Progeny (The Progenitor Trilogy, Book Three) (19 page)

              Haines had supposed that the enemy would wade ashore, slowed by the water and weighed down by the weight of their equipment and their water sodden uniforms.  He was wrong.  The leading troopers exploded out of the deep water with superhuman speed and power, landing well out of the waterline and taking the marines completely by surprise.  There was a crucial split second pause before the stunned defenders began to fire back.  Antonov’s heavy rail rifle cut the first man in half in a welter of blood.  The severed torso thudded heavily to the ground on the thin, sandy beach, and then began to claw its way forward with its hands, bloody entrails dragging behind it, until a further burst exploded its head, bringing it finally to a halt.

              The second man staggered under the weight of fire, multiple headshots blowing what remained of his brains and the Shaper parasite that had violated them out of the back of his skull in a burst of gore and fragments of alien machinery.  But by now the other enslaved PDF troopers had emerged and were scrambling forwards, firing wildly from the hip as the marines returned fire, cutting down another two. In a few moments, the enslaved troopers reached the edge of the tree-line, making them more difficult to hit.  The marines were finding it harder to get clean headshots off.  Haines saw several PDF troopers thrown backwards from the impact of high velocity rounds, and then get straight back up again, despite the fact that they were now bleeding profusely or in some cases, where the heavy rail gun had struck them, were missing limbs or chunks of torso altogether.

              Haines squeezed off a few rounds at the dodging, weaving shapes and was gratified when he saw one man fall and fail to rise, but the enslaved troopers were getting closer, and some were darting off to both sides amidst the trees.

              ‘Prepare for close combat!’ cried Haines.  ‘Don’t let the bastards flank us!’  He shot a man in the face at close range, taking off the left side of his skull.  It was a glancing blow.  With dismay he saw the poor wretch struggle to his feet before Dawson finished him off. 

Now there was movement in the shadows to both sides of them.  He saw one marine go down as a figure charged from behind the cover of a tree, tackling him to the ground before bludgeoning the man with the butt of its rifle before anyone could bring the creature down.  Another tried to ambush Antonov from the side.  Fortunately the big man saw him coming from the corner of his vision and was able to swing his heavy gun round and fire a burst at the charging figure, bisecting its torso below the chest and showering Antonov in entrails and blood.  The head and upper body remained horribly alive, the hands clawing at Antonov’s legs as he recoiled in horror and then ended the enslaved man’s existence with a final burst to the head.

              ‘Order your men to pull back,’ said Haines to Dawson.  ‘We can’t let the bastards surround us.

              With verbal commands and hand signals, the marines began to fall back deeper into the jungle.  Haines saw Antonov heft his larger gun and move with surprising speed through the trees before he found a suitable position to lay down some covering fire for his comrades as they moved backwards in pairs, each man covering for the other with suppressing fire as his comrade dashed to the new defensive line they were establishing.  By Haines’ estimate about half of the enemy force had been eliminated, which made the enemy numbers about equal to their own.  The enslaved troopers had divided themselves into two groups and were moving toward the marines’ position in a pincer movement.  Bursts of fire from the marines towards both groups caused the figures of the troopers to fall, but in most cases the men got back up again and continued. 

Return fire hammered back from the undergrowth, felling two marines.  One died instantly, shot through the chest.  The other took a round through his spine.  He lay struggling and screaming upon the ground for a few moments as his comrades desperately tried to save him to no avail. His cries ceased and he bled his last. 

It was impossible to pick out the enemy amidst the undergrowth.  It was so hot that there was nothing visible through the infrared gear built into the marines’ helmets except a confusing riot of colour.

              ‘Use your grenades!’ yelled Dawson to his men above the noise of the fire fight. ‘If we can cut them apart we can slow them down!’

              Grenades were duly lobbed into the undergrowth at the skulking figures, the blasts tearing apart the vegetation.  The firing seemed to lessen for a moment, before it resumed again with equal ferocity.  Antonov began to sweep the jungle with extended bursts of fire from his heavy weapon whilst others picked individual targets with care. 

              Haines listened.  Amidst all the firing, shouting and explosions there was another sound.  It was the whine of engines from some sort of airborne vehicle.  Glancing upwards he caught sight of a dark shape sweeping above their position.  He glimpsed an angular looking fuselage and stub wings.  It was a human craft, a light gunship of some kind, probably a scout variant.

              ‘We’ve got company!’ yelled Haines to Dawson above the din.  ‘Enemy air support above our position, Captain!  We need to take it out!’

              At that moment the enslaved troopers chose to charge as one towards the marine position.  The two groups emerged from the jungle simultaneously, firing from the hip as they scrambled over tree-roots and boulders.  The marines fired back furiously, felling the leading troopers.  About half a dozen of the enemy now remained.  Many showed signs of having been caught by the grenades.  They struggled onwards, despite missing limbs, severed arteries and bloody flaps of torn flesh that hung from them like rags.  One man lacked forearms, another his jaw, whilst another’s abdomen had been ripped open, exposing glistening organs.  Those no longer able to wield weapons were simply charging onwards like wild animals, attempting to overrun the marines’ position.  They were cut down amidst a ferocious barrage of fire.  Those bodies that still twitched were finished off by the marines who leapt forwards and administered kill shots to their skulls.

              ‘Nice work!’ said Haines.  ‘But we need to move.  The enemy knows where we are now.  We need to lose him again.’

              ‘We should head away from the river,’ said Dawson.  ‘We’ve scouted this area before.  If we can climb the sides of the valley we can conceal ourselves in the cave systems up there.’

              ‘Okay, let’s go,’ said Haines.  ‘Now where the hell is that damn gunship?’

              Leaving their three dead comrades behind them, though not before quickly stripping them of equipment, weapons and ammo, Haines and the marines moved quickly through the jungle in a direction that would take them to where Dawson had indicated on his map.  Somewhere in the sky above them they could hear the sound of the gunship’s engines, although they were unable to see the craft through the dense tree canopy.  However, there was little doubt that those piloting the craft could see them.  Judging by the sound of its engines, the gunship appeared to be circling, keeping a fix on their position.

              ‘Why haven’t they fired on us?’ said Sergeant Philips, panting with exertion in the cloying heat. ‘The bastards can obviously see where we are.’

              ‘My guess is that they don’t want to risk hitting the Admiral,’ replied Dawson clambering over a large tree root.  ‘They must be waiting for more troops to arrive so they can try to take him alive.  We need to keep going, reach higher ground where there’s less tree cover so we can see that thing.’

              ‘Won’t they see us?’

              ‘Sure, but I say we distract them and then you and McCabe can try and take it down with your anti-armour missiles.  What do you think, Admiral?’

              Haines nodded.  He was short of breath and struggling to keep up with the pace of the younger men.  He wasn’t in bad shape, considering his age, but the marines were at the peak of physical fitness, whilst he had spent most of his time aboard ship in the past few years. 

              ‘Sure,’ he managed to say.  ‘I say we split in two:  one group with me, the other with the heavy weapons.  They’ll still be able to see all of us, but maybe they’ll focus on me long enough for the other group to bring ‘em down.’

              As they climbed, the trees started to thin out a little, allowing a cooling breeze to circulate beneath the branches, providing a little respite.  They could glimpse the gunship now through the branches as it circled, hovering like an angry hornet.

              ‘Okay,’ said Dawson.  ‘Philips, McCabe, Antonov: split off and move up the slope to our left.  Everyone else, remain with the Admiral and me.  We’ll make a run for it up the hillside.  You three, try and bring that bird down. 

              Haines looked up the slope ahead of them with trepidation.  The ascent was becoming steeper.  A little way ahead of them the trees began to peter out leaving little cover on the rocky hillside, at the top of which loomed a near vertical crag.  He willed himself to climb, stumbling after Dawson as the Captain led the marines onwards, knowing that if he ordered the marines to slow down for him it could mean death or capture. Time was of the essence. They had to bring down that gunship and disappear before backup arrived.  It might only be a matter of minutes before that happened.

              Haines forced himself up the hillside, Dawson pounding ahead of him up the slope.  The sound of the gunship’s engines was louder now, the source of the sound much closer.  He glanced backward over his shoulder as he ran and saw the craft hovering behind him on its AG engines, near level with them as it hung over the jungle.  It was black against the sky, the air from its manoeuvring thrusters causing columns of air to shimmer beneath it. 

              There was a dull bang, and a slender, black shape shot past the gunship, narrowly missing the cockpit.  The marines had missed with their first attempt.  Not focusing on where he was going, Haines tripped and stumbled.  Throwing his hands out in front him to break his fall he grabbed handfuls of the short, scrubby vegetation and pulled himself back up as the sound of automatic weapons fire erupted from the hillside to his left.  It was Antonov.  Haines saw the rounds from the heavy rail gun strike the cockpit canopy of the gunship, but they seemed to be having little effect against the tough material.  The craft was turning to engage the new threat.  He saw its chin mounted gatling gun start to swivel to engage the new threat to its left.

              There was another dull thump.  This time the marines didn’t miss.  The anti-armour round struck the gunship’s engines and detonated with a deafening bang.  The craft lurched sideways from the impact and then dropped from the sky onto the rocky hillside like a stone. Hitting the ground, it started to roll down the slope, then exploded, scattering debris far and wide and producing clouds of roiling black smoke.  Two burning figures could be seen struggling from the inferno.  They made it out of the ruined craft before they collapsed, in flames, upon the hillside.

              ‘Great,’ muttered Dawson.  ‘That cloud of smoke will be visible for miles.’

              ‘We need to move,’ said Haines.  ‘Order your men to rejoin the squad, and then let’s get out of here.’

              ‘You okay, sir?’ Dawson asked, a look of concern on his face.

              ‘I’m fine, soldier.  Now let’s go, before more of the enemy show up.’

              Leaving the burning gunship behind them, Haines and the marines began to quickly skirt the edge of the hill, following the edge of the tree-line in the hope that it would conceal them from the air.  When they had travelled about a kilometre, a sonic boom split the air in the distance.  Seconds later, a small crystalline craft appeared, similar to the one that Haines had seen land on the hilltop overlooking the wreck of the
Lincoln
.  It braked hard, then hovered over the gunship crash site.  Instinctively, the marines moved deeper under the trees.  Haines did likewise.

              ‘Shapers?’ whispered Dawson, fearfully.  Haines nodded.  Dawson swore under his breath.

              ‘How far to the caves, Captain?’ said Haines, keeping his voice low.

              ‘About half a click, but we need to climb back up the side of the hill again.  The entrance is inside a small gully.’

              ‘Is there any other way out of the caves?  I don’t want us to get trapped inside.  If the Shapers find the cave entrance, it would be a logical place to look for us.’

              ‘A small river runs out of the cave mouth.  So I suppose somewhere it must run in.  We haven’t mapped out the cave system, sir.  Last time we came by here we only moved inside a hundred metres or so.  It looked like an ancient lava channel or something.  Sir, our map shows that this escarpment is the edge of a large caldera.  There’s a small river at the top that disappears underground.  It could be the same one that emerges here.’

              ‘Okay, we don’t have a lot of time.  I guess we can risk it,’ said Haines, weighing up their options.  ‘If it comes to it, your suits’ IR and low-light gear should make it easy to defend ourselves inside the cave.  I’d prefer it if we were sure that there was another way out.  Just because water can flow through the cave doesn’t mean that we can get through without breathing equipment, but it should conceal us from the enemy for a while.  Let’s go.’

              They hurried on, the Shaper craft hanging in the sky behind them.  When they dared to look back it seemed to be moving back and forth over the scene of their recent battle. First, to the crash site, then to where Philips’ team had launched their attack and then back to the escarpment where Haines and the others had made their diversion.  It was like seeing a bloodhound sniffing out a trail.

              Eventually Haines and the marines reached the ravine.  Mercifully, it was heavily overgrown – the damp sheltered place was a haven for plants of all kinds.  Quickly, they splashed up the river bed until the dark cave mouth gaped before them, fringed with trailing vines.  Hurriedly, they made their way inside.