Prohibition of Interference. Book 5. Steel-colored Moon. Макс Глебов
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“Japan will lose either way?”
“Yes, there is no choice. Only the timing can vary, and that to a small extent. In any case, the U.S. and England have enough forces to fight jointly with Germany against the Soviet Union.”
“Are there any options for a Soviet victory?”
“That was the case before you interfered with the course of history. The USSR could become an ally of Great Britain and the United States in the war with Germany and its allied countries. At the cost of losing a quarter of the population, the Soviet Union had a chance to win this war. With some probability, immediately after the defeat of Germany and Japan, a new war for the division of Europe between the former allies would have begun, but it is likely that a tense and unstable peace would nevertheless have taken place.”
“For how long?”
“For ten to fifteen years, and then there are almost equally likely forks, and the first of them contains the option of nuclear war, but the local civilization still had a fairly high chance of choosing the right path, at least at this key point.”
“So I only made things worse by showing up?”
“Worse for whom? For the USSR, no doubt. If you quit right now, the Soviet Union will be defeated in a war with the Western world united against it, but the chance of World War III for Earth's civilization as a whole will be significantly reduced within the next 30–40 years. There will simply be no power left in the world that can stand up to the United States.”
“But I'm not going to get out of the game, Lethra.”
“I know. You're the one who said it was a condition for making a prediction, so I'm working on it.”
“How to avoid a war of the USSR against the whole world?”
“I have no algorithm for developing a strategy for influencing the civilizations I study. You know as well as I do about the ban on interference. Such programs have never been created, so I'm not your adviser here.”
“But can you at least assess the possible consequences of my planned actions?”
“Only very roughly. This accuracy of prediction would never have suited the Letra whose name I now bear.”
“All right. Then let's play by your rules. Take the following setup: all attempts on Roosevelt's life are prevented. What is the likelihood of the United States going to war against the USSR?”
“60 percent. The president is not omnipotent in this country, and anti-communist forces are very influential. The media is quite capable of setting public opinion in the right way, and Roosevelt may simply have no choice.”
“So we need something to make it impossible for the United States to go to war against the Soviet Union. What could this be?”
“Don't forget, I'm not a human being. I can only make creative decisions when I have a clear algorithm for doing so. In this case, there is no such algorithm. I can only list the precedents from the history I know. A non-aggression pact may prevent entry into war, although such pacts are often violated. U.S. military or economic unpreparedness for war may be an obstacle, but by my calculations, they will have no problem with either in a year or a year and a half. There is also such a variant as the well-established opinion of the population of a country about another state as a reliable ally, thanks to whose help the the victory in a difficult war has recently been won. The U.S. is a democracy, and the government cannot ignore the opinion of its citizens at all. It can manipulate that opinion, but it just can't give a damn about it. And the citizens would probably not like an attack on a staunch ally. In our case, however, this does not apply – the U.S. is not at war with Germany and is not an ally of the USSR. Also, the attack could be stopped by the obvious military-technical superiority of the Soviet Union, but the level of its industrial development would not allow… ”
“Stop. Let me think about it.”
The artificial intelligence was obediently silent, and I was deep in thought, trying to catch the elusive thought. Something flashed through Letra's words that my brain tried to latch on to, but the idea slipped away before it could form.
“Again, slowly repeat the answer to my last question.”
“Don't… forget… that… I… am… not… a… human… being… I… can… only…”
I listened to the above in silence one more time and tried to remember what had made me stop Letra, and at some point the missing element took its place in the shaky construction of the forming idea with an almost tangible click.
“That's enough. Now I need a detailed and persuasive report from you to convince the leaders of the USSR that war with the West is inevitable. Use only those arguments that rely on data available to me officially. I will go to Stalin with this, and I don't want to be asked how I know, how many M3 tanks the Chrysler plant in Warren, near Detroit, will be able to produce next month to within a few pieces.”
Marshal Shaposhnikov rarely visited Lubyanka, but this time he could not avoid a visit to the Commissar of Internal Affairs. The document, received late at night, literally burned his hands. Boris Mikhailovich was deservedly considered a qualified military analyst and an experienced general staff officer, but the folder clutched in his hand contained materials that went far beyond the purely military sphere, and the decisions that should have been made on their basis were capable of changing the fate of the Soviet Union in the most unpredictable way.
Shaposhnikov did not dare to give these documents to Stalin at once – too much in them required verification, and the Marshal could not conduct such a verification by the General Staff alone. The night spent reading the analyses contained in the folder deprived the Marshal of peace. The course of the war, which seemed very successful to the Chief of Staff, and not only to him alone, suddenly appeared in a completely different light, drawing grave and gloomy prospects. For many hours Shaposhnikov tried to find an error in the inhumanly flawless logic of the report, and found none.
“Hello, Boris Mikhailovich,” Beria stood up to meet the Marshal, who entered his office, with a slight smile, “It's been a while since you visited me. We see each other more at meetings of the Headquarters of the Supreme High Command or in the Kremlin with Comrade Stalin. What was so unusual and urgent that made you come to Lubyanka?”
“Good afternoon, Lavrenty Pavlovich,” unlike the Commissar of Internal Affairs, Shaposhnikov kept a serious expression on his face. “You're right, something happened. Something urgent, and unusual, and, I think, top secret.”
“Let me guess,” Beria stopped smiling too. “Has your restless subordinate given us all a new surprise? What is it this time? Helsinki? Sevastopol? Ploiești? Berlin?”
“You'd better familiarize yourself with it,” Shaposhnikov carefully put the folder on the Commissar's desk. “I can hardly tell you any better or more convincingly than what is written here.”
Beria nodded silently, adjusted his pince-nez and leisurely opened the folder. Marshall waited patiently, rehearsing in his head all the things he had already thought about repeatedly during the night. Could it be that his own knowledge was not enough, because he was only a military man, and he simply could not find the logical inconsistencies in economic, political, and international relations? Now Beria will sarcastically chuckle, shake his head,