Progeny (The Progenitor Trilogy, Book Three) (26 page)

              They climbed the rocky lip of the caldera and flopped down amid the wind-blown scrub that clustered around the few scraps of cover.  Keeping low, Dawson peered over the edge and used his helmet’s magnification to look back at the mouth of the cave.  For a moment he saw nothing, and then there was movement.  A figure was emerging from the cave.  Dawson signalled to Haines then zoomed his view in closer and saw a man dressed in Marine Corp fatigues.  Dawson’s comm. crackled in his ear.

              ‘Captain, this is Philips.  I made it out of the caves.  If you can hear this signal, please report your position. Over.’

              ‘I’m getting a transmission.  It’s Philips,’ said Dawson. ‘He’s requesting that we report our position so that he can find us.  Something isn’t right.’

              ‘It’s not him, at least not anymore,’ said Haines. ‘Or if not, he’s lost his mind requesting that we send information like that over an open channel.’

              ‘My thoughts exactly, sir.’

              ‘It’s a pretty cheap trick to pull.  They can’t think very much of us if they think we’ll fall for that.’

              ‘Captain Dawson, this is Philips, please respond. Over.’

              Haines heard the faint squawking in Dawson’s ear and nodded once.

              ‘Turn that thing off, son. Let’s get the hell out of here before they send in air support again to look for us.  Now that they know where that cave system came out, it won’t take them long.’

              Heading north, they scrambled down the steep slopes of the extinct volcano towards the welcome cover of the jungle below.  Fortunately, there was enough light from the gas giant in the sky above them to light the way, but even so the going was difficult.  Broken rocks and slopes of scree made the terrain treacherous underfoot.  Haines fell first, slipping backwards on loose gravel as he half-walked half-ran down the steep mountainside.  He picked himself up again with barely a pause then continued his headlong rush towards the welcoming trees below him.  Dawson fell a few minutes later, slipping sideways into a hidden hole beneath his feet.  Haines saw him go down and feared the worst, that Dawson might have snapped his ankle and thus be unable to walk.  He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the man get up, gingerly put his weight onto his right foot and then, satisfied there was no serious damage, continue on his way.

              Finally, gratefully, they reached the trees.  Haines recognised them in the darkness - these were the same as the species that formed the great forest to the south that his escape pod had landed in, their oddly regular pattern of branches visible in the pale planet-light.  He welcomed them like an old friend, only stopping when the trees grew dense and tall and the night sky above was no longer visible.  Hopefully the dense, moisture-soaked undergrowth would interfere with the instruments of anyone looking for them.

              ‘Okay,’ said Haines, his breath rasping in his throat.  ‘This old man needs to rest a moment.’

              ‘No problem, sir.  I don’t think they’re following us.’

              ‘Me neither, for the moment.  Jesus, I thought the bastards had us back there.  I’m truly sorry about the rest of the men, Captain.  Really, I am.  But it wouldn’t have done us any good.’

              ‘It’s my fault sir, they’re my guys and morale just collapsed when that
thing
that... that...’

              ‘That Shaper, son.’

              ‘Yes sir.  When the Shaper tore McCabe apart... all I could think of was getting away, getting as far away as possible.  The others turned and ran too.  We ceased to function as a unit and we paid the price, sir.  It’s my fault, I was their squad commander. Their deaths were my responsibility.’  Haines noticed that the younger man’s hands were shaking.

              ‘No, son.  If we’d have stood and fought, we’d all be dead by now or in captivity, or worse.  If anyone is to blame, it’s me.  I brought us here in the first place.  You were all aboard my ships when the Shapers won the battle up there.’  He jabbed a finger skywards. ‘It’s my failure if it’s anybody’s.  I’m the senior officer here.’

              ‘How can we kill them, sir?  There has to be a way.’

              ‘Yeah, there has to be,’ said Haines. ‘We can’t run forever.  Sooner or later we’ll run out of places to run to.  How far to the makeshift camp?’

              ‘Not far, sir.  We should be there in a few hours, all being well.’

              ‘How’s the ankle?  That looked like a pretty nasty fall back there.  I didn’t expect you to get up so easily.’

              ‘I’ll live.  Guess I got lucky.  There doesn’t seem to be any serious damage.’

              ‘Good.  Okay, let’s move out.  First we need to reach that camp of yours, get any survivors we have left together and then we can start making plans.’

              ‘What sort of plans, sir?’

              ‘I intend to get off this rock as soon as possible.’

              Hours later and the two exhausted men stumbled wearily into the makeshift camp deep under the trees in the heart of the forest.  Camouflage netting was strung between the kilometre high tree trunks, below which a collection of tents huddled in the dark, green tinted gloom.  They were greeted by the men and women on watch around the perimeter of the camp, their faces broadening in grins as they saw the Admiral and saluted, though when they saw Dawson without the rest of his squad, there were many urgent questions and reactions of shock and grief.  All in all, there were around thirty survivors in the camp.  The loss of Dawson’s squad was a bitter blow, both in terms of numbers and psychologically.

              Dawson and Haines had walked to the camp unhindered.  Occasionally they had been forced to huddle in the darkness beneath the trees as aerial vehicles, both human and Shaper, had passed overhead going southwards, but no craft appeared to have followed them and no-one appeared to be following them into the forest.  Haines had privately wondered about that.  Surely if Dawson’s squad had been captured by the Shaper and subjected to whatever horrors it had in store for them as it devoured their minds, the enemy would have learned the location of the marines’ camp by now?  Nevertheless, when Haines quizzed the marines in the camp, none of them had seen any enemy activity in the vicinity.  Dawson assured him, however, that plans would be made to move the camp to a different location.  Haines wearily agreed.  He needed sleep more than anything.  He couldn’t remember the last time he had in fact slept properly at all, save for a few snatches of shut eye before he had encountered Dawson’s squad.  He had been too on edge, too fuelled by adrenaline, and though he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, too afraid to sleep properly. 

              Dawson had one of his men show Haines to a vacant tent with an unused bedroll inside and Haines felt into a deep and mercifully dreamless sleep.

              Haines was awoken by the sight of a young private standing over him clutching a cup of coffee.  Haines took it from him gratefully and sipped at the hot drink.  It was the instant stuff from the ration packs.  It had an acrid taste, but he didn’t care, it was warming and it would wake him up.  The private left and returned a few moments later with some heated rations.  Haines balanced the plastic tray on his knees and began to wolf them down, his stomach suddenly realising how long it had been since he’d had a proper meal.  Normally these dried emergency rations tasted terrible to him, lacking the flavour and consistency of fresh produce, but right now the reconstituted egg and cubes of processed meat tasted like the best thing he’d had in ages.

              ‘How long have I been asleep?’ he asked the private.

              ‘About eight hours sir,’ the man responded. ‘We’re almost ready to move out.’

              ‘I hope you weren’t waiting around on my account,’ Haines replied.

              ‘No sir.  There was some enemy air activity during the night.  Captain Dawson thought it prudent to wait until the coast was clear.’

              ‘Tell him I’ll be out as soon as I’ve finished this.’

              ‘Yes sir.’

              The private left Haines to finish his meal.

              Feeling somewhat refreshed, Haines stepped out of the tent into the dimly lit campsite, now largely packed away into the backpacks of the men and women awaiting his leadership, and onto two heavily laden AG pallets that had been salvaged from one of the downed dropships.  Captain Dawson stood in the middle of the group, looking similarly recovered from his ordeal.  He saw Haines and saluted.

              ‘How do you feel, sir?’ he said.

              ‘Much better, Captain.  I never thought those ration packs could taste so good.  How about you?’

              ‘I’m okay, sir.’

              Haines took one look at the man’s expression and could tell immediately that he really wasn’t.

              ‘I take it none of the squad showed up?’

              Dawson nodded sadly.

              ‘You did the best you could, so you didn’t fail your men,’ said Haines, keeping his voice low.  ‘We were cornered by a much superior opponent.  You’re still alive, and you got me this far.  You did nothing wrong.’

              ‘Morale broke down, everyone ran.’

              ‘Your commanding officer included,’ Haines replied. ‘Don’t beat yourself up about it.  Sometimes these things happen in war.  There’ll be a time for payback, but you’ve gotta keep it together until then.  Okay?

              ‘Yes sir. Thank you sir.’

              ‘How’s the leg?’

              ‘A little stiff, but I’m okay.  We have a medic with us, sir. I can have her look you over.’

              ‘Just cuts and bruises son, save for this broken nose, and that doesn’t stop me from walking.  I’d rather just get moving.’

              ‘They sent out a couple of scouts from the camp just before we arrived.  There’s a good site about twenty clicks north east of here.  It’ll put us within striking distance of a small commercial freight terminal.  Our scouts spotted a couple of small freighters parked on the landing pads there.  We can try and seize one and pilot it out of the system.  You said you wanted to get off this rock, sir.  We may have a chance to do so.’

              ‘Sounds like a plan to me, Captain,’ said Haines turned to address the others.  ‘Okay people, we’ve been presented with an opportunity.  I intend to take it.  I want you to know how grateful I am to have such dedicated men and women under my command.  You survived, you kept up the fight against the enemy and you succeeded in pulling my ass out of the fire and bringing me here.  Your hard work and your tenacity is to be commended and you may have given us a chance to get off this moon and back to our friends.  Let’s move out!’

              They moved off in column.  Haines, Dawson and the supplies at the centre, scouts probing ahead and guarding the flanks and a couple of men trailing to watch for anyone, or anything, following them.  All of them maintained radio silence in case of detection by the enemy.  In the deep forest, the sea green light filtering through the many layers of foliage above illuminated the vaulted spaces through which they moved in near silence.  The vast trunks of the trees, tens of metres in diameter, marched off into the dimly lit distance on all sides like the columns of an enormous cathedral.  There was very little undergrowth down here, save for large patches of fungus-like growths that fed on the dead plant and animal matter that sifted down from the upper levels of the forest, and there were few animals to be seen either except for the large insects that scurried amongst the fungus beds and the occasional large eyed, sharp toothed, timid creatures that fed upon them and fled at the first sign of the humans’ approach.  An all pervading mist rose from the damp leaf mould, hampering visibility and lending the entire scene an even more unearthly air and filling their nostrils with the rich scent of decomposition.  Shafts of sunlight occasionally managed to pierce the gloom, their golden rays stabbing downwards through the mist whilst the figures of the men far out on the flanks could be glimpsed through the mist, appearing insubstantial and ghostlike.

              The marines talked little.  It was partly out of caution, but mainly because the oppressive atmosphere down here hushed everyone into silence. Even when they spoke, they kept their voices low, lest they disturb the deathly quiet of the forest.

              Haines had exchanged a few words with the other officers present, a Lieutenant by the name of Bagley and her counterpart from the other dropship called Cortez.  They had filled him in on their experiences since they had landed on the moon:  The constant need for vigilance, night-time guerrilla warfare against the patrols that had been sent to track them down and the need to remain constantly on the move, changing their position for fear of discovery.  He had related the story of his journey from the escape pod, how he had been found by Captain Dawson and his men and how they had been pursued and eventually cornered, he and Dawson barely escaping with their lives, the fate of the others as yet unknown.  That had been hours ago.  Now everyone trudged along in near silence.

              Eventually, they began to pass ruins, half concealed beneath the leaf mould and fungal growths on the forest floor.  They were barely visible at first, just geometric shapes on the ground, but soon low, broken walls could be seen amongst the trees, their ancient surfaces heavily eroded by untold aeons and slick with moisture and slime.  The ruins grew more frequent until soon it became clear that they were walking down the ancient remains of a broad boulevard.  They had stumbled into the ruins of a long dead city, concealed for who knows how long beneath the towering trees.

              As the walls grew progressively higher, the marines began to grow nervous.  The ruins provided places for potential ambushers to lurk.  Gripping their weapons tightly and using what instruments they had available they pressed onwards, watching and listening for signs of the enemy.  They heard nothing except for the constant dripping of water from the upper branches and saw nothing moving amidst the silent trees and ancient ruins.