CARRIER 10: ARSENAL By: Keith Douglass

with a calm, confident smile. There were times during the last two

days when that smile would have been a lie, and victory was all the

sweeter for having been uncertain. In the delicate balance of

international politics, sometimes appearances mattered more than

reality.

Reality: The United States could have smashed Cuba into a glowing

ember, had it wished. Illusion: The United States was a force for

stability in the region. Result: Smaller nations would flock to

America’s side, providing training opportunities and much-needed votes

on the main floor and, she had to admit, a bigger drain on the State

Department as they demanded money and technical assistance as their

just due.

No matter. In the long run, it was better for those nations to be

allied with the United States than to be open to foreign influences

such as Libya. She sighed, and wondered if this entire scenario could

have been averted had the first Cuban Missile Crisis been handled

appropriately. What would it have taken to tempt Castro away from the

Soviet yoke?

Money? Would that alone have been enough? She doubted it, and there

was no point in second-guessing President Kennedy at this point. What

mattered was that Cuba was once again a nuclear-free part of the United

States’ backyard.

She took a deep breath and began her address. “My fellow ambassadors,

I know you will join with me in expressing deep remorse over the

industrial accident that occurred in western Cuba just this morning.”

She turned a sympathetic gaze on the Cuban ambassador. “Sir, my staff

tells me that you have recently discovered a large coal deposit on the

westernmost dp of your island.” She noted with pleasure the puzzled

expression on his face. “What a tragedy, to have such a massive

cave-in so soon after you began exploiting those resources. Perhaps,

if the offer would not be taken amiss, I could suggest that we render

some technical assistance and support to your nation? If it would be

acceptable or desired, of course.” Ball in your court, she thought,

watching the range of emotions flit across his face. Will you reject

the offer here, in front of so many others who have taken advantage of

our generosity? I suspect that you have the authority to do absolutely

nothing, and will initiate the appropriate stalling measures until you

can confer with your grand supreme leader. For just a moment, she

wished that the Cuban president had been visiting the naval base when

the American firepower had rained down on it. How much easier it would

have been for everyone had he simply ceased to be alive.

But no, those consequences would have been unacceptable as well.

Assassination was not a part of American foreign policy, as evidenced

by the Coalition restraint during Desert Storm and Desert Shield. In

earlier centuries, nations such as Cuba and, of course, those of the

Middle East had found assassination to be the quickest way to clarify

difficult questions of sovereignty and succession.

But in the modern world, even the collateral damage of killing a

nation’s leader while pursuing a valid military objective would have

been looked at askance by the world community.

“Of course, I will have to ascertain the status of the rescue

operations before replying,” the Cuban ambassador managed finally.

“Your gracious offer will not be forgotten.”

She glared back. “See that it’s not. It remains available, since you

have need of it.” She turned back to the chairman.

“And now, on to other business. I understand that the representative

of the Bahamas is having a birthday today.

May I be the first to extend my congratulations?”

And so the business of international diplomacy churned on, a tangled

web of personal relations, illusions, and political power. As she

watched the nations struggle through the morass of conflicting

loyalties and orders, she marveled that the august body, conceived with

such good intentions, could ever accomplish anything.

1100 Local (+5 GMT) The Pentagon Pamela Drake stormed past the

secretary and barged into Admiral Loggins’s office. She was pale,

still drained looking, although a quick shower and change of clothes at

her hotel in Crystal City had washed away most of the dirt and grime

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