"We hope so."

"You hope?"

"Madam President, we have very little history on which to base our models."

"I'm not interested in computer models, Fred. I want to know gut feelings. How are the people going to react?"

The secretary shook his head. "I don't know." The president turned to Foreman. "Danny?"

Foreman closed his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. He concentrated for a moment. He said, "Shock. Some upset. Possible panic." He opened his eyes. "You'll need to make a speech."

"I was planning on a statement."

"No. A speech. Rabble-rousing. Angry. Focus the energy on the enemy. Use a lot of good quotes. Talk about commitment, the long dark road. Remind them that the Earth is our planet. Inspire them. "

"I don't feel very inspiring right now."

"Hell, lady-who does? Remember what I told you during your last campaign?"

"Yes. No. Which one?"

He grinned at her. "Fake it till you make it."

She looked back at him. "I've been faking it for fifty-three years, Danny. When do I make it?"

He twinkled. "You didn't notice when it happened?"

She got off it then, relaxed and turned back to the room. She nodded to her press secretary. "We'll need to reserve a block of TV time. Have Wally and Wilma start on the speech. Have them check with Danny before the final draft." The press secretary nodded and began typing quietly into her clipboard.

The president said, "All right. Let's keep on purpose." She pointed to the secretary of state. "What kind of reactions can we expect from foreign governments when we go?"

The secretary of state was a tall, handsome woman in a dark blue suit. She said, "I expect the usual upset and anger, only played at a louder pitch than normal. Everything we do these days creates upset and anger."

The president nodded with a quiet smile. "I'm willing to have a little upset and anger. Go on."

"Our allies will try to talk us out of it, of course."

"Wait a minute. There's an assumption that needs to be cleaned up here. We're not giving anyone any forewarning. Not even our allies."

The secretary of state looked unhappy. "I don't know how they'll handle it."

"I'll handle that," said the president. She pointed to her press secretary. "Here's how we'll work it. I'll tape the speech as soon as it's ready. The speech will go on the air as soon as the bombs go off. At the same time, I'll want a conference call with the heads of as many friendly governments as we can get on the line. We'll put diplomatic notes on the network to everyone else. In other words, everybody finds out at the same time. I don't want it on the air anywhere until the planes have dropped their load. Assume that they have video set and picate terminals in those worm camps." There was silence.

"Is that understood?" Nods.

"Good." The president turned back to her secretary of state. "Will there be any diplomatic problems that you can't handle?"

"No, Madam President, there won't. I would like to add something though. There are probably quite a few governments on this planet who are just waiting for someone else to take the first step and use nuclear weapons. They may put on a show of complaining at first, but eventually, they'll be using their own bombs on their own invaders. I just want to acknowledge your courage in willing to be first."

"It's not courage, Anne. It's terror, but thanks anyway." The president smiled gently.

The secretary of state sat down.

"All right, we know the military can do the job. The plan can be implemented at any moment. We've looked at the consequences. Again. We've been looking at them for weeks. We're willing to trade our present problems for those problems. Is there anything we've failed to consider?"

Dr. Zymph spoke up. "Yes. It won't work." Everyone looked at her.

She said, "Oh, you'll wipe out the biggest camps, but I suspect we'll just have bigger camps to deal with in a year. Two years ago, we thought we'd turned the corner on the gastropedes. We were finding fewer and fewer nests. Suddenly, this year there are thousands of nests. Six months ago, we started to see incredible infestation. It took a very short time for them to begin gathering together and building cities. They're a very fast-paced ecology. The energy flow-through is incredible. The use of nuclear weapons will destroy their current infestations. But it won't handle the problem. We still don't know where the gastropedes are coming from. We could be back at this same point in six months. We cannot continue to bomb them every time they build up."

The president looked unhappy. "Will it buy us time, Moyra?"

Dr. Zymph nodded. "Yes, a little. But it's an unsatisfactory solution."

"I grant you that," said the president. "But it's the least unsatisfactory of all of our unsatisfactory solutions, right now." Dr. Zymph nodded her agreement. "Madam President, may I suggest that we look beyond this moment? We need to up the level of our commitment by several orders of magnitude. We've been putting a series of coordinated proposals on your desk for three weeks now-"

"I've seen them." The president held up a hand. "But this session is about the decision to go in with the nukes. Friday's session will be about our next steps. Can you wait until then?" Dr. Zymph nodded. She sat down.

The president said, "We'll take a fifteen-minute break. Then we'll reconvene."

The president disappeared into a waiting room with her aides, her press secretary, and the bald man who looked so familiar. I was inxore certain than ever that I knew him from somewhere.

The Japanese lady motioned to Lizard and she went over to whisper quietly with her. The rest of the meeting was breaking up into small conferences.

For some reason, I wandered over to say hello to Foreman. "You probably don't remember me," I began.

"McCarthy, James Earl-no, Edward," he said. He extended a hand. "You're looking . . . feral." He studied me with narrowed eyes. "Are you all right?"

"No," I said, truthfully.

Somebody touched Foreman's arm then. He held up a hand to stay that person. He looked at me. "Will you come see me?" There was something about the way he said it.

"Uh, why?"

"I want to train you."

"In what?"

"Will you come and see me?"

I thought about it. "All right."

"Good. Thank you." He turned to the waiting questioner, forgetting me completely.

What did he want, I wondered. I remembered my last conversation with him-a peripatetic affair. He had been trying to determine if I was fit to be turned loose upon the planet.

I wandered around the room, eavesdropping on other people's conversations.

Two naval officers were arguing quietly. " . . . looks to me like she's already made her decision."

"I don't think so. You don't know the old lady. She's playing devil's advocate. She takes the position and then challenges you to talk her out of it. My guess is that she doesn't want to go nuclear, but she doesn't see any alternative. She's letting us look for a good reason not to."

"Well, I can think of one," said the taller of the two. "It looks like defeat."

"That falls in the area of public relations. It can also be made to look like victory. I'll give the old witch credit. She makes her decisions by logistics, not politics." He turned to his colleague quietly to the wall. "You'd better get on the phone and alert your staff. If we take the Hawaii option, there'll be a lot of extra work for the Navy."