Cold Allies Read Online Free PDF Page B

out.
    “Two days ago, we lost a pilot,” the American general said. “A Lieutenant j.g. Justin Searles. He was flying an old Super Tom. It was hit by flak and went down. He and his radio intercept officer bailed out at the same time. The RIO made it to the ground. Searles did not. If we are to believe the RIO, the Woofers captured him.”
    Baranyk shifted his gaze to the other commanders at the table. The German looked worried, but that was his usual expression. The Pole seemed stunned.
    “Then they are not simply observing,” Czajowski said. “No.” The American linked his hands on the table, ignored the coffee the aide poured for him. “We must consider them a player. But that does not necessarily mean they are an enemy.”
    “The mutilations?” Weiderhausen asked. “You are having them, too?”
    Lauterbach nodded.
    “If they are killing our soldiers ...”
    “We’re not sure of that,” the American said quickly.
    “The mutilations might be a form of mercy killing. They take only the severely wounded. Besides, as many Arabs have been found mutilated. We must not forget that we are dealing with an alien mentality—”
    “You assume aliens,” Baranyk blurted. “You assume, general. Perhaps the rest of us believe something else.”
    Lauterbach gave him a level, appraising look. ‘The lights are extraterrestrial ships. And the beings who control them are centuries ahead of us in technology. If you fire on them, you may find it the worst command decision you’ve ever made.”
    “Kiev was my worst command decision. The rest, as you Americans say, is uphill from there.” Baranyk glanced up from his own entwined hands in time to catch the pity in the German’s face.
    Baranyk tore his gaze away from Weiderhausen’s pale blue eyes and back to the emotionless hazel eyes of the American. ‘These Woofers have nothing to do with the war. They are irritants only. Where are our supplies? You cannot fly planes on piss.”
    “Nobody has fuel,” the American told him quietly.
    “And the Gibraltar Dam keeps our tankers out of the Mediterranean. If you want oil, why don’t you go to your old comrades in Russia? Siberia’s oil-rich.”
    Baranyk snorted and shook his head. ‘The Russians bartered my Ukraine for their own safety. They wouldn’t give me adequate maps; why should they give me oil? In the meantime we are losing a war.”
    “I still say our best chance is to get the Woofers to join the fight with us,” Lauterbach told him.
    “If you insist they are alien,” the Ukrainian replied, “then how can we communicate? We fail to understand the Arabs. How do we understand little blue lights?”
    “Oh, Valentin,” the American sighed. “I think I understand the Arabs. They’re just hungry.”
    Baranyk dismissed the Greenhouse Effect with a wave of his hand. “Let them eat dirt.”
    The American’s lips tightened. “I thought that’s what we were trying to do.”
    A short, introverted silence in the room. The Pole took another sip of coffee. The German stared off into middle distance. Lauterbach regarded the table.
    “I have feelings for the victims of famine,” Baranyk said when the silence grew unbearable. “The Chinese have suffered, for example, but they do not start wars.”
    “No, they die very quietly, the Chinese,” Czajowski murmured.
    From the end of the table, Lauterbach spoke, his voice barely above a tired whisper. “One thousand Americans die of starvation every day.”
    Baranyk caught the wince in the German’s face, in the Pole’s. The Americans had their famine, but Europe had its war. To Baranyk, one debt canceled another. The Americans had no heart for battle, even though they had sent their best commanders, their soldiers, their magical weapons. It was not America that was being invaded. And if worse came to worst, they could pull out and go home.
    “God. Don’t you see how sad it is?” the American asked, spreading his arms. “These aliens have traveled across space