Battlefield Earth

Stormalong, like Angus, did not want Jo

Jo

The Psychlo midget was all smiles. They swatted “paws.” He had been looking for Jo

“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 Jo

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 assured him everything was in place.

But Ker hadn't realized Jo

Jo

Jo

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

“I don't think we will,” said Jo

“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 Jo

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 Du

Jo

“The I.B.I. could make anybody talk,” said Ker.

“We don't know the enemy has him,” said Jo

Shortly afterward he instituted 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 pla

Jo

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 gods. 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 space 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, nobody 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.