Battlefield Earth

The main minesite, he recalled, had been knocked out on Day 92 by a pilot...MacArdle? Yes, MacArdle. And he'd had a bit of trouble. The Psychlos had attempted to loft two battle planes and MacArdle had nailed them right at the hangar launch door, blocking it. He'd blown their power lines to bits and knocked out huge breathe-gas and fuel and ammunition dumps. The Psychlos had gotten two batteries of antiaircraft into operation and he'd had to knock those out. This was the fight where the copilot had been wounded, if Jo

Anyway, Du

days he hadn't found any current movement in the place but– he showed them the pictures he'd gotten from his screens– those apes had cleared away the hangar door– that's it there– and look over here, see? Those shadows under the trees at the edge of their field...no, over there. Ten battle planes on standby!

“Nobody ever came back to mop up that minesite," he concluded, “and those gorillas have been busy!”

Jo

“Yes,” said Du

“Those Psychlos," said Jo

“The only other big supply of breathe-gas,” said Robert the Fox, “is over at the central compound in America! That's where they're headed.”

“With those ten Mark 32s they could turn this whole war around the other way,” said Jo

“We've got a battle coming up,” said Jo

“We're after stopping a counterattack on the Denver area,” said Sir Robert.

Thor had gone down to put in an appearance at the Mountains of the Moon as "Jo

"I’m sorry you've only got one battle plane,” said Jo

Du

Robert the Fox was rapping out orders, and very shortly Colonel Ivan and four soldiers struggled up through the rain carrying a bazooka and a blast mortar and other equipment. They'd forgotten about their Coordinator to translate for them and it was a very tight fit indeed to get all this into the battle plane.

Sir Robert briefed Colonel Ivan. He smiled cheerfully. Ambushes in passes of the Hindu Kush were much more complicated. Have no fear, Marshal Jo

The battle plane soared up, seven men and one battle plane to stop a convoy of dozens of Psychlos and battle tanks. Du

Chapter 7

True it was that the stockpiles of breathe-gas and ammunition had been stripped to the last cartridge. The grass and shrub had been crushed dead for years. A quarter of an acre had been the extent of the breath-gas dump; half an acre the extent of the fuel and ammunition dump. And it was all gone.

Angus opened the lock of the compound's main door, and the reserve troops from the attack carrier went sprinting in, covering each other.

The place was empty. It had four levels of offices, shops, and hangars. Pumps were ru

Jo

He thumbed through sheaves of radio dispatch forms that had been spouting out of a printer. Even the paper was wet in this hot, humid place. They had been monitoring all bands, particularly the pilot band. It was odd to see: “Andy, can you pick up that load of pilgrims in Calcutta?” and “Please bring me another flying suit and some fuel, MacCallister." The Scot pilots largely talked Psychlo with a jumble of English. It must have looked quite mad to the company employees, huddled here in this remote jungle, not knowing what was really going on but monitoring every scrap of it.

A Russian raced up to him holding a Psychlo breathe-mask he must have found someplace. It still had the bottle attached and was operating. Jo

He hobbled along the corridor, sweat streaming off him. The pumps were

ru

This minesite wasn't as old as most.

Probably been moved here from elsewhere in the forest when they found another tungsten deposit. They were mad for tungsten. The viewscreens in the mine manager's office were on. Jo

He went down the stairs that led to the hangar. The usual Psychlo steps, twice the height of human steps, hard to negotiate with this leg. Well, he was getting better. He'd sure been able to use a blast rifle today. No speed in his arm. But it was improving.

The hangar was in the same disarray as the other parts of the interior. It still held vehicles.

Angus was poking around in the vast, overlit interior. He had a big crayon in his hand and was putting an “X” on vehicles he felt couldn't be readily made operational. Two small tanks. Angus had "X'd" them out. Several flying mine platforms. No "Xs," so okay. Several flatbeds, only half of them usable.