Michael Malone - Weebly

water and over clouds and called it defense of honor.
Ernest Ransom's little silver star on a rag of ribbon
is an absurdity to the secret base.
North of Dingley Falls near the marshlands beyond
Bredforet Pond, there is a compound of disinterested,
dispassionate equipment, including personnel, that
believes that knowledge is the only gold worth shoring
up, worth hiding, and worth setting a guard around to
keep off the descendants of the mindless mob that
plagued Galileo, burned Brahe, and, ever the foe of
science, feared and fought the future. Knowledge and
peace and quiet, a good lab and the men to work it, are
all the secret base wants. The men don't know from
how high up the orders came down telling their director,
Dr. Thomas Svatopluk, to proceed with Operation
Archangel. Some say the orders came from the very
top, some say not. They don't really care.
It matters little to these scientists who sits in the
presidential chair, who snatches the seal for a few silly
years in an oval office. They are dedicated to the
operation, and the plots of their own careers, and are
tangled in the webs of their own lives.