Progeny (The Progenitor Trilogy, Book Three)

by Worth, Dan

  Allaniko considered her words for a moment, his brow furrowed in concentration and he appeared to sag against the support of his staff.

  ‘Ekrino,’ he said finally. ‘They never let us take his body for burial. There were rumours that one of you killed him, but others said differently. There were rumours that he had become little more than a walking corpse, a puppet of strange and unknowable things...’

  Beklide remembered the name. She remembered Mentith’s account of how he had shot the old priest through the head and found that the interior of his shattered skull was alive with the wriggling horror that was a Shaper agent.

  ‘Yes,’ said Beklide. ‘It’s all true. The Shapers used him. They knew that if the secrets of this world were uncovered it would be the trigger for war between the humans and the K’Soth and that the portal would unleash our banished kin if activated. It was they who brought death and destruction here, just as they are bringing it now to thousands of other planets. They will come here again, Allaniko. They will come here again and if they do, no-one will be able to stop them. You must grant us access to the portal.’

  ‘And if I refuse to allow your trespassing on our world?’

  ‘Then you will not stand in our way. But I would prefer to do this amicably, with your permission. I promise you, that we come to look and to study only. We do not seek to reactivate the machines, nor do we seek to damage or remove them.’

  ‘What choice do I have?’ said Allaniko bitterly, his headgills wilting in submission. ‘I am powerless to resist. We are but simple people. We do not have your great warships, your glittering technology and your power over the fate of the very stars themselves. All we want is to live out our lives in peace. Do what you must, I will try and explain this to my flock as best I can, but after you are finished, please leave and do not return.’

  ‘You have my word,’ said Beklide. ‘Thank you.’

  Defeated, Allaniko made his way outside to face the crowd of worshippers. Standing on the cathedral steps he told them that they should not be afraid, that they should return to their homes in peace and that the Angels of Maran would depart soon to continue their duties for their Lord in the heavens. He thanked them for their prayers and for their faith.

  As the crowd began to slowly disperse, Allaniko looked upwards towards the distant shapes high above the atmosphere of his world and saw movement. He considered the morality of having just lied to his flock, of having preserved the lie that the Arkari were divine beings sent by their god when he knew that, long lived and technologically advanced though they were, the Arkari were just as mortal and imperfect as the Dendratha.

  There were streaks of fire in the upper atmosphere now. The Arkari were arriving in greater numbers, here to probe and pry and trample over his people’s most holy site. He had given them access, he had been powerless to do otherwise, but he would make sure that they would respect its ancient relics. Angrily he turned and made his way back inside the cathedral to find the one who had called herself Beklide.

  A handful of fat bellied transports touched down moments later in the cathedral grounds. As the Arkari technicians and scientists from the shuttles prepared to unload their equipment, some of the predatory looking drones that had accompanied them inside the transports took up guard positions around the landing site, whilst others scuttled inside the cathedral to meet their mistress.

  Allaniko watched the two metre tall creatures in horror as they stalked towards the centre of the cathedral on jointed legs, their clattering footsteps oddly quiet despite their size and weight. Sensors and manipulator arms packed the forward section of their torsos, forming a blunt head of sorts. It seemed to Allaniko as if the mechanoids were scrutinising him – analysing him as one would analyse a specimen in a laboratory. He tried to remain composed in the face of their soulless gazes.

  ‘I must insist,’ he began, addressing Beklide. ‘I must insist that you respect the sanctity of this place. The relics here are of incalculable value, the remains buried in the undercroft are very ancient and of great religious significance to our people. Please, instruct these mechanical servants of yours to exercise the utmost care!’

  ‘I shall,’ Beklide replied. ‘Perhaps, your Grace, if you would care to lead the way?’

  Later, at the centre of the world, Beklide stood and marvelled at the continent sized machines of the Progenitors, now rendered dead and silent, the chamber completely dark save for the illumination that the Arkari had set up in order to work and whose glow was lost inside the vast cylindrical space. It had taken the Arkari some time to descend to the centre of the world. Under Allaniko’s guidance they had entered the burial chamber in the cathedral’s undercroft that contained the entrance to what the Dendratha referred to as the Cave of Maran, in reality the entrance to the portal’s control centre. Allaniko had remained on the surface, restrained by his religious respect and perhaps the fear of what he might find down below and what that would mean for his faith. He remained in the burial chamber of the priests, standing guard over the remains of the long dead Dendratha, making sure that the Arkari and their mechanoids did not disturb their ancient corpses.

  The tunnel to the control centre had once contained the bodies of long dead Arkari and the remains of the mechanoids that their Banished cousins had become. These had been removed for study two years previously by Mentith’s people. The control room itself and the AI systems it contained had also been examined, but had been found to be damaged beyond repair by the actions of the Progenitor AI that had variously called itself Quickchild or Varish, the crystalline matrices fused into a molten mass. Fortunately, the lift down to the core of the planet was still in operation. A relatively dumb system with a separate power source, it had escaped Varish’s destruction and took the Arkari smoothly down to the centre of the planet, returning time after time to transport more personnel and drones down to the great machines. The drones now explored the enormous, world piercing chamber that contained the ancient wormhole device, settling variously on one titanic piece of machinery or another. Beklide could see their lights moving in the darkness. The leader of the science team came and stood beside her and looked up too into the shadows.

  ‘I don’t suppose, Jardith, that there’s any chance of getting this thing working again, is there?’ said Beklide. ‘I know what I told High Priest Allaniko, but...’

  ‘No, there isn’t,’ said Jardith. ‘Mentith’s people provided us with a report showing that not only are the control mechanisms completely fused into un-repairable lumps of minerals, but that the power supply mechanisms have also been destroyed in a similar manner.’

  ‘That Progenitor AI certainly knew what it was doing when it sabotaged the device. It intended that no-one should ever be able to use it again.’

  ‘Yes indeed, and with good reason considering the circumstances at the time.’

  ‘But it doesn’t prevent us from building our own, does it?’ said Beklide.

  ‘No, it does not,’ said Jardith. ‘Preliminary studies of the portal’s workings were done by Special Operations Command. It’s given us enough to go on to properly direct the next stage of our research.’

  ‘Keep me informed of all developments,’ said Beklide. ‘We have much to learn and time is not on our side.’

  Chapter 23

  Haines couldn’t tell how long they’d kept him down here in this barren, concrete cell. The normal cycles of day and night had ceased to have any meaning as soon as they’d brought him here and they’d been trying to confuse his body’s internal rhythms ever since by leaving the lights on or off for days at a time, by waking him up as soon as they saw him drifting off to sleep or by acting as though night was day, day was night, morning was evening and so on. He guessed that he’d been here perhaps a week or more, but really he couldn’t tell any more. He been trained to resist this kind of torture, but the sleep deprivation was taking its toll. He’d been trying to work on a way of falling asleep without making it too obvious to anyone looking through the ce
ll’s cameras, propping himself up against the walls so that he didn’t slump over. In this way, he been able to get brief snatches of shuteye, but he got the impression that they were on to him.

  What he couldn’t figure out, was why they were doing this to him. They hadn’t asked him any questions and besides, they could learn anything that they wanted about him if they just implanted him with one of those things, destroying his mind in the process. He was still alive, that was the important thing.

  The worst part, was that for a second time the Shapers had got the better of him. He had trusted Dawson, come to rely on him. All the time Dawson had been using him. He wondered when the Shapers had taken him. Was it after he had crashed on the moon, or had he been harbouring one of their agents for years? How many others among the group were likewise infected? Certainly not all of them were. Haines had seen them die, torn apart by cybernetically augmented monsters that had exploded out of the undergrowth, some of which had once belonged to species that even Haines in his considerable experience had never encountered before. He had shot Dawson through the face and had tried to run, only to be leapt upon and pinned to the floor by a creature resembling a four legged spider the size of a lion whose skull and abdomen sprouted strange, crystalline growths. The last thing that he had seen before its venom rendered him unconscious was the figure of Dawson standing over him and laughing through his ruined, bloody face. He had woken up here in this cell, been beaten until he had fallen unconscious once more by men who had called him a murderer and a butcher and then they had largely left him alone as far as direct, physical torture was concerned.

  He didn’t fancy his chances of escaping. For a start, he was chained to the floor like an animal by his wrists and ankles and secondly he had no idea where he was or how long he had been out cold. Was he underground, on the surface? Was he even on the same planet anymore? Perhaps he was on board a ship or a space habitat? The latter two seemed less likely as he could detect no engine vibration through the floor and the gravity felt the same as before, but he couldn’t rule it out. In any case, they weren’t likely to give him a chance to escape. If they entered the cell at all, usually to feed him or to wake him again, men came in groups of four. Two remained outside with guns pointed directly at him, whilst two entered the cell. However, he was still alive. Somebody wanted him alive for a reason or else they’d have killed him as soon as they got their hands on him. It gave him a measure of hope, but on the other hand, he wondered what the hell they had in store for him.

  As he lay there in the darkness, the door suddenly banged open. Squinting from the glare from the brightly lit corridor outside, Haines saw a broadly built figure outlined in shadow. As the figure entered the cell, the lights came on and Haines saw that it was Admiral Morgan, with a handful of planetary defence force troopers. One of the soldiers brought a metal chair in for the Admiral and he sat. Haines looked up from his sitting position on the floor and sneered dismissively. Morgan instructed the soldiers to wait outside.

  ‘Come to gloat, have you?’ said Haines. ‘Come to revel in your victory? You fucking traitor. I wouldn’t waste my piss on you if you were on fire.’

  ‘That’s enough, Admiral Haines!’ snapped Morgan.

  ‘What, you’re going to try and pull rank on me now, Jeff?’ Haines replied. ‘I don’t take orders from you anymore. You gave away that right when sided with those alien motherfuckers and helped them in their mission to enslave the human race!’

  ‘I said that’s enough!’ Morgan shouted. ‘Like it or not. I’m the only hope you have right now of staying alive if you play your cards right. If it wasn’t for me, they would have killed you by now, or worse.’

  ‘Gonna make me an offer and I can’t refuse, are you? That’s an old one.’

  ‘Yes I am and I’d appreciate it if you’d listen to what I have to say. Listen, Admiral. George, I’m not the enemy, okay? I’m not. I want to help you.’

  ‘You are? You‘ve got a funny way of demonstrating that, you know? There I was being chased, captured, beaten and deprived of sleep after having my ship shot out from under me by your new alien friends, oh not mention all the men and women under my command that you killed. I should have guessed, you had my best interests at heart.’

  ‘George, it may be difficult for you to understand at first, but what I did, I did out of my loyalty to humanity. The Shapers are all powerful, their technology is without peer, their fleets and armies number in the billions. If humanity is to survive, we must ally ourselves with them, not resist them! Don’t you see?’

  ‘I do see, I see that you’d rather live on your knees than die on your feet, you fucking coward!’ snarled Haines. ‘So how much popular support do you have for your choice of allies? What do the people of this system think? Do they welcome their new overlords with open arms? Are they queuing up to have their brains devoured?’

  ‘There will be no more mass enslavement. I have been given guarantees on that,’ Morgan replied, although Haines thought that he sounded a little unsure of himself. ‘Only... only those that are deemed a risk will be taken.’

  Haines snorted with derision. ‘Well that covers just about everyone, doesn’t it?’

  Morgan seemed to ignore the comment and continued.

  ‘The people... the people have not been told the whole truth yet, though it is becoming harder and harder to hide it from them. Many of them support our cause: a new start free from the corruption and nepotism of the Commonwealth, where the ordinary citizens’ voices are not drowned out by the clamour of big business. Once I explain to them about our new allies, and their motives, they will understand, I’m sure.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be so sure of that, weren’t you telling them that it was us who were under the influence of the Shapers?’

  ‘People can be re-educated, in time. Many have short memories and as long as their lives go by undisturbed they will care little of what goes on elsewhere. Politicians have depended upon this for centuries.’

  ‘I think you gravely underestimate the man in the street,’ said Haines. ‘They aren’t cattle to be herded, and when they find out what you have done, you’ll swing from the nearest lamp post.’

  ‘I tell you George, they won’t. Trade with the other systems will resume in time, and things will begin to return to normal. No, the people will understand when they understand the true motives of the Shapers. Perhaps even other systems might rally to our cause.’

  ‘You’re so sure? Is that why you had those presumably-still-human troops of yours wait outside? And what are the Shapers’ motives, Admiral?’ said Haines. He had been judging the distance between himself and Morgan ever since the man had sat down in front of him. He was pretty sure that Morgan had seated himself much too close to him and the man who had placed the chair on the floor of the cell for him had misjudged the length of Haines’ chains. He let Morgan talk whilst he pondered this.

  ‘Why, to unite the galaxy, of course. No more war, no more interspecies strife and the gifts of limitless technology available to all. Under the Shapers, there will be everlasting peace.’

  ‘And everlasting enslavement!’ Haines spat back. ‘What peace they offer will be a peace born of oppression, of totalitarian control, of total obedience to them!’

  ‘Now, now that’s not entirely true. We will be free to run our own internal affairs...’ Morgan protested.

  ‘It’s a lie, you know that. I can see it in your eyes, you don’t believe it yourself!’

  ‘Well it’s the only hope that we have! You of all people should realise this!’

  ‘I’d rather go down fighting for what I believe in: preserving the freedom of humanity! You’ve become a man afraid of his own shadow. I can see it in your eyes. You’ve made a deal with the devil, haven’t you? Well, selling your soul comes with a few strings attached.’

  Yes, Morgan was seated much too close to him for his own good. He was definitely within reach.

  ‘Please, George. The only reason that you’re still alive is th
at I pleaded for your life. Don’t disappoint me. If I could only persuade you to listen....’

  ‘Or what? You’ve won, Jeff. You’ve beaten me. Enjoy your victory before the lustre wears off.’

  ‘If you don’t agree to help us, you are to be tried as a war criminal for the massacre in orbit and destruction of Orinoco Station.’

  ‘What!?’ Haines snarled, lunging forward against his restraints he succeeded in clamping his manacled hands around Morgan’s throat. ‘You motherfucker! You lying, two faced sack of shit!’ Haines spat into his former commanding officer’s face. ‘I trusted you, for years! How dare you try to blame me for the crimes of your new found allies!’ Morgan gurgled, his eyes bulged. ‘I came to this system to save those people from the Shapers and from you!’ Haines pushed tighter against Morgan’s throat as the man tried desperately to push him away, but Morgan’s long years in a desk job had taken their toll, whereas Haines was still fighting fit, despite his age. Morgan tried to cry out to the soldiers that he had foolishly ordered to wait outside whilst he confided in Haines. It came out as little more than a gasp.

  ‘They can’t hear you,’ Haines hissed. ‘This is where you die, choking for air. Just like all those people you killed, just like my crew, my comrades.’

  Morgan’s arms flailed as he feebly tried to punch Haines. His face had assumed an unusually livid colour.

  ‘Not a very pleasant way to die is it?’ said Haines, as Morgan struggled beneath his grip. ‘Plenty of time to think about your impending fate, isn’t there? You fucking traitor...’

  In desperation, Morgan threw his weight backwards, tipping the small chair over and causing both men to tumble to the rough, concrete floor with a loud crash. Haines attempted to throw himself forward and regain his purchase on Morgan’s throat, but this time he really had reached the limits of his restraints. Gasping for air, Morgan succeeded in dragging himself away as the door flew open and troops entered, having heard the noise from outside. They lifted Morgan to his feet as another figure entered the room with them.