flags..."
"And the GruppeKaptain shoots your ass off with Beta's cannon."
"Ah. Right. Not that practical."
Rashidkova undid her safety belt and floated up a bit, her tail flowing behind
her. "Undo your belt. And scrunch over. Your Gunner wants snuggle."
Not a safe thing to float free in the command module, especially with a tail
that could flick switches, but with a little belt adjustment two could snuggle in a
crash couch built for one. Rashidkova snapped Allendale's belt shut around her
waist as his arms went around her shoulders.
"I am envious of Laura," Rashidkova murmured, her muzzle close to his.
"Looked at one way, that message is probably the most romantic thing any
husband has ever done for his wife. You've told the world how much you love her
in letters of atomic light in the sky."
"Ah did say, some presents y' can't wrap," Allendale whispered.
"Yes. Well. Wrap this, Marine," Rashidkova said, then leaned in.
There's really no point in trying to describe the kiss that followed. It's the
kind of kiss almost everybody's gotten, or delivered, at some point or other, so
we all know what it's like. Merely the kind of kiss that tells the other person how
much you love them, all of how much you love them, at the same time as their
kiss back at you is saying the same thing.
No, nothing terribly unique about it. No reason to comment further on that kiss.
Although it did take an awfully long time for them to finish it.
"Boo-yah," Allendale finally whispered (and not a little dazed as he said it).
Rashidkova smiled. "Maybe the best presents are the ones you can't wrap.
We will say that kiss is from both Laura and I, since she cannot love you as much
as I do right now. And I shall pretend you're Petrov and Achmed rolled into one.
That kiss reminds me well enough of how they kiss me. And love me."
Allendale moved a paw and stroked her hair for a moment. "No more than
Ah love you. They're all still a long ways away, though," he said in a low voice.
"Not far away in our hearts, Jim. Not in our hearts. And now they know it."
Their eyes were drawn to a screen showing a view from an outside camera.
The aurora blazed it's glory in the sky.
"Wonder what it looks like from down there," Rashidkova whispered.
"One way t' find out."
Allendale reached out to a keyboard. "Select cam four, do a screen
capture..." he murmured, typing. "Now let's see th' mirror image..."
The graphics software rewrote the screen. The aurora jumped into clear
view. And now clearly readable.
They studied it for a moment. "Looks good. Let's hope the advertising
companies never find out how we did this," Rashidkova said.
"Ah'll let the GruppeKaptain handle that," Allendale chuckled. "Thought
about trying t' work in the rest of the saying, then realized that'd do it."
"Would have needed more shots. That's enough. Everybody who knows
anything about Christmas will get it. And so will everybody else."
"Had a couple of other lines in mind. This one's best."
"Not a message that's worked very well over the centuries, you know,"
Rashidkova said. "'Peace on Earth.'"
"Yeah. But y' gotta think it'll catch on sooner or later," Allendale whispered,
looking over Rashidkova's ears at the blue-green planet slowly rotating
underneath them.
- - -Fin.
Feb 27/2012
=============================================================================
Page 5
<<< PREV Pg 4 First Page
Date posted: Feb 28/2012
Page Five of Five.
© 2008 Fred Brown
............................................................................................................................................
............................................................................................................................................
❱❱❱❱ NOTA BENE: This copy is in a brighter, better-readable font, and can only be read on DARK screens.
The Enhanced text copy that's readable on cyan screens is here: THE STARRY MESSENGER -- Enhanced text
Main account is here:
fwbrown61............................................................................................................................................
|
| Page Links: ▪1▪ ▪2▪ ▪3▪ ▪4▪ ▪5▪
|
=============================================================================
"All right!!" Rashidkova snarled, as her paws angrily pounded in the
commands. "Firing sequence start, damn you!! Ignition systems are running!
Beam Control config is ready! Brace for shock! Shot detonation in five seconds,
and four, three..."
Two and one were unnecessary. Every console and light in the command
module dimmed from the power drain. And then...
WHAM!! WHAM!! WHAM!! WHAM!! WHAM!! WHAM!!
A thudding of concussions. The command module came back to life. A
tsunami of data flooded every screen as every sensor and recording device they
had belched out numbers. Allendale and Rashidkova anxiously tried to look
everywhere at once to see if anything, anywhere had glitched.
Then finally settled back in their crash couches. Nothing had glitched. "Clean
shot," Rashidkova whispered. "As clean as it gets. Firing time is down to three
point two seconds. Beam Control gave us eighty beams per shot. Damn. You did
it. Shotgun. When the ducks hit the water they'll be cooked and ready to eat."
"That's a 'we did it,' Gunner," Allendale said, breathing hard. "Your excellent
work on the BCM. Sorry Ah barked at you back there, by the way."
"Forgiven. I'll only spank you a little bit to punish you. What was that about
Laura?"
But Allendale was distracted, looking out the window. "Oh yeah, it worked all
right," he whispered. "Now that's what Ah call a light show. She'll see that with
her eyes closed."
Rashidkova raised her eyes. Sure enough, the four hundred and eighty beam
salvo had left its mark. Spread across the sky, Allendale's firing pattern had
imprinted a massive aurora on the atmosphere.
But instead of bars, this aurora was made up of sharply defined glowing
dots, each one several kilometers across. The whole array was nearly a thousand
kilometers long and two hundred tall.
Allendale looked at his watch. "Let's see how long it takes the GruppeKaptain
t' figure it out," he said.
"Allendale, those are... dots in the sky," Rashidkova said slowly. "But they're
also... letters? Words?"
"Ah'll give you two words right here. Weasel words, but words: Plausible
deniability."
Rashidkova blinked, then looked at Allendale. "Plausible whosits?"
"If y' didn't know what Ah was planning, and if this goes pear-shaped on us,
you don't get shot," Allendale said quietly. "Since Ah think Ah've got it covered
Ah don't expect anybody t' get shot but something as big as what we just did, Ah
can't discount a blowback risk. You're covered whatever happens. Merry
Christmas. Some presents y' can't wrap, y'know?"
Rashidkova looked stunned. She shook her head; all she could do for a
second. She looked out the window again.
"Words," Rashidkova whispered. "I... can't read it. It's mirror-reversed from
our viewpoint. You sent a message after all. To Laura. Come nighttime at least
three-quarters of the planet will be able to see it. Allah preserve his Marine ass,
he used a twenty billion dollar weapon system to send a Christmas card to his
wife!!"
"To more than her. When Ah was seven, Grandpa showed me this old, old
computer he had in the garage. An 'Atari,' it was called. Dumb as a brick to what
we've got now but still worked. So did the old printer that came with it. Made
letters by making ink dots on paper. A batch of metal pins driven by magnets
whapped an ink ribbon and made a pattern of dots. The print head zoomed back
and forth and laid the dots down where the computer said to. No idea how people
put up with it; noisy as hell."
Allendale waved a paw. "So: Dot's on paper. Dots in the sky. Same principle.
Just a slightly more expensive printer."
"Suppose the ink's a little more expensive too," Allendale added.
Rashidkova choked. "Unless that old printer was nuclear powered, no shit!"
Allendale's eyes twinkled. "Wall, we did get our electricity from th' Green
River fusion plant, so technically..."
Rashidkova just snorted and peered out the window again. "Now wait, some
of the letters are the same forwards or backwards," she mused. "And at the end,
dropped down below..., that's the letter A. And a period. That's almost as if..."
She got it. "You signed it?" Rashidkova exclaimed. "Just an initial, but..."
"Ah think Laura'll be able to figure it out," Allendale whispered, looking out.
"Even if somebody don't tell her."
Rashidkova stared at the aurora. "That's a P. That's an E. Another A..."
Then she got all of it. Rashidkova gasped. Her paws came up to her muzzle.
"Allendale!! Your message!! It says..."
To Allendale's left, his comm console virtually exploded with urgency, angry
bleeps, red lights, and overrides.
Allendale looked at his watch. "Hmmm. Six minutes. Th' GruppeKaptain's
slowin' down these days. But sounds like she's figured it out too. " He reached
out and tapped to open the channel.
"Howdy GruppeKaptain. Allendale. How goes your day? Did you collect any
good data on our test shot?" He winked at Rashidkova.
"GOOD DATA!!! I'LL GIVE YOU GOOD DATA!!!"
German is a very excellent language for swearing. The GruppeKaptain
demonstrated her considerable expertise for a few moments. Rashidkova winced.
What German she understood was not required to know that there was a
thermonuclear-temperature-angry officer on the other end of the line.
"Ah'm sorry, GruppeKaptain, lemme jest kick in the translation software.
Could you repeat that?" Allendale said sweetly.
Rashidkova put a paw over her eyes and groaned inwardly. Bad time to play
let's-tweak-an-officer's-nose, Marine. This would not end well.
"Not without peeling another layer of paint off the walls of our command
module." The GruppeKaptain's voice was as chilly as space itself. "Allendale, do
you have any idea what you've done?"
Ah, but it was a setup. "Yes, GruppeKaptain, we know. We figured out how
to shoot down about 300 attacking missiles inside of twenty seconds, give or
take. Better firing pattern might get that up to 800 per minute. My compliments
to th' folks who designed our last drill, by the way. Gave us th' idea."
It was that good? Rashidkova's muzzle sagged. Which was probably what
the GruppeKaptain was doing too. There was a long silence.
Then a weak: "...What?"
Allendale smiled as a predator again. "From a targeting point of view an
attacking flock of missiles bears a resemblance t' something Ah've seen before.
Won't go into the whole story--it's in mah report--but upon some thinking Ah
realized that the concept behind th' weapon Ah used on that occasion could be
useful here. We'll send you the whole package on the technical configurations,
but metaphorically speaking y' might say we figured out how t' put a shotgun
load into the chamber of this here sniper rifle we're driving. Instead of gettin' a
few high-power beams per shot, we can now get a whole passel of lower power
beams that don't need as precise targeting. But they do pack enough punch to
either take out or damage an attacking missile. Which, by definition, is not
hardened, and can't ever be, and is therefore vulnerable to a low-power shot.
Provided we can get off a massed volley. Now this is th' case."
Allendale took a breath. "And since Ah'm startin' to quote from my own
report Ah'll shut up here. Whaddya think so far?"
Another silence. Longer this time. Then speaking slowly: "Allendale, if you're
right on this, you're about to be buried under commendations. If you're wrong,
just plain buried, and I'll be the one holding the shovel in light of the 'firing
pattern' you chose to use for your test. If your report's not in my comp before
we're finished talking I'm coming over there myself with a crowbar to dig it out of
yours. As for how big a dent that crowbar's also going to put in that Marine skull
of yours, I haven't decided."
"She hasn't decided. Ah think that's an optimistic sign, don't you?" Allendale
murmured to Rashidkova, who rolled her eyes.
Allendale tapped on the comm screen. "Transmitting report and test shot
data to you now, under filename AR-Shotgun. Commendations are also due to
Gunnery Officer Rashidkova, who did not know the precise details of the firing
pattern, but who did the essential changes on the Beam Control Module. That's A
as in Allendale, R as in Rashidkova. Name-credit on this technique should include
hers."
More silence. Then: "Provisionally accepted, pending review of your report.
Assignment of culpability is also pending. I have a hard time believing you got
this past her, Allendale. And about that verdammndt fire pattern..."
Allendale smiled at Rashidkova and held up two crossed fingers. Uh oh. This
was where he was really going to lay it on thick.
"You study the history of World War Two, GruppeKaptain?" Allendale said
quietly.
Yet again, silence. Then tightly: "Of all people, you have to ask me that?"
"We're up here because of what happened at end of that war, of course. But
it's possible to study that war and miss something important. It relates to that
pattern. Or rather the message it put up."
"Get to the point, Allendale."
"That war was fought with bullets, and shells, and bombs, and damn near
any other killing technology that people could dream up. But it was also fought
with words, with images, with movies, with sound and music, all deployed usin'
every piece of mass media technology available."
Allendale swallowed. "Propaganda, GruppeKaptain, propaganda," he said
softly. "Megatons of it. The Germans were the experts, paws down, but the
Russians got damn good at it too. The Japanese effectively brainwashed
themselves with it. The Kamikazes were largely volunteers. Americans and British
and Canadians, well, different techniques, not as intensive, but worked well
enough. It was propaganda that helped start it, it was propaganda that helped
keep millions of people fighting it, and after the war it was propaganda that
helped fuel the Cold war too. Damn near turned it hot a few times."
"So what we've got out there now is the biggest, brightest, most visible piece
of propaganda in the history of th' art, up there in the sky, and the content of the
message and the timing of it couldn't be better. Message delivered by an
American Marine and a Russian Sergeant. Shitload of symbolism in that fact,
GruppeKaptain. Very helpful."
"If... you're telling me you pulled this stunt just for PR purposes..."
"No!" Allendale barked. "Ah did this because Ah've got a beautiful Collie wife
down there in Atlanta, and Ah'm up here, and Ah'd like to send her a message for
Christmas, but Ah can't...!!"
Allendale stopped to collect himself. "So Ah did it anyway. With the only
means at my disposal, which is how Marines tend t' look at problems, y'know?
Not, why can't it be done, but, how do Ah do it?"
Rashidkova cut in on her comm console. "GruppeKaptain, Rashidkova. I've
studied a little propaganda theory. Almost mandatory before they let you out of
high school where I come from. He hasn't discussed all this with me. Allendale's
flying by the seat of his pants over here, but his concept's sound. Any other time
of year, it's a useless gesture. But the timing, the content, the sending a message
to a loved one, the American-Russian angle: It's got all the elements of a
propaganda masterstroke. And the fact that he weaseled his way around the
comm silence rules at great risk to his career. Put that way, you have an
argument here that could be extremely helpful to you over the next few hours, in
terms of deflecting the mega-flak that's probably on its way to your comm
console even as we speak."
"Since you're involved I could consider that a little self-serving, Sergeant."
"I am motivated to help pull his chestnuts out of the fire, yes. Or the
crusher. I'm very fond of his chestnuts. The kicker, though, is the fact that he's
come up with a trick that greatly boosts our deterrence, at almost zero cost, that
could help save several billion lives. Anybody tries to nail him to the mast over
this, they'll be creating a Marine-sized martyr."
Allendale looked at Rashidkova in astonishment. Grinning, she held up a pair
of crossed fingers.
Over the speaker there came not the GruppeKaptain but the sounds of a
muffled conversation. Shadsworth, among others, was putting an oar in. A heated
conversation. It went on for a while.
Finally, and wearily: "Allendale, Rashidkova, if this is the kind of present
Santa gives me when I've been good, I shudder to think about what I'd be
handed for naughtiness... Stop smirking, Shadsworth, you naughty cat. Stand by
to receive our data on your shot, you're on indefinite furlough pending
investigation, and this is a direct order: No more test shots until further notice.
Alert level three. Oh, and Allendale?"
"Yes, GruppeKaptain?"
"You're not precisely on the hook, but you're not entirely off it either. Yet.
This may change. But for now..."
"Yes, GruppeKaptain?"
"For now: Good job. Merry Christmas. Off."
"Merry Christmas. Off," Allendale murmured. He tapped on the comm
console and cut the channel.
The lights and screens of the command module flickered away. The faint
mechanical sounds of the station's systems rumbled in the background. Allendale
and Rashidkova lay back in their crash couches. There was nothing to do for a
while but look out the window at the aurora--the message--so that's what they
did.
Finally, Rashidkova slowly reached out and dropped her paw down to his
thigh. "I think... you got away with it," she whispered.
"Since Ah didn't hear anybody order you t' put a bullet in mah fool brain,
may be. Just may be."
"Don't you dare do anything like that again. Ever. If you want to talk to
Laura, use semaphore next time."
"Y'know, that's actually a practical idea? All she needs is a big telescope. Ah
go for a spacewalk with a couple of flags..."
"And the GruppeKaptain shoots your ass off with Beta's cannon."
"Ah. Right. Not that practical."
Rashidkova undid her safety belt and floated up a bit, her tail flowing behind
her. "Undo your belt. And scrunch over. Your Gunner wants snuggle."
Not a safe thing to float free in the command module, especially with a tail
that could flick switches, but with a little belt adjustment two could snuggle in a
crash couch built for one. Rashidkova snapped Allendale's belt shut around her
waist as his arms went around her shoulders.
"I am envious of Laura," Rashidkova murmured, her muzzle close to his.
"Looked at one way, that message is probably the most romantic thing any
husband has ever done for his wife. You've told the world how much you love her
in letters of atomic light in the sky."
"Ah did say, some presents y' can't wrap," Allendale whispered.
"Yes. Well. Wrap this, Marine," Rashidkova said, then leaned in.
There's really no point in trying to describe the kiss that followed. It's the
kind of kiss almost everybody's gotten, or delivered, at some point or other, so
we all know what it's like. Merely the kind of kiss that tells the other person how
much you love them, all of how much you love them, at the same time as their
kiss back at you is saying the same thing.
No, nothing terribly unique about it. No reason to comment further on that kiss.
Although it did take an awfully long time for them to finish it.
"Boo-yah," Allendale finally whispered (and not a little dazed as he said it).
Rashidkova smiled. "Maybe the best presents are the ones you can't wrap.
We will say that kiss is from both Laura and I, since she cannot love you as much
as I do right now. And I shall pretend you're Petrov and Achmed rolled into one.
That kiss reminds me well enough of how they kiss me. And love me."
Allendale moved a paw and stroked her hair for a moment. "No more than
Ah love you. They're all still a long ways away, though," he said in a low voice.
"Not far away in our hearts, Jim. Not in our hearts. And now they know it."
Their eyes were drawn to a screen showing a view from an outside camera.
The aurora blazed it's glory in the sky.
"Wonder what it looks like from down there," Rashidkova whispered.
"One way t' find out."
Allendale reached out to a keyboard. "Select cam four, do a screen
capture..." he murmured, typing. "Now let's see th' mirror image..."
The graphics software rewrote the screen. The aurora jumped into clear
view. And now clearly readable.
They studied it for a moment. "Looks good. Let's hope the advertising
companies never find out how we did this," Rashidkova said.
"Ah'll let the GruppeKaptain handle that," Allendale chuckled. "Thought
about trying t' work in the rest of the saying, then realized that'd do it."
"Would have needed more shots. That's enough. Everybody who knows
anything about Christmas will get it. And so will everybody else."
"Had a couple of other lines in mind. This one's best."
"Not a message that's worked very well over the centuries, you know,"
Rashidkova said. "'Peace on Earth.'"
"Yeah. But y' gotta think it'll catch on sooner or later," Allendale whispered,
looking over Rashidkova's ears at the blue-green planet slowly rotating
underneath them.
- - -Fin.
Feb 27/2012
=============================================================================
Page 5
<<< PREV Pg 4 First Page
Category Story / All
Species Dog (Other)
Size 240 x 240px
File Size 40.1 kB
Comments