Above, in the ad hoc command post, a computer graphics man constructed a diagram of the interior fromthe reports of the grunts fighting below. The rate of technological progress, down below, was worrisome, though. Indeed, it would have been perfect, but that theship was ever so slowly turning head on to the speeding torpedo. There'd been a parade, Carrera serving as Commander of Troops forthe event to honor his friend.
Who the fuck does he think he is? Doesn't he know who the fuck I am? He thinks he's the only one who can save your bacon and the only one who both can and will providetroops willing to fight. His eyes seemed ready to burst from his head as his teethground against the rubber bit installed in his mouth to keep him from biting off his own tongue. From the speakers, echoing across the length and breadth of the carrier, came, Duque Carrera to theofficers, centurions and me Oh, fuck, she whispered, then asked, Who'll come with me? ***The fire was terrible.
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