Micro

Chapter 26

Beneath the Green Canopy 30 October, noon

They’re hiding in there,” Telius said to Johnstone, looking through binoculars into a mass of sword ferns on the forest floor. The two men were hanging upside down in their seat harnesses in the hexapod. The machine, in turn, hung upside down from a leaf in the pandanus tree, clinging to the leaf with its feet. They had been able to get a fix on the radios.

Telius stared for a while, then gestured silently with one finger: Drop us.

Johnstone hit a button and the footpads let go of the leaf, and the hexapod went into free fall. Johnstone, working the controls, folded the legs under the vehicle as it fell. It tumbled a few times, its legs tucked underneath it, and hit the ground, and bounced, and came to rest upside down. The roll cage had protected the humans inside.

Johnstone popped open the legs. They lashed out and flipped the vehicle upright, and the hexapod moved off, stalking its way around the edge of the fern forest, and went into the ferns. Telius stood up and turned his head, listening. He had heard them talking. He indicated with his finger where the people were, then directed Johnstone to drive up a fern stem.

The hexapod climbed the stem, got in among the fronds, and stopped. Telius took up the binoculars and stared through them. He had acquired the targets. Six of them, down below. Somebody was sick, had a bloody nose. Might be the bends. The others were gathered around the victim. Indian guy, looked like. Blood streamed from the guy’s nose and over his upper lip and chin. Yup—the man had the bends. He was a goner. “Poor fucker’s having a bend bleed-out,” he murmured to Johnstone, who grunted.

As he studied the group, Telius identified the leader—slender guy, light brown curly hair, standing slightly apart and talking to the others, who listened. This was the individual who’d taken leadership of the group, Telius could see it. Telius could always tell an officer. You drop the officer first, of course.

A good setup. Telius nodded to Johnstone and took up the gas rifle and aimed it at the group’s leader, while Johnstone took up spotter duty, training his binoculars on the target and speaking to Telius. Telius looked through the scope and put the crosshairs on the leader’s head. The range was long, about four meters. A slight breeze stirred the fern leaf and the hexapod. Telius shook his head. Not stable. The shot was a little chancy, and Telius left nothing to chance. He would have to make several kills in quick succession on moving targets, because the moment he dropped the leader, the others would scatter like frightened rabbits. He gestured to Johnstone, meaning, get us lower.

Johnstone turned the vehicle, and it began creeping down the fern leaf, hunting for a more stable position. Then Telius signaled to Johnstone to stop. Telius unbuckled himself and fell out of the hexapod, spun once in the air, and landed on the ground on all fours like a cat, rifle on his back. He crept closer to the targets.

Peter broke open the medical kit and knelt over Amar, holding a compress to Amar’s nose. He didn’t know what to do. The nosebleed would not stop.

“I’m useless. Please go on,” Amar said.

“We’re not going to leave you.”

“I’m just protein. Leave me.”

“Amar’s right,” Danny said, touching his sling arm. “We have to leave him. Or we’ll all die.”

Ignoring Danny, Peter took the compress away from Amar’s nose; it was soaked. He had lost a lot of blood, and he had become anemic. And the bruises all over Amar’s arms…it seemed as if the centipede venom had accelerated the bends in Amar. And decompression was the only treatment for the bends, yet they were no closer to Nanigen.

“We have to call for help on the radio,” Danny said, plunking himself down and glowering at the others.

“Danny could be right,” Erika said. “Maybe there is some good person at Nanigen—”

“Maybe we should call,” Karen said. “It might be our only chance to save Amar.”

Peter stood up, holding a radio headset. “All right.”

From lower down on the fern stem, Telius took aim. He had the leader in the crosshairs of his gas rifle, but now the leader was bending over the guy with the bends, trying to help him. Hmm. Maybe he could get both of them with one shot. The leader and the bleeder—yeah. He adjusted his aim, squeezed the trigger, and the gas rifle kicked viciously.

There was a sudden hiss. A steel needle, seemingly a foot long, zipped past Peter’s neck, tearing his shirt, and entered Amar Singh, and detonated. The explosion threw metal fragments and blood in all directions. Amar jerked into the air, yanked off the ground, and his body seemed to come apart. Peter froze, a quizzical expression on his face, while Amar and pieces of Amar spattered around Peter.

Peter stood up, covered with Amar’s blood. “What—?” he began.

The others watched it happen as if it wasn’t real.

Karen looked around. “Sniper!” she screamed. “Get cover!” She began to dash for the nearest fern, but saw that Peter wasn’t moving—he seemed paralyzed, as if he couldn’t process what had just happened.

The sniper’s second shot hit a leaf over Peter’s head and exploded. The blast sent Peter to the ground. Karen realized the sniper was aiming for Peter. She swerved and ran toward Peter, and grabbed him. “Duck and zigzag!” she screamed at him. He needed to get away but not make any predictable movements: the sniper could pull lead on Peter, and hit him as he ran. “Go!” she yelled at Peter.

Peter understood. He began to run, left, right, left-left-stop. Run. Always heading for the cover of ferns. Karen ran, too, zigzagging, staying with Peter but not too close to him, wondering if the next shot…

Peter tripped, fell, and sprawled.

“Peter!” she screamed. “No!” Peter had stopped moving; he had become an easy target.

“Karen—get away—” Peter said, hauling himself to his feet.

These were his last words. In the next instant a needle flew through Peter’s chest, exploding as it went. He toppled. Peter Jansen was dead before he hit the ground.