Eric Flint - Time spike

And that door wasn't…" Blacklock trailed to silence, his eyes widening. "Sure, we didn't blow it up. So what? We got the key, still.

And I can guarantee you that whatever else Luff has, he doesn't have a locksmith with his tools to have changed the lock." "He might have it barred or chained from the inside, though." "So? Worst that happens, we create a diversion. But I'm willing to bet he doesn't. In fact, I'm willing to bet my life-Iwill be betting my life, since I'll volunteer to lead the attack-that Luff still isn't worrying much about what sort of threat might come from the outside. He'll have analyzed our raid on the armory and come up with exactly the wrong conclusion. There must have been somebody on the inside involved. And he doesn't know who it is. That's what he'll be fretting over." Blacklock studied him, for a moment. "Is he that crazy?" Cook shrugged. "It's just the way the man's mind works. He's amanipulator, Captain. He doesn't lead a gang, he engineers one. He's smart, but I remember what the Boom said about him. Luff will always ignore a straightforward answer if he can find a complicated one. Look at that attack on me he told Butch Wesson to do.

What was the purpose of it? I spent some time trying to figure that out, and finally had the sense to ask Boomer. He said Luff was trying to get me to be cooperative with him, since I had access to the infirmary. But instead of just asking, or figuring out some way to bribe me, he went about it ass-backwards." Blacklock thought about it.

"All right, I can see your point. But he'll still have at least a dozen men guarding the armory. Some outside, but most probably inside." Cook smiled. "You still don't get it, Captain. Luff won't haveanybody inside the armory. He won't trust anybody in there. He'll have it locked inside and out-with him having the only keys. The guards won't be in the armory. Some of them will be on the outside, and some might be guarding the inside door-but not inside the armory itself." He glanced over at the Boomers sitting a distance away from the leadership conference. "We can handle the guards on the outside easily enough. Kidd alone could probably do that. What happens next, I don't know. If the guards on the inside are steady enough, we'll pretty much be stymied. Opening that second door and just rushing out would be dicey as hell. But by then you'll have started the main attack and I don't think they'll stick around. They'll be too rattled.

Those guys aren't what you'd call Delta Force, you know." Rod had been thinking about it, while the two talked, and the more he did, the more he liked Cook's plan. If nothing else, even if Cook and his men couldn't get out of the armory, they'd have taken it. Luff wouldn't have access to it either. And he was pretty sure Cook's assessment was right. Whatever guards were assigned to watch the inside door probably would abandon the assignment, once the crap hit the fan. Andy, apparently, had come to the same conclusion. "All right. I take it your proposal is to turn the whole job over to you Boomers?" "Seems sensible. Look, let's face it. Some day we may all be good buddies and make jokes about Botany Bay. But right now, your guards and us Boomers are about as comfortable together as cats and dogs sharing a lifeboat.

With the dogs getting hungry and the cats in a foul mood. Trying to mix us together on the spot into a single combat team is just pie in the sky. You know it, and I know it. So you take one assignment-you and the Cherokees-and concentrate on getting through the main gate.

Meanwhile, we'll see what we can do at the armory." "I think he's right, Andy," Rod said. "To be honest, if you were to add the Boomers to my platoon, I'd just scratch my head and tell them to keep out my way. I wouldn't know what else to do." "Yeah, I can see that. All right, Cook. No, I guess I'd better start calling you James, huh?"

That came with a little smile. "But what do you propose to do assuming you succeed and get out of the armory? We need to be careful we don't wind up shooting at each other." Cook chewed on his lower lip for a few seconds. "We'll go for the watch towers. You'll have enough on your plate as it is." "All right. I'll make sure all my people know.

But keep in mind that we're almost certainly going to be taking fire from those towers before you can take them. If you can even try at all. So if you do get into any the towers, we need some sort of signal that lets us know they're now in friendly hands." "Those Spanish blankets are distinctive-and it's one thing we know Luff and his people can't possibly have. We'll cut some strips and take them with us. If you see one hanging from a tower, pretty please stop shooting at it." "Okay." Andy looked around the small circle gathered at the campfire. Him, Hulbert, Watkins, Kershner and Cook. "Sergeant, how are you and your men doing with the new rifles?" "Very well-except I think Susan Fisher's niece will be getting jealous. Pitzel is talking about marrying his new rifle." In his heavy Swabian accent, he added, "I am struggling against the temptation myself. Fortunately, unlike Pitzel, I have read the Bible and know that such a joining is forbidden by the Lord." Between the accent and the young man's solemn face, it was hard to know if he was joking or being serious. "Uh… where does it say that in the Bible?" Rod asked. "Leviticus. Somewhere in there, almost everything is forbidden." It'd been a long time since Hulbert read the Bible; even then, he'd only read parts of it. He was pretty sure he'd skipped over Leviticus because-well, yeah, it had seemed like page after page of you can't do this and you can't do that or you must do this and do it exactly this and that a way. Still, he thought it unlikely that God had said anything specifically about. 223 caliber semiautomatic rifles. "I guess," was all he said, though. Arguing Biblical interpretation with a nineteenth-century German-American was probably as pointless as arguing it with Brian Carmichael. "Let's get going then," said Blacklock. "Edelman tells me the catapult will be finished today, and Leffen will have enough bombs put together. I want us moving out at dawn. Two days from now, we take Alexander back."

Chapter 52 Margo stared up at the ceiling, her hands clasped behind her head. Given that her body was only covered by the sheets from the waist down, Nick found the sight distracting. Which was odd, perhaps, given that he could hardly claim to be sexually frustrated.

In fact, he was feeling a little exhausted. Margo made love with the same enthusiastic verve she drove her SUV. "Do you ever wonder what's happening to those poor people, Nick?" "Yes, I do. At least three times a day. But I start by reminding myself that they aren't 'poor people' to begin with. They're my kind of people, actually. I grew up in an Ohio town not that much different from the towns that produced the guards and nurses at Alexander." He reached for a cigarette, and shook one loose from Margo's pack when she extended her hand. Both he and Margo smoked, which was bad for their health and getting less and less socially acceptable as time went by-but was very handy, from a romantic standpoint. No matter how different they were in other ways, they shared the smoker's sense of withstanding a bitter and relentless siege shoulder to shoulder. After he lit hers, and lit his, he lay down next to her-shoulder to shoulder-and looked up at the ceiling also. "As for the Cherokees, I think they'd resent being called 'those poor people.' I know some Cherokees. Even today, after all that's happened to them, they're a proud people. At least, the ones I know are." "Well, yeah. But… most of them are convicts. Maximum security type convicts at that." She exhaled cigarette smoke and chuckled. "Of course, I guess that just reinforces your point. Not even knee-jerk bleeding heart liberals like me really think felons are hapless waifs." They smoked in silence, for a while. Then Nick sat up, stubbed out his cigarette, and offered her the ashtray to do the same.