The Book of Truths Read Online Free

irritating at times but very effective in combat.
    Like Roland.
    Moms ignored him and addressed Doc. “What’s the other transmission?”
    Doc was frustrated. “I can’t make it out yet. Some old code that keeps repeating over and over.”
    “Ten minutes out,” Eagle announced.
    Ears popped in the cargo bay as pressure finished equalizing to fifteen thousand feet above ground level.
    “All right,” Mac said. “The pool is now open as to cause.”
    “Human error,” Nada said. Because Nada always thought it was human error. His faith in his fellow men was never above the half-full level, and usually pretty much near empty, and often hethought the glass simply didn’t even exist, but rather was a mirage, a cruel joke of an uncaring Fate.
    “Of course there is some human factor involved,” Doc said, blinking behind his thick glasses and peering through the protective plate in the hazmat hood, focused on his keyboard. “It is part of my rule of seven.”
    “Well, you gotta pick one, not seven,” Mac said. “The bet is on the primary cause.”
    “Computer glitch,” Kirk said. Kirk always wanted it to be something to do with computers, because that made it his responsibility to fix the situation as the team communications man and computer specialist.
    “Hardware or software?” Mac pressed.
    “Hardware,” Kirk said.
    Mac was using a felt-tip marker to record the bets on the arm of his suit. “I got Kirk with computer glitch, narrowed down to hardware malfunction. Nada with human error as primary. Doc?”
    “I do not speculate,” Doc said, ending his participation.
    “Sure it’s not a bug?” Mac chided him. Doc always wanted it to be a bug, the more exotic, the more interesting.
    “Come on, Moms,” Kirk pressed.
    Moms sighed, the sound echoing inside her hood, and for the sake of teamwork allowed herself to be drawn in. What most of the team, other than Nada, didn’t quite grasp was that she allowed the betting because it was an active way of getting everyone involved in “war-gaming” possibilities. The Nightstalkers often jumped into confusing and rapidly changing scenarios, and the more open their minds were to the range of problems they could face, the better they could face them.
    She spoke: “Someone left an inspection plate open or an inner tube in the rocket from the engines fell apart and a rat got in andchewed through some wires. Or the doomsdayers were playing make-believe launch-the-missile, pretending they were actually ending the world not knowing they had a loaded silo.”
    Mac whistled. “Now that’s specific. But you do remember that’s what happened in South Dakota when we went there two years ago?” He wrote
R-A-T
on his sleeve.
    “Of course,” Moms said. “History has a way of repeating itself.”
    Doc got up and waddled over to Roland to do one last check of the hazmat suit as per protocol. Moms did one more check of his parachute rig, not protocol, but she was a worrier. Doc tapped Roland lightly on one shoulder and Moms tapped him on the other, a mixture of reassurance and support, and they both sat back down.
    “Keep working the second freq and code,” Moms said.
    Doc was already back on his laptop.
    “Five minutes,” Eagle announced. “Opening ramp.”
    The Snake was a tilt-wing, jet-powered Black Ops aircraft, so experimental Eagle could have put in for test pilot wings with the air force. Except Nightstalkers never put in for badges, or awards, or wings, or any of that.
    At the rear of the Snake, a crack of late daylight appeared as the back ramp lowered until it was horizontal. Very cold wind swirled in and the sound level increased accordingly.
    Roland yawned and stretched his massive arms wide as he walked onto the ramp, stopping a foot short of the edge of the drop into potential oblivion. He’d been fast asleep at the Ranch when the Zevon alert came in, and he hated having his sleep cycle interrupted. Even for a nuke.
    Especially for a nuke. You can’t