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| {{a|opcoboone|}}{{smallcaps|As a blood-red sun}} dipped to the the rim of the world, they watched the procession thunder across the desert, a mile below. | | {{a|opcoboone|}}{{smallcaps|As a blood-red sun}} dipped to the the rim of the world, they watched the procession thunder across the desert, a mile below. |
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| <div style="text-indent: 20px;">An eighteen-wheeler operations battle-truck, flanked by a pair of [[COO]] picket gunships, kicked up a wide pillar of dust that billowed and hung over the desert. Ahead of the convoy, a thin track snaked ten flat miles through desiccated scrubland to a low-lying, dusty settlement ringed by observation towers. | | <div style="text-indent: 20px;">An eighteen-wheeler operations battle-truck, flanked by a pair of [[COO]] picket gunships, kicked up a wide pillar of dust that billowed and hung over the desert. Ahead of it, a dirt track snaked ten flat miles through desiccated scrubland to a low-lying, dusty settlement ringed by observation towers. |
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| The watchers stood on an arête, 4,000 metres above the plain. The tallest of them was shrouded in a billowing canopy. The outriders either side of him straddled dirt bikes. | | The watchers stood on an arête, 4,000 metres above the plain. The tallest of them was shrouded in a billowing canopy. The outriders either side of him straddled dirt bikes. |
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| ==Thots==
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| Algy and George take out the gunships
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| Outer perimeter fails
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| ===The cultivation===
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| There is a wide pasture divided into small cages. Sales details ride in with captured espievies and toss them into a holding pen. A peasant with blackened teeth and cross eyes measures, evaluates and sorts them, tossing out the runts. A junior sales squire gripes about his treatment. The office manager tosses him a couple of credits and tells him to scram. "Too small". "Won't net". "No track record taste awful."
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| "Lean times, indeed," the office manager mutters.
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| "Heh heh heh heh," the AML chuckles darkly.
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| There's a commotion in the fields as a hunting party comes back in. It is Charlemagne, the celebrated sales guru, leading his retinue, leading in an elephant-sized beast by a velvet rope.
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| Sidemutter: "He got it from the forbidden fields. There are none of these in our territory. They don't exist."
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| Capture the docs team leader who is too weak to resist the onslaught
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| Coo people trying to break in in and tame master agreements.
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| Capture small ones
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| So the lawyers treat them as as pets, and horse whisperer them etc comma believing this is the only way to to control the danger they present and harness their power. The Theo coming like the child catcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang force the agreements into a framework controlled by Romanians reading instruction manuals.
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| Bigger ones bust out of their glcages destroying everything
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| Apocalyptic scenes where tiny little cages ISDA s, all confined in small rectangular pens like battery hens suddenly all explode at once overwhelming the management systems.
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| Giant monsters called Goks housed in luxuriant pens, where teams rub their skins with champagne and Keep them supple and milking them of commissions. Good are free to come and go. There are several Gok pens around the city. To encourage the gearbox to go into them they need to be b-complex fully invisible 2 to city residence other than those charged with managing the pen itself.
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| Feed smaller stick with Vega and they grow larger
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| Conan the barbarian riff with isda jocks captured and tethered to the mill in a mountain training camp where they train school leavers in the ninja arts. School leavers keep running away. Escaping for a better life
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| Lissingdown is the elven home on earth. The settlement is an offshore centre.
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