from another source.” She hesitated and then said, “From Jason Blunt.”
“Blunt? The other man in this secret election?”
“Yes.”
“What did Blunt tell you?”
“That Nova has an underground city in an old missile defense headquarters in Utah. That they have computerized the entire history of this country, with an aim toward preserving its past.”
Graham Axman smiled slightly. “So you too believe that Nova presents a greater menace than our government.”
“Yes. Their machines could make change impossible, and without change the nation would wither and die.”
He nodded and seemed to wave her away with his hand. “Let us go in now to meet with the others.”
The meeting of the HAND strike force, held within the bare, curving walls of an old grain warehouse on the deserted farm, did not go well for Graham Axman. He was well aware that the months of prison confinement had robbed him of his vigor, of his ability to concentrate on details and plan an operation. But now there was a new challenge to his authority in the person of Euler Frost. Most of the men who faced him and listened to his words had followed Frost in the months gone by. They had been with Frost when Jazine was kidnapped, and they had helped with the escape of Axman himself. They were ready to follow Euler Frost anywhere, but they knew Axman only as a former leader who’d gotten himself imprisoned.
Surprisingly, it was Venray who led the opposition to the White House plan, and Axman cursed the black man as he heard him ask, “Just what are the goals of HAND, and is this attack in keeping with those goals?”
“The goals of HAND, the goals of our Fellowship? I would have thought that Euler Frost might have instructed you in those during my enforced absence. HAND aims at nothing less than the reestablishment of the individual, the overthrow of the machine society which robs us of our individuality.”
“But how is President McCurdy to blame for this?”
“He represents authority.”
“And in his place, what would you put?”
Axman glanced around at the cornerless room, feeling himself imprisoned once more. The white plastoid walls seemed to shriek their control over him, and the faces of his followers could just as easily have been the faces of his jailers. “We want freedom for the individual,” he stated, and then, echoing words he’d once heard Frost speak, he hurried on. “Let man take over from the machine. Let hands do honest work again.”
“And let us face our real enemy,” Frost interrupted. “That enemy is not in Washington but beneath the sands of the Utah desert. I propose that this strike force be aimed at Blunt and Ambrose and their underground city.”
“How do we know such a city even exists?” Axman challenged. They were face to face now, like two debaters on a rostrum.
“You know the answer to that! Milly Norris told you she learned it from Blunt!”
“Milly Norris? She lured a Computer Cop into a trap. Why couldn’t she be luring us into one too? Why couldn’t she get us all into this underground city and then flood it, or blow it up? Then President McCurdy would have no more worries from HAND!”
It was a moment of decision, and for an instant Axman thought he had them. But then a few eyes turned toward Milly, who stood in the back against the curving plastoid wall of the granary. She did not say a word, but she didn’t have to. Frost was doing the talking for her.
“Believe that if you will, but I will be leading the attack on Nova. If it is a trap, I’ll be the first to die. Now you decide. Do you follow Axman to the New White House, or me to the desert of Utah?”
The meeting broke up soon after, without any firm decision. But Axman could feel his power slipping away. His leadership of HAND had been challenged, and things would never be the same again.
Unless he acted quickly.
Their rooms were in a dormitory adjoining the abandoned grain warehouse, and Milly Norris had been given a
“Blunt? The other man in this secret election?”
“Yes.”
“What did Blunt tell you?”
“That Nova has an underground city in an old missile defense headquarters in Utah. That they have computerized the entire history of this country, with an aim toward preserving its past.”
Graham Axman smiled slightly. “So you too believe that Nova presents a greater menace than our government.”
“Yes. Their machines could make change impossible, and without change the nation would wither and die.”
He nodded and seemed to wave her away with his hand. “Let us go in now to meet with the others.”
The meeting of the HAND strike force, held within the bare, curving walls of an old grain warehouse on the deserted farm, did not go well for Graham Axman. He was well aware that the months of prison confinement had robbed him of his vigor, of his ability to concentrate on details and plan an operation. But now there was a new challenge to his authority in the person of Euler Frost. Most of the men who faced him and listened to his words had followed Frost in the months gone by. They had been with Frost when Jazine was kidnapped, and they had helped with the escape of Axman himself. They were ready to follow Euler Frost anywhere, but they knew Axman only as a former leader who’d gotten himself imprisoned.
Surprisingly, it was Venray who led the opposition to the White House plan, and Axman cursed the black man as he heard him ask, “Just what are the goals of HAND, and is this attack in keeping with those goals?”
“The goals of HAND, the goals of our Fellowship? I would have thought that Euler Frost might have instructed you in those during my enforced absence. HAND aims at nothing less than the reestablishment of the individual, the overthrow of the machine society which robs us of our individuality.”
“But how is President McCurdy to blame for this?”
“He represents authority.”
“And in his place, what would you put?”
Axman glanced around at the cornerless room, feeling himself imprisoned once more. The white plastoid walls seemed to shriek their control over him, and the faces of his followers could just as easily have been the faces of his jailers. “We want freedom for the individual,” he stated, and then, echoing words he’d once heard Frost speak, he hurried on. “Let man take over from the machine. Let hands do honest work again.”
“And let us face our real enemy,” Frost interrupted. “That enemy is not in Washington but beneath the sands of the Utah desert. I propose that this strike force be aimed at Blunt and Ambrose and their underground city.”
“How do we know such a city even exists?” Axman challenged. They were face to face now, like two debaters on a rostrum.
“You know the answer to that! Milly Norris told you she learned it from Blunt!”
“Milly Norris? She lured a Computer Cop into a trap. Why couldn’t she be luring us into one too? Why couldn’t she get us all into this underground city and then flood it, or blow it up? Then President McCurdy would have no more worries from HAND!”
It was a moment of decision, and for an instant Axman thought he had them. But then a few eyes turned toward Milly, who stood in the back against the curving plastoid wall of the granary. She did not say a word, but she didn’t have to. Frost was doing the talking for her.
“Believe that if you will, but I will be leading the attack on Nova. If it is a trap, I’ll be the first to die. Now you decide. Do you follow Axman to the New White House, or me to the desert of Utah?”
The meeting broke up soon after, without any firm decision. But Axman could feel his power slipping away. His leadership of HAND had been challenged, and things would never be the same again.
Unless he acted quickly.
Their rooms were in a dormitory adjoining the abandoned grain warehouse, and Milly Norris had been given a
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