Progeny (The Progenitor Trilogy, Book Three)

by Worth, Dan

  Isaacs was jolted back into reality and realised that he was hyperventilating. He looked around at the others and saw his own horrified expression reflected back at him.

  ‘What the hell just happened?’ said Anna, weakly. ‘Did you just see...? God, it was horrible.’

  Isaacs nodded wearily.

  ‘I think it was just curious about us,’ said Steven. ‘Thankfully, we don’t seem to have been interesting enough to hold its attention. Those images that it was projecting seemed real enough, though. God know what we might be heading into.’

  The massive vessel steadily slipped behind them. All the while, the guns of the defensive fleet around it remained firmly trained on the Profit Margin. Orinoco filled their forward vision. Below them, the dark smudge of Bolivar City could just be made out against the landscape as it sprawled against the coastline. The Profit Margin began to reduce its speed as it entered the landing pattern and spiral down to the spaceport, orientating itself to enter the atmosphere tail down in an aero-braking manoeuvre. Gradually, the shields began to glow faintly from the friction with the thickening gases.

  ‘Any moment now...’ muttered Steven. ‘Any moment...’

  ‘New contact! Right behind us!’ cried Anna. ‘It’s the Uncaring Cosmos, right on schedule. She’s firing on the lower sentry vessels!’

  ‘Break out of the landing pattern!’ cried Steven. ‘Cal, you need to do it now!’

  ‘Easier said than done,’ muttered Isaacs, taking over control of his vessel once more. ‘We’re in the middle of an atmospheric descent. Hang on...’

  Grabbing the controls, he gunned the engines, throwing the ship forwards and out of its tail down descent. The ship was now ascending again. Isaacs pushed the nose down and continued to accelerate until the ship was standing on its head and heading straight for the city below. Above, just beyond the reaches of the atmosphere, the Uncaring Cosmos had engaged two former Commonwealth destroyers. Brilliant beams of energy lashed out from the gunsphere, raking the flanks of both enemy craft with punishing fire as the other ships sought to engage this new threat that had appeared in their midst. Shaper craft, detecting the Nahabe vessel as it had made its final approach, were already inbound. Their ghostly shapes were already emerging on all sides as one of the renegade destroyers exploded amidships in a wash of energy and radiation.

  With the chaos unfolding in the space above Bolivar City, local traffic control and air and space defences were suddenly thrown into disarray. It was just the sort of opening that the Uncaring Cosmos had been intending to create. With its shields glowing white hot, the Profit Margin descended like a meteor.

  ‘Jesus, Cal. What the fuck are you doing!?’ cried Anna, as the city below rose up to greet them with worrying speed.

  ‘We need to get as low as possible, get beneath the view of the tracking arrays.’

  ‘Does that involve making a hole in the fucking ground to evade capture!?’

  ‘Now who needs to relax? Relax, I did drop-ship pilot training back in the Navy.’

  ‘And how long ago was that?’

  ‘Oh, at least fifteen years. Don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll all come back to me.’

  Anna simply stared back at him in mute terror as the altitude reading on the HUD continued to reduce at alarming speed and Bolivar City grew ever larger in her vision. As the ship plunged through the ten thousand metre mark, Isaacs eased back the throttle and deployed the vessel’s airbrakes and retros. He hauled back on the controls, attempting to pull the ship’s nose up and out of the death dive. It didn’t seem to Anna to be making much difference - they were still plunging towards the ground at an alarming rate.

  Above, the Shaper vessels were closing in on the Uncaring Cosmos, who had been making their own observations of the enormous Shaper craft amid the storm of the battle. The Nahabe vessel began to move before the trap could be closed, powering off across the upper edge of the atmosphere with half a dozen Shaper craft in pursuit. The bright beams of energy weapons flickered between the Nahabe ship and its pursuers as it attempted to flee.

  In desperation, Isaacs opened up the ship’s braking thrusters to maximum and used the Profit Margin’s manoeuvring thrusters to haul her nose out of the dive. She was still falling, but now her nose was at least pointing in the right direction. Pushing the main engines to full again, he attempted to spur the craft forwards and gain lift, as the Profit Margin, now vibrating violently from the buffeting caused by the thickening atmosphere and her improper entry angle, still fell like a stone to the ground below. As Isaacs pulled the nose above the horizon, his eyes registered the altimeter falling through five thousand metres. The nose rose higher and higher until the ship was standing on top of a pillar of blue-white fire, shaking violently from the descent. Three thousand metres, and gradually her descent began to slow. Two thousand metres, and Anna could clearly make out vehicles in the streets below, towards which they were still descending rapidly. One thousand metres, and Isaacs began to bring the nose down. Anna looked and saw that they had stopped falling for a moment and were flying level, before Isaacs pitched the nose forward again.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’ she cried.

  ‘When I said low, I meant low,’ he answered grimly. ‘I need to get down to tree top height so they can’t make us out so easily against all the background clutter.’ He glanced at the navicomp display, and checked the waypoint for the Hidden Hand base that he had entered earlier, and then pulled the ship around in an arc to its new heading. ‘Anything following us?’ he said, not taking his eyes off the view ahead.

  Anna glanced out of the window for a second and saw buildings and trees whipping by mere tens of metres below them at sickening velocity, before hurriedly turning her attention to the ship’s scanners.

  ‘Nothing so far,’ she reported. ‘Traffic Control have sent out an alert for a missing ship matching our description, but they haven’t spotted us. Given the fact that anyone not deaf or blind within a hundred kilometres will have witnessed us fall out of the sky just now though, I don’t think it’ll take them long.’

  ‘Then we’ll have to be quick about it, won’t we? What’s the status of the Uncaring Cosmos?’

  ‘She’s jumped away, I think. Shaper ships were in pursuit. Hopefully the Nahabes’ better instruments let them get a better look at that massive ship than we did. Still, we ought to get what data we managed to gather on it back to the Commonwealth.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Steven. ‘I’ll start sending the data we got from the sensors. It makes sense to do it before we land at the Hidden Hand base in case the Shapers manage to triangulate the transmission.’

  ‘Do it,’ said Isaacs. ‘We should there before too long.’

  ‘Will do,’ said Steven, getting up from his seat and turning to go aft. As he did so, he glanced outside at the rushing landscape, which even now was becoming an undulating carpet of tropical forest. ‘Does this ship have any terrain avoidance systems built in?’ he said, noting just how close they were to the treetops.

  ‘Yeah, it does: me,’ said Isaacs. ‘I try not to fly into things.’

  Deep in the jungle, the Profit Margin settled gently into a clearing in the trees that lay at the base of a jagged cliff face. By the time the engines had been shut down and her weary crew had emerged, looking a little worse for wear, teams were already rushing to tow the ship away into a hangar concealed within the base of the cliff with the aid of tractors more used to pulling farm machinery than spacecraft. Isaacs watched the commotion as his beloved craft was hauled away without ceremony towards a pair of armoured doors that had been cunningly disguised to resemble the surrounding rock and whose insulated surfaces would help to conceal the presence of the base in other wavelengths. Others then came with rakes and shovels to cover the tracks left in the dirt by the vessel’s landing gear. A couple of the women who had been overseeing the operation stepped forward. Isaacs recognised one immediately as she strolled forwards with an easy confidence. The other moved more stiffl
y, as though she had military bearing. He didn’t recognise her from the Hidden Hand’s former base, Port Royal.

  ‘Maria, good to see you,’ said Isaacs.

  ‘You too, Cal, Anna. Still in one piece I see?’

  ‘Just about,’ Anna replied. ‘Cal got us here, right under the noses of the enemy. As far as we know, we weren’t followed, but our failure to arrive at the spaceport has been noticed. They’ll be looking for us.’

  ‘Good. And who’s this fine looking man you’ve brought with you?’ said Maria, nodding her head of cornrows at Steven. ‘He looks dangerous.’

  ‘Steven Harris, I’m one of the good guys.’

  ‘Yeah? Something about you says that you’re a bad boy when you need to be,’ said Maria with narrowed eyes.

  ‘I can handle myself.’

  ‘You CIB?’

  ‘Used to be. Now I work for someone else. If you don’t mind me asking, who is your colleague?’

  ‘She’s Commonwealth Navy,’ said Maria. ‘Strange days indeed for the Hidden Hand when we got Navy and Secret Service in our ranks.’

  The woman stepped forward and extended a hand towards Steven. She was tall and wiry, with collar length dark hair and intelligent eyes. Steven placed her age at about forty.

  ‘Agent Harris. The Nahabe told me to expect you. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Commander Jane Baldwin, the former XO of the Abraham Lincoln. Please, come inside. We need to get under cover quickly in case they come looking for you. Also, we have a lot to talk about.’

  Chapter 35

  As night descended, Cox looked up from the balcony of the Governor’s former home, now Morgan’s Presidential Residence, and picked out the shape of the vast Shaper ship against the stars. Finally, it had arrived. He had grown tired of waiting. The Commonwealth should belong to the Shapers by now, and so – soon - it would. Chen’s defeat of his forces in the Solar System had been an unexpected set back, one that still rankled. The man Cox had once been distrusted Chen, since she was a protégé of Admiral Haines, but the being that now occupied his body saw her rather differently. Chen had impressed it. Her fighting spirit and her sheer tenacity in the face of enormous odds were worthy of grudging respect, even though she was a member of that lowly species, humanity.

  It wouldn’t help her. Chen might have defeated him once, but soon he would have near-limitless resources at his command. The gigantic ship in the sky above would soon see to that. He could feel it calling to him, feel himself sinking back into the greater whole. The link between them resonated with the flow of data from the Shaper consciousness and the link between the vessel and the Singularity was far stronger than he had been able to manage on his own. Now he felt its loving embrace once more, felt it strengthen him, focus him. The residual personality of the man that had been Admiral Cox began to recede beneath the Shaper organism’s implacable will.

  He allowed his consciousness to spread out along the communication pathways that led out, across the gulfs of hyperspace, to the myriad ships that wer scattered across the worlds of man. His reach spread like a vast hand, the fingers brushing against star systems, the ships and agents within twinkling like brilliant stars. Here, a squadron of scout vessels moving like a school of bright fish in the deep. Here, an agent lurking in the bustle of a great city, the skies above stacked with ships waiting to depart. Here; another occupying the mind of a dull witted bureaucrat who had risen to elected office in order to represent the people of his system, and who had fallen easily into Cox’s trap. Another here; spreading lies and hatred of the government on Earth through broadcasts filled with bile and half-truths, swaying the public towards the new regime and here; swarms of lesser parasites did the bidding of their masters, the bodies of those they inhabited moving like regimented puppets, the minds of the hosts still horribly conscious as they dragged away more bodies in the night to be implanted, to become like them, to serve the Shapers. Humans were such pathetic creatures, little more than stupid cattle who could be so easily led, Cox mused. Take over their leaders and those who fed them their ill informed opinions and the rest would easily fall into line. Take over their military as well and those who didn’t comply could be crushed. It was so much simpler than trying to assimilate their teeming billions. Humans would happily enslave themselves if you let them.

  Cox reached out still further and saw a disturbance in hyperspace, hundreds of ships in transit from what remained of the Commonwealth. As yet, he could not determine their exact destinations. He wondered if Chen was among them. He would relish the chance to face her again. A worthy opponent was so difficult to find in this galaxy, and when he had defeated her, his masters would enjoy devouring her mind and sucking on its secrets, and he would enjoy watching her scream.

  He sent commands to his scattered forces, recalling some ships from more distant postings, ordering others to move to stand-by positions until he could be sure where the Commonwealth ships were heading. The Shaper consciousness offered up tactical solutions, possible targets, systems of interest to the enemy. Cox sifted the data and pondered his opponents’ actions.

  Above, there was a glimmer of light in the sky, a brief glow that illuminated the tops of the clouds. Cox allowed his view to switch to the vast ship above him and saw to his satisfaction that the first of the asteroids had arrived. His vessels had been scouring the system, searching out metal rich asteroids and shattering them into smaller chunks with their weapons so that they could be moved. Dragging their loads with them, they had returned, and were now feeding their catches into the waiting ship, where the rocks would be broken down, their minerals purified and recombined and then the ship would start to build the instrument of the Commonwealth’s final destruction.

  He was but a faithful servant. His masters were pleased. They had enjoyed feeding on Haines’s mind, assimilated the tactical guile and strategic acumen that the man had accumulated over his lifetime. All knowledge strengthened the Shaper whole. Haines the man was little use to them now, although they had been greatly amused at Morgan’s suggestion that he be spared, and then executed as a war criminal. The irony was not lost on them, it seemed, and perhaps he would be of use to them after all. They had decided against implanting him with another agent, like the creature that now inhabited Cox. For Haines to switch sides so readily would not be plausible. No-one in the Commonwealth would believe it, such was the man’s reputation. Instead, they would try to destroy that reputation and then dispose of him, just in time for the Commonwealth that he had fought to defend to be destroyed along with him.

  It was utterly dark in the cell. Haines’ world had been reduced to one of touch only: the rough surface of the concrete floor, the glossy coolness of the painted walls. He had lost all sense of time, had no idea now how long he had been down here. Occasionally the door was flung open and rations were placed on the floor in front of him. It was the only time he ever saw light. Down here he could not tell whether it was day or night. At first he had begun to try to build some sort of routine around these visitations, but after a while he suspected that they lacked any sort of rhythm and that perhaps his captors were attempting to confuse his body still further with random behaviour and lack of routine.

  After the guards had departed, he would sit and eat the bland food with his hands, in the dark. At first he had spilled much of it, but after a while he learned to eat slowly and carefully in the darkness, as a blind man would, using his fingers to find the edges of the food tray and, after locating its contents, place the morsels into his mouth. Drinking was the hardest. Finding the beaker of water and drinking from it required some practice, but after a few attempts he could manage it without spilling too much.

  The biggest challenge was that of keeping himself sane. He began to live inside his head, tell himself stories, recall things that had happened to him in the past or construct imaginary vistas where he could retreat to and which he used both to exercise his mental faculties and to stave off the effects of the sensory deprivation, fear and mind-numbing bore
dom from being locked in a pitch black cell for who knew how long.

  There had been no more beatings since the Shaper had invaded his mind. He supposed that there wasn’t much point in them bothering, since the creatures now knew as much about him as he knew himself. The memory of that swarm enveloping his skull and entering his mind still made him shiver with revulsion. The cold, clinical touch of those thousands of crawling, cybernetic things as they scuttled across his face, into his eye sockets, god, even into his brain... He had blacked out after a few minutes, coming to in the cell afterwards, caked in his own vomit, but miraculously still alive, for now at least. He wondered what the Shapers really wanted with him. They hadn’t killed him, they hadn’t implanted him and any secrets that they could have got from him, they could easily have got from Morgan if they had just asked him. The man outranked him after all. Perhaps somehow they had absorbed and copied something of him, his abilities perhaps? It made his skin crawl to think that there might be a copy of his mind; his personality, his innermost thoughts, somewhere in the vast data streams of the Shaper collective consciousness, for them to prod and poke and experiment on at their leisure. Was it/he conscious in some way? Did it/he know what was happening to it at the hands of an implacable alien consciousness?

  He pondered his current ignominious situation. In the end, the Shapers had defeated him. So much for his reputation. They had outgunned and outfought him, and when he had survived, they had exploited the one thing that he had thought he could rely on - the people under his command – and used it to capture him and the others in his ragged band of survivors. He wondered whether there were still others out there right now in the jungle, running and hiding from the enemy and living off what they could forage, a guerrilla army continuing what he could not and planning his rescue. Perhaps, he reflected glumly, it was a false hope. He would most likely die here, or be hauled out and executed in a similarly blank room after being forced to confess to whatever trumped up charges the creature inhabiting what had once been Admiral Cox could think up in order to humiliate and demonise him in front of the people of this new puppet regime of the Shapers. Whatever they did to him, he wasn’t going to beg for his life. He had no intention of giving the bastards the satisfaction. Whatever happened, he would never surrender to them. He allowed himself a broad smile. They would never break him, and thus, they could never completely beat him. In the darkness, Haines started to laugh.