George said, “They will not win.”

“But you were outmaneuvered, Mr. Hammond. You! And how many people are dead? Because of you?”

“There was an administrative failure,” George said miserably.

“You were deceived, and very cleverly. Dr. Turner worked with you, even as he allowed this thing to get out of control.”

“Yes, sir,” George said. “That is correct. If you want my resignation—”

“Hell, I’m dying to ventilate you with a bullet, you little shit. Excuse me for repeating myself. You’ve lost your operatives, such as they were. So you have no assets except maybe your old general and his mama saw. But you do have knowledge and I have an asset I am going to throw into this.” The president glanced toward Secretary O’Neill. “Tell them.”

“The First Special Forces Operational Detachment is on its way from Fort Bragg to Travis AFB as we speak. You’re to meet them in the battle area, Mr. Hammond, and provide any and all intelligence support you can.”

“Sir, if I may ask, what’s the mission?” No matter how despised George was in this room, if they wanted him to work, he would, but he needed to know what to do. His suicide would wait until after the mission.

“The mission is to eradicate this—I don’t even know what to call it—infestation, army, machine. Eradicate, as in ‘completely destroy.’ All records will be destroyed, and I mean destroyed. You are to revisit Dulce with nukes. Bury them deep and detonate them. I want that gone. Plum Island will be dismantled and the remains of all structures, all equipment, all records, buried in the abyssal deep. And once we retake San Francisco, that TV station is to be reduced to powder. As for the personnel at Plum Island, I want them genetically tested.” The president’s voice rose. “Anyone who isn’t one hundred percent human is to be killed on the spot, right there. No trial is necessary, they are not people. Are you understanding this? All of you?”

There was a general murmur. Then Dick Lamson said, “You do understand, sir, that this is probably the most valuable technology ever created. Programmable intelligent beings.”

“Monstrous!”

“Sir, please, hear me out.”

“No, Dick, I will not hear you out.”

“Sir, creatures like this would be a valuable tool.”

“As in, so smart they can eradicate the entire human species? I don’t think so.”

“Something is wrong with what’s out there. Terribly wrong. But it can be made to work, I’m convinced of it. Biological computers. More than computers, actual beings, living, conscious, but controllable.”

“Ah, and who agrees with Dick, here?” The president looked around the room. “Anybody?”

General Stuart said, “The army could be interested, sir. Brilliant soldiers that we could control. That aren’t—well, that don’t have rights, to be blunt.”