"He is circling Earth in an orbit about two thousand miles out, passing our own stations about once every forty-eight hours."
"How big is the ship, sir? About what shape?"
"It is a cigar-shaped vessel, approximately three miles in length and slightly under one at maximum diameter."
"Have any of our own ships as yet had actual contact with this craft?"
"Yes, there has been contact. I am sorry that for the time being the result cannot be disclosed."
"There are rumors, General, that the 402nd Space Wing sent a five or six-ship element of J-83 Lancers from Lunar Base, and that the ships have not reported back. Is this true, sir?"
"It is true that they have not been heard from since they left."
Then a young, unquavering voice cut in softly. "When is it to begin, sir? And when will we—"
"You may—write, gentlemen, that the invasion of Earth has already begun. And, that we have absolutely no defense against it. None. Because of that fact, the decision of the New U. N. Joint Chiefs has been that there should be no needless loss of life. You may write that we have—that we have already surrendered."
His face felt as though it were hewn from wood—a strange wood with a fever in it. He had spoken far beyond his authorization. But they had to know. They could not be lied to forever. And the lies had always, ultimately, been worthless things. He was so tired.