"You know, a lot of professional
officers, even up to field rank in the combat branches, seem to think
that ammo comes down miraculously from Heaven, in contragravity
lorries, every time they pray into a radio for it. It doesn't; it has
to be produced as fast as it's expended, and we haven't been doing
that. So we'll have to lick these geeks before it runs out, because we
can't lick them with gun-butts and bayonets."
"Well, how about nuclear weapons?" Paula asked. "I hate to suggest
it--I know what they did on Mimir, and Fenris, and Midgard, and what
they did on Terra, during the First Century. But it may be our only
chance."
He finished his beer and shoved the bottle into the waste-receiver,
then got out his cigarettes. "There isn't a single nuclear bomb on the
planet. The Company's always refused to allow them to be manufactured
or stockpiled here."
"I don't think there'd be any criticism of your making them, now,
general. And there's certainly plenty of plutonium. You could make
A-bombs, at least."
"There isn't anybody here who even knows how to make one. Most of our
nuclear engineers could work one up, in about three months, when we'd
either not need one or not be alive."
"Dr. Gomes, who came in on the _Pretoria_, two weeks ago, can make
them," she contradicted. "He built at, least a dozen of them on
Niflheim, to use in activating volcanoes and bringing ore-bearing lava
to the surface.
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