focus.
“Oh, yes,” she said.
The ghost of Nixa smiled.
“Then it’s time to go to work,”
she said.
~ * ~
IMPURITY5
HAD BEEN watching the Reprocessing Plant for a month, and it was quite obvious
The Company, as usual, were not doing their job. Greenstar promised 100%
recycling of alien tox. It was policy. It was what not only got them votes, and
kept them in power, but earned them a lot of money and a number of God Award
certificates from various planets, governments, and monarchies from around
Manna - and indeed, the entire Quad-Gal. As far as the members of Impurity5
could work out, the reprocessing ratio was as little as 5%. Which meant
95% of waste being dumped direct into the ecosystem, or what remained of
Amaranth’s ecosystem.
In reality, it was a huge shit
pie. Quite literally. And the people of Toxicity were forced to take a very big
bite in more ways than one.
“So what happens to the other
ninety-five percent?” said Randy, running a hand through his flowing locks. “They
can’t just dump it. That would be... immoral.” His dazzling, beautiful face was
fixed on Jenny. She smiled. Damn, he looked so out of place squatting in a hole
in the ground.
“They can, and they do,” said
Jenny, and they sat in their covert hole, peering through Long Lenses as a
convoy of Super Tankers arrived, perhaps a hundred in total, like huge black
slugs buoyed on hover jets, each one as big as a thousand HG Truks. Jenny took
photographs.
“I don’t get it.” Randy was
frowning. “Those tankers, they could just be delivering more crap. What makes
you so sure they’re taking it away for illegal tipping?”
“Watch,” said Jenny. “And learn.”
They watched, as slowly the Super
Tankers rolled through high spiked iron gates, one by one.
“I think this is bullshit,” said
Randy, pouting. “There’s nothing to see here. We’re on a wild goose chase.” As
the newest member of Impurity5, Randy was prone to what the others considered ill-thought-out
comments. Randy was the sort of dandy who truly did not know when to
keep his mouth shut.
“You have to watch, and trust
Jenny,” rumbled Zanzibar. “All will be revealed.”
“Well, I know what I’d like to
be revealed.”
Randy was staring at Jenny, head
tilted to one side, a curious look on his face.
“Oh, no,” said Jenny. She held up
a hand. “Not here. Not now. It’s neither the time nor the place.”
“It’s always the time and the
place,” smiled Randy. He tossed back his head, and his curls bounced.
Jenny looked sideways at
Zanzibar. His dark-skinned face had gone pale.
“You vouched for him,” she said.
“What can I say?” Zanzibar gave a
narrow, straight smile, although his eyes were dark. “He came highly
recommended. You know it yourself. You fucking helped recruit him!”
“Hey!” snapped Randy. “Don’t talk
about me like that.”
“Like what?” rumbled Zanzibar,
turning his full attention on Randy.
“Like I’m not here, you big oaf!
All this he came highly recommended bullshit. As if I’m not here. As if
I’m a prat, a joker, an idiot.”
“Maybe you are?” said Jenny.
“Oh, you spear my heart, dearest
one; dearest girlfriend. We are both part of the same universe, it can be seen
nestling in our eyes, and yet your lack of poetry is anathema to my very being.”
Jenny sighed. After all, Randy was the newest member of the team. Yes, he looked like a popinjay, but his bomb
circuit-building was unbelievably brilliant. His bomb-making was... just
perfect. And this was to be the test. To see if they could justify it - and him
- to Cell Commander McGowan.
“Why the photos?” said Randy.
“I’ll explain later.”
When the shit hit the fan, they
had to have evidence for the media: that way, they weren’t seen as terrorists
picking soft targets, but as freedom fighters attempting to save
“Oh, yes,” she said.
The ghost of Nixa smiled.
“Then it’s time to go to work,”
she said.
~ * ~
IMPURITY5
HAD BEEN watching the Reprocessing Plant for a month, and it was quite obvious
The Company, as usual, were not doing their job. Greenstar promised 100%
recycling of alien tox. It was policy. It was what not only got them votes, and
kept them in power, but earned them a lot of money and a number of God Award
certificates from various planets, governments, and monarchies from around
Manna - and indeed, the entire Quad-Gal. As far as the members of Impurity5
could work out, the reprocessing ratio was as little as 5%. Which meant
95% of waste being dumped direct into the ecosystem, or what remained of
Amaranth’s ecosystem.
In reality, it was a huge shit
pie. Quite literally. And the people of Toxicity were forced to take a very big
bite in more ways than one.
“So what happens to the other
ninety-five percent?” said Randy, running a hand through his flowing locks. “They
can’t just dump it. That would be... immoral.” His dazzling, beautiful face was
fixed on Jenny. She smiled. Damn, he looked so out of place squatting in a hole
in the ground.
“They can, and they do,” said
Jenny, and they sat in their covert hole, peering through Long Lenses as a
convoy of Super Tankers arrived, perhaps a hundred in total, like huge black
slugs buoyed on hover jets, each one as big as a thousand HG Truks. Jenny took
photographs.
“I don’t get it.” Randy was
frowning. “Those tankers, they could just be delivering more crap. What makes
you so sure they’re taking it away for illegal tipping?”
“Watch,” said Jenny. “And learn.”
They watched, as slowly the Super
Tankers rolled through high spiked iron gates, one by one.
“I think this is bullshit,” said
Randy, pouting. “There’s nothing to see here. We’re on a wild goose chase.” As
the newest member of Impurity5, Randy was prone to what the others considered ill-thought-out
comments. Randy was the sort of dandy who truly did not know when to
keep his mouth shut.
“You have to watch, and trust
Jenny,” rumbled Zanzibar. “All will be revealed.”
“Well, I know what I’d like to
be revealed.”
Randy was staring at Jenny, head
tilted to one side, a curious look on his face.
“Oh, no,” said Jenny. She held up
a hand. “Not here. Not now. It’s neither the time nor the place.”
“It’s always the time and the
place,” smiled Randy. He tossed back his head, and his curls bounced.
Jenny looked sideways at
Zanzibar. His dark-skinned face had gone pale.
“You vouched for him,” she said.
“What can I say?” Zanzibar gave a
narrow, straight smile, although his eyes were dark. “He came highly
recommended. You know it yourself. You fucking helped recruit him!”
“Hey!” snapped Randy. “Don’t talk
about me like that.”
“Like what?” rumbled Zanzibar,
turning his full attention on Randy.
“Like I’m not here, you big oaf!
All this he came highly recommended bullshit. As if I’m not here. As if
I’m a prat, a joker, an idiot.”
“Maybe you are?” said Jenny.
“Oh, you spear my heart, dearest
one; dearest girlfriend. We are both part of the same universe, it can be seen
nestling in our eyes, and yet your lack of poetry is anathema to my very being.”
Jenny sighed. After all, Randy was the newest member of the team. Yes, he looked like a popinjay, but his bomb
circuit-building was unbelievably brilliant. His bomb-making was... just
perfect. And this was to be the test. To see if they could justify it - and him
- to Cell Commander McGowan.
“Why the photos?” said Randy.
“I’ll explain later.”
When the shit hit the fan, they
had to have evidence for the media: that way, they weren’t seen as terrorists
picking soft targets, but as freedom fighters attempting to save
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