"Your mission is to carry the Weapon to a central location on the North American continent. I believe you have the force necessary to accomplish that."

Koski nodded but said nothing.

"The component ingredients of the Weapon I know no better than you yourself. It was developed at the Institute. Its special faculty is its ability to free hydrogen from the moisture in the air, and to start a chain reaction. The physicists tell me that it will sear most of the continent once it starts reacting. About the only spot that would be spared are the dry regions, and maybe not even those. Just one thing you must remember—do not use it unless you are certain that the war is definitely lost. Do you understand the importance of that command?"

"I do," Koski answered. "But wouldn't it be better to use it as soon as possible? The lives of my men and myself would be a small price to pay for victory."

"True, except for one big question," the Dictator replied. "The explosive is so deadly that it was impossible to experiment. There is no such thing as a little bit of it. Consequently we are not certain of its effects. We expect, and hope, that it will dissipate itself as it spreads too far from its initial explosion point, but we cannot be certain. It is possible that, once released, it will devastate the entire world. You see now why it must be used only as a last resort?"

Many times since Koski had gone over that conversation in his mind. Had the war been lost? Neither side had come through with functioning governments. Therefore, what course should he take? Perhaps the invaders even now ruled the homeland. Would he gain, or would he lose the last chance for ultimate victory by setting off the explosive?During the rare moments when his mind cleared, Koski realized the small chance the Campaign would have. At such times the Weapon beckoned. He knew then that the Campaign would never be completed in his lifetime. Wagner, however, was a very good man, with all the ideals of his country. He would carry on. It needed only a slight variation in the trend of events, to tip that scale one way or the other. Even now the General held the bottle of aqua fortis in his hand--undecided. The fate of the world teetered. "You aren't so pretty anymore," Wagner said. "Neither are you," Buckmaster answered through battered, bloody lips. He wondered where he found the strength to keep taunting Wagner. He could feel that his face was a lumpy mess. One eye was closed and blood, running down into the other, kept blinding him. Every muscle in his body 

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