Read Online The Mothership by Stephen Renneberg - Free Book Online

out of that thing!”
Cracker exclaimed proudly, always fond of loud explosions.
    Bill recovered a metal fragment and turned
it over in his hand curiously. “Ever seen anything like this before?”
    Cracker took the fragment and tested the
weight. “It’s light! I thought for a sec it was a balloon.”
    “At least we got to shoot something,” Wal
said happily.
    “Speak for yourself,” Slab snapped. “You
bastards didn’t give me a chance to get a bloody shot away.”
    “We should report it,” Bill said. “Whatever
it is, it shouldn’t be here.”
    “No way.” Cracker shook his head
emphatically. “Looks expensive. Whoever owns it might try to stick us for the
cost.”
    “The bloody thing nearly poked my eye out,”
Slab growled, “No way I’m paying for it.”
    “Whatever it was, it’s scrap metal now,”
Bill said, retrieving the metal souvenir from Cracker and slipping it into his
backpack.
    Slab pulled his mobile phone from a pocket
and handed it to Cracker. “Here, take a photo!” He stood beside the remains of
the machine, with his boot triumphantly on the metal hull.
    Cracker hesitated. “But you didn’t even
shoot it.”
    “No one will know,” Slab said with a
mischievous grin.
    Cracker shrugged and snapped a photo of
Slab. “That’s evidence that could be used against you.”
    “Screw that,” Slab said, as he took back
the camera and reviewed the photo. “Not bad.”
    “So where to?” Cracker asked.
    “There’s not much out here,” Bill said.
“Let’s head back to camp and get the barbie going.”
    “Now you’re talking,” Slab said, reaching
into his pack for another cold beer.
     
    * * * *
     
    Beckman scanned
the tree tops, searching in vain for the source of the strange warbling that
echoed through the forest. The kookaburra’s brown and white feathers made it
almost invisible in the shadows of the forest canopy, while its call reminded
him of crazed laughter.
    Laughing at us? Beckman wondered as he began to appreciate how the
oppressive heat and the monotonous insect buzz were going to tax both body and
mind.
    Nuke slapped the back of his neck and
cursed. “Man! These bugs are eating me alive.”
    “They’re females,” Vamp explained with mock
sympathy, “Looking for fresh meat.”
    “Way to go, man,” Timer said, “You’re
finally getting attention from the opposite sex.”
    Behind them, they heard a grunt as Dr
McInness tripped and fell face-first into a broad-leafed plant. His pack
rattled with metal devices, then its weight dragged him sideways onto the
ground. He struggled vainly to rise, pinned to the ground by the weight of his
pack.
    Beckman clicked his mike. “Cougar, hold up
a sec.” He turned toward the scientist, watching him flounder helplessly under
the weight of his load. “Pack getting heavy?”
    Dr McInness struggled to a sitting
position, breathing heavily. His face was almost purple and his clothes were
soaked with sweat. He retrieved his canteen and gulped down the last of his
water, then he held his canteen upside down to be sure it was empty. “I need
more water.”
    “Really? Let me call room service for some
more. Oh, wait a minute, we’re in the middle of the jungle! There is no room
service!” Beckman snapped. God damned civilians!
    “What do you expect in this heat?” the
scientist demanded weakly.
    “I expect you to ration your water, like
the rest of us!”
    Vamp gave the scientist a sympathetic look.
“I’ll share my water with him, Major.”
    “Me too,” Xeno added reluctantly.
    Beckman suppressed his irritation, knowing
he had little choice. He couldn’t let Dr McInness die of dehydration. “Just
this once. We’ll purify some stream water tonight. Ration him until then.” He
turned back to the exhausted scientist. “And you will lighten your pack! Throw
out everything but your food.”
    Dr McInness shook his head, breathing
heavily. “I need my equipment . . . for the ship.”
    “You’ll never make the ship