The Last Theorem - Arthur Charles Clarke [95]
It was not likely that the humans of Earth would become a fourth.
26
ON THE THRESHOLD OF PEACE
Back on Earth, there was confusion and worry. A mostly joyful confusion, to be sure, because hardly anybody in the world objected to the fact that the Adorable Leader—with his shyness and winsome apologetic public proclamations and, oh, yes, his million-man-strong army with all its rockets and nukes—was history. But questions were asked. By what right had America destroyed another country? And how the devil had they accomplished it?
No one answered. The American government merely said that the matter was under review and a statement would be issued, but didn’t say when. Military scientists around the world wished they had the wreckage of Silent Thunder to study. They didn’t, though. All that was left of Silent Thunder was a haze of white-hot liquid metal particles, rapidly cooling.
The news services were doing their best. Within an hour of when Silent Thunder had done its snuffing-out of the Adorable Leader’s North Korea, news copters from South Korea and Japan were circling over the now electronically silent land.
There was nothing to hear, but much to see. Their cameras picked up the crowds milling around in the vast, and normally deserted, avenues of Pyongyang, or the smaller groups that stood helplessly beside their unworkable aircraft at now-useless air force bases, or the even tinier groups that, sometimes, could not control their rage and confusion and took it out by firing their impotent arms at the interlopers.
Some of those cameras picked up other things. A few detected other helicopters, for instance, also circling out of range of any persons with hand weapons.
These other aircraft came from the same cities as the news reporters. Their mission, however, was not to observe. It was to inform. Every one of them was equipped with powerful loudspeakers, and each loudspeaker was manned by a former North Korean refugee. Each of them circled over the towns and neighborhoods they had come from, and each speaker introduced himself by name as he repeated his (or her) four-part message:
“The reign of the so-called Adorable Leader is over. He will be tried for the crimes of betraying, mistreating, and starving a whole generation of our people.
“The North Korean army is now disbanded. It serves no useful purpose. No one is going to attack you. And all soldiers are now free to return to their homes and resume their peacetime occupations.
“Ample supplies of food and other necessities are on their way to you right now. Every one of you, from this day forward, is guaranteed, for life, a diet adequate for health and growth.
“Finally, you now will have the right to choose by secret ballot who will govern you.”
And to that, many of the broadcasters added, often with tears running down their cheeks, “And I am coming home!”
27
PAX PER FIDEM
Gamini didn’t keep his colleagues waiting for clarification. Not more than thirty-six hours, anyway, and for that particular length of time they—like the rest of the world—had plenty to keep them occupied. It wasn’t work that obsessed them. It was the media, with their unending scenes of outside forces pouring in, unopposed and nearly unarmed, too, unless you counted their noisemakers and shock-givers, moving in on the previously impregnable fortress that had been the Adorable Leader’s North Korea. Add to that the still more endless chatter of guess and supposition and bafflement that every commentator had to offer.
Then at last something appeared on the screen that at least promised to give some answers.
It was after dinner, and also after Myra had taken her turn at putting the baby to bed, that Ranjit again snapped on the TV. A moment later he gave a yelp of surprise that