“Surely, Mr. Mayor, I understand. But what am I supposed to work with? I have no transport yet. The Army has promised a fleet of D-100 tractors pulling 100x cargo flats, but none have materialized. They were caught just as short as we were, Your Honor, even though that General Bates knew all about it. We all knew the day would come, but I guess we kept hoping ‘maybe.’ Our negotiations with them seemed to be bearing fruit, and the idea of exposing over a million and a half city-bred individuals to a twelve-hundred-mile trek in thirty-below temperatures was just too awful to really face. Even now—”

“I know. The army is doing all it can. The main body of PR troops hasn’t actually crossed the dateline yet—so perhaps our forces can get in position. Who knows? Miracles have happened before. But we can’t base our thinking on miracles, Jimmy. Flats or no flats, we have to have the people out of the dome before enemy forces cut us off.”

“Mr. Mayor, our people can’t take this. Aside from leaving their homes and possessions—I’ve already started them packing, and I’ve given them a ten-pounds-per-person limit—they aren’t used to exercise, to say nothing of walking twelve hundred miles over frozen tundra. And most of them have no clothing heavier than a business suit. And—”

“Enough, Jimmy. I was ambushed in my office earlier today by an entire family: the old grandmother who was born under the dome and refused to consider going outside; the father all full of his product-promotion plans and the new garden he’d just laid out; mother, complaining about junior having a cold and no warm clothes; and the kids, just waiting trustfully until the excitement was over and they could go home and be tucked into their warm beds with a tummyful of dinner. Ye gods, Jimmy! Can you imagine them after three weeks on the trail?”

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“Just lean across the desk, fellows. Come on, gather round. Take a close look at the shoulder tab. Four stars—see ’em? Then go over to the Slab and do the same with General Margrave. You’ll count six. It’s as easy as that, boys. The General says no test. Sure, I told him the whole plan. His eyes just kept boring in. Even making contingency plans for deploying an untested and non-High-Command-approved weapon system is grounds for court-martial. He didn’t say that; maybe I’m telepathic. In summary, the General says no.”

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