Progeny (The Progenitor Trilogy, Book Three)

by Worth, Dan

  ‘Will he live?’ said Katherine.

  ‘Hard to say,’ Okanno replied. ‘His lifespan has been unnaturally extended by the device he is encased within. We have limited medical knowledge about his species and it is difficult to say what his physical age actually is. Doubtless his metabolism was greatly slowed during his incarceration, but he does appear to be incredibly ancient by any sort of measure. It may be that we are unable to disconnect him from the machines, in which case...’

  ‘We’ll have to leave him here to die,’ Rekkid interjected with a sullen finality.

  ‘Yes, that may be so. Disconnecting him from these ancient machines may kill him.’

  ‘Something which may be a mercy,’ the ship added, speaking through its drone. ‘He is the last of his race. His world and his people were annihilated whilst humanity still grubbed about in Neolithic obscurity. What future does he have if he does survive? But then, surely to be imprisoned in this place is a fate worse than death?’

  ‘As a machine I doubt that you are capable of a making that judgement,’ Okanno responded icily.

  ‘Am I not?’ the drone replied. ‘Machine I may be, but I have no wish to be incarcerated or isolated for millennia at a time. I desire to live as much as any biological creature. Such a fate is truly worse than oblivion.’

  ‘Be that as it may, my task is to try to save this being’s life, not end it,’ said Okanno. ‘Professor Cor, Doctor O’Reilly. I thought that you should be here when my patient finally comes to. He may be able to answer some of the questions that you have. Ah, I see that your esteemed K’Soth colleague is also with us.’

  Steelscale had also entered the chamber, moving with surprising stealth despite his large size. Only the faint tapping of his claws against the floor gave away his presence. He had obviously been listening in to their conversation.

  ‘Death and suicide are complicated subjects for my people,’ he said. ‘The weak are killed, often at birth, and death in the service of the Emperor is regarded as a noble thing. The dishonoured may also regain their dignity via honourable suicide, but I do not know what to make of this.’ He gestured at the machinery encased figure in the centre of the chamber. ‘I cannot say what the correct course of action should be. Personally, I have always preferred to remain alive. Perhaps this person had a duty to perform? Perhaps he willingly sacrificed himself to try and save his people? Maybe we should ask him what he wants, instead of deciding for him?’

  ‘An unusual statement for a K’Soth,’ said Okanno.

  ‘Yes, well, as K’Soth go I am unusual,’ Steelscale replied, gave a mock bow and grinned.

  ‘If you’d care to step this way,’ said Okanno. ‘We will begin the procedure.’

  As they gathered around the last of the Akkal to watch, the medical machines of the Arkari began to do their work, stimulating the ancient being’s body with drugs and neural signals. Flocks of nano-machines that had been injected into his bloodstream hurried to their duties, attempting to re-invigorate his heart, brain and nervous functions. The Arkari medics studied the data that they were now getting from the tangle of probes and implants and they conferred with one another as the being’s skin began to assume a less deathly pallor.

  Suddenly his eyes flicked open and he began to emit a long, hoarse scream. It was at once a scream of pain and anguish, and at the same time the cry of something being reborn. The scream was rasping, the screamer’s mouth and throat parched from countless years without taking a drink. His eyes focused on the figures gathered before him and he let out a sob of emotion. The mouth moved. At first no words would come to him, and then he found his voice. As he spoke in the language of the Progenitors, a language that was not his own, but which his people had revived and clung to as the voice of their gods, the Arkari machines that cradled him translated his words.

  ‘I knew you would come,’ he said slowly. ‘I prayed. I prayed that you would come to save me. I am Ushild, High Praetorian of the Sacred Way and last survivor of the Akkal. I am sorry. I have failed. We all failed you. I...’

  His eyes started to glaze over, his head lolled and he convulsed. Frantically the Arkari medics attended the various machines and checked his life-signs. After a few moments he seemed to stabilise. His breathing became slow and regular and his colour, which had briefly fled his cheeks, started to return.

  ‘You abandoned us,’ Ushild continued. ‘I know why. We shamed you, shamed ourselves. We wanted to build a better future... all that happened was that we paved the road to our own destruction. We showed ourselves to be unworthy of you... please... forgive us.’

  Ushild attempted to raise his arms in a gesture of supplication. The feebleness of his wasted muscles and the weight of the machinery attached to them prevented him from performing much more than a shrug. He hung his head, defeated and shamed.

  ‘What the hell is he talking about?’ muttered Rekkid to Katherine. ‘I’m assuming he’s delirious. He thinks we’re his gods come to save him.’

  ‘After ten thousand years in this place, I think I’d be in a similar state,’ Katherine replied, her eyes transfixed by the tragic figure. ‘We need to talk to him, whilst we still have the opportunity to do so.’ She stepped forward slowly until she stood directly in front of Ushild in his pod. She could never remember what compelled her to do so, pity or simple human kindness perhaps, but she reached out a hand and touched Ushild’s cheek. The skin was dry and delicate, like ancient manuscripts, but she could feel the warmth of his body returning beneath it.

  Ushild let out a gasp. It was the first physical contact that he had experienced for around ten millennia. He was being touched by a god! He could feel the warmth spreading from her life-giving fingers. He started to weep.

  ‘Ushild,’ said Katherine, gently. ‘Ushild you have to tell us: what happened here?’

  Ushild was confused. How could the gods be ignorant of what had befallen their followers? He didn’t understand. Perhaps this was a test?

  ‘I... We misused your gifts, great one,’ he began, in a whisper. ‘We took them and... the others would not heed our words...’ He gulped for air. ‘We killed them. We killed them all...’ His body shook, wracked with agony both physical and spiritual. He knew what they had done in the name of the gods. They had done terrible things and paid the price.

  ‘Our gifts?’ said Katherine. ‘Ushild, who do you think we are?’

  Ushild did not understand. The people before him, visible to him through his rheumy eyes, they mostly looked like the gods, but they did not speak like the gods and these questions...

  ‘You are the Ones Who Made All, are you not?’ he said, doubt creeping into his mind. ‘You have answered our call and returned to save us... save me... haven’t you?’

  ‘Returned from where?’ said Rekkid, finally joining the conversation.

  ‘From beyond the Great Gate, or from the distant stars. Our beacon it... called out to you and brought you here.’

  ‘Not exactly,’ said Katherine. ‘We are not... we are not who you presume us to be. I am sorry Ushild, but we are not gods, and although your beacon did bring us here and we will do our utmost to save you, we are as mortal as yourself.’

  ‘No...’ whispered Ushild, and found tears stinging his eyes.

  ‘Ushild,’ said Rekkid, filled with trepidation. ‘You mentioned a Great Gate. What gate is this?’

  Ushild looked Rekkid directly in the eyes and said:

  ‘Why, the one in the centre of the system, of course.’

  ‘You’d better tell us everything,’ said Katherine. ‘From the beginning. Tell us what happened to your people Ushild. You may not be able to save them now, but perhaps you can save us.’

  They allowed Ushild to rest for a while and explained to him where they had come from and how they had finally found him. Ushild listened, stunned by what he was hearing, but slowly accepting that the beings that clustered around him were not divine, but were, despite their origins, similar to his own race. When Steelscale approached, Ushi
ld shrank from his monstrous and altogether more alien appearance, until the K’Soth spoke to him slowly and calmly and assured him that he would not be harmed. When Ushild had finished listening to the others he lay back against the padded interior of the pod and closed his eyes in contemplation whilst his aged mind digested the flood of new and bewildering information, and the new arrivals’ stories of vast interstellar conflicts and distant civilisations from far across the galaxy. He learned the names of these peoples. It was a lot to take in. Some of it sounded rather fanciful and improbable to his ears, although they seemed very earnest and who was he to doubt them?

  He was given water to drink, and nutrients through the many feeds into his bloodstream. At last, marshalling his thoughts - still sluggish after so long inside the machine - he spoke.

  ‘We were a peaceful people, once,’ he said. ‘For thousands of years, the Akkal people lived in harmony with one another. It was all the fault of that twice damned ship.’

  ‘A ship?’ said Katherine. ‘We found paintings...’

  ‘Yes,’ said Ushild, his voice was growing stronger now. ‘Yes, many people painted that ship in the years to come. It was both a great blessing and, as it turned out, a terrible curse.’ He sighed. ‘Generations before I was born, a probe was launched towards the outer reaches of this star system which found something that shook our civilisation and our definitions about what it meant to be Akkal to the very core. We had already colonised this planet, within which we stand, many centuries earlier and space travel between our two worlds had become routine. We had sent probes and even crewed missions to many of the other bodies, but since there was little reason to go there in person except for the achievement of having done so, we confined our journeys to those between Kel and Arul Kar. The distances were too great and it was neither economical nor safe to pursue such things further. We did however continue to explore our surroundings via automated devices as they were relatively cheap and expendable.’

  He felt more confident now. It was all coming back to him from his childhood, the things he had been taught to repeat by rote. He continued: ‘A decision was made to try to explore space outside our system, to send a probe to the nearest star. A probe was duly constructed and launched and took several years to climb out of our suns’ gravity wells, using various bodies to slingshot itself to higher and higher speeds. During these manoeuvres the opportunity was taken to turn the probe’s instruments on these planets as it passed them, both to test the craft’s instruments and to gather any interesting data that might be found. It was during the probe’s final manoeuvre, before it was due to engage its engines and power out of the system that it spotted something in a decaying orbit around the outermost gas giant in this system, Orok.

  It was the remains of a ship: a large, golden ship of advanced and undoubtedly alien construction. This of course was a staggering discovery. We had previously thought ourselves alone in the universe. We had sent probes to Orok before, but had somehow missed the vessel. Of course everyone quickly realised what this could mean for our people: not only contact with another species like ourselves, but the promise of discovering advanced and wondrous technology that might revolutionise our worlds or allow us to venture forth to the stars. A team of brave volunteers were sent out aboard an experimental vessel to study the ship, and after many seasons in space they arrived at the mysterious wreck and found something that changed everything forever...’

  He was short of breath from his lengthy speech and the effort was draining what strength he had, but he could still remember his history lessons from childhood like it was only yesterday. He remembered watching the recordings with his classmates and seeing the grainy pictures and scratchy sound sent from deep space, the great ship tumbling slowly in the darkness against the mass of the planet.

  ‘The ship spoke to us, all of us, as one people on that day when the expedition reached it,’ said Ushild. ‘It was alive, inhabited by a being of immense power. It told us that it had been stranded in space, long ago, that it had been disabled in battle in a great war, the greatest war in all of history and had drifted for unimaginable lengths of time, far longer than our species, and indeed life on our worlds, had existed. It said that it needed our help, that it was unable to heal itself and was desperate to return home and that if we were to help it, it would take us there and show us, as a people, the most wonderful things. It did not lie.’

  ‘This being inside the ship...’ said Rekkid. ‘Did it claim to be one of your gods?’

  ‘No,’ said Urshild and began to cough. Recovering his composure he rasped. ‘No, it did not.’

  ‘Then where did it come from?’

  ‘It said that... it said that it been created by a race of powerful beings, that it had been encased within the ship, its artificial soul bound within a matrix that controlled the vessel.’

  ‘So you know that this artificial intelligence was not of divine origin?’ Rekkid pressed. ‘Why are there paintings of this vessel in your religious works? Surely it has some significance. What is it?’

  ‘You misunderstand... the beings who created it... what we saw when it led us through the Great Gate. They are the creators... if they are not gods, then...’ Ushild could feel his strength waning, his vision was becoming hazy. A cold sheen of sweat began to coat his leathery skin.

  ‘So your people went through the gate?’

  ‘Yes. The ship was successfully recovered and it showed us the location of the Great Gate, floating inert between the two suns. When we brought it close to the device it successfully reactivated it. When our people passed beyond, the knowledge that we uncovered there in that place turned everything that we had cherished on its head. Our entire religion, our entire sense of self was a lie. We were nothing more than puppets of these long vanished gods, for it was they who had moulded us from clay, not the pantheon of deities that we had worshipped for millennia.’

  ‘Who? Who were they?’

  ‘In time we learned their true name, but the ship told us the name that other races down the ages had bestowed upon them: The Progenitors.’

  Ushild gasped. It was a physical effort to stay conscious. A pain lanced his chest, growing steadily more acute. He struggled to breathe. Through fading vision he saw figures clustering around him, felt probes and tubes entering his body and heard muffled, urgent words in a language he couldn’t understand, translated tinnily into his own speech. They thought he was dying. Maybe he was. He didn’t care anymore.

  ‘Will he live?’ said Steelscale.

  Okanno sighed and scratched at the skin surrounding his head crest.

  ‘Too soon to tell,’ he replied. ‘We only have a rudimentary knowledge of his anatomy. He suffered a cardiac arrest in his secondary heart. We managed to repair the damage, I think. He needs to rest. No more interrogations for today.’

  ‘I wasn’t...’ Rekkid began. Then saw Okanno’s expression and thought better of it.

  ‘I’ll let you know if he’s ready to talk to you again,’ Okanno replied. ‘If he comes round again. I must insist that you deal with him more gently in future. Perhaps if Doctor O’Reilly were to question him?’

  ‘Fine,’ said Rekkid acidly, as Okanno left hurriedly. As the medic left the small chamber to which they had retired, away from the medical teams desperately trying to save Ushild, one of the Shining Glory’s drones entered smoothly and came to a halt in front of them.

  ‘The revelations of High Praetorian Ushild are most intriguing,’ said the ship, the head of its drone cocked like an attentive dog.

  ‘Yes they are,’ Rekkid replied testily. ‘Tell me, how did the pride of the Arkari Navy manage to miss a giant fucking wormhole portal sitting in the centre of the system!?’

  ‘Quite easily, as it happens,’ the drone replied. ‘The portal in this system does not appear to be particularly large. Certainly it is not on the scale of the device that was uncovered in the Fulan system. It would also appear to be no longer active and whatever material it is composed of, it is a
black body object and near invisible to my sensors. Indeed, I only succeeded in locating it by searching for gravitational anomalies around the central binary. As I suspected upon learning of its existence, the device lies in the common centre of gravity between the two stars. Even so, it was not easy to detect. Bear in mind that the Akkal failed to detect its presence for thousands of years. I have despatched recon craft to investigate.’

  As the drone spoke, it began to project an image taken from one of the fast moving vessels. The true colour image showed nothing but the blackness of space until the position of the camera moved and a slender, black bracelet was suddenly visible against the glare of one of the stars that formed the central binary. The drone froze the feed and zoomed in, then manipulated the image to make the device more visible. Comparison images also appeared, taken in various wavelengths. In most of these, the device was invisible unless it occluded a source of radiation. It emitted none of its own.

  ‘How big is that thing, exactly?’ said Katherine. ‘You said it was far smaller than the Maranos device.

  ‘By your reckoning: fifty point four kilometres in diameter, and barely a hundred metres deep. It is significantly smaller than the planet sized machine that we encountered previously. As I said, it is inactive, though there are no signs of any obvious damage.’

  ‘It was certainly active ten thousand years ago,’ Katherine replied. ‘If what Ushild is telling us is true.’

  ‘Yes indeed. However it is not responding to communication attempts either by the craft I have despatched or by myself. However, I think we can conclude that this device is the reason that Eonara brought us to this system. Perhaps if we can reactivate it, it may offer us a means of escape from this region of space and allow us to journey back to our home worlds. I think it is time to do so.’

  ‘But we’ve only just...’ Katherine began to protest.

  Steelscale cut her off. ‘The ship is correct. Academia and archaeological research are fascinating enough, but we need to face up to the fact that we are tens of thousands of light years from our homes and this may be our only chance of ever seeing them again. We should gather up what we can and leave this place. This world is long dead, but ours perhaps still live.’