Battlefield Earth

A Psychlo sign: “Ordnance” on a door. Jo

He came out and grabbed Angus. “Get two of those big flatbed trucks, get a flying mine platform on each of them. Put a mortar and ammunition on each of the flying platforms. Pile those tarps in wads on the front of the flatbeds for armor. Put one of the rigs outside, put the other one just inside the door of the hangar.” Yes, there was fuel.

He told Sir Robert to get him four men and a driver for each of the rigs. And to dispatch one of the rigs as soon as made up to tail the convoy.

“That rig?” said Sir Robert.

“They can fly the mine platform off the truck and lay a mortar barrage down. They can block the road by blasting trees across it. Get the convoy tailed, not too close, and if they turn back, block their way.”

“And if it doesn't work and they get chased back here?” said Sir Robert.

“The other rig inside the hangar door can be taken out to help defend the place. Put another four men and a driver with it. I’ll be taking it when we return here from a visit to the Brigantes."

“You'll be chasing the convoy too!” said Sir Robert, adding with sarcasm: “Ranked among the best-pla

A Scot came racing up. "Jo

Jo

It was a big room they apparently used for shooting practice, a sort of indoor range. Some Russians were standing around something on the floor, looking at it with varied expressions of distaste and disapproval. The Scot directing him stopped, mutely pointing down.

In the middle of a veritable lake of congealed blood lay what must have been two old women. It was hard to tell from the scraps. But strands of gray hair, brown skin, and ripped clothing lay, with scattered bone chips in two mounds. The mangled messes and some spent blast gun cases told their story.

Several Psychlos had stood here and bit by bit, inch by inch, with hundreds of carefully non lethal shots, had carved two women apart.

What a hellish bedlam of shots and screams and laughter this place must have been just a few hours ago!

Dr. MacKendrick, summoned by someone else, came in. He stopped, avoiding standing in the blood. "Impossible to tell from temperature. Not enough left to check. Maybe four hours from the coagulation. Women...forty, fifty years old...worn out by hard work.... They carved their limbs off inch by inch and shot by shot!” He stood up and confronted Jo

“It gives them pleasure. They think it's delicious. The pain and agony.”

Jo

The doctor's face set. “I feel much better about autopsies on Psychlos!"

A Russian had been moving something with a stick he had found.

“Hold it,” said Jo

Robert the Fox had come in. He halted in shock.

The object that was being held up was a tam-o'-shanter, the bo

No body of a Scot. Just a tam-o'-shanter, fairly new. The kind the Coordinators wore.

Chapter 8

Jo

Here within the last two or three days or perhaps only hours ago stood three bound human beings: two old Brigante women and one young Scot, waiting for the Psychlos to come out and seize them, helpless to move or escape, probably covered from behind by poison arrows and grenades. How many Bantu and Pygmies had stood in this place the same way, captured and sold by the Brigantes?

And the Psychlos had come and taken them, bought them from the one-time mercenaries with the articles now lying there. The two old women had died in agony. The fate of the Scot was unknown.

A Russian lance had gingerly tested the flatbed and barter goods for booby traps. If Jo

Jo

Jo

One of the seventeen sensed a new presence and looked up. He was a barrel-chested brute: teeth broken long ago, face scarred and pitted, a huge jaw, short-cut hair. He was dressed in monkey skins cut in a military pattern. Two bandoliers slotted with poisoned arrows crossed his chest. His eyes looked like scummed pools.

“Why did you fire on us?” he demanded. It came out as "W'y ja fur awn oos?" English if you could unscramble it.

“I think,” said Jo

“By conventions and articles of war you can only get my name-rank-and-serial-number." Mush, but understandable.

“All right,” said Jo

"Arf Moiphy, captunk, fit'commando, occpaychun fierces, Yarmy of Hauter Zairey. Are you the relief fierce or united-nationsh?"

Jo

“They have a myth, a legend, that someday the international bank will send a relief force. I think the United Nations was some political organization that looked after small countries and interfered when they were attacked. It 's remarkable that they could keep a myth going that long....”

“Where is your main body?” said Jo

"Doan hefta answer nuppin bot name rank-and-serial-number," said the Brigante captain.

“Well, now,” said Jo

“I think we had better talk to your commander,” said Jo

“General Snith? He's i

Jo

“Tup day's march ober dere!" said the Brigante captain, trying to point with tied hands and then making do frantically with his chin.

“How long ago did you put the captives over on that platform?” asked Jo

"Pla'furm?" said the Brigante playing it dumb.

Jo

"Yes'day afnoon!” said the Brigante swiftly.

The fate of the Scot was important, if he were alive. Jo