Task Force Read Online Free PDF Page B

even, and Chisnall looked up to see a steady coil-gun aimed right at his head. The Bzadian who held it was unusually tall and thick-chested: tough and competent.
    Chisnall stood up, folding his arms across his chest, Bzadian style, with his palms out, to indicate that he was not going to resist.
    “What have you done to these soldiers?” Chisnall asked. The language and the regional dialect flowed effortlessly, hissurgically created forked tongue buzzing on the difficult Bzadian sounds. “We were on a training exercise in the bay and found ourselves attacked by our own forces.”
    “A training exercise?” the Bzadian said. “Why didn’t we know about it?”
    “Of course you knew about it,” Chisnall said. He turned as he spoke, bending down over the scrawny shape of Miscreant and examining the blood that trickled from his ear. “The exercise has been planned for weeks. Coastal Defense Command knows all about it. Now you have killed some of my best soldiers.”
    There was a clear pulse in Miscreant’s neck, but the Bzadian wouldn’t be able to see that.
    “They were all alive when we brought them on board,” the Bzadian said.
    “Alive? I don’t think so. Not with a bullet in the back of his head!” Chisnall said.
    “What?”
    “See for yourself,” Chisnall said, and the Bzadian came closer. “I want to speak to your captain immediately. And get Coastal Defense on the radio. Tell them …”
    Chisnall never finished the sentence. Bending down had been an excuse to shift his weight onto the balls of his feet. He exploded upward, hitting the Bzadian’s midriff, just below the coil-gun he was carrying. The gun became a club, smashing into the Bzadian’s face. Anyone else would have gone down at that point, but this one seemed to be made of rock. He gruntedand staggered back a few steps. He was smart too. He didn’t try to bring the coil-gun to bear; it would never have worked in that confined space. He dropped the gun and swung an elbow at Chisnall’s head. It exploded into his temple, rocking him sideways.
    Chisnall didn’t want to get into a boxing match with someone who seemed to have been carved out of granite. Instead, he put the Bzadian on the deck with a quick judo move, slipping his leg behind the Bzadian’s legs and pushing him backward. The Bzadian grunted as his head hit the deck but shook it off and punched upward with both fists. Chisnall flicked his head sideways and the blow glanced his cheek. Had the blow connected solidly, the fight would have been over there and then.
    Chisnall kneed him in the stomach, forcing the air from his lungs, but the Bzadian’s hands were around his neck, pulling him down. With a sudden shift of his body weight, the Bzadian was on top of him and the metal cable from his coil-gun was around his neck. Chisnall could feel the metal dig into his skin. Black spots danced in front of his eyes. He tried to bring his legs up, to twist himself out of the other’s grasp, but he was too firmly pinned.
    The muscles of his chest started to spasm as they heaved to find air that would not come.
    Price didn’t need sonar to hear the churning sounds of the propellers through the water.
    “Here it comes!” the Tsar yelled.
    “What do we do?” Wilton asked. “What do we do?”
    “Dive deep,” Price said. “Get as far as you can from the bomb.”
    “No! Surface!” Barnard yelled.
    “Which?” Monster asked.
    “Surface,” Barnard said. “After the depth charge hits the water, there will be a delay while it sinks. Try and get your head and as much of your body as possible out of the water before it explodes.”
    “Why?” Price asked.
    “The air-water barrier,” Barnard said. “The surface of the water acts like a mirror for sound. Ninety percent of the sonic boom will be reflected back down.”
    “Do it,” Price said. “Tsar, let us know the second the bomb hits the water.”
    “You’ll know it!” the Tsar said.
    “As soon as you hear it, unplug your