The Americans watched the gigantic Hun-Vee approaching on the main monitor. A curtain of dust rose fifty feet above it, kicked up by its independently operating twenty-four tires. White clouds of water vapor, the only byproduct of its hydrogen cell propulsion system, billowed from the exhaust pipes at the back of the vehicle, pooling in large puddles on the ground in its wake.
Bush looked at Cheney and said, “You have to admit, it’s an impressive ride. Look at the chitin armor plating; I’ve never seen such large pieces. They must be at least twenty-four inches thick.”
“Very impressive,” Cheney agreed. “They must have harvested millions of their Rekol beetles to get enough insect skin to armor that thing. Maybe we shouldn’t have sold them the biotechnology for those bugs, Negon.”
“Come on Beem, HalliBush & Cheney received two billion barrels of She-Hun oil for sale on the open market in exchange for that technology. Besides, arm an enemy and you get massive defense budgets for years to come.”
“Yeah,” Cheney snickered, “who am I kidding?”
The storm suddenly increased in intensity, picking up sand and throwing it everywhere despite the downpour of large raindrops. The monitor now showed the outline of the Hun-Vee to be at a distance of only two hundred yards. Its bulk filled the viewing screen completely.
The gunner, Ling, said “Mr. President, they don’t seem to be slowing down at all. In fact, they seem to be accelerating. Maybe they don’t see us,” he said, fear creeping into his voice.
“Don’t be a coward! Arm your Bushfire missiles and stay alert,” he commanded sternly. Damn! he thought to himself, if that bitch is in a bad mood, she might kill us all here and now. He unconsciously withdrew the pillbox from his breast pocket and removed the lid. Stop Negon! Bush chastised himself. He had a chronic black ice habit which he had not wanted to indulge before the meeting with Nitra Khan; he needed his wits about him.
“They don’t see us!” yelled Takeshi Ling. “Should I fire?”
Cheney berated Ling, “Shut your mouth, soldier. Of course they see us. We can’t fire on them. It would jeopardize the sensitive political mission of today. Now, stand your ground, Ling!” Cheney looked at the president, who nodded in agreement as he lightly bit on his lower lip.

A Revolutionary Idea

Danton Gore repeated the word in his head: assassinate. He looked, speechless, across the desk at Nana Pavlov, the other member of his two-member Free Vegas revolutionary cell. In all his five years with the organization, Gore had never considered assassination as the way to effect change in America; he had always assumed the revolution would achieve its ends through the peaceful promotion of public opinion and application of pressure on the members of the corrupt, special-interest driven government and corporations that ruled his country. Despite the fact that most of the elected officials that comprised the federal governing body, called the Men of Light, were multi-billionaire republicans, Danton Gore had always maintained hope that they would do the right thing soon. Hesitantly, he said out loud, “‘Assassinate’?”
“Yes, Danton, ‘assassinate.’ Why do you look so surprised?” asked Pavlov, running her fingers through her short, black hair. She added calmly, “It’s clear that the current administration isn’t going to do anything to change our federal policies on government funding for urban green spaces, air and water pollution inside and surrounding cities or fair wages for the working class.”
“Uh, yeah,” Gore responded slowly, still slightly rattled. “I guess you’re right.” He paused, collected himself, and declared, “You’re right, Nana. The future is green!”
“The future is green!” responded the Russian-blooded revolutionary, slamming her open hand against the desktop.
Chanting this motto, Gore and Pavlov acknowledged the second main goal of Free Vegas’s revolution – a world free of oil and heavy industry lobbies that completely controlled federal government policies at the expense of the environment. They wanted to clean up the massive corporate pollution of air, soil, and ocean and fresh water, and create thousands of green spaces within American cities.
Gore continued to look at Pavlov, overcome by admiration for this beautiful, courageous woman, whose parents had been murdered by Bush’s Secret Service. He had known her for the previous two years and, very gradually, had recruited her into the movement. He was proud that now, after only five months in the Free Vegas organization, his own protégé wanted to lead the charge against the corporate-government machine with a vengeance.
Danton Gore leaned across the desk and lightly touched the back of Pavlov’s hand, “So, tell me, what’s your plan?”