Battlefield Earth Part 97

He speculated on the possibility of just making several boards and working it out. No, it might do something else too.

He made a full file and plenty of notes.

They couldn't make teleportation motors from this, but possibly they could open them and trace the circuit. Maybe. But without that one switch...

Jonnie knew they would have to go over and seize that console just to see where Terl set it.

It was an appalling risk and might cost men's lives.

He knew they would have to do it.

Chapter 9.

Jonnie quietly and efficiently neatened up his scene.

In case anything happened to him, which he felt was more than likely in this American raid, he carefully briefed Angus in all the intricacies of the console. He made copious notes especially for Angus, so that he could duplicate and operate such a console. He told him some of the things that could be done with it.

Angus objected violently to Jonnie's going on the raid. Jonnie said he was not going to risk anyone else's life, for the actions he had to take were too dicey. He would have the backup of thirty Scots, ten drivers, and fifteen pilots. Angus was still trying to protest but it didn't do any good. If Robert the Fox had been there the two of them might have prevailed, but Sir Robert was over in America moving the Academy and Angus gave in reluctantly.

A Scot aide of Sir Robert's was there and Jonnie briefed him on the military aspects of their situation: the visitors were waiting for something- he was not sure what. Jonnie felt it had to do with whether or not they got a transshipment rig operating. An a.n.a.lysis of their chatter among themselves showed they were observing the American compound, waiting for something to happen: the visitors had seen Psychlos there (probably Terl and Ker) and seemed to think the American scene might still be in Psychlo hands, or in any event might be political. Jonnie expected the sky to fall in right after that transshipment rig was fired and an alert should be out, then for Day 92, which was approaching very quickly.

Jonnie briefed another Scot officer and arranged a decoy platform to be hastily built in the Singapore area. There was a minesite there northwest of the ancient, deserted man-city where the Psychlos had mined tin, t.i.tanium, and tungsten; it had full hydroelectric power, atmosphere armor, and a certain amount of stores and planes left in it. A handful of Chinese, three pilots, a communicator, a Coordinator and this officer were to play out a platform and poles. Jonnie gave them the old burned-out console which they repainted. Under the protection of the cable they were to make like they were busy firing, complete with things appearing and disappearing on the platform. When the flights left the American area with the real console, the heaviest part of the escort would streak to the Singapore area and pull any pursuit of the real console away. The Kariba platform had been under camouflage nets from the beginning and chatter from the visitors showed they thought it was a temple. He warned the officer that the attack would be heavy there in the Singapore area. But the Scot just smiled and grabbed his allocated men and left.

Jonnie made a fast tour of Kariba. The Chinese had done wonderfully well. There was a roof under the screen but over the firing platform, all held together with wooden pegs; swooping gables and points made it very artistic. They had a lot of dragons around, carved from wood and cast in clay, that pointed out from the beam ends with flaming mouths and scaly tails. They had bunkers inside the protected cone. They all had tiled interiors. They even had a little hospital. Their own village was inside the protective cable over by the lakesh.o.r.e. It was all very colorful and attractive, more like a garden than a war area.

Dr. Allen had gotten some juice of plants from up in the old Nairobi area- he called it "pyrethrum"-that killed insects very efficiently, and despite the number of animals in the woods thereabouts that attracted flies, they had had no trouble with tsetse sleeping sickness.

Jonnie heard them singing and playing on strange string and wind instruments that evening so he recorded a lot of it and had them rig loudspeakers ready to play it when they activated the area- it would foul up any listening beams from upstairs. That plus the interference the armor cable posed would keep them ignorant of what was going on here.

When he returned to the African compound, it was Day 87. He found Stormalong there with more discs that showed the color codes of the cables and the pole wires. They could simply hack off the console's cables and reconnect them at Kariba. He gave the code to Angus.

Stormalong said this would be his last run so Jonnie briefed him carefully on the military situation. It was Jonnie's belief that the visitors would attack in force after any American firing. Stormalong had better be prepared to take control of air defenses on the planet. Jonnie would not let him go on the raid. Dunneldeen was handling air cover for them on that. Thor would be with them in the raiding party. Jonnie missed Robert the Fox who usually handled these briefings and actions.

Stormalong, like Angus, did not want Jonnie to go. He said America was stripped now. The Academy was empty. Jonnie would have only his own raiding party, and though he knew it had been drilled within an inch of the partic.i.p.ants' lives, there were an awful lot of Brigantes over there. Just after they had pulled the recorders out of the three places at the Academy, Brigantes had begun to systematically loot the place. But with no Sir Robert to support his objections, Stormalong did not prevail.

Jonnie was going up to an upper level of the compound and he ran into Ker.

The Psychlo midget was all smiles. They swatted "paws." He had been looking for Jonnie to show him the silly money they were now printing for America and in which he had been "paid." Jonnie pulled him into a deserted office and shook his head over the hundred-credit note and the picture of Brown Limper Staffor.

"The stuff is worthless!" said Ker. "The Brigantes just throw it into the street!"

Ker was so happy to be out of that area. He told Jonnie all about it. "And he offered me seven hundred and fifty thousand Galactic credits that I'll never see. He's one crazy Psychlo. Not sane like us half-humans!" Ker laughed over that.

Ker gave him the final layouts of the firing platform area. There was nothing new. Ker had dug and done exactly according to plan. It was the same plan on which his raiding team had been drilled and Ker a.s.sured him everything was in place.

But Ker hadn't realized Jonnie was going over there. When he heard that he got very serious. "This Terl is a very bad one. He's liable to have surprises. I don't like your going, Jonnie."

Jonnie said he had to go.

"What if you get a Psychlo war party back on that platform in return?" said Ker.

"I don't think we will," said Jonnie. "And we have a present for Psychlo."

"I hope so," said Ker. "It's my furry neck if they ever turn up here again.

The I.B.I. would take days to kill me!"

"I don't think you have anything to worry about," said Jonnie. "But you stay here among these defenses. There's quite a few enemy prisoners in the place and all the Psychlos that are left. Maybe you can teach them to play cards!"

Ker laughed. And then he said, "Did the one you call Sir Robert come back here?"

"Why?"

"Well, right in the middle of the Academy move to England, we didn't see him anymore. I wanted to check a couple of points with him and I couldn't find him. And Dunneldeen put in calls. He isn't in Edinburgh or Luxembourg or Russia. I thought he must be here. The reason I ask is he knows all your dispositions of forces and even some of your raid details."

Jonnie was very concerned about Sir Robert. He threw off Ker's question with, "They could never make him talk."

"The I.B.I. could make anybody talk," said Ker.

"We don't know the enemy has him," said Jonnie.

Shortly afterward he inst.i.tuted his own queries. There was no sign of Sir Robert in any area. A couple of ferry planes had gone down lately from enemy attack. They had been en route from America to Scotland. Had Sir Robert been on one of them?

Sir Robert had not handled many of the details of this raid. There was no reason to change planning this late.

Jonnie spent his last day at the Lake Victoria minesite neatening up what there was of his personal life. He was under no illusion that this raid was not dangerous.

He wrote a letter to Chrissie that he knew the parson would read for her and put it in plain sight on his desk, the envelope marked "To Chrissie in Case of Something Happening to Me."

He had heard one wrote wills to leave personal possessions. He started one. All he had was his horses and some odds and ends of clothes. He couldn't think of anything else he owned. Then he thought maybe Chrissie had occupied the Edinburgh house in his name, so he put down any interest he had in that or its contents and left it to Chrissie. Then he remembered he had a few books so he left those to Pattie. For the life of him he couldn't recall anything else he owned. But maybe people would think he owned gifts like the chrome AK 47. They weren't very many. Still, they might be. So he added a clause, "And anything else I am found to own shall be equally divided among..." and he listed the names of those men who had been closest to him. He thought for a while and then added Ker.

He had also heard that you signed these things and got them witnessed so he did that. Then he put it in an envelope and put it alongside the letter to Chrissie.

Feeling he had made things very orderly, he spent that evening making sure all his weapons and gear worked, that his radiation suit had no holes in it, that his air mask tanks were full and that half a dozen kill-clubs were in throwing condition. He put copies of the latest sales contract Terl had signed into his pouch. He checked the beryllium bomb case for safe carrying. He tested the edge of a hatchet to cut console cables.

He felt he was ready and got a good sleep on his last night before the American raid. He had done everything he could. Now it was in the hands of the G.o.ds. Or a devil like Terl.

- Part XXIV -

Chapter 1.

At the American minesite, Day 92 had dawned windy and cold. And then in midmorning, four hours before the firing time, it had begun to snow. It was not too late for snow but this snow was a heavy one. It came down in huge soft flakes that swirled here and there in the wind puffs.

Terl did not care. He was jubilant. This would be his last day on Earth.

So far things had gone smoothly. From sunup to the moment it started to snow he had been outside, checking the wiring and cables. Almost lovingly he had put a final polish on the firing points on the poles, the points which would change s.p.a.ce and transport him once again to his homeland.

He had a wonderful story all made up. He would come in with the tale of a mutiny, of a sellout to an alien race. And how he, Terl, fighting hard, had saved the company technology and was forced, alas, to use the ultimate bomb to make certain the company was not further betrayed. They would believe him on Psychlo. They would of course fire a camera back and check but it would record a black smudge.

Then he would retire, saying that the strain of it all had been too much. And one fine night, he would go to a cemetery and do a bit of quiet digging and become richer by ten gold coffin lids and two billion credits that he would expose bit by bit, saying he had profited on the exchanges of the various universes.

It was a perfect plan.

He had been idling about for a few minutes wondering when the Brigante special squad would come down from the mountains. He didn't like to stay outside. He hated this planet too much. But today, the breathe-gas didn't seem to make him ill, and after all, it was a great day.

And here they were, the Brigante special squad. They had their bundle with them just as ordered. It was long and made to look like baggage. Just before the firing, Terl would open the end of it and one of Snith's bodyguards would pop an air mask on it. And anybody seeing it would think twice about charging the platform!

He told the special squad to just dump it on the middle of the platform and then stand by.

Now for the next step. Terl went back into the compound and got the small forklift he had had parked there in the corridor, got on it, and went into his office.

It was really a tossup whether he took the coffins first or the console. The coffins could stand the weather better. With a Brigante squad there, n.o.body could come up and steal them. They were too heavy.

He paused for a moment, looking at his rug. There was a dust tread mark there. But then he thought he must have made it himself. His "X" mark was there on each coffin. With four rapid runs and very expert machine handling, he got the four coffins outside and dumped them on the platform- four trips. On each trip he cautioned the squad to be alert and watch them.

Now for the console. He tipped it up on edge to get at the hollow bottom. He unlocked a cabinet and got the b.o.o.by trap and put it under the front edge of the bottom. He would not set it yet. He would give it ten minutes from when he operated the console at firing time. The length of the firing would be three minutes- he had decided to take it easy on himself- and the recoil time would be about forty seconds later. So six minutes and twenty seconds after he fired- bang! No console!

He took it out and put it down on the oversized metal platform made for it, a platform about ten feet by seven feet, just inside the atmosphere armor zone. All nicely figured out. The big bus bars which operated the atmosphere armor cable had long since been installed on a raised board.

He hadn't expected snow but he had put a weather shield on the cable board. He hadn't put a shelter for the console itself so now he had to throw a piece of tarpaulin over it to keep snow off the b.u.t.tons.

Terl adjusted the console's position and then got the forklift out of there. He simply dumped it. What did it matter? Those animals had left machinery all over the place- big magnetic cranes, blade sc.r.a.per, diggers. What a mess!

He got busy connecting the power cables from the poles to the console. It was quite a ma.s.sive lot of cables. He didn't want to trip on his way from the console, when he punched in the coordinates to the platform, so he bundled them all together. It made a snake about six inches in diameter.

Terl double-checked the color codes. Yes, he had them all correct.

He checked the armor cable by turning it on. A lot of new snow flew into the air in a circle. Yes, it worked. He turned it off.

He checked the juice input to the console. All live.

Terl looked at his watch.

It was a full hour to firing time. Time to go in for a mouthful of kerbango.

He surveyed the office. Last time he would ever see this place. Thank the devils!

Terl opened his cabinets and began to dump anything and everything into the recycling bin. He opened the false backs and bottoms and consigned anything in them to oblivion. The habits of a security chief were too strong. He dumped all his reams of notes and formulas into the maw of the recycler. Then he noticed it wasn't running. Ah, of course, he must have blown the compound fuses when he put that armor cable on. Who cared? This planet was going up in smoke anyway.

He went to his closet and got his dress uniform and boots out and quickly changed. He put on his parade cap. He looked at himself in the mirror. Pretty good!

Terl threw a few things in a travel bag.

He looked at his watch. Twenty minutes to go. The snow, he could see through the compound roof, was coming down even heavier. Who cared?

He put on a breathe-mask with a fresh pair of cartridges, picked up the beautifully wrapped- and very difficult to unwrap- ultimate bomb, picked up his travel kit, and left his office for the last time.

All was ready outside!

Five hundred Brigantes, bows protected from the weather, looking a bit huddled and cold even in their buffalo coats, had been marched up and now stood in the formation he had carefully pointed out. A total ring with its back to the atmosphere cable, a nearly solid wall of Brigantes.

Captunk Arf Moiphy seemed to be the officer in charge of them all. Terl addressed him sternly: "Now you and your men all understand that you are only to use bows and poisoned arrows and knives or bayonets. There must be no firing of powder or blast weapons."

"We's gart orl dat!" called General Snith.

Ah, good! General Snith and an honor guard of six Brigantes, all of them in air masks, were on the platform, armed with bows which they were protecting from the snow.

Terl looked around. It was a bit hard to see through these snowflakes and gusts of wind. He had heard a chattering from somewhere.

What was that? By the c.r.a.p nebula, the whole Brigante tribe was gathered down by the morgue to see General Snith off! Amazing! The women were all bundled up against the snow and off-duty mercenaries were in among them. What a filthy mob! Good thing he was wearing a mask for he knew they smelled awful.

And there was Brown Limper Staffor and Lars Th.o.r.enson. They had come up on the plateau with a ground car and were standing there. The very people he wanted to see.

Terl walked over to them.

Instead of saying "Goodbye" or even "Nice to have known you," Brown Limper Staffor said, "I don't see Tyler."

Terl stopped before him. Brown Limper was all bundled up in some kind of expensive fur. Snow was falling upon his hair and collar. His eyes looked feverishly overbright.

"Oh, he'll be here," said Terl. "He'll be here."

Terl looked down at Brown Limper's feet. There was a case there, a fat case about three feet long. Aha! Terl stooped and before Brown Limper or Lars could stop him picked up the case and, with a cuff of his paw, broke the locks.

A Thompson submachine gun! So he was right to distrust this animal. One shot from this thing during a firing could blow up the platform!

Terl took the weapon by the barrel and with his paws bent it in a half-circle. He threw it aside. "That was not nice," said Terl. "You could have blown up the whole place!"

Brown Limper didn't seem upset. His eyes still looked furtive.

Terl took Lars' belt gun, took the cartridge canister out of it, and threw it fifty feet away. "No firing!" said Terl, waggling a cautionary claw in front of their faces. Did Brown Limper have something else? Terl wondered. He looked quite unhinged but not about the guns.

"Here," said Terl, in a cajoling tone of voice, "here is a nice present to make it up to you."