Colony by Benjamin Cross (ready player one ebook .TXT) 📗

very easy to look down on those who envy wealth, Doctor Ross, when you yourself are wealthy.”

Callum threw a glance at the others. Darya’s eyes were still closed, but she was stirring slightly, in the early stages of coming round. He hoped to God she didn’t wake up now. Beside him, Ava sat still and quiet, just listening to Lungkaju.

“Mr Volkov was working in Ust Avam in Taymyr many years ago. He was caught in a blizzard and was freezing to death. My father and grandfather were out hunting, and they found him. They cared for him. They saved his life. I can still remember walking in and seeing him, the white man sleeping in my father’s bed.

“He promised that he would help them however he could. My grandfather was far too proud to ask him for anything. But before he passed away, my father wrote to him and asked if he could help me to find work. He said that I could go and work directly for him. That I would earn good money to support my family.”

The helicopter dropped down suddenly and accelerated. Callum could see that they were fast approaching the coastline. Now that they were closer, it was clear that there was still somebody alive on top of the moraine. Whoever it was, the helicopter was heading straight for them.

“What are we doing?” Ava asked.

“There can be no survivors now,” Lungkaju replied. “Not now.” He stood up and fastened both hers and Callum’s seat belts, before fastening his own.

“So we’re going back to chalk another one up, are we?” Callum said. “Another innocent life. It must be some package Volkov’s offering you, my friend.”

“Mr Volkov takes very good care of me. He allows me to take very good care of my family. When my wife was dying, I could afford the best medical care for her, so that she could spend her last days with dignity, in comfort and not in pain. I can afford to send my daughter to the best schools and provide for her everything she needs to be safe and happy. None of this would be possible without Mr Volkov.” He paused, before adding, “Tell me, Doctor Ross, what would you do if you were me?”

Before Callum could answer, a mechanical whirring noise rang out beside him. He had never been in a helicopter gunship before in his life, but he knew with grim certainty exactly what it was.

He watched as the front, side-mounted machine gun rotated into position.

4

It wasn’t an illusion. The sound of the helicopter was growing louder. Koikov lifted his head from Marchenko’s shoulder, his face streaked with the man’s blood, and searched the sky. The helicopter was returning to Harmsworth. He watched as its shadow passed low over the coastline. The White Shark was bearing straight for his position.

The next thing he knew, two parallel bursts of automatic gunfire hammered into the slope and ripped towards him.

In an instant, he was on his toes, bolting in the opposite direction. As he leapt from the plateau onto the side of the slope, the White Shark tore overhead. Bullets strafed past him to the left, peppering the scree and throwing up mini-mushroom clouds of dust and rock.

He kept on running, arriving at the bottom of the slope just as the Shark turned around and came back for another pass. The automatic fire flared up once again, and Koikov flung himself behind a stand of rock.

He hit the deck only to find a dragon, its brains blown out, slumped awkwardly beside him. He rolled forward into it and then backwards, heaving the stinking carcass up in front of him just in time. The stench was horrendous, but the line of bullets beat into the creature’s flank just as he’d hoped, their force absorbed within the barrier of muscle and bone. He shoved the dragon shield to one side and leapt to his feet. Then he ran like hell.

In seconds the White Shark was back on him. Rounds ricocheted to either side as he dove for cover behind another outcrop. As it passed overhead once more, he sprinted on and finally made it to the hovercraft. He threw open the weapon store. He knew full well what should be in there, but still he prayed out loud. His eyes lit up as his fingers fell against one of the two remaining RPGs, and he snatched it out and primed it.

With only seconds to spare before the Shark came in for another skirmish, he knelt down and prepared to launch.

The craft had now turned fully. It was bearing down on Koikov with immense speed. Any moment and he would see the tell-tale flowering of smoke from the side-mounted guns, before the rounds bit into him.

It was all about nerve. In its determination to take him out, the craft was flying so low that a hit with the RPG was almost guaranteed, so long as he didn’t fuck up. He took a deep breath. The only question was where to put the grenade. He wanted to plant it square in the pilot’s ball-sack. But something was stopping him. Where were the scientists? He hadn’t seen their bodies on top of the moraine, and this left the possibility that they were hostages on board.

He had to think quickly. The military training manual in his brain kicked in, and his eyes came to focus on the twin rotors. One of the main military advantages of the co-axial rotor system was that it negated the need for a tail rotor. This was significant because a high percentage of artillery attacks on assault helicopters took out the tail, leaving normal single-rotor machines in a spin, fatally compromised. With the co-axial models, blasting out the tail would still take them out. But it wouldn’t necessarily cause them to crash. If he played it right, he could bring the Shark down, but bring it down safe. His jaw clenched and his grip tightened around the RPG housing. That would have