Progeny (The Progenitor Trilogy, Book Three)

by Worth, Dan

  ‘To be honest sir, it was luck, more than anything. We’d noticed a lot of aerial activity in this region and figured that the enemy were up to something. At first we thought that they might be investigating the wreck of the Lincoln out in the bay, but they seemed to be searching the jungle. It seemed logical that they were looking for survivors from the fleet, maybe senior officers, so we decided to take a look. It was pure chance that we ran into you, however.’

  ‘Well, despite my initial reaction, it’s good to have company,’ said Haines. ‘I couldn’t ask for a finer bodyguard than the Marine Corp.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘But there are things in these jungles that I don’t think even you boys can handle.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Shapers, son. The damn Shapers are here on this moon. Not those agents and other puppets that you’ve heard about, the actual beings themselves, if you can call them that. I saw a couple whilst I was out on my own, or maybe it was the same one both times. I think they were hunting me. Will all due respect, I don’t think bullets would do much good.’

  ‘How did you manage to escape them, sir?’ said Dawson.

  ‘Luck, I think,’ Haines admitted. ‘I’m not sure. I had my camo-cloak on, I was a long way off the ground in the tree branches at the time and there were a lot of those Dryad things in the trees around me. Maybe they mistook my heat signature for one of the creatures.’

  ‘Dryads. Those ape things?’

  ‘That’s the ones. They’re pretty good as an early warning system, to be honest. They were interested in me, but the Shaper had them really spooked. They kicked up a hell of a racket when it came into view. Something to bear in mind.’

  ‘If I might ask, sir. What did the Shaper look like?’

  ‘Did you ever disturb a hornets’ nest by accident when you were a kid?’

  ‘Uh, no sir I grew up on Elysium. No hornets there. I think I know what you mean though. Needle bug nests were a problem.’

  ‘Okay well, imagine you kicked over a nest of those needle bugs of yours, and the whole swarm of them rose up as one and moved like a single creature.’

  ‘What, like a hive-mind?’

  ‘More than that, son. There was a single controlling will behind that swarm. I could feel it, I could see it, and it gave me the creeps, I can tell you.’

  After their brief rest stop, Haines and the marines continued up the slope and headed deeper into the jungle. Eventually they crested the shoulder of the tree-swathed hill and began to descend into the broad valley beyond. Here, the moist air hung heavy under trees that dripped with moisture. The ground was slippery with mud, and rocks, treacherous with moisture and moss-like growths. All around was the scent of decaying vegetation and the heady perfumes of the many flowers that grew from drooping branches, clinging vines and the boles of trees, and which flourished on the ground in patches where the sunlight managed to penetrate through the greenery. Haines and the squad of men accompanying him were soon slick with sweat, the soldiers unable to allow their suits to vent too much heat for fear of discovery and Haines unable to remove his camo-cloak for the same reason.

  Eventually, they reached the banks of a wide, sluggishly flowing river that wound its way lazily across the valley bottom. They kept well behind the tree-line, far away from the broad expanse of brown, muddy waters and followed the river upstream. Here, the heat and humidity was even worse and to add to their discomfort, the damp air beside the river brought with it clouds of biting insect-like creatures who filled the air with angry, shrill buzzing and settled on the exposed, sweat-beaded flesh of anyone within range. Soon, almost everyone sported fresh, livid, itchy lumps at least somewhere on their body, some even finding that the creatures had managed to penetrate clothing and armour joints with their needle-like mouthparts. It made the going miserable, and soon the marines started to bicker with one another and curse the insects, the jungle and anything else that they could think of that annoyed them.

  They were five kilometres from the location of the camp when Haines heard a sudden shrieking from the opposite bank of the river. He recognised the sound from his time alone in the jungles south of the bay - it was the Dryads calling to one another in alarm. He ordered Dawson to tell his men to halt and find cover. With whispered commands and hand gestures they quickly did so, concealing themselves behind rocks and tree-roots.

  Haines hunkered down behind the bole of a tree with Dawson and peered out through the gaps between the tangled undergrowth across the broad expanse of water to the opposite shore.

  ‘Sir, what did you see?’ said Dawson, fishing in his equipment pockets for a small pair of binoculars which he focused on the tree-line on the opposite bank.

  ‘Nothing yet, but those calls, can you hear them?’ said Haines. Dawson nodded. ‘Dryads. It’s just like when I was in the jungle and they spotted the Shapers. They’re making the exact same sounds.’

  ‘Maybe that’s the sound that they always make when they spot danger?’

  ‘Maybe. Can’t be too careful though, Captain.’

  They waited for a few tense minutes. The shrieking from the other side of the river continued in sporadic bursts of noise. So far, they had seen nothing. Haines was starting to wonder if he had been mistaken in calling a halt when Dawson pointed at something on the opposite bank and silently passed him the binoculars.

  There were figures moving under the trees. They were soldiers dressed in the uniforms and light body armour of Orinoco’s Planetary Defence Force. They moved oddly, like automatons, each with rail rifles gripped stiffly across their chests in the exact same position. Dawson began using hand gestures to signal to the other marines about the presence of the new threat across the river. They remained utterly silent. Only a few hundred yards separated them from the enemy. The PDF soldiers seemed to be searching the riverbank for something. Haines saw a couple wade into the sluggish brown waters before they returned to the tree-line and vanished from view.

  ‘What d’you think, sir? Do you think that they were looking for us?’ said Dawson, keeping his voice low.

  ‘Undoubtedly,’ Haines replied. ‘But it looks like they misjudged our location and ended up on the wrong side of the river. Are there any crossing points near here?’

  ‘There’s a bridge across the mouth of the river where it reaches the ocean to the west, but there’s not a lot of human settlement in this area, according to the maps that we have,’ Dawson whispered. ‘There’s no bridge across for about another thirty clicks, of course that doesn’t preclude there being places where it might be shallow enough for them to wade across.’

  ‘I doubt that would stop the Shapers themselves, and they have air support too. We need to keep moving... shit, look!’ Haines ended the sentence in a hiss and pointed. One of the soldiers had re-appeared at the opposite river bank. Another appeared behind him, then another and another. The first man stepped forward to the edge of the water and began to wade in. Soon, the water was above his waist and rising. The others followed him.

  ‘What the fuck are they doing?’ whispered Dawson. ‘It’s too deep to walk across and they can’t possibly swim with all that equipment, they’ll be dragged under.’

  ‘I think,’ said Haines. ‘That that may not present them with a problem. Look.’

  As they watched, the first man’s head disappeared under the murky water.

  ‘Shit!’ whispered Dawson. ‘How the hell...?’

  ‘They’re no longer really human, Captain,’ said Haines. ‘I don’t think the usual rules apply any more. They must have spotted us. Air support is likely to be incoming. So far I can’t see any actual Shapers at all.’

  ‘What do you want to do, sir?’

  ‘We can’t have these guys tailing us through the jungle back to your camp. We need to take them out quickly and then melt away into the undergrowth. If we’re lucky, we’ll manage it before any reinforcements show up. Do we have anything that can take down an aerial vehicle?’

  ‘A coupl
e of my men have been lugging man-portable anti-tank missiles around,’ said Dawson. ‘They might work, I suppose, though they might just go straight through un-armoured vehicles without exploding.’

  ‘Well it’s worth a try if it comes to it. Okay, Captain. Have your men take up defensive positions. We need to take them down as they come out of the water. They need to aim for the head, wounds to the rest of the body won’t do a great deal, trust me.’

  With Sergeant Philips organising them, the marines moved quietly amidst the undergrowth. Though some remained in the positions that they had previously chosen, others move forwards to better firing positions. One man, Corporal Antonov, carried the squad’s support weapon, a heavy rail gun. He found a suitable rock to steady the rapid firing gun’s bipod against and trained it at the waterline, waiting for the enemy to emerge. Haines reloaded his pistol and thumbed the safety off, feeling a little under-equipped next to the marines with their rifles, grenades and anti-armour weapons. Eventually, they witnessed two dozen PDF troopers enter the river from the opposite bank. There was a tense wait of several minutes before lines of bubbles began to break the surface of the muddy waters, and then the enemy attacked.

  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 exe
rtion 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.