reached quickly by machines that regenerated rock and earth behind them, leaving no apparent tunnels in their wake.
Around the sides of the immense vessel and on top of it, cargo hatches slid open and containers sped aboard, stacking and interlocking themselves in the holds, sometimes adjusted by the pilots of the tiny guideships. A number of the self-propelled containers held soldiers who had passed through Baneâs stringent security-screening procedures and selective memory wipesâand these troops were loaded into a separate cargo hold, where they could leave the boxes and move into more comfortable quarters. But first, they had to be loaded aboard quickly and efficiently.
It had not been difficult to obtain conscripts from disaffected people who had been forced into adverse conditions by the radical GSA government and its severe environmental and human-relocation policies. The trick was to get the right people under the right circumstances, and put them to the best possible use. Though Bane had his own harsh methods, at least he valued people and what they could contributeâunlike the fascist Chairman and his animal-loving, tree-hugging legions.
He watched the minutes and seconds pass, then saw yellow lights flash in the cavern, indicating that they had only two minutes for all outside personnel and equipment to get clear of the vessel before it relaunched. A mad scramble of guideships and unloaded containers ensuedâbumping into one another as they tried to pull back to the perimeter of the cavern, not nearly as smoothly as Bane had seen in other secret caverns he had in the Americas.
At precisely the eighteen-minute mark, the immense voleer closed all exterior hatches and surged ahead, leaving the cavern behind and intact, except for those guideship and container occupants who didnât get clear in time.
For those who survived, he would order more drills.
Â
10
For reasons of patriotism, children are encouraged to report their parents, relatives, and friends for violations of the law. Throughout history certain governments have understood this, and so shall we, when it comes to dealing with criminals. Children, hear me! The state is your family, and I am your true father.
âChairman Rahma Popal, remarks to the First Assembly of the GSA on Earth Day 2043
AS JOSS CROSSED the continent by train from the Quebec Territory, he scanned a holo-net card from his Uncle Trig asking him how he was doing, and when they might get togetherâa message that had been delivered to him by an automated system that lowered it from the ceiling. Uncle Trig Stuart lived alone on the Salt Lake City Reservation, his wife, Gertie, having died the year before. Joss spoke in a low tone to the card that hovered in front of him, watched his own words appear in the reply section. Just a few comments about where heâd been and how he didnât expect to be in Salt Lake City for several more months. He didnât say so, but it could be even longer than that; his important job was keeping him very busy, and he didnât want to interrupt his career by asking for too much time off.
After completing the message, he watched it seem to melt into the ceiling, for transmission back to his uncle. It was after dinner, and daylight was waning, fading like a ghost into the approaching darkness.
He tuned out the conversations around him, watched the scenery whir by outside. Joss couldnât recall ever having seen so many pristine mountains, lakes, wetlands, and evergreen trees as there were on this route. Truly, it was stimulating for him, and gave him some hope for the future of what the Chairman called âthe wounded planet.â
It seemed odd to Joss that he and Kupi had witnessed two attacks against GSA military installations in the last few days, first in Bostoner and then in Quebec. Heâd commented on this to her, but sheâd said it was just happenstance. There were always attacks around the
Around the sides of the immense vessel and on top of it, cargo hatches slid open and containers sped aboard, stacking and interlocking themselves in the holds, sometimes adjusted by the pilots of the tiny guideships. A number of the self-propelled containers held soldiers who had passed through Baneâs stringent security-screening procedures and selective memory wipesâand these troops were loaded into a separate cargo hold, where they could leave the boxes and move into more comfortable quarters. But first, they had to be loaded aboard quickly and efficiently.
It had not been difficult to obtain conscripts from disaffected people who had been forced into adverse conditions by the radical GSA government and its severe environmental and human-relocation policies. The trick was to get the right people under the right circumstances, and put them to the best possible use. Though Bane had his own harsh methods, at least he valued people and what they could contributeâunlike the fascist Chairman and his animal-loving, tree-hugging legions.
He watched the minutes and seconds pass, then saw yellow lights flash in the cavern, indicating that they had only two minutes for all outside personnel and equipment to get clear of the vessel before it relaunched. A mad scramble of guideships and unloaded containers ensuedâbumping into one another as they tried to pull back to the perimeter of the cavern, not nearly as smoothly as Bane had seen in other secret caverns he had in the Americas.
At precisely the eighteen-minute mark, the immense voleer closed all exterior hatches and surged ahead, leaving the cavern behind and intact, except for those guideship and container occupants who didnât get clear in time.
For those who survived, he would order more drills.
Â
10
For reasons of patriotism, children are encouraged to report their parents, relatives, and friends for violations of the law. Throughout history certain governments have understood this, and so shall we, when it comes to dealing with criminals. Children, hear me! The state is your family, and I am your true father.
âChairman Rahma Popal, remarks to the First Assembly of the GSA on Earth Day 2043
AS JOSS CROSSED the continent by train from the Quebec Territory, he scanned a holo-net card from his Uncle Trig asking him how he was doing, and when they might get togetherâa message that had been delivered to him by an automated system that lowered it from the ceiling. Uncle Trig Stuart lived alone on the Salt Lake City Reservation, his wife, Gertie, having died the year before. Joss spoke in a low tone to the card that hovered in front of him, watched his own words appear in the reply section. Just a few comments about where heâd been and how he didnât expect to be in Salt Lake City for several more months. He didnât say so, but it could be even longer than that; his important job was keeping him very busy, and he didnât want to interrupt his career by asking for too much time off.
After completing the message, he watched it seem to melt into the ceiling, for transmission back to his uncle. It was after dinner, and daylight was waning, fading like a ghost into the approaching darkness.
He tuned out the conversations around him, watched the scenery whir by outside. Joss couldnât recall ever having seen so many pristine mountains, lakes, wetlands, and evergreen trees as there were on this route. Truly, it was stimulating for him, and gave him some hope for the future of what the Chairman called âthe wounded planet.â
It seemed odd to Joss that he and Kupi had witnessed two attacks against GSA military installations in the last few days, first in Bostoner and then in Quebec. Heâd commented on this to her, but sheâd said it was just happenstance. There were always attacks around the
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