The Third Wave

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The intercom came to life. “Mister de la Haye to see you, sir,” said the receptionist, as the secretary of the Navy walked in on the heels of the announcement with a young fellow in tow. Rear Admiral Fontaine, a tall lean man with dark circles under his eyes, stood up and came out from behind his desk to meet his boss half way.

“Always good to see you, chief,” he said. “How did the hearings go this morning?”

The secretary of the Navy shrugged. From his demeanor, he was not a happy camper. “It’s been one of those days, Henry. Ah went down to tell the committee that we need to deploy at least a squadron of nuclear warheads in lunar orbit to protect Earth from collision with comets and asteroids—or planetesimals as the staff wants to call ’em.”

Nuclear warheads in lunar orbit? Fontaine winced. “Uh, I hope that was vehicles in orbit, warheads on Earth, chief?”

“Oh, hell yes, that’s what I said to those people: We anticipate being in full compliance with the Geneva Convention, yes, indeed. For a supporting argument, I had some truly elegant graphics to show. Really neat stuff that actually went down 65,000,000 years ago, superimposed on today’s landscape.”

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