The Covenant of Genesis by Andy McDermott Page B

bag.
    He panned back to the two powerboats, trying to get a clearer look at their occupants. No nets or poles, so they weren’t out fishing—
    Fear clenched at his heart. One man had just raised a gun, the unmistakable shape of an AK-47 silhouetted against the blue water.
    His companions did the same.
    Branch whipped round, looking back at the cruiser. One of the men on the foredeck pulled the coloured sheet away to reveal a machine gun on a stand. The other had taken a tubular object from the bag and was hefting it over his shoulder as he kneeled, aiming it directly at the watching American.
    A rocket launcher.
    Flame and white smoke burst from its muzzle.
    Branch hit the button to sound the ship’s alarm, then grabbed the radio handset—
    Too late.
    The missile, an Iranian-made copy of the American M47 Dragon guided anti-tank missile, slammed into the Pianosa . Its warhead, over five kilograms of high explosive, obliterated the bridge, Captain Branch . . . and the ship’s radio masts, which toppled like blazing trees into the water.
     
    The shock pounded through the ship, knocking Nina from her chair in the lab.
    ‘Jesus!’ she gasped as she pulled herself up. A loud alarm wailed. What had caused the explosion? And had anyone been hurt?
    She looked at the monitor. The remote’s camera still showed the view from the dock. Bobak was in the water, burning debris raining around him. Beyond him, two boats were roaring towards the ship.
    She stabbed at one of the camera controls, zooming in. The men in the boats were all holding guns, aiming them at the dock—
     
    Encumbered by the bulky deep suit, all Chase could do was throw himself to the deck behind a stack of equipment cases as the pirates opened fire, the flat thudding of AK-47s rolling across the water. Some of their shots fell short, little geysers kicking up from the waves.
    Others found targets.
    The inside of Gozzi’s bubble helmet was suddenly painted with a gruesome splash of red as a bullet pierced the transparent polycarbonate. Darker, thicker chunks of bone and brain oozed down the inner surface, then the dead Italian keeled into the ocean.
    Bejo landed beside Chase, yelling in fear as more shots punched into the boxes beside them. Chase looked along the dock. Ranauld threw down the fuel hose and jumped into the Otter’s cockpit. A scream, closer - one of the crewmen had been hit. Through a gap in his minimal cover, Chase saw Bobak in the water, flailing a hand at something burning on his suit.
    Dive, you idiot, get under the water —
    A line of angry waterspouts snaked towards the Pole. Found him. Shattered fragments of the deep suit’s casing spat into the air. Bobak stiffened, then slowly dropped beneath the surface in an expanding circle of red.
    The firing continued as the boats closed in. The pirates were barely aiming, Chase realised - just hosing the dock with machine-gun fire, relying on sheer weight of lead to hit their targets. They weren’t professional soldiers, but amateurs intoxicated by the rare chance to rock ’n’ roll with automatic weapons. In one way, that was good - they lacked training and tactics, which might give him an opening to fight back.
    In every other way, it was bad . . . because it meant they were here to kill every single person on the Pianosa .
     
    The video feed from the remote jolted, then went black. The camera pod had been hit.
    ‘Dr Wilde!’ Nina looked round as Lincoln opened the lab door. ‘Are you okay?’
    ‘Yeah, but they’re shooting at the people on the dock! We’ve got to help them!’
    ‘We don’t have any weapons aboard,’ he told her grimly. ‘Come on, I’ve got to get you out of here.’
    ‘To where?’
    Lincoln didn’t have an answer as he pulled her to the exit.
     
    The Otter’s engine spluttered, the propeller blurring into motion. Chase saw Ranauld leaning from the cockpit door, desperately fumbling to untie the mooring rope. Bejo rose to a crouch, about to make a run for the