The discoveries concerning Miranda were a blow to Alliance stability, a powerful one. And the aftermath is sending subtle hairline cracks all the way from the top of society to the bottom. Those in denial will tell one otherwise, of course - grown fat and complacent in the Alliance's playpen - but they're there. Just have to know how to watch out for them.
History repeats itself, after all.
That's why they call them 'revolutions'.
Bentley Aeronautics isn't just a company, anymore. Its CEO has always taken great care in having feelers and fingers everywhere you care to look; when one really stops to think about it, Bentley Aeronautics is an Entity.
And those feelers and fingers, right along the spiderwebbing fracture-lines, are coming in useful. There's a change a-comin', as they say, and Andronicus Crowley can smell it coming, in the rippling tides of gossip on the streets and the slim columns of numbers in the folder on his lap.
A holiday, he'd said to Kaylee, but no. Not quite yet.
Oh yes, he's been busy.
And when the Cortex terminal in his living-room wall starts beeping unobtrusively, he grins.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2005-10-30 06:27 am (UTC)The discoveries concerning Miranda were a blow to Alliance stability, a powerful one. And the aftermath is sending subtle hairline cracks all the way from the top of society to the bottom. Those in denial will tell one otherwise, of course - grown fat and complacent in the Alliance's playpen - but they're there. Just have to know how to watch out for them.
History repeats itself, after all.
That's why they call them 'revolutions'.
Bentley Aeronautics isn't just a company, anymore. Its CEO has always taken great care in having feelers and fingers everywhere you care to look; when one really stops to think about it, Bentley Aeronautics is an Entity.
And those feelers and fingers, right along the spiderwebbing fracture-lines, are coming in useful. There's a change a-comin', as they say, and Andronicus Crowley can smell it coming, in the rippling tides of gossip on the streets and the slim columns of numbers in the folder on his lap.
A holiday, he'd said to Kaylee, but no. Not quite yet.
Oh yes, he's been busy.
And when the Cortex terminal in his living-room wall starts beeping unobtrusively, he grins.
"Nĭ hăo, Mr. Tam."