nothing personal. It's just that I'm on a deadline."
----
GENERAL CRUZ PLANS WAR
----
Cruz's generals busied themselves with the details of war planning: supply lines, target priorities, communications backup, and combat readiness. Cruz had already relocated his family members and the people he cared about from the urban centers that would be targeted by al-Zee. It was done quietly. As far as the neighbors knew, they went on vacation. It set back his plans by three days, just as the Avatar hoped. No matter. War was never meant to be precise.
Cruz's generals used the time to continue running battle simulations, expecting their leader to pick from the most successful ones. The High Commander allowed the generals to believe they were contributing to his decision. It kept them busy and out of his way. The real plan was already decided: extermination. He would reveal his true mission no sooner than necessary. There would be dissent, and some of his generals would have to be replaced immediately. Until then, they were useful, so he pretended to look at the war game simulations and made cosmetic suggestions.
At headquarters, only Waters suspected the truth. He knew Cruz well enough to know when he was interested in something and when he was pretending to be interested. There was no doubt in Waters' mind that none of the plans suggested by Cruz's generals would ever be implemented. And there was even less doubt that Cruz would stop attacking an enemy that had any chance of reconstituting and coming after him again. Cruz liked to do things once. Annihilation was the only battle plan that fit his personality.
Waters had studied military history. He knew that in the past it was practical to strip a defeated army of its biggest weapons and make it harmless. But technology had changed all that. For less than a thousand dollars a terrorist could rig a remote-controlled hobby plane with a GPS guidance system and explosives and send it toward any target within a hundred miles, below radar, virtually unstoppable. The smooth arc of military history had broken. Being the best army no longer meant winning. Cruz was fighting an idea—the idea that killing infidels meant martyrdom and paradise. The idea was like a virus. It couldn't be stopped unless you eliminated all the host bodies. And that, reasoned Waters, had to be Cruz's plan. It wasn't Waters' place to question battle plans, especially ones unspoken. So he did his job, attending to the general's needs.
Cruz sat alone in his office, elbows on the desk, hands supporting his head. It had been a long week. He was incapable of admitting fatigue, but his body was racked with it. He had sat through too many meetings, barked at too many people, made too many decisions, looked at too many casualty estimates. He was burned out. His mind started to drift, opening a doorway for his worst thoughts. In his weakened state he visualized what he was about to do. He imagined mothers and children and the elderly, cats and dogs, people of all sorts, about to be slaughtered or starved to meet his objectives. On some gut level, he actually loved war, especially the thrill of killing people in the heat of combat, but he hated civilian casualties. That lesson was drummed into every soldier— avoid civilian casualties. Now he was planning to target civilians, and notjust some of them but all of them. He told himself there was no other way. When he wasn't tired, that line of reasoning worked to calm his emotions.Tonight it emphatically didn't.
Cruz opened his desk cabinet and took out a bottle of whiskey and a glass. It was cheaper than therapy, and faster. He was doing God's work—important work—and there was no way the almighty would begrudge him such a minor vice.
----
STACEY'S CAFE
----
The Avatar took a hydrocab from the airport to the offices of GIC. Stepping out of the cab, he felt a strange sensation, like a pattern forming, but faint. It seemed to have at least two centers. He had never felt a
----
GENERAL CRUZ PLANS WAR
----
Cruz's generals busied themselves with the details of war planning: supply lines, target priorities, communications backup, and combat readiness. Cruz had already relocated his family members and the people he cared about from the urban centers that would be targeted by al-Zee. It was done quietly. As far as the neighbors knew, they went on vacation. It set back his plans by three days, just as the Avatar hoped. No matter. War was never meant to be precise.
Cruz's generals used the time to continue running battle simulations, expecting their leader to pick from the most successful ones. The High Commander allowed the generals to believe they were contributing to his decision. It kept them busy and out of his way. The real plan was already decided: extermination. He would reveal his true mission no sooner than necessary. There would be dissent, and some of his generals would have to be replaced immediately. Until then, they were useful, so he pretended to look at the war game simulations and made cosmetic suggestions.
At headquarters, only Waters suspected the truth. He knew Cruz well enough to know when he was interested in something and when he was pretending to be interested. There was no doubt in Waters' mind that none of the plans suggested by Cruz's generals would ever be implemented. And there was even less doubt that Cruz would stop attacking an enemy that had any chance of reconstituting and coming after him again. Cruz liked to do things once. Annihilation was the only battle plan that fit his personality.
Waters had studied military history. He knew that in the past it was practical to strip a defeated army of its biggest weapons and make it harmless. But technology had changed all that. For less than a thousand dollars a terrorist could rig a remote-controlled hobby plane with a GPS guidance system and explosives and send it toward any target within a hundred miles, below radar, virtually unstoppable. The smooth arc of military history had broken. Being the best army no longer meant winning. Cruz was fighting an idea—the idea that killing infidels meant martyrdom and paradise. The idea was like a virus. It couldn't be stopped unless you eliminated all the host bodies. And that, reasoned Waters, had to be Cruz's plan. It wasn't Waters' place to question battle plans, especially ones unspoken. So he did his job, attending to the general's needs.
Cruz sat alone in his office, elbows on the desk, hands supporting his head. It had been a long week. He was incapable of admitting fatigue, but his body was racked with it. He had sat through too many meetings, barked at too many people, made too many decisions, looked at too many casualty estimates. He was burned out. His mind started to drift, opening a doorway for his worst thoughts. In his weakened state he visualized what he was about to do. He imagined mothers and children and the elderly, cats and dogs, people of all sorts, about to be slaughtered or starved to meet his objectives. On some gut level, he actually loved war, especially the thrill of killing people in the heat of combat, but he hated civilian casualties. That lesson was drummed into every soldier— avoid civilian casualties. Now he was planning to target civilians, and notjust some of them but all of them. He told himself there was no other way. When he wasn't tired, that line of reasoning worked to calm his emotions.Tonight it emphatically didn't.
Cruz opened his desk cabinet and took out a bottle of whiskey and a glass. It was cheaper than therapy, and faster. He was doing God's work—important work—and there was no way the almighty would begrudge him such a minor vice.
----
STACEY'S CAFE
----
The Avatar took a hydrocab from the airport to the offices of GIC. Stepping out of the cab, he felt a strange sensation, like a pattern forming, but faint. It seemed to have at least two centers. He had never felt a
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