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<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-r">HOUR 3</span></span>
>I’ll hold off on those options for now. First, I want those fighters in the air, then I’ll call the General-Secretary.
Frank nods. “Right away sir.”
He picks up a phone on his side of the table and begins issuing commands, while 10 white dotted lines creep closer and closer to the Russian border. A few moments later, small icons depicting Canadian airbases appear, and you realise just how far away from the bombers they are. Right now, they’re reaching the edge of Canada, and will soon be over the Arctic, but most of Canada’s bases are closer to you, on the border. You’re sending them into the frozen wasteland of the Arctic, and they won’t be able to turn back if they want to catch up. You lean over to Albert.
>Is there anything we can do for those pilots?
He shakes his head. “They’ll have to bail out when they run out of fuel, or if they reach the targets. We’ll organise some search planes, but sir, even if they’re lucky enough to land on ice, there’s not much hope of finding them. It’s pretty isolated up there, and even our heavy lift planes can only fly so long.”
He then lowers his voice.
“Frankly sir, this is likely a futile effort. But we must do everything in our power to stop those bombers, no matter how small a chance it might be. Those men will understand.”
You have your doubts, but you keep them to yourself. The order has been given. You wait to see the fighters take off, and soon enough they do, white dots that begin moving from the white squares in Canada, all flying as quick as they can to stop the doom that may end the world. But as you watch, you think that though they’re moving quicker, far quicker than the bombers, they’re still too slow. The gap is too big. But now there is little you can do except wait, and you don’t intend to waste time.
>Frank.
“Yes sir?”
>Prepare the hotline. I’m going to call the General-Secretary.
“Right away. The translator should be here soon.”
<span class="mu-s">Roll 1d100, Bo3. DC 90.</span>
