Read Online Doomsday Warrior 12 - Death American Style by Ryder Stacy - Free Book Online Page A

opinions. People yelled, screamed, threatened. Fistfights broke out like ripples on a pond here and there—though they were just as quickly stopped by those around them. In fact, for all the noise and clamor, no one actually seemed to get hurt—other than an occasional busted nose from a punch that landed too cleanly. A mess, yes—but not a man, woman or child of them (for children were represented on the council as well) would have had it any other way. They believed in the full and enthusiastic vocal expression of their beliefs and desires. What were they fighting for, if not that? What had all the spilled blood and the pain been for—if not to let the whole damned place know just what the hell you believed in?
    Rockson’s presence often cooled them out, at least momentarily—either due to their tremendous respect for him, or the fear that he would lose his own temper amidst the screaming and leap like a panther at them and start banging heads together!
    Rockson walked in now, down the aisle and up toward the raised stage where he could see some of the other parties already represented; those around seemed to cool down a little, looking sheepishly at their hands around each other’s throats, and pulling them free. Rock walked through the crowd like Moses through a Red Sea of flesh. By the time he reached the stage, the place had almost quieted down.
    “That’s much better, much better,” Fabres said with the slightest of smiles flickering across one side of his face for a second. Maybe he would actually get control of the damned place—and get the meeting going.
    “Now, you’re all welcome to have your say. After the official debate—by these gentlemen here,” Fabres turned to Rockson, Intel Chief Rath, and Thayers and Bertel, the two reps from what were basically C.C.’s opposing parties. There were actually a number of special-interest groups, as there must always be in a community of men. But in general there were more “right wingers” in the community—favoring increased strikes against the Russian cities and increased attacks on Soviet troops around the country to drive them out. Versus the “left wingers”—those who believed that perhaps for the first time in the century since the Russians had occupied America there was a real chance for peace, for a gradual if not immediate withdrawal of troops. They sat—as the English Parliament had done—on the right and left sides of the chamber, which enabled them to scream their heads off at one another without having to engage physically.
    “Now, the question of the day is, what part if any should Century City play in the Peace Conference being called by Premier Vassily and Zhabnov in Washington? And what should be our recommendations to the other Free Cities, as we all know that our decisions here often have great affect on the voting of the smaller towns and villages in the territory. I’ll begin with you Rath. But, please—just your information, no politicking right now.”
    “I wouldn’t think of it,” Rath said, rising from his folding wooden chair on which the four men sat side by side, none really looking at the others. “Honored colleagues, ladies and gentlemen,” Rath said—at his most charming, which was not much, but more than he usually doled out. “I’m here to report to you tonight of yet another plot on the part of the Russians to—”
    Voices began rising angrily from the left side of the chamber at Rath’s obviously slanted viewpoint. But with a cough he seemed to drop the bull and just proceeded with the basic facts. “Our radio units have picked up the fact that the Russians are transmitting to every part of the country—not just the Rockies. So, for those who suggested it is just a ploy to get Rockson—that doesn’t seem too likely. Secondly, we have confirmed that Russian troops do seem to be pulling back into their fortresses. That virtually all search-and-destroy and slave-labor-gathering operations have been