The 3rd Party

A series of incidents had provoked a state of emergency between two great powers. The reason was obvious. But why a single chemist as bait—and who was the third party?... The 4th award winner in IF's College Science Fiction Contest.
Snow beat against the tall windows of the terminal building. The howling of the wind around the corners of the building and across the broad expanse of the rocket field went unheard by the thousands who streamed across the crowded floor. Each was intent on his or her affairs, hurrying to board one of the tall spires out on the snow covered field, seeing someone off, or waiting for incoming friends.
Roger Lorin and his wife waited near the entrances to the boarding tunnels for the announcement that would send them out under the field to their rocket. The shouts of porters and the voices of excited passengers mingled with the noises of the terminal. Groups of people moved across the floor like the currents of the ocean.
Suddenly, the announcer's voice boomed out over the p. a. All passengers for the Arctic City rocket report to tunnel seven.
Come on Linda, Roger said. That's our ship. He hurried his wife toward the tunnel entrance. A few minutes later they stepped off the conveyer walk at the bottom of an elevator shaft. The gray uniformed attendant checked their tickets, before the glass cage lifted them to the lock entrance high on the side of the rocket. The wind sang its mournful song around the corners of the cage and fired volleys of snow against the glass. At the air lock entrance, a stewardess checked their tickets a second time.
Couches 34 and 35? Follow me, please. She led them up one deck and over to a pair of couches, one of which was next to a small eyeport.
Take the one next to the port, honey, said Roger. The view's worth seeing.
A moment later, a buzzer sounded, and a red light flashed on near the hatch to the deck above. The voice of the pilot came over the intercom system.
We are blasting off in five minutes. All passengers who have not strapped in will please do so immediately. Three minutes went by, and the final warning buzzer sounded. After another two minutes, the rumble of the motors came from the tail of the ship. The rocket, a towering silver needle with orange flame spouting from its lower end, paused on the field as its motors warmed up. Then it rose majestically on a column of fire and disappeared in the swirling snow.