Page 55 of Trigger Discipline

“We need to get this shield down!” he snapped at Judd, pulling himself to his feet.

“What?” he asked, eyes wide. “That barrier is the only thing keeping those things back!”

“Exactly,” Blake said distractedly as he looked around for something, anything he could use to do exactly what he’d said—he was going to overheat the shield.

“Victoria said that the shield reacts to kinetic energy. It directs all its energy to where it’s being penetrated, right? What if it had multiple points?”

Victoria’s elegant eyebrows drew together. “You want to overwhelm the shield?”

“So far, the shield has only had to hold back our tech. A plane or two at a time. That’s nothing compared to what that thing up there can do. But if I can direct enough of its energy away from the second ship, then maybe they can bust it open.”

Or something. Honestly, Blake had no idea what he was talking about. But it sounded good.

“Ok, hold up. I’m still stuck onwhywe want to get rid of the one thing holding the zappy balls back?”

Victoria choked. “Zappy balls?”

They ignored her.

“Because,” Blake’s eyes landed on something that could help. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

Judd blinked owlishly. “Or the enemy of my enemy is going tofry usto charred bits!”

“We have to risk it.”

“We really don’t.”

Blake started back toward the municipal building. “Think of it this way, if we get the shield down, then we can get some reinforcements.”

Judd growled in frustration, slapping a palm against his helmet. But he followed Blake anyway. “I want it on record that I think this is a bad idea.”

“I’ll take the fall if it doesn’t work.”

“If this doesn’t work, we’ll all be dead.”

“Exactly.”

Judd groaned again but helped boost Blake over the chain link fence surrounding the municipal parking lot. Parked against the eastern fence was the row of snowplows Blake had noticed as they came in. The orange trucks were hibernating, just waiting for winter. Their angled blades rested against the ground; it could work. Blake approached the first and hopped up onto the running board. Predictably, it was locked.

Grabbing his trauma shears from the clip on his belt, he flipped them to the small metal point on the back. Screwing up his face, he slammed the metal point into the window. Cracks splintered across the surface.

“Damn,” Judd whistled.

Blake cleared the remnants of the window. “They also have a ring cutter.”

“Handy.”

Reaching in, he unlocked the driver’s side door and stepped back, balancing on the serrated running board. He supposed it was too much to hope for the keys to be in the ignition.

“You know how to hot-wire a vehicle?”

Judd grinned lazily, extending a hand for Blake’s traumashears. “Hell,” he drawled, ducking into the foot well to yank out a panel. “Lost the keys for every farm truck we ever had.”

The more Blake learned about Judd’s farm, the more he was convinced it was a lawless wasteland. He’d have liked to visit.

After a few minutes, the truck rumbled to life. The diesel engine was cacophonous in the quiet of the park and Blake felt like they were going to get caught at any moment. Judd returned the trauma shears, and he slid them back into his belt.

Hauling himself into the truck, Blake settled into the driver’s seat.