Over on the far side she watched three men emerging from the craters, scrambling sluggishly for solid ground. They helped each other along, wriggling on their bellies when the slippery loam proved impossible to stand on.
Jenny watched their progress in the same kind of bewildered daze which had engulfed her as the fantastical paddle-steamer sailed down the river.
The men reached level ground sixty metres away from the ESA team, and stood up. Two were recognizable colonist types: dungarees, thick cotton work shirts, and woolly beards. The third was dressed in some kind of antique khaki uniform: baggy trousers, calves bound up by strips of yellowish cloth; a brown leather belt round his waist sporting a polished pistol holster; a hemispherical metal hat with a five-centimetre rim.
They couldnt possibly have survived, Jenny found herself thinking, yet here they were. For one wild second she wondered if the electronic warfare field had won, and was feeding the hallucination directly into her neural nanonics.
The two groups stared at each other for over half a minute.
Jennys electronic warfare block reported a build-up of static in the short-range datavise band. It broke the spell. OK, lets go get them, she said.
They started to circle round the edge of the barrage zone. The three men watched them silently.
Do you want all three? Will asked.
No, just one. The soldier must be equipped with the most powerful systems if he can create that kind of chameleon effect. Id like him if we can manage it.
I thought chameleon suits were supposed to blend in, Dean muttered.
Im not even sure were seeing men, Will added. Maybe the xenocs are disguising themselves. Remember the paddle-steamer.
Jenny ordered her suits laser rangefinder to scan the soldier; its return should reveal the true outline to an accuracy of less than half a millimetre. The blue beam stabbed out from the side of her shell-helmet. But instead of sweeping the soldier, it broke apart a couple of metres in front of him, forming a turquoise haze. After a second the rangefinder module shut down. Her neural nanonics reported the whole unit was inoperative.
Did you see that? she asked. They had covered about a third of the distance round the barrage zone.
I saw it, Will said brusquely. Its a xenoc. Why else would it want to hide its shape?
The distortion in the datavise band began to increase. Jenny saw the soldier start to unbuckle his holster.
Stop! she commanded, her voice booming out of the communication blocks external speaker. The three of you are under arrest. Put your hands on your head, and dont move.
All three men turned fractionally, focusing on her. Her neural nanonics began to report malfunctions in half of her suits electronics.
Screw it! We must break them up, even three of them are too powerful. Will, one round EE, five metres in front of them.
Thats too close, Dean said tensely as Will brought the gaussgun to bear. Youll kill them.
They survived the first barrage, Jenny said tonelessly. Will fired. A fountain of loam spurted up into the air, accompanied by a bright blue-white sphere of flame. The blast-wave flattened some of the nearby piles of soil.
Jennys neural nanonics reported the electronics coming back on-line. The loam subsided, revealing the three men standing firm. A faint whistle was insinuating itself into the datavise band; her neural nanonics couldnt filter it out.
One metre, she snapped. Fire.
The explosion sent them spinning, tottering about for balance. One fell to his knees. For the first time there was a reaction; one of the two farmer-types started snarling and shouting. His face above the beard was black, whether from loam or a flashburn she couldnt tell.
Keep firing, keep them apart, Jenny called to Will. Come on, run.
Explosions bloomed around the three men. Will was using the gaussgun the way riot police employed a water cannon, harrying the men as they tried to come together. Blasts that would rip a human to pieces barely affected them, at the most they tumbled backwards to sprawl on the ground. He was tempted to land a round straight on one, just to see what it would do. They scared him.
Jennys feet pounded over the scorched creepers. The packs and the TIP carbine weighed nothing as her boosted muscles powered up and took the full load. Will was doing a good job, one of the men had been separated from the other two. He was the farmer-type who had shouted earlier. She brought her TIP carbine round and aimed it at his left ankle, neural nanonics allowing her to compensate for the vigorous motion of her body. If they could disable him, they could chase off or kill the other two. A severed cauterized foot wasnt lethal.
Her neural nanonics triggered a single shot. She actually saw the induction pulse. A complete impossibility, her mind insisted. But a slender violet line materialized in the air ahead of her. It struck the farmers ankle and splashed apart, sending luminous tendrils clawing up his leg. He yelled wildly, and tumbled headlong.
Dean, subdue him, she ordered. I want him in one piece. Will and I will fend off the other two. Her carbines targeting circle slithered round on the soldier as she stopped running. He was taking aim with his revolver. They both fired.
Jenny saw luminous purple tapeworms writhing across the neatly pressed khaki uniform. The soldier began to jerk about as if he was being electrocuted. Then the bullet struck her with the force of a gaussguns kinetic round. Her suit hardened instantly, and she found herself somersaulting chaotically, grey sky and black land streaking past in a confused blur. There was an instants silence. She landed hard, and her suit unfroze. She was rolling, arms and legs jolting the ground sharply.
The gaussgun was roaring three metres away. Will was standing his ground, feet apart to brace himself, swivelling from the hip to send EE rounds chasing after each of the men.
Jenny scrambled to her feet. The soldier and one of the farmers were fifty metres away. They were facing Will, but retreating in juddering steps from the onslaught of projectiles. Somehow she had hung on to the TIP carbine, and now she lined it up. Radiant purple lines shivered across the soldier once more. He threw up his hands, as if he was physically warding off the intense energy pulses. Then both he and the farmer looked at each other. Something must have been said, because they both turned and ran towards the rim of the jungle eighty metres behind them.
Dean Folan dropped his gaussgun and backpack, which allowed him to cover the last thirty metres in two and a half seconds. In that time he fired his TIP carbine twice. The beams tore into glaring purple streamers which knocked the farmer down into the soft loam. With his opponent out for the count, Dean took the last five metres in a flying tackle, landing straight on top of him. The weight of his own body and the suit and his equipment should have been enough to finish it. But the man started to rise straight away. Dean gave a surprised yelp as he was lifted right off the ground, and went for a stranglehold, only to find a hand clamping round each wrist pulling his arms apart. He fell onto his back as the farmer regained his feet. A booted foot kicked him in the side of his ribs. His suit hardened, and he was thrown onto his belly by the force of the blow. The farmer must be a construct made entirely out of boosted muscle! His neural nanonics combat routine programs went into primary mode. He swung the TIP carbine round, and another vicious kick actually cracked the casing. But he lashed out with his free arm, knocking the farmers other leg out from under him. The farmer went down heavily on his backside.
Somewhere in the distance the gaussgun was thumping out a stream of EE projectiles.
Both of them struggled into a semi-crouch, then launched themselves. Once again, Dean found himself losing. The farmers impact sent him reeling backwards, fighting to keep his feet. Arms with the strength of a hydraulic ram grappled at him. His neural nanonics reviewed tactical options, and decided his physical strength was dangerously inferior. He let himself sway backwards, taking the farmer with him. Then his leg came straight up, slamming into the mans stomach. A classic judo throw. The farmer arched through the air, snarling in rage. Dean drew his twenty-centimetre fission blade and twisted round just in time to meet the man as he charged. The blade sliced down, aiming for the meat of the right forearm. It struck, cutting through the cloth sleeve. But the yellow glow faded, and it skated across the skin, scoring a shallow gash.