Cold Allies by Patricia Anthony

Author:Patricia Anthony
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction
ISBN: 0-15-118503-4
Publisher: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich
Published: 1992-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Barcelona, Spain

* * *

Careful not to drop his briefcase or bump his cast against the doorjamb. Colonel Wasef made his way into General Sabry’s office. The rotund general stood up. ‘’Are you all right?” he asked.

Wasef looked down at his plastered right arm. All day long his mind had played a tedious back-and-forth game of tennis with a ball of credulity. One moment, he would believe himself whole and reach for something: another moment, the broken arm was such a towering reality, it took up most of his world.

“Yes, sir. I’m well enough.”

Perhaps he wasn’t. He’d lost the LDV, and he’d accused the general’s only son of treason. Glancing up at Sabry’s round, concerned face, he wondered if the man would ever forgive him.

’’Please. Please.” Sabry pulled a chair up next to the desk. “Sit down.”

Wasef took a seat awkwardly, trying to keep his heavy elbow off the armrests.

“We believe the last KH satellite is disabled,” Sabry said.

As a man who sometimes pulls his dreams with him into day, Wasef experienced a brief and confusing flashback to the battle. The robot vehicle was turning, its arm raised like the most maladroit of baseball pitchers. The sight had been so ludicrous, Wasef almost laughed. Then he saw the dark shape of the mortar rush toward him. Here in the sunlit calm of the general’s office, the memory was so strong, it almost made him flinch.

“Are you in pain?” the general inquired.

Wasef opened his eyes. “No. sir.”

“Just to you will I admit I have some whiskey.” The general grinned. “Do not pass that information on to the Shi’a or the Saudis. Above all. do not tell those arrogant Saudis. If you would like a drink here in the privacy of my office, however. I would be glad to pour you one.”

Wasef began to lift his right arm in a gesture of refusal, but the weight of the cast stopped him. “No, sir. Please do not trouble yourself.”

The general’s smile faded with worry. “Even without the laser, we must make the assault. Not to act now would draw out the war another six months, and we can’t afford that. An Iranian pilot put a missile into a mountaintop yesterday. Through his idiocy the planned route is impossible. We must use the road south of Andorra.”

Wasef, cradling his cast with his left hand, nodded. “If we move at night, we can cross the mountains undetected. There are rarely Allied flights there, and the French. I believe, are not yet alarmed.”

“We?” Sabry asked.

Wasef blinked, suddenly adrift. “Yes, sir. The artillery and tank battalions I am to lead.”

Sabry frowned. The scowl was so unlike him that Wasef was frightened. Allah be merciful. Gamal has told his father.

“I am not sure about you,” the general said.

Wasef was sweating now. The room was not air-conditioned, and the afternoon sun blared through the window like atonal music.

“I fear you are too ill,” Sabry said.

Taking an unsteady breath of relief, Wasef shook his head. “No, sir, I am perfectly fine. I do not hold a weapon myself.

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