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Chapter 17

           TheZionitewaswearingablueSanyovacuumsuittwentyyearsolderthantheoneCasehadrentedinFreeside,itshelmetunderhisarmandhisdreadlocksbaggedinanetcapcrochetedfrompurplecottonyarn.Hiseyeswereslittedwithganjaandtension.`Keepcallin’downherewi’orders,mon,butbesomeBabylonwar...’Maelcumshookhishead.`Aerolan’Italkin’,an’Aeroltalkin’wi’Zion,Founderssehcutan’run.’Heranthebackofalargebrownhandacrosshismouth.

           `Armitage?’Casewincedasthebetaphenethylaminehangoverhithimwithitsfullintensity,unscreenedbythematrixorsimstim.Brain’sgotnonervesinit,hetoldhimself,itcan’treallyfeelthisbad.`Whatdoyoumean,man?He’sgivingyouorders?What?’

           `Mon,Armitage,hetellin’mesetcourseforFinland,yaknow?Hetellin’metherebehope,yaknow?Comeonmyscreenwi’hisshirtallblood,mon,an’becrazyassomedog,talkin’screamin’fistsan’Russianan’th’bloodofth’betrayersshallbeonourhands.’Heshookhisheadagain,thedreadcapswayingandbobbinginzero-g,hislipsnarrowed.`FounderssehtheMutevoicebefalseprophetsurely,an’Aerolan’Imus’’bandonMarcusGarveyandreturn.’

           `Armitage,hewaswounded?Blood?’

           `Can’tseh,yaknow?Butblood,an’stonecrazy,Case.’

           `Okay,’Casesaid`Sowhataboutme?You’regoinghome.

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