Exiles (The Progenitor Trilogy, Book One)

by Dan Worth

  Steven pretended to trip, stumbling forwards and dropping his bag. The young man behind him, roused from his day dreaming about Katherine reached down to help him. As he did so, Steven twisted and struck upward with the flat of his right hand into the marine’s face. The blow knocked the man out cold. As he fell, Steven grabbed his rifle from him and swung it at the base of the helmet of the man in-front, knocking him off his feet so that he fell sprawling into the dirt. His companion turned, only to be struck in the face with the butt of the rifle that Steven now wielded with two hands. He crumpled, clutched the bloody mess of his nose.

  The rest of the squad were beginning to react to what was happening, it was now or never. Steven grabbed a smoke grenade from the belt of the nearest fallen man, pulled the detonator pin and rolled it into the midst of the group. There was loud retort and a burst of thick white smoke. Steven rolled under it and grabbed couple of more magazines from the prone form of the first marine he had felled and then he scrambled to his feet and began to run for his life.

  His heart pounding, he sprinted across the barren expanse of land around the temple. There was no cover, none whatsoever. He felt his back tense in expectation of that single bullet that would reach out and cut him down. Now he could hear the sound of weapons fire, the heavy weapons operator began to open up with his gatling gun, firing semi-randomly from within the smoke cloud in his general direction. Steven saw the tracer bullets kick up a miniature dust storm as they impacted the ground just a few metres away, heard them buzz towards him like a swarm of angry bees. With great relief he heard a frantic cry of: ‘Cease fire! Cease fire!’ from the panicking captain as he desperately tried to prevent his men from shooting one another in the confusion.

  He was nearly there, almost at the gate which thronged with Dendratha onlookers. He reached it and plunged gratefully into their midst, hurriedly winding through the crowd of jostling aliens until he found a suitable side alley behind a row of shops, and then vanished into the shadows.

  Simonov watched the fleeing figure. He had to admit, he was impressed. Captain Lars was yelling in his ear over the comm.-link.

  ‘Sir, one of the prisoners has escaped. My sniper has a clear shot. Do I have permission to open fire?’

  ‘Negative, do not fire. We want that man alive not dead. He won’t get far in the city.’

  ‘I’m sorry sir.’

  ‘Be more alert when escorting men like that in the future Captain. Agent Harris is trained for these sorts of situations. Escort the remaining prisoners. Simonov out.’ He turned to an aide. ‘Disseminate a description of Agent Harris to the troops. I want that man arrested, alive if possible.’

  Simonov’s decision to detain Katherine and Rekkid in the bowels of the temple proved to be highly unpopular with the Dendratha. A large crowd had already gathered around the building’s main entrance and the marines were barred from entering the building by the thronging aliens. Ekrino stood at the centre of the mob and flatly refused to allow the soldiers to enter the building with their weapons. Reluctantly the men agreed, and left their arms in a pile outside the doors, though they kept their ammunition and their combat blades.

  There were still angry scenes however. The fact that the marines had arrested the discoverers of the Cave of Maran seemed a grave insult to the Dendratha. As the armoured forms shouldered their way inside the building they were jeered at, though there was little the smaller, physically weaker Dendratha could do to stop the column of armoured humans from pushing their way through their midst.

  Once inside the building, the marines at the rear of the group pulled the great heavy doors shut behind them, shutting out the din of the protesting Dendratha and sealing them within the silence of the temple.

  Captain Lars approached one of the monks, who regarded him with blank hostile eyes, and demanded that they be allowed to use of the chambers in the crypt to house his two prisoners. The monk regarded the tall muscular man for a moment before agreeing, and led the party down into the crypt and an empty storage room. The monk lit the oil lamps within the small stone chamber. Then the marines shoved Katherine and Rekkid roughly inside and locked the heavy wooden door. Having done so, they posted guards outside: there was little chance of the two archaeologists escaping.

  Katherine examined the room. It was small with a low barrel vaulted roof constructed from large stone blocks that formed part of the supporting structure for the floor above. The dim torchlight flickered across the rough lines of the masonry, casting a network of shifting shadows across the walls. Rekkid just stared at the floor: he appeared to be deep in thought.

  ‘I can’t believe Steven just took off like that and left us,’ said Katherine dejectedly. ‘If he could save himself, why couldn’t he help us?’

  ‘I think that’s what he intends to do Katherine,’ replied Rekkid. ‘Think about it: He only had a few seconds to make his escape. There wasn’t time to release us. This way he can bide his time and come back for us. I don’t think he’s abandoned us at all.’

  ‘That’s if they don’t shoot him.’

  ‘I don’t think they will. I got the impression that they had ample opportunity to do so when he made a run for it. He’s one of their own remember? Besides, they’ll want to know what he knows.’

  ‘Not as much as us.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What do think will happen to us, Rekkid?’

  ‘We’ll be questioned, one way or another. I wouldn’t be surprised if they hold us here until either secret service agents arrive, or they can take us off world.’

  ‘You think they’ll torture us?’

  ‘The Commonwealth doesn’t officially use torture Katherine, you know that.’

  ‘You didn’t answer my question Rekkid.’

  ‘That’s because I don’t know the answer!’ He snapped back, then immediately regretted it. ‘I’m sorry Katherine. I shouldn’t take this out on you of all people. Look, maybe it’s not as bad as that. They left us with our things after all, except for our weapons.’

  ‘Yeah well, there’s not much chance of us escaping from here is there?’ she replied sullenly and gestured at the coarse stone that surrounded them.

  ‘No, but I’m wondering what Steven had in his belongings,’ said Rekkid. ‘Given the nature of his job there’s no telling what he may have been carrying; stuff that the marines would have missed in their haste.’ He reached for Steven’s black shoulder bag and began to rummage through its contents. At the bottom he found Steven’s datapad. Placing it carefully in his lap he opened the slim device and studied its screen with interest. Katherine watched him, the bluish light from the device illuminating his sculpted alien features.

  ‘What have you found Rekkid, anything of use?’

  ‘Hmm,’ answered Rekkid. ‘I’m not sure. There’s some unusual software on this thing.’ He prodded the device a few more times. ‘Ah! Here we are. My, he has been busy. Look at this.’ He turned the datapad toward Katherine so that she could see. The small screen was divided into quarters with some sort of video feed playing in each of them.

  Katherine came and sat next to Rekkid on the stone floor for a better look. Rekkid touched one of the quarters to expand it to fill the screen. The image was clearer now; it was a view from the top of the temple. The camera was currently pointing down towards the base of the building. Katherine could see the patches of disturbed earth where they had dug several days before. Using icons at the side of the screen Rekkid moved the camera, pointing it upwards so that it looked out across the city.

  ‘Steven must have set these up to watch over us Rekkid.’

  ‘Yes, I think so. It seems he does have our best interests at heart. He’ll get us out of this Katherine, don’t worry.’

  She snorted and pointed at the datapad. ‘That is what worries me Rekkid.’

  There was a growing cloud of dust in the desert beyond Marantis. The marines were on the move, heading toward the city. Rekkid zoomed the camera in on the dust cloud, revealing the flat ang
ular forms of Scorpion hovertanks painted in desert colours. The tanks were interspersed with Cobra self propelled AA vehicles as well a great number of Scarab armoured personnel carriers. Gunships hovered overhead like angry wasps. As they watched, more transports and dropships arrived on the plains outside, depositing more troops and vehicles onto the sand. A deep rumbling signified the arrival of more of the heavier transport craft on the grounds around the temple. Rekkid switched to a different camera in time to see two of the bulky whale shaped ships touch down on either side of Simonov’s command post. Having landed they opened their bellies and disgorged a line of Thor heavy artillery guns. The slug-like armoured vehicles crept steadily across the flat expanse of earth before forming into two lines facing in opposite directions. They then deployed their centrally mounted rail guns to a firing elevation from their previous horizontal stowed positions. Another transport arrived, leaving a platoon of AA vehicles which proceeded form up around the newly formed artillery position and the command post. Yet another landed after it, leaving behind men and materials to assemble a makeshift base for the gunships.

  Rekkid flicked from one camera to another and panned them around. The red sky was dotted with the lights of ascending or descending transport craft and the ever present patrols of the gunships. The dust cloud had now reached the city: the marines were preparing to dig in.

  Amidst the noise and turmoil of the troops’ arrival, Steven lurked in a darkened alleyway and watched. Others watched too; frightened locals peered from their windows at the columns of suited humans and heavy, armoured vehicles entering their city. It certainly looked like an invasion, an intrusion of brute force and strange, sophisticated alien technology centuries beyond that which the Dendratha themselves possessed.

  Steven pitied them. They were caught in the middle of something that most of them would never comprehend, something which he himself could barely come to terms with; That their world was a machine, and that the galaxy’s great powers were preparing to fight for it. A war between two interstellar civilisations loomed, and their world of Maranos was at the fulcrum of history. Steven didn’t envy them one bit.

  He needed to disguise himself. As a human out of uniform he would be easy to find. He began to hunt, slinking from back alley to back alley, from yards to stairwells, looking for a suitable target: a marine off his guard and alone, and preferably about his size and build. A woman wouldn’t do, the combat suits were custom fitted and Steven needed to find someone close to his own physical shape. It would have to be someone in light armour too, Steven didn’t realistically think he could even hurt, let alone over-power someone clad in one of the heavy assault suits.

  Eventually he found one. One man had snuck off to relieve himself behind a pile of rubbish bins. Foregoing his suit’s smelly recycling system he had simply opened the groin guard of his armour and urinated up against the wall. His helmet lay at his side on the lid of a rubbish bin. Concealment was easy for Steven in the gloom. He crept up behind the marine and thumped him gently on the left shoulder. As the man turned Steven kneed him hard in the balls. He then caught the buckling man as he doubled over and threw him hard into the wall head first. The shock of the impact knocked him out cold.

  Steven quickly stripped the man of his suit and weapons and donned them himself. Then, pulling down his visor to conceal his features, he stepped out of the alley and became just another one of the hundreds of marines filling the streets of Marantis.

  Chapter 27

  Simonov surveyed his forces. It was now three hours since the landing and his officers had all confirmed the successful deployment of their units within the city. The map display in front of him showed their positions. The armour was concealed within the maze of narrow streets toward the centre of Marantis, whilst his infantry had occupied and fortified the buildings around the edge. Further reserves had been deployed within the city to reinforce the perimeter as needed. The area around the temple had been successfully transformed into a command post, air base and artillery fire base. Air defence was provided by AA vehicles on the ground, as well as patrols by the gunships and the Normandy’s complement of fighters. The giant carrier was still the cornerstone of this operation. Her heavy guns and fighters should be able to prevent an enemy landing and the other ships in the fleet would hopefully keep enemy vessels occupied and unable to bombard his forces. Like all planetary assaults, there were a great number of ifs and buts and Simonov would have to accept the precarious nature of the operation. Nevertheless, it made him uneasy.

  He checked in with Kojima, notifying him of the completion of the landing. The old Admiral was another problem for Simonov. Kojima struck him as being unimaginative and rather staid and stuffy, interested more in shining boots, clean uniforms and long service medals than actual tactical expertise. He just hoped that Chen would have enough influence over the flow of battle if hostilities commenced. Simonov rather liked Chen. He knew from first hand observation that she could fight both fiercely and with a certain flair and imagination.

  He had time to kill. He looked again at the files of the three individuals that his men had apprehended. There was still no sign of Harris. The man had simply melted into the city without a trace. Simonov strongly suspected that he had disguised himself as one of his own men and had issued orders to that effect. Sure enough, one of his corporals had not checked in with his unit for some time. A search was currently underway for the missing man.

  He read the files of the two archaeologists, O’Reilly and Cor. To be honest they seemed harmless enough, though the file contained suggestions that they were colluding with the K’Soth. Simonov doubted this. His gut feeling was that the two academics had unwittingly got themselves entangled in something far larger. He’d let them keep their equipment on the basis that they were hardly likely to dig their way out of the cellar. His men had had a cursory look at their computers and found little except academic notes and papers.

  There was no mention of a motive for their alleged treachery, save for money. He doubted this also. He’d been a student of military history, and most academics that he had met weren’t terribly materialistic, though of course you never could tell. There was nothing else for it. His curiosity wouldn’t be satisfied unless he talked to them himself. He took the two files with him and left the belly of the dropship for the temple which towered nearby. On his way he accosted a couple of idle men and had them bring a folding desk and chair with them. He was damned if he was going to squat on Dendratha furniture in his armour.

  The crowd was still gathered around the base of the temple. They parted reluctantly to let Simonov through, though there was a murmur of resentment from the aliens. Ekrino was still among them, he accosted Simonov as they passed.

  ‘Colonel, this is really taking things too far,’ he began as he undulated alongside them. ‘You promised that a far fewer of your men would be stationed here the last time we spoke, and now you have set up a whole base here! Not only that, but now you hold two dear friends of ours captive in this very building. I warn you, I can offer you no guarantees about what this gathering of pious worshippers may do. Our patience is running out.’

  ‘Don’t threaten me, your Grace,’ replied Simonov, stepping inside the temple. ‘It doesn’t impress me one bit. I apologise if we have caused offence, but your friends are wanted for questioning about collusion with the enemy, an enemy I might add, that we are here to protect you from.’

  ‘Protect us from them? Pah! We were quite safe here I recall until you showed up. May I remind you that we are an independent world? We are not part of your Commonwealth, nor do we wish to be. You have no jurisdiction here!’

  ‘You aren’t part of the K’Soth Empire either your Grace, but that won’t stop them coming here. Believe me, our presence on Maranos is the preferable alternative right now. The K’Soth won’t give a damn about your religious sensibilities; they’ll just kill you if you stand up to them. As a leading member of a religion other than their own, they’d probably kill you anyw
ay purely as an example, you understand.’

  ‘Perhaps, but you have brought them here via your very presence.’

  ‘Maybe, but I have my orders.’

  ‘So you do.’

  ‘I intend to speak with my prisoners now if I may. I’d appreciate it if you would calm the crowd outside. I have enough on my plate without riot control to consider.’

  He turned and started down the steps into the crypt. He could feel Ekrino’s hostile gaze at his back all the way down.

  There were footsteps outside the makeshift cell, and the muffled sound of voices. They were definitely human. It sounded to Katherine as though the guards were talking to one of their superiors. The door was unlocked and opened and a group of figures stepped inside. Two men of junior rank flanked the colonel that they had seen outside on the ramp of his command craft. The two grunts set up a desk and chair for their commander whilst the men charged with guarding the prisoners entered behind them and then locked the door again once inside. They stood behind the Colonel, keeping their weapons trained on their two charges.

  Simonov now sat on the newly erected chair which seemed too flimsy and fragile to bear his armoured, stocky form. He spread out a sheaf of papers on the folding table. The chair creaked audibly as he shifted his weight, studying the files for a moment before he looked up.

  ‘Have either of you eaten recently?’ he asked casually.

  ‘No we haven’t,’ replied Katherine. ‘Not for several hours at least.’