FORCED MOVE
BY HENRY LEE
Wars are won by sacrifice. But
computers don't consider sacrifice
an optimum move....
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, June 1955.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Snow had fallen in the morning but now the sky was clear and Ruy, with a glance at the frosty stars and a sharp twist of his foot as he ground out a cigarette, stepped out quickly. It was axiomatic. What had to be done, had to be done. A forged pass, with 48 hours of alleged validity gleaming brightly in red letters under the plastic overlaminate was better than no pass. And an outdated pass would wipe away a week's work in the underground.
The sharp, massive gray outline of the Pentagon loomed before him, dark and foreboding against the sky. The brightly lighted entrance through which he must gain admittance resembled the glowing peep-hole into the inferno of an atomic drive.
Ruy's stomach hardened, then exploded in a surge of bitter, stringent gastric juices as the MP glanced at his pass, scrutinized his face, and then turned his attention toward others coming through the entrance.
Ruy wanted to run and hide. His dark blue uniform seemed to shrink tighter and tighter. The misfit must be apparent from the back. The silvery commander's insignia on his jacket weighed heavily at his chest and at his heart. He wished desperately for one fleeting, but excruciating, moment that he were back on his ship, in his own uniform, at the control panel of his computer.