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was that Russia had never been willing to develop all the dainty, "humane" weapons the Americans were so proud of, but which had never been tried in battle. "Wait, brothers," he called out in his papery, asthmatic voice. "Wait for the moment when our weapons find their proper use. No laser-stunning guns, no electric bolts to incapacitate trucks and tanks. We will leave that to the Americans." He glared at his listeners and sucked on his oxygen tube. "We will destroy our enemies," he finished triumphantly. |
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Misha had a warrior's mind, Kondratiev thought, but he had a fool's temperament. Here he was, crowing about the Device in front of one and all, and this was not the time for it. Not quite yet. |
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Now the television screen showed a musical unit of the air force marching past the mausoleum, the airmen-musicians playing Ukrainian folk tunes. General Kalinin got up and paced around the room. He had been a cosmonaut until the funds for space exploration had run out. Kalinin considered this a national humiliation, a vicious blow to the country's prestige. A lack of money was no excuse, and going begging to the Americans for joint projects was worse. |
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His own service's contribution to this National Day parade consisted of a very short flyover of a division of old Ilyushin swing-wings, and a very poor marching band that slogged through the rain playing folk music. How wonderful. Kalinin regarded the others in the room, still apparently spellbound by the marching figures, with ironic amusement. Why are we here, he wondered. Just to play at solidarity with Kondratiev, our powerless leader? This gathering was a cheap show. In Stalin's day, it would have taken real courage for a roomful of senior officers to meet with a cashiered general. But with Cherny in the Kremlin, this was no more than a kind of rump military parliament. Perhaps it was all useless; perhaps he should have joined with many of his fellow officers in cooperating with the Americans. Then his eyes fell on Kondratiev. |
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