Progeny (The Progenitor Trilogy, Book Three)

by Worth, Dan

  Haines forced himself up the hillside, Dawson pounding ahead of him up the slope. The sound of the gunship’s engines was louder now, the source of the sound much closer. He glanced backward over his shoulder as he ran and saw the craft hovering behind him on its AG engines, near level with them as it hung over the jungle. It was black against the sky, the air from its manoeuvring thrusters causing columns of air to shimmer beneath it.

  There was a dull bang, and a slender, black shape shot past the gunship, narrowly missing the cockpit. The marines had missed with their first attempt. Not focusing on where he was going, Haines tripped and stumbled. Throwing his hands out in front him to break his fall he grabbed handfuls of the short, scrubby vegetation and pulled himself back up as the sound of automatic weapons fire erupted from the hillside to his left. It was Antonov. Haines saw the rounds from the heavy rail gun strike the cockpit canopy of the gunship, but they seemed to be having little effect against the tough material. The craft was turning to engage the new threat. He saw its chin mounted gatling gun start to swivel to engage the new threat to its left.

  There was another dull thump. This time the marines didn’t miss. The anti-armour round struck the gunship’s engines and detonated with a deafening bang. The craft lurched sideways from the impact and then dropped from the sky onto the rocky hillside like a stone. Hitting the ground, it started to roll down the slope, then exploded, scattering debris far and wide and producing clouds of roiling black smoke. Two burning figures could be seen struggling from the inferno. They made it out of the ruined craft before they collapsed, in flames, upon the hillside.

  ‘Great,’ muttered Dawson. ‘That cloud of smoke will be visible for miles.’

  ‘We need to move,’ said Haines. ‘Order your men to rejoin the squad, and then let’s get out of here.’

  ‘You okay, sir?’ Dawson asked, a look of concern on his face.

  ‘I’m fine, soldier. Now let’s go, before more of the enemy show up.’

  Leaving the burning gunship behind them, Haines and the marines began to quickly skirt the edge of the hill, following the edge of the tree-line in the hope that it would conceal them from the air. When they had travelled about a kilometre, a sonic boom split the air in the distance. Seconds later, a small crystalline craft appeared, similar to the one that Haines had seen land on the hilltop overlooking the wreck of the Lincoln. It braked hard, then hovered over the gunship crash site. Instinctively, the marines moved deeper under the trees. Haines did likewise.

  ‘Shapers?’ whispered Dawson, fearfully. Haines nodded. Dawson swore under his breath.

  ‘How far to the caves, Captain?’ said Haines, keeping his voice low.

  ‘About half a click, but we need to climb back up the side of the hill again. The entrance is inside a small gully.’

  ‘Is there any other way out of the caves? I don’t want us to get trapped inside. If the Shapers find the cave entrance, it would be a logical place to look for us.’

  ‘A small river runs out of the cave mouth. So I suppose somewhere it must run in. We haven’t mapped out the cave system, sir. Last time we came by here we only moved inside a hundred metres or so. It looked like an ancient lava channel or something. Sir, our map shows that this escarpment is the edge of a large caldera. There’s a small river at the top that disappears underground. It could be the same one that emerges here.’

  ‘Okay, we don’t have a lot of time. I guess we can risk it,’ said Haines, weighing up their options. ‘If it comes to it, your suits’ IR and low-light gear should make it easy to defend ourselves inside the cave. I’d prefer it if we were sure that there was another way out. Just because water can flow through the cave doesn’t mean that we can get through without breathing equipment, but it should conceal us from the enemy for a while. Let’s go.’

  They hurried on, the Shaper craft hanging in the sky behind them. When they dared to look back it seemed to be moving back and forth over the scene of their recent battle. First, to the crash site, then to where Philips’ team had launched their attack and then back to the escarpment where Haines and the others had made their diversion. It was like seeing a bloodhound sniffing out a trail.

  Eventually Haines and the marines reached the ravine. Mercifully, it was heavily overgrown – the damp sheltered place was a haven for plants of all kinds. Quickly, they splashed up the river bed until the dark cave mouth gaped before them, fringed with trailing vines. Hurriedly, they made their way inside.

  The darkness inside was absolute. Aided by their low-light helmet goggles, the marines had splashed up the rushing stream, the water swirling around their boots, until even the goggles were no use and they were forced to resort to the pencil thin torches that each man carried. They moved in as near silence as was possible, hoping that the sounds of tumbling water would mask what little sounds they could not help but make as they pressed onwards into the hillside.

  The cave walls were smooth and curving, the black, volcanic rock worn by water over countless millennia to a reflective sheen. The cave itself meandered steadily upwards into the hill towards the source of that torrent. The fact that for much of the way the tunnel was large enough for men to walk fully upright gave Haines and the marines hope that they would be able to find their way out at the other end. It seemed possible that the water had perhaps widened the cave to such an extent all the way through.

  Eventually, they reached a wider section where the tunnel expanded into a wider cavern with sloping sides where the lava flow that had originally formed it had been temporarily halted in its progress. The stream still flowed swiftly along its channel in the bottom of the cavern, but the sloping sides were dry and smooth. Haines called a halt.

  ‘So far, so good, Captain,’ he said quietly to Dawson. ‘The way seems clear so far. What I’d like to know is: are we being followed?’

  The marines were listening for pursuers, but in the echoing space of the cave, all they could hear was the sound of the flowing water.

  ‘I could leave a man behind to watch our rear,’ Dawson suggested.

  ‘No, not a good idea,’ Haines replied. ‘We can’t risk the enemy seeing any of us and besides, what if they catch him? He could come back to us and... well he’d no longer be one of us, if you catch my drift.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘We need something that will trip if anything passes a certain point,’ said Haines. ‘Do your men have anything suitable?’

  ‘We have the infra-red sensors that we put around us when we make camp for the night,’ Dawson replied. ‘We also have some anti-personnel mines.’

  ‘Save the mines for now. My bet is that the Shapers themselves can easily see an infra-red beam, but maybe the enslaved troops they keep sending after us can’t. I say we set up some of those sensors across the entrance to this cavern. If they’ve come this far in, then they must still be on our tail. If the sensors do trip, then we lay mines to take ‘em out.’

  Dawson set about ordering his men to do as Haines instructed. McCabe and Philips took a couple of sensors each from their packs and placed them within crevices by the lower entrance to the cavern so that the beams would intersect in different places to cover the entrance and make it impossible for anyone to enter and not trip at least one of the devices..

  They had almost finished working when Haines noticed something moving in the beams of torchlight. It was a tiny, shining mote that flew in lazy circles above the men. He focused his torch beam on the flitting creature. It seemed far too bright and reflective to be a cave dweller - such things were usually pallid, transparent things that shied away from the light. Another appeared, joining the first, then another, and another. With horror, he realised what was entering the cave.

  ‘All of you! Fall back!’ he barked. ‘Now!’

  Chapter 12

  Chen stood at the windows of the observation deck overlooking the dry dock where her ship lay, battered and wounded by its recent ordeal and holed in more places than she dared contemplate. The massive ca
rrier had limped into the dock. Unable to manoeuvre properly under its own power, the Churchill had been nudged into its berth by several tugs from Batavia Port’s fleet. The carrier was now swaddled in maintenance gantries, docking umbilicals, looping cables and lines of all kinds like a patient on life-support. Maintenance crews, flitters and heavy equipment moved about the damaged vessel like a swarm of industrious bees, their bright yellow colouring making them stand out against the Churchill’s grey, carbon scored hull plating. As the repair crews worked, the massive rents in the carrier’s hull were lit by the intermittent flashes of cutting gear as the damaged structure and components of the ship were stripped away to make room for replacements. In adjoining bays, the other ships that had fought alongside the Churchill to defend Earth were undergoing similar repairs as the Navy’s maintenance crews worked overtime to get the warships back into service as quickly as possible, though some, like the Lexington, were too badly damaged to be repaired and would be stripped for parts, their surviving crew members transferred to other vessels.

  Chen’s gaze lingered on the wounds in the hull of her ship. Every single one had almost certainly resulted in deaths or injuries amongst her crew. She had done her best, she knew that, but she couldn’t help but punish herself with the feeling that maybe she could have done better, even though she knew that she had done well to even survive the battle. The Commonwealth Navy was hopelessly outclassed by the Shapers’ vessels. If another attack came, and she knew that it would, she didn’t fancy humanity’s chances one bit.

  The previous day, she had managed to contact her parents. Thankfully, they had taken her advice and had left their home in San Francisco to stay with friends in the Sierra Nevada mountains. Though she had spared them the details of the battle, they had both seen the extensive news coverage and the footage gathered from space and ground based observers and had been overjoyed to learn that their daughter had not only survived, but was being hailed by the media as Earth’s saviour. Her mother had wept. Both she and her father were only interested in when they would see her again, and when this would all be over.

  She had glanced at some of the news stories. Most were a mixture of grainy footage of the battle and the details of her career that were public knowledge. Her parents were correct: she was being hailed as a saviour. It all felt a little unreal. She knew that it was the Nahabe who had really saved the day, and that the mysterious aliens really deserved all the credit. All she had done was make a desperate last stand against the Shapers, one which she could not have survived without their help. She had brooded on this as she watched footage from the ground of the moment the anti-matter missiles had detonated, wiping out the advance wave of Shaper vessels. The brilliant flash turned night into day for a brief moment, before the burning cinder-like specks of shattered ships could be seen faintly in the dark sky.

  She was shaken from her reverie by the shrill chiming of her comm. She fished it out of her pocket and answered.

  ‘Admiral Chen?’

  ‘Speaking.’

  ‘This is Sergeant Hollis of Naval Port Security. I’ve been ordered to contact you. A ship has docked after being escorted here by the cruiser Lycurgus. The captains of both vessels insisted that we contact you immediately.’

  ‘What’s the name of the ship, the one that has docked?’

  ‘She’s called the Profit Margin, ma’am. She’s a Stallion class cargo cutter. Naval bay eleven.’

  ‘I’ll be right there,’ said Chen, already heading for the transport tubes.

  The sleek form of the Profit Margin looked tiny, all alone inside a bay big enough to hold a troop transport. Two weary looking figures could be seen emerging from her boarding ramp as Chen entered the bay. She walked quickly over to them.

  ‘Mr Isaacs, Ms Favreaux. It’s good to see you again.’

  ‘Likewise,’ said Isaacs. ‘We’re still in one piece, despite everything. I hear you gave the Shapers what for. Good job.’

  ‘You could say that. The truth of the matter is that the Nahabe turned up just in time to pull our collective asses out of the fire,’ Chen admitted. ‘How are things in the Spica system?’

  ‘We got out,’ said Anna. ‘Just. We lost a lot of good people, and a lot of ships. The Shapers tried to storm Port Royal. We fought them off and jumped to Achernar. It gave us a grandstand seat for when the fleet met the Shapers head on. Admiral, we have something of the utmost importance to tell the Navy, something that could swing the war in our favour.’

  ‘You do? Then let’s hear it,’ said Chen. ‘Not here. Somewhere secure.’

  Somewhere secure turned out to be Chen’s quarters aboard the Churchill. Here, amidst the ambient noise of the repair work going on all over the ship, in a room that had remained locked since the ship had entered port, Isaacs and Anna told Chen everything that the Nahabe had learned about the Shapers’ communication methods and how to track them in hyperspace. Having listened carefully and viewed the sensor data of the battle between Haines’s fleet and the Shapers, Chen summoned Lieutenant Commander Singh and Chief Engineer Kleiner to examine the Nahabes’ findings and the technical specifications of the sensor modifications required to reproduce the results.

  ‘Well I hate to tell you this, but I don’t think it’s going to work. Not on this ship anyway,’ said Singh. ‘Our sensors don’t have the resolution to make this happen. What do you think Chief?’

  ‘I have to agree,’ said Kleiner, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand as he scrolled through the data with the other. ‘The standard shipboard hyperspace sensor suites just aren’t up to it. I suppose if a whole fleet of ships were working in tandem, then maybe it would work.’

  ‘So in other words, we’re screwed?’ said Isaacs, exasperated.

  ‘No. No, I don’t think so,’ said Kleiner. ‘I reckon we could get this to work using the sensors on a Thea class recon cruiser. Half of the damn ship on those things is one great sensor suite. Bigger arrays, better resolution, yeah I think it could work. The same goes for the static arrays we have dotted about the Commonwealth. As long as the other ships in a fleet containing Theas are getting the data from those recon cruisers I don’t see a problem, theoretically speaking of course.’

  ‘We need to get this to the Navy’s R&D guys,’ said Singh. ‘Though god knows how we test it outside a combat environment.’

  ‘I need to take this to Command,’ said Chen. ‘They need to know about this if they’re to plan the war. You were absolutely right, Captain Favreaux, this could give us the advantage we need.’

  ‘We can’t just keep it to ourselves,’ said Isaacs. ‘The other Nahabe in this system, the Arkari and the Commonwealth’s other allies all need to know about this.’

  ‘You may be correct, Mr Isaacs,’ Chen replied. ‘The trouble is, how do we tell them all without giving the game away? One leak to the Shapers and we’ll lose our advantage. We have to be very careful indeed, and I’m afraid that decision won’t be up to me, it’s a matter for the government. However, I’m going to pass on the recommendation to my superiors.’

  ‘What about the K’Soth?’ said Anna. ‘Are we going to tell them?’

  ‘They are still the enemy, you know,’ said Isaacs. ‘So I doubt it. Hey, you bunch of murderous, scaly bastards, would you like to hear about our shiny new sensors, or would you like to try and murder us all again?’

  ‘I’m not so sure either,’ said Chen. ‘Listen, I’d appreciate it if you two would stick around for a while. I may need to call on you to go over this again with my superiors. We can find accommodation for you here in Batavia Port, if you like, and who knows, we may have further work for you.’

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ said Isaacs.

  ‘Sounds good to me too,’ said Anna. ‘Somewhere with showers, soft beds and room service would be nice.’

  It was later in the day, and Chen stood in Admiral Cartwright’s office aboard the Trafalgar in dress uniform. So far he had not asked her to sit. A paper copy of her report lay on his desk. He p
icked it up and flicked through, scowling as he did so.

  ‘It seems that we’re up against heavy odds, Admiral Chen,’ he said at last, peering over the document. ‘The press seem on the verge of actually beatifying you, “The Saviour of Earth” I believe the headline read. No doubt the President will want to reward you in some ways. I think you can expect a medal of some kind. Of course you and I both know that it’s pure luck that you’re still alive at all.’

  ‘Yes sir. The Nahabe deserve the credit, not me.’

  ‘Of course they do. The civilian deaths sustained whilst you were in command of our forces in the Solar System were unacceptably high. You left both Galileo Station and Amazonia Port completely undefended. In fact you didn’t attempt to defend any of our civilian facilities at all!’

  ‘Sir, with respect...’

  ‘I haven’t finished,’ he snapped, cutting her off. ‘You did nothing to help those people at Galileo, and you only moved to defend Amazonia after the attack was long underway. Why?’

  ‘As I said in my report,’ replied Chen, struggling to contain her anger. ‘The Shapers attacked Galileo Station to try and draw us out, away from our defensive line. If we had jumped, they could have laid an ambush and destroyed us just the same as they did to Haines in Achernar, or they could have jumped towards Earth as we were jumping away leaving our home world completely undefended whilst they attacked! Sir, we did not have sufficient forces to defend this system properly. The trap I laid for the Shapers evened the odds a little, but we were still heavily outnumbered and outgunned. I could not have sprung the trap if we had moved from our defensive position, sir.’