Battlefield Earth

The small gray man had the sweater on now. It was quite soft and warm. He touched it and felt a little sad.

He had told those military men that it was politically inadvisable to try to operate in the Highlands of Scotland and he thought they had listened. But just a week ago he had gone down to get some more peppermint and the old woman was gone. The house was closed up. The dog was gone. The cow was gone. There seemed to be no sign of violence but then you never knew with these military men: they could be very sneaky and thorough at times. He had dug up a few sprigs of mint from under the snow but was quite troubled. Anything like sentiment was a foreign thing to him. But he had felt troubled nonetheless.

These military men! They were so obsessed with finally smashing up this planet that they were quite restless when asked to wait for his courier.

They got such silly ideas. They had noted that every plane and every installation down there now seemed to have a little creature in an orange-yellow robe. They couldn't understand the messages now being sent on the planet's radios. They had tried language machines and none worked. Then they tried all their coding and scrambling machines and none worked. All the messages seemed to begin and end with "Om mani padme om," like a sort of chant.

That place in southern Africa near the big dam– the one the terrestrials had used to lure in and trap two raiding parties– was being all cleared out and it gave them their first clue. A pagoda-like structure– several in fact– were being erected. They found in some old reference texts that the design was a “religious temple.” So the military men had agreed that the planet had now experienced a new political upheaval. Some religious zealots had taken over. Religions were very dangerous– they inflamed people. Any sensible government and its military should stamp them out. But they were not concerned with politics and religion just now. They would wait.

The small gray man turned his attention from the terrestrial craft to the combined force. It had increased in number now to thirteen. New arrivals. Other races. They had brought the news that there was a hundred-million-credit prize offered now to the ship or ships that discovered the one. Thus they were more eager to raid and collect evidence than they were to gut the planet.

Half-Captain Rogodeter Snowl had become quite incensed with this place, obsessed with it in fact. But his military sense was telling him that he was outnumbered by the rest of the combined force, and he had left a couple of weeks ago to return to his planet and bring up additional war vessels. It would get quite crowded in the orbits. His own captain had asked the small gray man whether he could draw off a bit from the rest. This was going to be an awful mess when these military men “found out” and could split the prize and then gut the planet. The small gray man had agreed.

He returned to idly watching the terrestrial ship. It seemed to be finished now, possibly had a full hold. It was slowly going down into the atmosphere, making its way to the African base.

Chapter 4

Jo

Stormalong put the old ship alongside a metal pulverizer. The Psychlos used a device which first “softened” metal by breaking down its molecular cohesion and then let it go through armored rollers that really tore it apart and smashed it. The result was a metal powder so fine that if one threw a handful into the air, a lot of it stayed there like fine dust. The Psychlos needed it that way for part of their fuel and ammunition processes.

Using the ship's own cranes, the copilot began unloading the “catch” into the metal pulverizer. Stormalong got out and came over. "Fifty-five tons this trip,” he said smugly. “There's plenty up there, trapped in orbit. Think we'll need any more?”

Jo

One of the Buddhist communicators came up. They had a way of moving which always intrigued Jo

He and Stormalong walked on through the compound looking for Angus. Jo

Coordinator had written it for Ivan) on top of the helmet:

Dear Marshal Jo

Your village people arrived and are very happy and so are we. Dr. Allen got the old man Jimson off some weed he was eating and he looks like he will live. Your people all say how do you do, hello. Tom Smiley also says how do you do, hello. Your horses got shipped over here and they are now learning to speak Russian (joke). But they are fine. I worked on Blodgett and she can run pretty good now. You must always look after horses. We got the Buddhist library down deep now and it's safe. On the helmet, I wish I could tell you I had an angel visit me the night before you left that told me you had to wear it. Your letter thanking me is received with embarrassment. I was not trying to save your life but would anytime, anyway. So I can't accept your gratitude. It was no angel. I just knew that in those high mountains you can freeze your (scratched out) ears off. This helmet is less conspicuous. I didn't even put a star on it. Give my best to Chrissie when you write. I hope somebody is looking after your clothes.

Your comrade, Ivan

(Colonel Commanding Russian base until you can dig up some Americans)

It was a nice helmet and it fit. There were a couple of small creases on it they hadn't quite rubbed out. Ivan must have fired some shots at it to make sure it would stop bullets.

There was also a package of ammunition for the AK 47s. Jo

Stormalong and Jo

When Stormalong had begun this orbit mining it had been with an eye to training pilots and, Jo