Keith Laumer is a writer new to science fiction. In this story hedisplays the finesse, artistry and imagination of an old pro. Here isone of the tightest, tautest stories of interplanetary adventure in along while:
The murmur of conversation around the conference table died as the WorldSecretary entered the room and took his place at the head of the table.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” he said. “I’ll notdetain you with formalities today. The representative of the NavyDepartment is waiting outside to present the case for his proposal. Youall know something of the scheme; it has been heard and passed asfeasible by the Advisory Group. It will now be our responsibility tomake the decision. I ask that each of you in forming a conclusionremember that our present situation can only be described as desperate,and that desperate measures may be in order.”
The Secretary turned and nodded to a braided admiral seated near thedoor who left the room and returned a moment later with a younggray-haired Naval Officer.
“Members of the Council,” said the admiral, “this isLieutenant Commander Greylorn.” All eyes followed the officer ashe walked the length of the room to take the empty seat at the end ofthe table.
“Please proceed, Commander,” said the Secretary.
“Thank you, Mr. Secretary.” The Commander’s voice wasunhurried and low, yet it carried clearly and held authority. He beganwithout preliminary.
“When the World Government dispatched the Scouting Forcesforty-three years ago, an effort was made to contact each of thetwenty-five worlds to which this government had sent Colonizationparties during the Colonial[30]Era of the middle Twentieth Centuries. With the return of the last ofthe scouts early this year, we were forced to realize that no assistancewould be forthcoming from that source.”
The Commander turned his eyes to the world map covering the wall. Withthe exception of North America and a narrow strip of coastal waters, theentire map was tinted an unhealthy pink.
“The latest figures compiled by the Department of the Navyindicate that we are losing area at the rate of one square mile everytwenty-one hours. The organism’s faculty for developing resistanceto our chemical and biological measures appears to be evolving rapidly.Analyses of atmospheric samples indicate the level of noxious contentrising at a steady rate. In other words, in spite of our best efforts,we are not holding our own against the Red Tide.”
A mutter ran around the table, as Members shifted uncomfortably in theirseats.
“A great deal of thought has been applied to the problem ofincreasing our offensive ability. This in the end is still a question ofmanpower and raw resources. We do not have enough. Our smallimprovements in effectiveness have been progressively offset byincreasing casualties and loss of territory. In the end, alone, we mustlose.”
The Commander paused, as the murmur rose and died again. “There ishowever, one possibility still unexplored,