"Don't give a shit. I'm gonna be a general someday. Then we'll see how many friends I got."
Kinsman shook his head, laughing. "A general. Jeez, you've sure got some long-range plans in your head."
"Damn right! My brother, he's all hot and fired up to be a revolutionary, Goin' around the world looking for wars to fight against oppression and injustice. Regular Lone Ranger. Wanted me to join the underground here in the States and fight for justice against The Man."
"Underground? In the States?"
"Yeah. FBI damn near grabbed him a year or so back."
"What for?"
"Hit a bank to raise money for the People's Liberation
Army."
"He's one of those?"
"Not anymore. There ain't no PLA anymore. Most of 'em are dead. The rest scattered. I watched my brother playin' cops and robbers . . . didn't look like much fun to me. 64
So I decided I ain't gonna fight The Man. I'm gonna be The Man."
"If you can't beat 'em . . ."
"Looks like I'm joinin' 'em, yeah," Colt said, with real passion in his voice. "But I'm just workin' my way up the ladder to get to the top. Then I'll start giving the orders. And there are others like me, too. We're gonna have a black President one of these days, you know."
"And you'll be his Chief of Staff."
"Could be."
"Where does that leave us . . ."
A small, sharp beeping sound shrilled in Kinsman's earphones. Emergency signal! Automatically, both he and Colt switched to the orbiter's flight deck frequency.
"Kinsman! Colt! Can you hear me? This is Major Jakes. Do you read me?"
The Major's voice sounded distant, distorted by ragged static, and very concerned.
Kinsman held up a hand to keep Colt silent. They were receiving the orbiter's signal scattered off the propellant tanks. No sense allowing Jakes and the others to hear them, even though their suit radios were not as powerful as the transmitter in the flight deck.
