The first blast from the mech boomed and a fraction later a fountain of water exploded just behind and to the right of them; the waves from the blast sprayed up and over the catamaran, drenching them.
“That was too fucking close,” Charlie said. “You really must have done something bad to piss the croatoans off.”
“Explain later… if we survive,” Vingo said, pulling back on the controls so that the craft increased to its maximum height of ten meters off the ground. They flew over a copse of trees that lurched toward the water like great animals bending down to drink.
Denver spotted a number of slithering, dark shapes beneath the shadowed canopy. Their forms slipped into the sea, rippling its surface. Vingo turned toward the sun and dropped the altitude until they were obscured from the mech’s view by the trees.
Half a kilometer to their left, a cliff side rose up almost completely at ninety degrees to the shoreline. Cut through the cliff was a chasm that looked entirely too narrow to take them, but Vingo steered toward it as they continue to pick up speed.
“I hope he knows what he’s doing,” Layla said, clutching onto Denver’s arm with her gauntlet. Charlie, next to him, gripped the side of the cockpit with a grimace on his face, as another blast struck just above their position, knocking down a huge chunk of stone.
It echoed with each impact as it tumbled down the cliff face. Vingo managed to easily swerve around it, which brought them within a straight run for the chasm. Even with the lights on, Denver couldn’t make out any details in the dark shadowy gap.
“Where are we going?” Denver asked.
“Away from the mech,” Vingo replied, still not giving anything away.
They flew with great speed into the chasm. Vingo hadn’t quite got his approach lined up and the left edge of the catamaran slid along the rough-hewn sides, sending vibrations through the hull and creating an awful screeching sound.
A few adjustments and the panicked tredeyan found the right space between the two cliff sides. Denver just hoped it wouldn’t narrow any time soon. At this rate, they’d have no way of avoiding it. Once they were inside, the whine of the engine echoed around the split in the cliff, making it sound like they were deep inside a cave.
Rushing water below them frothed around rocks and splashed up in squalls of white water as the tributary narrowed. Thankfully the gap between each face of the cliff remained the same distance apart, making Denver realize that it was probably made this way by the tredeyans to filter some of the water into other parts of the planet’s surface.
Layla seemed to be thinking the same thing when she asked, “Where does the water go?”
“Underground, into water-pumping stations. Hold on, we’re coming to a difficult branch. Where’s the mech?”
Denver and Charlie looked behind them. At first it seemed they had avoided it, but when Denver lifted his head to look up to the sky, a massive shadow blotted out the tall, thin gap of sun.
“The bastard’s still on us,” Denver said. “Above us, on the other right cliff—”
The sudden lurching bank to the left cut off his words. He slid into Layla and they both crashed into Vingo. The catamaran flew out of a narrow gap at the end of the cliff, the base of its hull scraping against the rough stone.
Their momentum took them out over a cascading waterfall.
“Jump!” Vingo yelled as the craft fell away from them.
A blast exploded at the rear of their position, crumbling more rock into the rapid white water. The blast caught the rear of the catamaran, flipping it stern over bow. Denver, Charlie, and Layla suddenly became victims of gravity and descended into the waterfall.
Denver tried to grab Layla, but the force of the water knocked him sideways. He crashed into an outcrop, jarring his outstretched arm and sending him cartwheeling out into the rushing rapid below.
He just caught sight of Charlie and Vingo splashing into the water and their helmets bobbing along. When Denver hit the water, he automatically held his breath out of habit, forgetting that the environmental suit provided his air.
The sound muffled, though, as his external mics picked up the crashing of the water. He tried to reach for the control panel on his arm to switch the mics off, but the force of the water was too strong even for the suit’s servo-assistance.
“Layla!” he yelled. “Charlie?”
No answer, just gurgling noises and another blast coming from somewhere up ahead. His body struck a rock, but the impact was lessened by the dampening within the suit. The shock of the direction change still made him wince.
His head rose briefly out of the water. He was facing back toward the cliffs now shrinking behind him as though they were nothing more than small rocky outcroppings. The croatoan mech turned and headed back to the east, its shape silhouetted by the rising sun. It either assumed they were dead in the blast, or that they would soon be dead, which didn’t fill him with much confidence as the raging water continued to drag him away to god knows where.
DENVER LOST track of how long he had floated before he came to a stop. For a while he knew he had fallen asleep, exhausted by the constant flood of adrenalin in his body. His muscles were sore and cramped and the water and air provided by the suit made his mouth dry and crack at the corners.
He became aware that his body was slumped up against something solid and stationary. “Hello?” he said. “Anyone hear me?”
No answer. Where the hell were they? They couldn’t be that far out of range. The alternative was too much to bear. They’d come all this way, survived for this long, he couldn’t handle it if they had died during a bit of a swim.
“Talk to me, dammit!” he yelled, letting the unfamiliar feelings of fear and panic go with a single exhalation. “If you can hear me, just stay where you are, make some noise or movement, I’ll come find you.”
Denver gritted his teeth and forced his body to move up. He discovered he had hit a rock and stuck there as the speed and power of the rapid had dulled to what now looked like a barely moving brook. The sun had risen above the now-distant cliffs, shining brightly down onto his position.
He was in an open area with fields to his right beyond a steep bank some five or so meters high. To his left was a shallow sloped cliff face rising up in a gentle arc. Large-winged creatures flew lazily over his position, circling far above. He got the distinct impression they were looking at him as a potential meal.
He searched around him for a gun, but he had lost that during the fall. All he had on him was the combat knife attached to the suit. He pulled it free with his right hand and kept it ready to use.
Making his way to the narrow shoreline beneath the shallow cliff, he saw dark shadows swimming in the water. He stopped and crouched down, looking into the water. The visor’s polarizing filter automatically kicked in, removing the flashing reflections from the surface, giving him an almost x-ray vision into the water.
The shadows were three times as long as an average human man and twice as wide. Now that he looked closer, he spotted that there were at least a dozen of them moving like snakes through the water.
Denver stepped back quietly away from the water, not wanting to get their attention. Even with the suit, he didn’t fancy his chances against a school of alien snake-sharks or whatever hideous creature they were.
Trudging along the shore, Denver kept talking, hoping one of the others on his frequency would reply. He must have walked for at least an hour. His limbs were growing tired and his chest tightened with every breath. He really need to rest, eat, and recuperate. Even his athletic, fit body couldn’t handle too much of the exertions that they’d had to go through since they got here.