"The Devil is a gold man, the money man. They tell us we are small. But we not small, we tall, we be kings, and the Governor is not Him on Earth in a black limousine. They calling you 'hive scum' too, Falker. You just ain't got the word."
I say, "Sounds like a giant liquor-store robbery to me, L.B. Rich people got all the money. You take the money away from them. Then you got the power."
"We won't fight for power," says Black Lucas Bastonne, "we will fight to say that Uncle Alex ain't no damned uncle of mine. Uncle Alex he say to these Kronus, you can live, but you can't be men. Dance and sing for us and be little slaves, Mr. Blueys, and we might be big-hearted and let you live. Uncle Alex say, 'Stick 'em up, your balls or your life.'"
Black Lucas Alexander's voice booms inside the bunker: "Segmentum Command find it impossible to relate to why these Kronus folk stand up and fight. The gold man don't care about nothing that much no more, he fat, he forgot what it like to fight. They traded in they balls for a palace, a household maid, and a lifetime supply of juvie drugs, a long time ago. Dignity, m'man, that's what the Kronus want, and that's what my Deathworlders want. I'm a Catachan with a brain, a Catachan brain, and I am a very dangerous person. We are men! We want our dignity! If they fuck with us, they are going to die. Nobody ever calls me scum when I'm carrying my grenade launcher."
"FUCK YEAH!" someone says, and the bunker shakes with shouts of "RIGHT ON! RIGHT ON! RIGHT ON!" until everybody is hoarse.
I say, "I want LPs. Get me some warm bodies that can move like they got a purpose, L.B. All I got standing lines are PDF gun-babies. Name your price. Six cases of amasec, next resupply."
A shell hits very close to the bunker. Whomp. The bunker trembles.