Free Task Force by Brian Falkner Page B

soldiers.”
    “I’m afraid it’s out of action, sir,” the Tsar said.
    Chisnall feigned surprise. “Well, get it working.”
    “That won’t be necessary, sir,” the sergeant said. “We have a ladder.”
    How convenient!
Chisnall thought.
    “I can have the gangway working in a couple of minutes,” the Tsar said.
    “Thank you, but we will board now, under direct orders from the Coastal Defense Command,” the sergeant said.
    “Could you please repeat that?” Chisnall said, floundering for any further way to delay them. The lights on the hill remained resolutely on. Had Price been captured or killed? He had sent her in there alone. Had he sent her to her death?
    “No, sir, I can’t,” the sergeant said. “Please instruct your crew not to interfere with our inspection.”
    A short folding plastic ladder was brought out from the rear of one of the Land Rovers, unfolded, and placed against the side of the ship.
    Chisnall said, “Of course, Sergeant, and welcome aboard.”Under his breath on the comm he said, “Monster, the magnetic mooring.”
    “Way ahead of you,” Monster said.
    Two soldiers moved to the ladder. One steadied it while the other began to climb. On the wharf the remainder of the soldiers watched the proceedings. Their weapons were holstered on their backs, but only a click away.
    The first soldier arrived at the top of the ladder and reached out for the deck railing.
    “Now,” Chisnall said quietly.
    There was a loud humming from below him as the magnetic polarity of the mooring device reversed. The ship eased away from the wharf. The ladder slipped, twisted, then toppled into the sea. The soldier managed to get a hand to the railing but lost his grip and fell, arms flailing into the water.
    On the wharf the coil-guns of the other soldiers were now in their hands, and most of the barrels seemed to be aimed at Chisnall.
    “It was an accident,” Chisnall shouted. “An accident!”
    Price strode to the next leg of the turtle, the power plant. An outer passageway ringed the dome, and a series of doors led to rooms in the interior. Some were open, others closed. A few eyes glanced up at her incuriously from within some of the rooms.
    She grinned a little inwardly. Here she was, right in theheart of the enemy, on her own, without backup or support. Yet here she felt the most at home. Relying on no one but herself. Wandering amid the enemy as if she owned the place.
    A door appeared on the outer wall of the dome. It opened into another of the plastic walk-tubes.
    She closed the door behind her and locked it, sprinting down the short circular corridor to the next door. It slid open with a sound like a loud, deep breath.
    A flashing blue light filled the corridor and a siren began to wail. It was so loud that it was painful. It seared her ears and filled her head. Even the air she breathed seemed heavy, full of the sound. Price felt a moment of panic but forced it from her mind and pushed the door shut.
    The power plant master switch was clearly marked, as were the controls for the backup power supply. She pressed them both and the siren and the flashing blue light cut off as the complex plunged into darkness.
    “Hit them!” Chisnall yelled as the glowing radar antennae on the island blinked into darkness. The lights on the wharf also shut off, and Monster cut the ship’s lights a fraction of a second later.
    Chisnall had dived for the door to the bridge. The troops on the wharf, well trained and edgy, had reacted instantly. Bullets crackled through the air where he had been standing.
    On the roof, Wilton’s coil-gun boomed, then boomedagain. There was no need for quiet, and he had cranked the speed dial back up to full, for distance and accuracy.
    The Tsar and Barnard were spraying puffer rounds at the soldiers below.
    The Angels had been prepared for the sudden loss of light. The Bzadians had not. But it didn’t take them long to switch to NV, and then came the staccato thunder of the