FORCED MOVE
BY HENRY LEE
Wars are won by sacrifice. But
computers don't consider sacrifice
an optimum move....
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, June 1955.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Snow had fallen in the morning but now the sky was clear and Ruy, witha glance at the frosty stars and a sharp twist of his foot as he groundout a cigarette, stepped out quickly. It was axiomatic. What had to bedone, had to be done. A forged pass, with 48 hours of alleged validitygleaming brightly in red letters under the plastic overlaminate wasbetter than no pass. And an outdated pass would wipe away a week's workin the underground.
The sharp, massive gray outline of the Pentagon loomed before him, darkand foreboding against the sky. The brightly lighted entrance throughwhich he must gain admittance resembled the glowing peep-hole into theinferno of an atomic drive.
Ruy's stomach hardened, then exploded in a surge of bitter, stringentgastric juices as the MP glanced at his pass, scrutinized his face, andthen turned his attention toward others coming through the entrance.
Ruy wanted to run and hide. His dark blue uniform seemed to shrinktighter and tighter. The misfit must be apparent from the back. Thesilvery commander's insignia on his jacket weighed heavily at hischest and at his heart. He wished desperately for one fleeting, butexcruciating, moment that he were back on his ship, in his own uniform,at the control panel of his computer.
He started off to the right in a seeming trance. The first step hadbeen taken. His many hours of thought, study and planning would carryhim from here.
This was the only way. He had repeated the fact over and over. It wasan ugly business, but had to be done. Five years of war was enough.Man was on his knees before the invaders from outer space; but they inturn had been too long from home and were near the breaking point. Acontinued drain would mean defeat for both sides. Ruy could turn thetide, but very probably his life would be the minimum sacrifice.
He had decided his fate long before he left the decks of his ship.Only the belligerent pride of statesmen, and the steadfast belief inthe infallability of their computers, kept the two great battle fleetsdrawn in null position against each other. The computers, perhaps,deserved such ultimate confidence—in theory. They always predictedoptimum maneuver envelopes, always predicted mobilization rates todevelop force fields designed to offset those of the enemy. And theyalways kept battle losses to a minimum—merely dribbling away theresources of the solar system. Yet in five years of such optimummaneuvering, not a single battle had been won.
Two doors gave way before Ruy's pocket vibrator, the lock tumblersslipping and turning freely in a mad frenzy to escape the resonatinghum. A short, windowless corridor lay before him, broken only by amassive door at the other end. Beyond that door lay Ruy's objective.
The guard never had time to do more than note Ruy's presence in thissanctum sanctorum. The needle thin spray of a paralyzing drug made hisbody feel stiff, unmanageable, and peculiarly buoyant, as though hewere being hurled through space. His thoughts became blurred and thenafter a blinding flash, complete oblivion set in.
The two officers seated at the control panels of the master computerexperienced similar depression of their cardiovascular systems a