26

We hit them so hard you could see it, by bare eyeball hookup; didn't need binox. Chin dropped and I said, "Bojemoi!" softly and reverently. Twelve very bright, very sharp, very white lights in perfect rectangular array. They swelled, grew dimmer, dropped off toward red, taking what seemed a long, long time. Were other new lights but that perfect grid so fascinated me I hardly noticed.

"Yes," agreed Mike with smug satisfaction. "Dead on. You can talk now, Man; I'm not busy. Just the backups."

"I'm speechless. Any fail to get through?"

"The Lake Michigan load was kicked up and sideways, did not disintegrate. It will land in Michigan--I have no control; it lost its transponder. The Long Island Sound one went straight to target. They tried to intercept and failed; I can't say why. Man, I can abort the follow-ups on that one, into the Atlantic and clear of shipping. Shall I? Eleven seconds."

"Uh-- Da! If you can miss shipping."

"I said I could. It's done. But we should tell them we had backups and why we aborted. To make them think."

"Maybe should not have aborted, Mike. Idea was to make them use up interceptors."

"But the major idea was to let them know that we are not hitting them as hard as we can. We can prove the other at Colorado Springs."

"What happened there?" Twisted neck and used binox; could see nothing but ribbon city, hundred-plus kilometers long, Denver-Pueblo Municipal Strip.

"A bull's-eye. No interception. All my shots are bull's-eyes, Man; I told you they would be--and this is fun. I'd like to do it every day. It's a word I never had a referent for before."

"What word, Mike?"

"Orgasm. That's what it is when they all light up. Now I know."

That sobered me. "Mike, don't get to liking it too much. Because if goes our way, won't do it a second time."

"That's okay, Man; I've stored it, I can play it over anytime I want to experience it. But three to one we do it again tomorrow and even money on the next day. Want to bet? An hour's discussion of jokes equated with one hundred Kong dollars."

"Where would you get a hundred dollars?"

He chuckled. "Where do you think money comes from?"

"Uh--forget it. You get that hour free. Shan't tempt you to affect chances."

"I wouldn't cheat, Man, not you. We just hit their defense command again. You may not be able to see it--dust cloud from first one. They get it every twenty minutes now. Come on down and talk; I've turned the job over to my idiot son."

"Is safe?"

"I'm monitoring. Good practice for him, Man; he may have to do it later by himself. He's accurate, just stupid. But he'll do what you tell him to."

"You're calling that computer 'he.' Can talk?"

"Oh, no, Man, he's an idiot, he can never learn to talk. But he'll do whatever you program. I plan to let him handle quite a bit on Saturday."

"Why Saturday?"

"Because Sunday he may have to handle everything. That's the day they slam us."

"What do you mean? Mike, you're holding something back."

"I'm telling you, am I not? It's just happened and I'm scanning it. Projecting back, this blip departed circum-Terra parking orbit just as we smashed them. I didn't see it accelerate; I had other things to watch. It's too far away to read but it's the right size for a Peace cruiser, headed this way. Its doppler reads now for a new orbit circum-Luna, periselenion oh-nine-oh-three Sunday unless it maneuvers. First approximation, better data later. Hard to get that much, Man; he's using radar countermeasures and throwing back fuzz."

"Sure you're right?"

He chuckled. "Man, I don't confuse that easily. I've got all my own lovin' little signals fingerprinted. Correction. Oh-nineoh-two-point-forty-three."

"When will you have him in range?"

"I won't, unless he maneuvers. But he'll have me in range late Saturday, time depending on what range he chooses for launching. And that will produce an interesting situation. He may aim for a warren--I think Tycho Under should be evacuated and all warrens should use maximum pressure-emergency measures. More likely he will try for the catapult. But instead he may hold his fire as long as he dares--then try to knock out all of my radars with a spread set to home each on a different radar beam."

Mike chuckled. "Amusing, isn't it? For a 'funny-once' I mean. If I shut down my radars, his missiles can't home on them. But if I do, I can't see to tell the lads where to point their guns. Which leaves nothing to stop him from bombing the catapult. Comical."

Took deep breath and wished I had never entered defense ministry business. "What do we do? Give up? No, Mike! Not while can fight."

"Who said anything about giving up? I've run projections of this and a thousand other possible situations, Man. New datum--second blimp just departed circum-Terra, same characteristics. Projection later. We don't give up. We give 'em jingle-jangle, cobber."

"How?"

"Leave it to your old friend Mycroft. Six ballistic radars here, plus one at the new site. I've shut the new one down and am making my retarded child work through number two here and we won't look at those ships at all through the new one--never let them know we have it. I'm watching those ships through number three and occasionally--every three seconds--checking for new departures from circum-Terra. All others have their eyes closed tight and I won't use them until time to smack Great China and India--and those ships won't see them even then because I shan't look their way; it's a large angle and still will be then. And when I use them, then comes random jingle-jangle, shutting down and starting up at odd intervals... after the ships launch missiles. A missile can't carry a big brain, Man--I'll fool 'em."

"What about ships' fire-control computers?"

"I'll fool them, too. Want to lay odds I can't make two radars look like only one halfway between where they really are? But what I'm working on now--and sorry!--I've been using your voice again."

"That's okay. What am I supposed to have done?"

"If that admiral is really smart, he'll go after the ejection end of the old catapult with everything he's got--at extreme range, too far away for our drill guns. Whether he knows what our 'secret' weapon is or not, he'll smear the catapult and ignore the radars. So I've ordered the catapult head--you have, I mean--to prepare to launch every load we can get ready, and I am now working out new, long-period trajectories for each of them. Then we will throw them all, get them into space as quickly as possible--without radar."

"Blind?"

"I don't use radar to launch a load; you know that, Man. I always watched them in the past but I don't need to; radar has nothing to do with launching; launching is pre-calculation and exact control of the catapult. So we place all ammo from the old catapult in slow trajectories, which forces the admiral to go after the radars rather than the catapult--or both. Then we'll keep him busy. We may make him so desperate that he'll come down for a close shot and give our lads a chance to burn his eyes."

"Brody's boys would like that. Those who are sober." Was turning over idea. "Mike, have you watched video today?"

"I've monitored video, I can't say I've watched it. Why?"

"Take a look."

"Okay, I have. Why?"

"That's a good 'scope they're using for video and there are others. Why use radar on ships? Till you want Brody's boys to burn them?"

Mike was silent at least two seconds. "Man my best friend, did you ever think of getting a job as a computer?"

"Is sarcasm?"

"Not at all, Man. I feel ashamed. The instruments at Richardson--telescopes and other things--are factors which I simply never included in my calculations. I'm stupid, I admit it. Yes, yes, yes, da, da, da! Watch ships by telescope, don't use radar unless they vary from present ballistics. Other possibilities--I don't know what to say, Man, save that it had never occurred to me that I could use telescopes. I see by radar, always have; I simply never consid--"