Renegades (The Progenitor Trilogy, Book Two)

by Dan Worth

  ‘Is there a problem?’ rumbled Steelscale.

  ‘The Churchill, it’s powering its weapon systems. Primary, secondary and defensive armaments are all coming on line!’

  ‘Then we have nothing to worry about. They were expecting us. This is merely for our protection.’

  ‘Yes, but who else were they expecting!? That carrier could take down every ship around this port in minutes and that’s before she launches her squadrons! There, see! Two wings of Daemon class fighters have just left the bow catapults.’ He pointed at the cluster of new contacts streaking away from the Churchill.

  ‘Then we are in safe hands.’

  ‘Just who is after you Steelscale? Whoever they are, they seem to have the Navy pretty worked up.’

  ‘They are conscientious people, the Commonwealth Navy.’

  Isaacs could tell by Steelscale’s obtuse answers that he wasn’t going get any more out of the taciturn K’Soth. But who or what the hell could make a carrier crew so jumpy in the heart of Commonwealth space? Beta Hydri was one of the core systems of the Commonwealth. If anywhere was safe from alien attack, it was here. The fact the captain of the carrier he was about to dock with didn’t share this opinion did not fill him with confidence.

  He used the ship’s instruments to look closer at the Churchill. Not all of her turrets were pointing outwards. Several of the anti-fighter turrets were pointed directly at his ship. They alone would be enough to fry the Profit Margin should he make any false moves. They were also being heavily probed by the sensors of the larger vessel.

  The waypoints in Isaac’s HUD lead to the stern of the carrier, where the letterbox shape of the landing deck and its magnetic arrestor tunnel gaped into space, highlighted by an oblong of lights around its mouth.

  The Profit Margin approached and slowed, rotating so that its orientation matched the angle of the deck entrance. Within, winking lights strobed a path into the heart of the vessel as the freighter drifted slowly within the metal cavern, passing through the first of the series of fields that held the atmosphere within the vessel without the need for cumbersome mechanical doors. They drifted steadily onwards, down the metal walled tunnel as the small freighter slowed almost to a walking pace under the control of the carrier’s instructions to the autopilot.

  Now within the vessel’s internal hangar space and operating on anti-gravity within the Churchill’s artificial gravity field, the Profit Margin slipped sideways and settled quietly and carefully on a vacant patch of deck. With a sigh, Isaacs shut down the vessel and listened to the systems as they powered down.

  ‘Okay, well I’ll see if I can find someone on this ship who knows what’s going on.’ He began, and then looked at Steelscale. ‘You okay waiting here?’ he asked him and received a slow nod in reply.

  Isaacs unbuckled his restraints and made his way to the exit hatch behind the cockpit, leaving a brooding Steelscale in the cramped space. It took him a few moments to unlock the mechanical hatch and then activate it so that it folded down beneath the belly of the freighter with a mechanical whine and formed a steep set of steps down to the deck below. His joints creaking from prolonged sitting, he grabbed handrails on both sides of the newly formed exit and stepped backwards down the ladder. Reaching the deck he turned and found a military issue rail rifle pointed at his head.

  ‘Freeze,’ the deep voice boomed harsh and mechanical from the helmet of the rifle’s owner, a Special Forces Sergeant clad from head to foot in heavy combat armour. Isaacs looked and saw another half dozen similarly clad individuals all pointing their weapons at him.

  ‘What the fuck?’ he began, bewildered by the show of force.

  ‘Stay where you are. This is just a precaution, but if you make one false move it’ll be your last. Understand?’

  Isaacs nodded hurriedly. The Sergeant produced some sort of scanning device that he ran over Isaacs’ body, presumably to check for hidden weapons. Then he produced another device that – judging by its sleek appearance – seemed to be of Arkari manufacture. This, he pointed at Isaacs’ skull for a moment before looking at the results and pocketing the curious shiny gadget.

  ‘Okay, you’re clear. Squad, move into the ship and search by quarters. Scan anyone you find. You,’ he pointed Isaacs. ‘Who else was on that ship?’

  ‘About half a dozen K’Soth fugitives.’

  ‘How many exactly?’

  ‘Uh, seven.’

  ‘Cargo?’

  ‘Yeah, a big stasis container in the hold, you can’t miss it. There’s a body of another K’Soth inside.’

  ‘Very well. Thank you for your co-operation Captain Isaacs.’

  ‘Don’t mention it,’ Isaacs replied with a hint of sarcasm as the man finally lowered his weapon.

  There was an uneasy wait whilst the rest of the squad entered the ship. Isaacs eyed the Sergeant warily. Now that he looked properly at the man’s armour he didn’t see any of the usual Commonwealth Special Forces insignia on it. Both the Army and Marines had their own elite units whose insignia were well known through the various actions vids, holos and games that mythologized their exploits. This man’s armour carried no insignia save for those denoting his rank. There was no name on the breastplate either. That he was Special Forces was clear from his equipment, but other than that the man was anonymous beneath his armoured visor. Isaacs couldn’t recall seeing any Navy or Marine insignia on the hull of the carrier either, when he thought about it. Just what the hell was going on here?

  ‘Hey, uh Sergeant,’ began Isaacs casually. ‘What unit are you guys with?’ He received no answer. ‘It’s just that an old friend of mine is in the Marines. I kind of wondered if you’d maybe served in the same places during the war or… whatever.’ His sentence died in the face of the visor’s silent stare. ‘Don’t talk much do you?’ he added.

  There was sudden mechanical thud and then the whine of hydraulics as the Profit Margin’s cargo bays began to open. A broad section of the flattened underside of the craft began to lower on hydraulics, taking with it the mysterious casket that Steelscale had brought with him. Steelscale and his concubines stood solemnly around the black container, along with the other armoured humans, one of whom was obviously operating the cargo bay lift. There was a gentle thud and the hiss of the hydraulics as the lift made contact with the deck, then the assembled humans and K’Soth stepped off the lift. As the group began to make their way across the hangar area, Isaacs saw Steelscale look around at him and wink conspiratorially – a surprisingly human gesture.

  An automated cargo lifter approached on anti-grav motors and grabbed the casket gently in its mechanical arms before depositing it with care upon its broad flattened fore-section. Isaacs watched as the yellow, utilitarian device hummed slowly away across the deck with its cortege of humans and aliens. His roving eye noticed others approaching, a small human woman and an old male Arkari, both wearing the uniforms of their respective navies. They met the group of K’Soth and their human escorts. There was a brief exchange of words, which Isaacs was unable to overhear, then Steelscale and his family left with the Arkari. The woman approached Isaacs.

  As she crossed the deck towards him, Isaacs tried to size her up. Despite her diminutive stature, the uniformed woman had a presence that belied her physical size. She was good looking, he thought, and there was a purposeful air about her movements. Isaacs noticed the Admiral’s insignia on her chest with surprise. She seemed rather young to hold such a senior rank: he guessed her age at perhaps mid-thirties. Then he noticed the large swathe of ribbons under that insignia. Whoever she was, she had earned her position.

  ‘Captain Isaacs?’ she said.

  ‘That’s me,’ he replied uneasily.

  ‘Admiral Michelle Chen, Commonwealth Navy, Special Operations Command. It’s a pleasure.’ She stuck out her hand. Isaacs stared at it for a moment, and then shook it. Her grip was firm and businesslike. She bade the Sergeant to leave them. The armoured figure saluted quickly and went to join his men.

 
‘Uh likewise,’ Isaacs replied.

  ‘You’ve done an excellent job for us Captain,’ she continued. ‘Getting these fugitives out of Imperial space was a dangerous gamble for you. I see you ran into a little local trouble.’ She nodded at the Profit Margin and its mangled, blackened aft section.

  ‘Yeah, you could say that. Actually you could say that I got jumped by a War Temple and escaped due to what can only be described as a miracle…’

  ‘It wasn’t exactly a miracle Captain. Someone was watching your back for us. However I gather it was close run thing. You should be proud: your actions and piloting skills have served the Commonwealth well.’

  ‘Actually I was kind of in it for the money, and for the adventure of course. Uh, I had no idea I was working for you guys’ He tried to give her a winning smile. It didn’t seem to work.

  ‘Hmm, well I guess you have a business to run. Sorry for the confusion, but we prefer to work indirectly to minimise our exposure. Had you thought of joining up? We could use good pilots like you.’

  ‘Sorry,’ he replied. ‘Been there, done that, thanks. I flew bombers for a few years, but I couldn’t really stand the military life. I guess I don’t take orders well.’

  ‘Your profile said you were something of a loner. I take it that the freelancer life suits you then?’

  ‘Yeah, I like being my own boss… what profile?’

  Chen cast him an amused look. ‘What, do you think we’d honestly employ you on a mission like this without checking out your background? Captain, your naivety disappoints me.’

  ‘Huh. So you guys have all the dirt on me then?’

  ‘Some dirt. If there’d been too much, or perhaps the kind of dirt we didn’t like we wouldn’t have approached you, now would we?’

  ‘I suppose not.’

  ‘For what it’s worth, you seem trustworthy and loyal, though I suspect you’d hate to admit it. Even if you are a little rough around the edges.’

  Isaacs was suddenly aware of his rather dishevelled appearance. His oil and sweat stained flight gear, ragged at the seams and faded, suddenly felt scruffy under the piecing gaze of the smartly turned out Admiral. He realised he could use a shave too.

  As if sensing his thoughts she said: ‘Tell you what, why don’t you head on up to your quarters and have a shower, change of clothes etcetera and then we’ll discuss your payment.’

  ‘My quarters? I’d kind of hoped of getting underway as soon as possible, I need to see about getting the ship repaired and…’

  ‘I’m afraid it’s necessary that you remain aboard for a short while at least.’ Chen replied. As if in response to her words Isaacs felt the deck move imperceptibly beneath him as the carrier got underway. ‘We’ve assigned you quarters on deck ten. You should find them quite comfortable and the galley will quite happily supply you with meals if you like. Feel free to collect any belongings from your ship if you wish.’

  ‘Alright,’ he replied. ‘Guess I don’t have much of a choice do I?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘I hope the food’s improved since I was last on a Navy vessel.’

  ‘Not a lot. Come on, I’ll show you to your quarters.’

  Isaacs grabbed a change of clothes from the Profit Margin and followed Chen into the elevator and to his assigned quarters on deck ten. They were a lot more comfortable than he remembered from his days in the bomber squadron. Then, he had shared a tiny, sparse cubbyhole of a room with two other squadron mates. Here, he had decently sized, comfortably furnished quarters all to himself. A small porthole gave him a view along the port flank and of the ships bows. The structure of the vessel was invisible save for the glow of lights from a hundred similar apertures against the blackness of the hyperspace envelope as the ship jumped to god knows where.

  He showered, shaved and changed and ordered a fried breakfast from the ship’s galley – one of the perks of being a guest - and he had to admit that despite Chen’s claims the food had improved. It was at least recognisable. His belly full he laid on the bed for a while and let the tension and fatigue drain out of him as the ship hummed quietly around him. Suddenly aware of just how tired he was he felt his eyelids drooping.

  Isaacs jerked suddenly awake and looked at his watch. How long had he been asleep? He tried to remember what time it had been when he’d come aboard. Shit, it must have been at least eight hours ago. What the hell, he thought, at least he felt better for the sleep.

  Something was different. The ship’s sounds had changed. With a jolt he suddenly realised that they were no longer in hyperspace. The dull rumbling in the background was coming from the ship’s fusion engines, not the jump drive. They must have reached their destination, but where? He racked his brains and tried to work out how far a ship of this class could travel in eight hours or so and drew a blank. There were no systems close enough to the Beta Hydri system; the ship must still be in interstellar space. His head full of questions he rushed to the porthole and peered out at the velvety blackness of deep space and found that all but the brightest stars were invisible against the reflected glare of the internal lights against the glass.

  Isaacs dimmed the lights and returned to his peephole. He squinted at the patterns of stars and tried to orientate himself. Off the port side of the ship he could just about make out the bright blue-white speck that was the Luyten 97-12 system a few light years distant - a collection of rocky mining worlds huddled around its white dwarf star. Ahead and slightly to starboard a larger harsher point marked the Achernar system, the bright giant star and its grand assortment of exotically coloured gas giants and their strange life-bearing moons. Closer by; a scattering of dim red dwarf stars marked a cluster of mining colonies and industrial worlds.

  Where the hell were they? Isaacs did a quick reckoning exercise and worked out that they were in the middle of the area about twenty to twenty five light years south from Earth where the stars were more sparsely grouped. Despite still being in the heart of Commonwealth space they were, rather unusually, rather off the beaten track. The vast, distant clouds of stars, the inhabited worlds of man, stretched up and around on all sides.

  It was then that he saw it, as in a moment the glittering canvas rippled and twisted ahead of the Churchill. Another ship was jumping in ahead. This was a rendezvous, not a port of call.

  With a start he suddenly realised just how big the other vessel was. Though it was generally rather difficult to judge distances and size in space due to the lack of points of visual reference the newly arriving ship was quite obviously many times bigger than the carrier. It was an Arkari ship, a graceful, liquidly metallic form that lacked any visible means of propulsion save for the immense wings that stretched out from its elongated body, and it was truly vast.

  As the Churchill edged closer Isaacs realised that not only was the Arkari vessel many times bigger than the ship he was on, it was in all probability larger than most space-borne habitats that he had seen. The Arkari ship was above and slightly ahead of them now, its seamless, curving underbelly like the surface of some weird metallic moon hanging in the sky above them. He craned his neck to see upward and caught a glimpse of the Churchill’s running lights reflected in that concave mercury ocean.

  Isaacs realised now that the Arkari vessel’s size must be measured in tens if not hundreds of kilometres. He’d heard a few tall tales in his time from other captains and adventurers who claimed to have caught fleeting glimpses of such behemoth craft in remote regions of space, but they were generally regarded as myths or boasts at best. Now he was looking at one up close. Shit, if only he had some sort of camera on him he thought. He really wanted a picture of this thing, but Chen had been quite forcefully insistent that he was allowed no such equipment on board. Now he saw why.

  He gazed at the immense alien ship, awestruck. It was heart-breakingly beautiful, graceful and perfect in form. How could something so large move with such natural fluidity? It spoke volumes for the technological sophistication of the race who had built it: the Arkar
i, humanity’s greatest ally and one-time saviour. But Isaacs had heard other rumours about these fabled ships, that within their beautiful hulls they held the power to destroy worlds, to crush stars and pulverise entire fleets at a stroke. The latest rumour doing the rounds of the spaceports was that four of these leviathans had been present at the start of the war with the K’Soth, when all hell had broken loose around the border world of Maranos and something, it was also rumoured, had virtually wiped out an entire Commonwealth battle-group.

  As Isaacs watched, a portion of hull of the great ship parted as a gaping hole suddenly opened in the flawless material. The aperture at first appeared small, but as the Churchill approached it was clear that the hole was large enough to swallow the carrier whole.

  Now underneath the hole in the Arkari ship’s hull, the Churchill rose to meet the embrace of the other vessel. Metallic and crystalline walls enclosed the view as she was swallowed by the great craft. Isaacs peered upwards and around and took in the size of the internal space the ship now hung within. It was clear that it was a docking bay of immense size. Looking up he could see rank upon rank of Arkari destroyers and cruisers stored vertically above and around them like books on a shelf, linked by a spider’s web of delicate silver gantries and conduits. He knew for a fact that those destroyers were twice the size of this ship and individually more than a match for any human or K’Soth vessel. He was looking at an entire battle-fleet ready for deployment at a moment’s notice. If the two kilometre long Churchill was akin to a small city in space, the Arkari ship was more like an entire mobile nation geared up for war.

  As he watched, more glittering threads extruded themselves organically from the surrounding walls and walkways, smoothly probing inwards until they met power sockets and data relays on the exterior of the Churchill’s hull, whilst a thicker cable, Isaacs guessed it to be a docking tunnel, fastened itself to an airlock amidships like a leech latching onto its victim.

  At that moment the porthole suddenly became opaque and blocked his view. Isaacs swore loudly. Somebody must have realised that he was awake and had hurriedly tried to prevent him from seeing any more. He rushed to the console set into the room’s small desk and accessed it. Scrolling through the menus he found the option to choose views from the ship’s external cameras. He selected it and swore again as he found himself locked out. Still, he mused, he had seen enough to keep him in free drinks in space-port bars for a while, as long as anyone was prepared to believe him.