Progeny (The Progenitor Trilogy, Book Three) (4 page)

‘Twenty five kilometres!’ said Singh, now sounding much more agitated. 

‘Fire!’ snapped Chen.

The lights flickered for a moment, and then the ship lurched drunkenly to port.

‘That’s a miss!’ yelled Singh looking wildly at his console.  ‘Oh god, that thing’s still coming at us!’

‘Fuck!’ spat Chen.  ‘What happened?’

‘The recoil, our stabilising thrusters aren’t working properly! I don’t know I...’ babbled Goldstein.

Energy began to ripple across the bows of the massive Shaper craft as it bore down on them.

‘Shaper superdestroyer is preparing to fire at point blank range!’ cried Singh.  ‘Oh fucking hell!’

‘Helm, get us out of here!’ exclaimed Chen. ‘We need to withdraw!’

‘The other ships are under heavy attack!’ said Singh. ‘The
Nelson
is suffering severe damage to her starboard side. Two of her escort destroyers are already down!  The
Leonides’
weapon systems are offline. The
Dowding
is venting atmosphere from her hangar deck.’

‘Andrews, signal all ships: jump to the far side of the Moon.  We can re-group and counter attack from there.’

‘Three ships from the
Grant’s
escorts are out of action. Two have been destroyed. The crew of the
Lexington
are abandoning ship.  The
Grant’s
shields have collapsed!’

Chen felt panic rising in her as Singh’s litany of destruction continued. Everything was starting to fall apart.  Earth would be defenceless now if they failed...

‘Admiral, the jump drive is failing to engage!’ sobbed Goldstein as she fought with her controls. ‘She won’t respond!’

‘Our weapons are having little effect, Admiral,’ said Singh. ‘The shields on those Shaper vessels are just too strong...  Shaper superdestroyer is firing!’  There was a sudden jolt and then a sickening lurch to starboard.  ‘Our shields have gone offline again!’ he added and then he noticed new traces that appeared on his sensor display, massive vessels that had seemingly appeared from nowhere.  ‘Wait!’ he cried.  ‘I’m picking up other ships in the vicinity! They’re all around us!’

‘For god’s sake Mr Singh: what ships? How many!?’ yelled Chen in desperation as the
Churchill
shook heavily from more blows.

‘Over twenty, ma’am! They’re Nahabe vessels, gunsphere class... they’re firing on the Shapers!’ cried Singh, the relief clearly flooding into his voice.

The comm. came to life.   The voice that issued from it was clearly that of translation software, calm and emotionless.

‘This is the Order of Void Hunters to all Commonwealth vessels.  We come to your aid.  Leave the world killers to us and withdraw, we have negated their drive inhibitor field, jump away now!  Vengeance is required!’

‘Those are Nahabe ships, do as he says!’ said Chen, scarcely believing what she was hearing.

‘Where to, ma’am?’ replied Goldstein.

‘Wherever the hell the
Nimitz
and the
Marathon
went!  This isn’t over!’

‘Admiral,’ said Singh, ‘The
Nimitz
and
Marathon
groups are attacking Amazonia Port.’

Amazonia Port was one of four gigantic orbital spaceports in geostationary orbit above the Earth’s equator, linked to the ground below by the slender, shining threads of space elevators.  The five kilometre wide plate-like structures formed the main trade hubs within the Solar System and were still packed with tens of thousands of civilians desperately trying to reach the relative safety of the planet below them.

The
Churchill
had jumped clear of the battle, leaving the Shaper superdestroyer and its escorts to the mercy of the Nahabe fleet.  The other four carriers had also made it, though the
Grant
and the
Dowding
were both badly damaged along with the
Churchill.
Ten of the remaining escort vessels had failed to escape, the fate of several ships was as yet unclear. Chen’s HUD had come back online and was feeding her targeting data, whilst successive attempts had raised several of the bridge’s emergency shutters.

The remaining ships of Chen’s fleet emerged from their jump five hundred kilometres above Amazonia Port and witnessed a scene of devastation.  Hundreds of ships had still been in the vicinity of the port when the
Nimitz
and
Marathon
groups had emerged from hyperspace and had begun firing at anything in range.  The port, its dark disc outlined against the bright backdrop of Earth’s shining cloudscape, was surrounded by a gigantic spreading field of tumbling wreckage.  The
Marathon
group was closing with the station whilst the
Nimitz
group held position further away, facing outwards towards the oncoming threat.  The
Marathon’s
group were already firing on the orbital dock, picking off the scores of laser turrets and launchers dotted across its surface.

‘I’d say that they were trying to take the station,’ commented Singh. ‘It looks like the
Marathon
is moving in to begin a landing.  That must be why they’re taking down those defensive hard-points: none of them pose a threat to the warships - the port mainly uses them for targeting debris - but they could take down a landing force.’

‘I have to agree with you, Mr Singh,’ Chen replied, assessing the situation.

The comm. crackled into life.  It was the voice of a woman, panicked and desperate.

‘
Churchill
, this is Station Commander Mawson of Amazonia Port.  You have to stop those ships. We have thousands of civilians still aboard the station and we cannot evacuate them to the surface quickly enough. The space elevator just can’t handle that much traffic and any ships we launch will be shot down!’

‘Amazonia Port, this is Admiral Chen of the
Churchill
.  Hang in there a little longer. We’re going take these bastards down for you.  Your men should prepare to resist any attempted landing.’

‘We don’t have much: a few hundred security personnel.  We have no heavy weapons or military grade kit, just side-arms and body armour.  I doubt we’d last long against marines.’

‘Acknowledged, Amazonia. We’ll do what we can. 
Churchill
out,’ Chen replied, then turned to Andrews and added. ‘Signal to the
Leonides
and the
Nelson
that they and their escorts are to take out the
Nimitz
group and should attempt to draw their fire away from us.  The
Grant
and the
Dowding
are to remain with us. We need to take down the
Marathon.
’

‘Aye, Admiral,’ Andrews replied. ‘Transmission coming in from the Nahabe ships also, ma’am.  They have taken down the Shaper superdestroyer and have forced several others to flee. They are engaging the remainder of the ships.’

‘Excellent,’ replied Chen.  ‘Signal our thanks.’

As the
Leonides
and
Nelson
groups began to separate from the rest of the ships and start their flanking assault, Singh said:

‘Admiral, what do you think the renegades are attempting to achieve by this?  There are thousands of people on that station - do you think that they intend to implant them all?’

They were only two hundred or so kilometres from the port now, and the flashes of weapon impacts could be seen erupting from the upper surface of the structure.

‘No I don’t, I think that they intended to capture it and use it as a bridgehead.’

‘For what?  We’ve got them heavily outnumbered. They couldn’t possibly hold it now.’

The
Leonides
and the
Nelson
were firing on the
Nimitz
group.  Blinding bolts of plasma shot forth from the main guns of the loyalist vessels and struck the leading enemy warships as they closed the distance.  The
Nimitz
returned fire, striking the bows of the Titan class
Marlborough
and collapsing her forward shields.

Something wasn’t right.  Chen could feel it.  The enemy’s tactics made no military sense, unless...

‘Admiral, the
Marathon
is charging her main gun!’ cried Singh. ‘She’s preparing to fire on the port!’

‘No!’ cried Chen, in horror.  ‘Ahead full and engage that carrier with everything we have!’

‘It’s too late,’ replied Singh, aghast.  ‘God help them.’

Amazonia Port did not possess shields of the same strength as those of warships.  The port’s shields served only to protect it from micro meteorites and the occasional chunk of debris.  Against the onslaught from the renegade vessels, they provided no protection whatsoever.

The initial shot from the
Marathon’s
plasma cannon punched through the upper decks of Amazonia Port, smashed through docking bays filled with ships and continued downwards into the core of the station, into the departure lounges and concourses packed with panicked civilians awaiting a journey to the safety of the surface below them.  Hundreds died instantly, immolated by the boiling plasma. Hundreds more were sucked into the vacuum of space to die via the massive wound gouged into the heart of the port.  The blast emerged from the Earth-ward side of the structure, punching through the great transparent dome that looked down onto the planet below and collapsing the exclusive buildings that sat there amidst lush parkland as the atmosphere vented, howling, into space.  The rest of the
Marathon’s
group opened up next, the massive cutting lasers slung beneath the destroyers carving and slicing into the structure as dozens of particle beam cannons and kinetic missiles punched ragged holes into the outer skin.

The
Grant
and the
Dowding
were firing now, plasma bolts impacting the upper decks of the
Marathon,
collapsing the assault carrier’s rear and dorsal shielding as it rained death onto the port below it.  Chen’s ships were closing the range, trying to reach optimal firing distance and positions to bring their turrets to bear and for the
Churchill
to stand a chance of being able to use its spatial distortion cannon without hitting the port by accident.

‘Enemy ships are powering jump drives!’ Singh exclaimed.

‘No!’ cried Chen, fully aware what would happen next.

As one, the
Marathon
and its group engaged their jump drives under a kilometre from Amazonia Port.  Ships jumping together in close proximity synchronised their drives to create a shared hyperspace envelope.  However, the resulting space-time distortion from so many drives tearing a hole in the fabric of reality had immense destructive power, and so ships reached a safe distance from other vessels and space borne structures before doing so. Here, the hole that the renegade ships tore in the fabric of space-time also ripped through Amazonia Port, rending and twisting it as terrible, conflicting tidal forces tore through it.  Amazonia Port sagged visibly as its internal structure shuddered and distorted, and then the great space borne structure began to slowly break apart.  The interior of the port was now open to space in hundreds of different places as atmosphere, bodies and debris began to spill from its wounds and life-rafts began to fall like autumn leaves.  Further out, the
Nimitz
group now also jumped clear from the clutches of the
Leonides
and the
Nelson.

Chen and her crew watched in mute horror as the distress signals poured in.

Singh broke the silence.

‘Admiral, what shall we do?  Shall we pursue the remnants of the renegade fleet?’

‘No,’ replied Chen, quietly.  ‘There’ll be time enough for that.  Signal all ships, we have to get as many people off the port as we can.  Medical teams are to stand by for massive casualties.’

She was still alive, thought Chen.  At least that was something.

Chapter 3

The
Shining Glory
floated, dead in space, her once gleaming hull battered and blackened by tremendous forces.  Her wings were still, their trailing edges torn and perforated.  Her graceful tail was truncated, the end sheared off.  The delicate curve of her gorgeous hull was scarred in a dozen places by weapons fire.  She rolled slowly end over end, gleaming dully in the starlight, a mangled, broken thing.  Yet within the battered ship, there was still life.

She was in total darkness.  It was utterly black.  Katherine floated freely in zero gravity against the crash restraints that had grown out of her chair after the warship’s first wild jump away from the exploding portal.  The
Shining Glory
had jumped again and again, and then after a particularly short and violent jump she had lost all power. 

Katherine’s hair floated upwards into her face and mouth.  She brushed it away.  The darkness was filled with panicked cries in Arkari.  Her left hand still tightly held that of her friend and colleague, Rekkid Cor.  She could feel his leathery skin in her grip.  Her stomach lurched. The ship was rolling forwards, sickeningly.

‘Rekkid?’ she said.

‘I’m still here,’ he replied, his voice a little shaky.

‘What the hell do we do now?  Where are we?’

‘I think,’ Rekkid replied slowly, ‘that we are up a certain creek without a certain boating implement.  This can’t be good - the ship must have lost all power.  Mentith!’ he cried out.

‘Over here, Professor,’ came the answer out of the darkness from the gruff, aged War Marshal.

‘What just happened?’

‘Eonara used the
Glory
to destroy the Shapers’ wormhole portal and after that we jumped and...’ Mentith sighed.

‘So you know about as much as we do.’

‘Yes, I’m afraid so.  It may be stating the obvious but primary, secondary and tertiary power supplies are offline.  The ship is completely dead in space.  I have no idea where we were when we lost power, but it seems that our initial jump was far from normal.’