Resistance Read Online Free PDF Page A

1140.09, work had begun on an outer moat. A deep ditch that could be flooded with Avgas and set on fire should it become necessary. It didn't take a whole lot of imagination to figure out why.
    The VTOL's engines were tilted upward for takeoff, and as the pilot fed them more fuel, the plane began to shake with greater intensity. Then, as the landing gear parted company with the ground and snowflakes blew in through the side doors, Hale caught a glimpse of the meager surface base as the
Boop
rose. But not his
last
glimpse, he hoped, as the engines tilted forward and the plane pulled itself north with a lurch.
    Bear Butte was about 120 miles away, so given the VTOL's top speed of 300 miles per hour, Hale expected to be boots on the ground in about half an hour. With a low ceiling and poor visibility the
Boop
was fairly safe from above, but the need to fly low over an area the Chimera had already begun to infiltrate meant the ship would be vulnerable to ground fire. It was a chance they'd have to take, since there was no other way for them to reach the butte quickly enough to beat the enemy to the punch.
    As it was, he hoped they weren't already too late.
    Hale peered across the center aisle to where Captain Nash was sitting, saw the other man's eye close in response to an involuntary tic, and hoped none of the men would notice. The VTOL shuddered as a crosswind hitthe fuselage, the port door gunner wrapped a long scarf around his neck, and the seconds ticked away. The mission clock was running.
    It was clear that Hale didn't expect much from him. In a way that was better, since it meant he wouldn't need the type of supervision Nash couldn't provide.
    Rather than dwell on his own lack of military expertise, the scientist chose to focus his thoughts on the mission. They were going to secure technology that would help the United States win the war.
    And if they found what they expected to find, it wasn't just
any
technology. Judging from what they could see of the downed craft, they hoped to scavenge what SRPA called “alpha artifacts,” Chimeran equipment that would help the scientists in New Mexico unravel the secrets of nuclear fission, perhaps even fusion, thereby paving the way toward unbelievably powerful new weapons.
    Such were Nash's thoughts when he was startled out of his reverie by an unfamiliar voice that spoke to him via the plug in his ear.
    “This is the pilot speaking … We're five from dirt. Be sure to take everything with you, the obvious exceptions being women of ill repute, and any cases of Schlitz beer which may happen to be on board.”
    The announcement elicited laughter, a few catcalls, and some loud whistles, until Kawecki and Alvarez reined in their men, then ran through the checklist to make sure they were combat-ready. Having found everything to their liking, they reported to Hale.
    “The first squad is ready, sir,” Kawecki said crisply.
    “Ditto Squad Two,” Alvarez reported.
    “Thank you, gentlemen,” Hale replied. “Let's lock and load.”
    A series of clacking, clicking, and hissing sounds followed Hale's order as a variety of human and Chimeran weapons were readied for combat. They had been doled out to take advantage of each individual's skills and the team's need to cope with a wide variety of potential adversaries.
    That thought weighed upon Nash as he checked the carbine he had propped, muzzle up, between his knees. Would he have to fire it? Would he even remember how? There hadn't been time for him to receive anything more than the most basic training. He lifted the weapon, worked a round into the chamber, but left the safety on as he put it down again.
    Nash peered across the aisle at Hale, and thought he saw an almost imperceptible nod, the beginning of what could have been a smile. It might have been taken as a sign of condescension, but Nash didn't think it was meant that way. The other officer didn't seem to work like that. So he responded with a boyish grin.
    Suddenly, for the