The Little Green Book of Chairman Rahma by Brian Herbert Page B

Popal appear there in an enhanced virtual reality projection, sitting and gazing beatifically out on the assemblage. He wore an emerald green robe, with an oversized golden peace-symbol pendant around his neck. His gray beard looked freshly trimmed.
    â€œWelcome everyone, welcome,” the Chairman said. “I wish I could be here in person instead of by EVR, but my schedule is so incredibly busy nowadays. Nonetheless, I am pleased to welcome my old comrade from the revolutionary council, Kupi Landau, and her talented young J-Mac commander, Joss Stuart.”
    Rahma Popal made the sign of the sacred tree and said, “‘May green blessings rain upon you like water from the sky.’” It was one of the Chairman’s favorite sayings from The Little Green Book he’d written, a copy of which every citizen possessed. Joss had his own copy of the slender volume with him, as did Kupi. There were always government functionaries checking, making certain that citizens carried it.
    The GSA leader looked down the long table, as if he were actually there. “It seems my old friend Kupi has been using her talents in unexpected ways. Congratulations on your heroic actions in shooting down an enemy aircraft.”
    Rising to her feet, Kupi said, “Thank you, Your Eminence. I only did my duty.”
    â€œBut extraordinarily well. Undoubtedly you saved the Janus Machine and your entire crew.” He waved his hands in such a way that passed the floor to her.
    Just then a muffled explosion sounded, and several people pointed toward the window wall. On the other shore of the seaway, a ball of flame rose into the night sky. More explosions followed, and more fireballs.
    â€œCanAm Field!” a man shouted, running to the window. Joss and other diners joined him.
    Another man said it was a military base, which Joss already knew. He could see that aircraft had exploded on the ground over there, counted half a dozen fireballs. Two vertical-lift planes took off from the airfield, GSA craft that went straight up in the air and then circled the base. Moments later, a flurry of GSA fighter planes took off on parallel runways, and Joss saw that whatever was happening seemed to be confined to the six destroyed aircraft that were still burning. Alarm sirens wailed over there, and spotlights illuminated the airfield and the sky.
    Within minutes, the air was full of GSA aircraft, including police copters. Some aircraft circled the field, while others buzzed low over it, their weapons systems glowing.
    â€œThe situation is under control,” Chairman Rahma said. “I just received a report that we already have the saboteurs in custody. They will be questioned and executed in due course. Now, let us return to tonight’s festivities. My time is valuable, and I must stay on schedule.”
    Feeling unease, Joss returned to his seat.
    When everyone was in their place, Kupi began her presentation. With impressive clarity, she spoke at length about what their typical day was like on a Janus Machine crew, splitting and greenforming, traveling from one blighted site to another, reversing the ravages of industrialization and human selfishness. She spoke as well about her recent battle exploits, and of an attempt that was made to destroy their J-Mac several weeks before, using a flying, radio-controlled bomb—a device that was detected and disabled by an alert Greenpol patrol.
    Then, just as she was about to sit back down and turn the discussion over to Joss, she straightened and said, “Oh, did I mention? My commander and I are lovers now, because His Green Eminence, our venerated Chairman Rahma Popal, will not have me any longer.”
    On the other end of the table, a loud guffaw arose from the EVR projection, and his face lit up in mirth. “Is that so? As I recall, it was the other way around. Oh well, no matter, we have both moved on with our lives.”
    â€œPerhaps,” Kupi said, “but