Battleship Raider by Paul Tomlinson (book recommendations website .txt) 📗

I could run along the branch of one and step onto a branch of its neighbour. In other places, I had to launch myself across the gap and hope the branch I was aiming for would support my weight when I hit it.

There was no time to think of anything except getting to the next tree. I had no idea how much time had passed since the red robot had opened fire on the dragon.

My foot slipped on a wet branch and I had to wrap my arms around the trunk of the tree to save myself. As I waited for the jackhammer in my chest to slow down again, I listened to see if I was being tracked by the robot. But all I could hear was the drumming of raindrops on leaves. I hoped the robot was satisfied that it had scared me away from its territory and had returned to the Celestia. There was little chance of this if it thought I had run off with the Navigator under my arm.

I was amazed that something that big could move so quietly. If I hadn’t been staring down through the leaves, I would not have been aware that it was there. I clung to the tree, holding my breath as the big metal monster approached. It stood directly under the tree I was in, head moving from side to side as it scanned the jungle all around. It was close enough that I could see the water beading on its bodywork and trickling down. I could have dropped down right on top of it, but I couldn’t think of a good reason to do that. I had no explosives to thrust inside its casing, so a direct attack would be like an ant picking a fight with an elephant. I’d just get squished.

The robot moved quietly away, still scanning ahead as it went. I relaxed my grip on the tree trunk and shifted my weight. There was a loud Crack! as the branch under me broke. Before I was even aware of what was happening, I was falling towards the ground. I remembered to bend my knees as I hit and rolled with the fall. I could hear the robot swiping aside the bushes as it headed back, alerted by the sound of the snapping branch. I got to my feet and ran.

I’m not sure what’s worse, being pursued by a bad-tempered one-eyed dragon, or being chased by an emotionless robot tank. I didn’t have time to weigh the pros and cons of each. At that moment, Death was a red bulldozer crashing through the jungle after me. If I stumbled over a hidden tree root or slipped on wet leaves, I would probably be splattered across the foliage. I kept my head down and my legs pumping. My world consisted of the few yards of undergrowth I could see in front of me.

The ground slipped away under me. A layer of wet leaves slid over the dirt, carrying me with it. I pinwheeled my arms, trying to remain upright, but smashed down onto my back. And kept sliding – forwards and downwards. The rifle flew from my hand when I hit the ground and I had no chance of retrieving it. There had been no warning that the ground sloped so steeply. I was skidding down a path of some kind that was now channelling rainwater like a mini river. I dug in my heels, trying to slow my descent, but it had little effect. Unable to do anything else, I crossed my arms across my chest and tucked my chin down. I was going to have to ride with it and hope I didn’t crash into anything substantial on the way down.

Trees and bushes and rocks flashed by on either side of me. Pebbles and sticks bruised my back and my butt, and mud and debris were piling up in the back of my jacket and under my shirt. My backpack was torn away and thrown aside and I slid onwards, losing sight of it.

And then there was no more ground. I had been pitched over the edge of a precipice and was falling through the air. I looked down, hoping to see a wide expanse of deep water that would cushion my fall, but all I could see was the tops of trees. There was nothing I could do. A curious calm came over me and I relaxed.

I crashed through the canopy of leaves and for a moment it did feel like I had fallen into a lake. But then the small snapping branches gave way to larger ones and they buffeted me around like the flippers in a pinball game. I was bounced from one stout branch to another as I fell, first my chest and stomach then my back being pummelled. I tried to grab at branches with my good hand, hoping to at least slow myself down before I slammed with deadly force into a thick branch or the jungle floor. I caught a branch but my fingers slipped over the wet bark. My right leg scraped painfully against a broken branch and I felt something tear. And then I collided with a branch that tipped me, turning me so that I was falling head-first. I raised my left arm to protect my face and tried to grab something – anything – with my right arm.

My stomach struck a branch hard, driving the air out of my lungs. I slid off the branch and fell the last ten or fifteen feet, crashing through a dense patch of ferns and landing with a thud on the soft wet earth. I lay on my back trying to drag air into my chest. I could feel consciousness slipping away and had to fight to stop the red cloud overwhelming me.

Every part of me felt battered and bruised. I had cracked some ribs I was sure, but aside from that, my bones seemed to be intact.