"I absolutely won't hear of it." Andrei Androv's eyes were grim with determination.
"My dear father," Yuri used the affectionate Russian diminutive, "you may not have a damned thing to say about it. I'm convinced Lemontov or whoever gives him his orders has every intention of trying to convert this vehicle into a weapons delivery system, and Mino Industries, I also now believe, has already built one. Right here. It's ready to go. But whichever way, space research is way down everybody's list. So the real question is, who's going to try and fuck who first?"
"I guess the last person able to answer that question is me." The old man's eyes were despondent as he ran his fingers through his long mane of white hair.
Yuri laughed and draped his arm around his father once again. "Well, nobody else around here seems to know either. Or care."
"But what are we going to do?"
"I've got a little plan cooking. I don't want to talk about it now, but let's just say I'm going to screw them all, count on it."
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Chapter Thirteen