Taylor knew Earth faced its darkest hour;
man was prepared to fight against any invaders,
except—ironically enough—those he had created!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
December 1956
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Harry Taylor knew it was going to be a big one—a really big one—themoment he saw the Chief.
"Come in, Taylor. Come in," the Chief said. He was a three-star generalin the United States Air Force and he stood in front of a map of theWestern hemisphere. The map covered the entire rear wall of the roomwith certain areas—like the White Sands complex and the centralEverglades and a portion of the Mojave Desert—marked off in red.
"I'll come right to the point," the Chief said. He looked haggard, notmerely as if he lacked sleep but as if he might never sleep again. "Asyou know, Taylor, all of our guided missiles are missing. That means—"
"I'd heard the rumors," Taylor said grimly. "But then—we'd behelpless! If the enemy finds out that we are unable to retaliate...."
"Wait, Taylor. Let me sketch in the history for you briefly. LastSunday, as you've probably heard via inter-agency scuttlebutt, everyinter-continental missile in the weapons arsenal of the Free Worlddisappeared."
"But how?"
"All we knew at the time was that they simply—blasted off. Our radartracked them as far as the upper reaches of the atmosphere, or rather,the ionosphere. We lost them there. It had been assumed that the enemysomehow infiltrated our defenses with trained agents, who activated allthe missiles at once, thus rendering us helpless.
"We had five thousand I.C.B.M.'s, Taylor. During the 1960's and 70's,as you know, the missiles became more and more automatic, especiallyafter the Parkinson feedback device was developed—"
"That's the one in which an H-bomb missile plots its own course tocorrect for winds and the jetstream and the likelihood of dodging enemyground-to-air defense weapons?"
"Right. Except for the necessity of blastoff at human hands, themissiles were all but self-sufficient. Almost—well, alive."
"Taylor, we couldn't hide the fact that five thousand I.C.B.M.'sblasted off—those were the rumors you heard." The Chief's haggard facewas suddenly lit by a broad grin. "And neither could the enemy."
"You mean—"
"Right! The same thing happened to them. Their missiles are gone too.Somewhere."
"Are you trying to tell me no one did it? Are you trying to say it wasthe missiles' own idea?"
The Chief nodded slowly. "I didn't believe it at first, either. Butour technicians assured me it could happen. You see, the missileshad been given the most perfect feedback device ever developed. Itcould—virtually—think for itself certainly to the limit of the datait had been supplied with and apparently—beyond that limit. On theirown volition, the Free World's and the Enemy's missiles blasted off.Destination and purpose—unknown. Taylor, don't you see what thismeans? We don't merely have an enemy group of nations to fight. Wehave, as a new enemy, remorseless, implacable machinery! Brains withoutconscience! The greatest destructive force the world has ever known,capable of utterly destroying the human race, without a moral sense!Don't you see it, man? They've blasted off and are waiting in spacesomewhere. Those missiles are capable of extra-earthly flight. Theyare staging out there, waiting. Can't you picture it? Their brains,groping with new sentience, understanding only that their missionis destruction but somehow they have not been unleas