and so forth.” He glared at the Candidates. “Any questions?”
There was a long, stunned silence. Then, to her own surprise, Holle found herself raising a hand. “Colonel—why ‘Project Nimrod’?”
His eyes narrowed. “Fair question. I guess you don’t major on Bible studies here. Genesis 10, verses 8 to 10: ‘And Cush begat Nimrod: he began to be a mighty one in the earth . . . And the beginning of his kingdom was Babel, and Erech, and Accad . . .’ This is only generations after the Flood of Noah, and there is Nimrod, already King of Babel. I guess you know what happened in Babel, right? Chapter 11, verse 4. ‘And they said, Go to, let us build us a city and a tower, whose top may reach unto heaven.’ ”
Wilson Argent put his hand up. “But, Colonel—are you comparing Ark One to Babel? God punished them when they built the tower.”
“So He did. But why? Genesis 11:6. ‘Now nothing will be restrained from them, which they have imagined to do.’ God feared us. And that’s why we’re calling ourselves after Nimrod.”
“Wow,” Wilson said. “You’re challenging God? Sir.”
“Why the hell not? It was the President’s idea.” He glanced over at the staff members lined up before a whiteboard. He pointed at Harry Smith, who flinched. “You! Write it up on that board. Yes, now. ‘Nothing will be restrained from them, which they have imagined to do.’ ”
Harry found a stylus and wrote up the words, which were translated into a bold font by the board’s character-recognition software.
Alonzo put his hands on his hips. “And as for you pampered little assholes, I want to make it clear to you right from the git-go that things are going to be different around here. Daddy’s money got you in here. It won’t keep you here—not unless you prove you’re more valuable than the competition. And here’s the start of that competition.” He looked over his shoulder. “Come forward, you two.”
The two youngsters behind him stepped up, looking uncertain. One wore air force blue, the other a kind of police uniform. They snapped to attention, straight and tall.
Alonzo glared at the students. “You kids in this pansy palace don’t know the half of what’s going on out there in the real world. Well, these two are no older than many of you, but they’ve been out there. Mel Belbruno here is what I used to be, an air force brat. But he’s been in a cadet corps since he was ten, and has gotten himself experience with what’s left of NASA. He’s a real life space cadet, and he’s precisely the kind of student that ought to be working on this mission.
“And this here is Matt Weiss. Matt’s in a police cadet corps with Denver PD. You want to know where Matt cut his teeth? Out on the front line, on the coastline of what’s left of America, a coast that recedes every day. Matt has been out there helping senior DPD officers choose whose children get to land and whose don’t, and implementing those choices. Which of you has experience to compare with that?”
Kelly Kenzie put her hand up. “Colonel Alonzo, I don’t deny the validity of what you say. But there’s no room here, on the course. We’ve all been training specifically for this mission for years. If these two are to join—”
“Good point, blondie. I’ll have to make room,” he said with a cold brutality. His gaze swept along the row.
Holle saw people cringe back as if from a laser beam. She told herself to stand tall.
Alonzo stared at Kelly, who’d asked him the question. And then he pointed at Don Meisel, who stood beside her. “You. Redhead. Pack your bags. As of now you’re filling Matt’s place with DPD.”
Don was shaking. “Me? You don’t know anything about me. You don’t even know my name! And I didn’t say anything—”
“Exactly. Kid next to you had the guts to speak out.” When Don didn’t move, he spoke with an ominous calm. “You still here?”
Don turned and walked. He pushed past Holle, his
There was a long, stunned silence. Then, to her own surprise, Holle found herself raising a hand. “Colonel—why ‘Project Nimrod’?”
His eyes narrowed. “Fair question. I guess you don’t major on Bible studies here. Genesis 10, verses 8 to 10: ‘And Cush begat Nimrod: he began to be a mighty one in the earth . . . And the beginning of his kingdom was Babel, and Erech, and Accad . . .’ This is only generations after the Flood of Noah, and there is Nimrod, already King of Babel. I guess you know what happened in Babel, right? Chapter 11, verse 4. ‘And they said, Go to, let us build us a city and a tower, whose top may reach unto heaven.’ ”
Wilson Argent put his hand up. “But, Colonel—are you comparing Ark One to Babel? God punished them when they built the tower.”
“So He did. But why? Genesis 11:6. ‘Now nothing will be restrained from them, which they have imagined to do.’ God feared us. And that’s why we’re calling ourselves after Nimrod.”
“Wow,” Wilson said. “You’re challenging God? Sir.”
“Why the hell not? It was the President’s idea.” He glanced over at the staff members lined up before a whiteboard. He pointed at Harry Smith, who flinched. “You! Write it up on that board. Yes, now. ‘Nothing will be restrained from them, which they have imagined to do.’ ”
Harry found a stylus and wrote up the words, which were translated into a bold font by the board’s character-recognition software.
Alonzo put his hands on his hips. “And as for you pampered little assholes, I want to make it clear to you right from the git-go that things are going to be different around here. Daddy’s money got you in here. It won’t keep you here—not unless you prove you’re more valuable than the competition. And here’s the start of that competition.” He looked over his shoulder. “Come forward, you two.”
The two youngsters behind him stepped up, looking uncertain. One wore air force blue, the other a kind of police uniform. They snapped to attention, straight and tall.
Alonzo glared at the students. “You kids in this pansy palace don’t know the half of what’s going on out there in the real world. Well, these two are no older than many of you, but they’ve been out there. Mel Belbruno here is what I used to be, an air force brat. But he’s been in a cadet corps since he was ten, and has gotten himself experience with what’s left of NASA. He’s a real life space cadet, and he’s precisely the kind of student that ought to be working on this mission.
“And this here is Matt Weiss. Matt’s in a police cadet corps with Denver PD. You want to know where Matt cut his teeth? Out on the front line, on the coastline of what’s left of America, a coast that recedes every day. Matt has been out there helping senior DPD officers choose whose children get to land and whose don’t, and implementing those choices. Which of you has experience to compare with that?”
Kelly Kenzie put her hand up. “Colonel Alonzo, I don’t deny the validity of what you say. But there’s no room here, on the course. We’ve all been training specifically for this mission for years. If these two are to join—”
“Good point, blondie. I’ll have to make room,” he said with a cold brutality. His gaze swept along the row.
Holle saw people cringe back as if from a laser beam. She told herself to stand tall.
Alonzo stared at Kelly, who’d asked him the question. And then he pointed at Don Meisel, who stood beside her. “You. Redhead. Pack your bags. As of now you’re filling Matt’s place with DPD.”
Don was shaking. “Me? You don’t know anything about me. You don’t even know my name! And I didn’t say anything—”
“Exactly. Kid next to you had the guts to speak out.” When Don didn’t move, he spoke with an ominous calm. “You still here?”
Don turned and walked. He pushed past Holle, his
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