Exiles (The Progenitor Trilogy, Book One)

by Dan Worth

  Two days previously, whilst Steven was preparing his findings for submission, the resistance seized Highpoint. Realising that they couldn’t destroy the station without inflicting massive casualties on themselves and their fellow Vendiri in the station, they had turned to passive resistance to block the flow of goods through the station. Hopefully such an action would attract enough attention to their plight as well as stopping the delivery of the Pollen. Khonsari officials fled the facility in emergency escape pods, and plotted their next move in secret.

  Steven was well aware of the hard line attitudes that now prevailed in government. They placed the economic interests of the Commonwealth above all else as a matter of course. In the period of rebuilding since the war with the K’Soth, the government had been far more lenient with regard to monitoring the practices of the corporations if it meant greater revenue, and hence greater prosperity.

  Fifty years previously, the war had caused immense damage to the economic heart of the Commonwealth as K’Soth war fleets had roamed virtually unopposed into the very core of human space until at the last they had been turned back by the timely intervention of the Arkari. Cities, even whole planetary surfaces, had been devastated. The Commonwealth Navy had been reduced almost to the last ship and countless numbers of trading vessels had been caught up in the fighting and destroyed. The cost in lives was still unknown. Human losses alone were conservatively placed in the tens of millions

  The emphasis since the war had been on rebuilding, regeneration and re-arming, all of which required vast resources and capital if the continued threat from that belligerent species was to be countered. The vast military-industrial complex of the Commonwealth looked to the Human colonies and to the Commonwealth’s alien trading partners for revenue. This was fine for some. Advanced space-faring races such as the Xeelin and the Hyrdians who held sway over several dozen systems in their own right, were considered as allies against the K’Soth. They actually benefited from this boost in trade and also from the revitalisation of the Commonwealth Navy who once more patrolled the shipping lanes allowing traders of all races to go about their business in safety.

  However in the case of the less advanced and more easily exploitable species the partnership was far more unequal. They were now treated less like trading partners, and more like colonial possessions as unfettered capitalism worked unchecked to exploit them.

  Nevertheless, even most rabid free market economist could hardly condone the actions that Khonsari were about to undertake, and indeed had undertaken on Urranakar. Khonsari’s actions had resulted in the loss of the planet to Commonwealth interests and on top of the devastation of the populace were about to result in a further bloodbath. Steven grimly reminded himself that a number of key politicians in government were Khonsari shareholders or had other dealings with the company, but even they would likely distance themselves once its actions were made public. In the meantime he needed to prevent Khonsari from ordering the storming of the orbital station.

  Steven reached the spaceport, now largely deserted save for a skeleton staff and corporate security personnel. He passed through security and made his way via the automated train system to the pad where his ship lay berthed. Disembarking he stepped back out into cool night air and stood before its sleek white form that shone dully in the double moonlight. Looking up at the clearing sky he spotted the bright, artificial star of Highpoint Station as it climbed rapidly in the night sky. A cluster of other pinpricks were just visible at the edge of vision, freighters that lay at anchor in its gravitational wake. One in particular shone brighter than the others. The warship he had requested to blockade the station had arrived. Moments later, the Little Devil left the pad at Guran spaceport and rose to meet the cluster of man-made stars.

  Two hours later and Steven’s plan had been turned on its head. Outside the cockpit windows of the Little Devil, Highpoint Station spun lazily above the blue-green of Urranakar, its five kilometre diameter dwarfing the ships that moved about its vast glittering form. One in particular was much larger than the others; the slab-sided, armoured form of a Commonwealth warship.

  Steven watched in despair as the standoff between the destroyer Mark Antony and the protestors aboard the station intensified. Instead of defending the station as he had hoped, her captain had taken the belligerent view that the Vendiri must stand down and allow the port to re-open. The Vendiri had immediately viewed the arrival of the warship as proof that the Commonwealth had come to suppress their revolution with overwhelming force and could not be convinced otherwise. Neither seemed prepared to give ground. Moreover, the captain of the vessel was not returning his calls any more after a heated exchange between them when he had first arrived.

  Steven cursed his luck. Of all the starship captains in the Commonwealth Navy, they had to send her. Michelle Chen: the woman he had once been engaged to, back when he was younger and more foolish. She was one to bear a grudge alright. Ten years on and her manner told him without a doubt that she still hadn’t forgiven him for calling it off.

  The Mark Antony was a fearsome ship. She was a Titan class destroyer, constructed according to the post-war doctrine that all naval vessels should able to engage forces of numerical superiority to counter the vast fleets that the K’Soth possessed. She had a crew of two hundred and fifty and was almost half a kilometre long. The flattened wedge of her nose was pitted with torpedo tubes and manoeuvring thrusters. A bulky armoured midsection comprised the bridge, fire control, navigation and accommodation, and at the rear a large boxy structure contained the fusion engines and jump drive. Stretching between the midsection and the nose to the front and the engines to the back were the gun decks, long flat plains of metal upon which were placed the ship’s main armaments - laser cannons, missile batteries and particle beam cannons mounted in flattened domed cupolas. In addition, the surface of the destroyer was studded with numerous small rapid firing laser turrets that were designed to engage small fighters and incoming projectiles at close range. The ship also carried an enormous cutting beam for slicing the hulls of enemy vessels at close quarters. It was slung below the ship at the apex of two triangular keels that projected downward from the midsection until they joined at the tip and formed the outer walls of the shuttle bay.

  Now the Mark Antony held station two kilometres from the occupied station. As a display of naked power it was impressive, but its presence was not conducive to reasonable negotiation.

  Captain Michelle Chen sat in her chair on the Mark Antony’s bridge and stared balefully at the cartwheel shape of Highpoint Station as it sparkled in the sunlight. The habitation ring was clearly visible as a halo of blues, greens and shining metal rotating about a central hub that contained the docking ports where the bulk of the protestors had assembled in order to shut down the station to trade. Her HUD monocle overlaid a pattern of data that appeared from her perspective to float in front of the bridge windows, highlighting the station and other vessels for her with identity tags and velocity data.

  She hadn’t the patience for negotiations such as this and she was painfully aware that the standoff was being witnessed by a scattering of other vessels, most of whom were impatiently awaiting the station to be cleared so that they could dock. She resented having an audience. Chen turned to her communications officer.

  ‘Ensign, put me through to the station again.’

  ‘Yes Captain.’

  ‘I want to try and impress on that rabble the severity of their current situation.’

  An image from inside the station seemed to spring into the space in front of her. It was of course an illusion, a virtual projection facilitated by the HUD monocle she wore. It showed a youthful Vendiri amid a crowd of others, who were chanting, singing and waving a number of gaudy banners, though despite the reports she had received of armed insurrection on the planet’s surface they appeared to be unarmed. The view was shaky, as if the camera was being held up by hand and its user jostled by the press of bodies. An icon appeared in the top right hand c
orner of the display window indicating that a translation program was in operation.

  ‘This is Captain Michelle Chen of the Commonwealth ship Mark Antony,’ she snapped. ‘I say again, you have illegally seized property belonging to the Khonsari Mining Company. If you do not surrender Highpoint Station willingly we will be forced to retake it via force. I have two shuttles full of marines fuelled and ready; do not force me to deploy them.’

  ‘I’m sorry Captain, but we can do no such thing,’ the Vendiri shot back, his lips moving out of sync with the speech that came from the comm. unit as the translation program did its work. ‘We have taken this action in order to protect our civilisation from further damage. Khonsari has pillaged our planet and poisoned our people. Now we hear of an army of hired thugs that has been sent to oppress us. Surely you must agree that their actions are unacceptable even by your standards.’

  ‘Duly noted, investigations are already underway. But you must vacate the station and allow traffic to pass freely to and from this facility.’

  ‘No, not until we get clear guarantees that no further troops will be deployed and we see you do something about those criminals and put a stop to all deliveries of the Pollen.’

  The image clicked off. Chen swore under her breath.

  ‘Captain there’s a radio message for you,’ said the comms officer. ‘It’s Agent Harris again.’

  ‘Tell him to go to hell, that’s the sixth time he’s tried to contact us since our last conversation. I’m not putting up with his abuse again.’

  ‘He apologises Captain. He says he has to speak with you. He says it’s important’

  ‘Very well, put him through,’ she replied with annoyance. Chen could see Harris’s vessel to the extreme left of her view from the bridge. She shot it an angry glance. His face appeared on her display.

  ‘Agent Harris, I do hope you’ve calmed down now,’ she sneered. ‘After fifteen years I had hoped we could have a civilised conversation. I don’t take kindly to being called a… what was it…a “mindless drone” in front of my crew.’

  ‘Look Michelle…’

  ‘I prefer Captain Chen, Agent Harris’

  ‘Captain, you have to hear me out. I’ve been down on the planet and it’s a real mess down there. Khonsari’s actions have destroyed these people and their society; they’ve been putting down the rebellion with mercenaries for God’s sake! Can’t you at least hear the protestors out, or give them some sort of guarantee that none of the ships en route will be allowed anywhere near the planet.’

  But she wasn’t listening.

  ‘If the population of Urranakar had a problem they should have lodged it with the relevant government authorities. The Commonwealth does not condone acts of terrorism.’ said Chen glibly.

  ‘Terrorism? Please. These people are desperate and acting in self defence against an overwhelming aggressor. I called you here in the hope that further bloodshed could be avoided, but I see you’re as blindly militaristic as ever. Heaven forefend that you should ever think for yourself.’

  ‘Sarcasm will get you nowhere Agent Harris. Khonsari will be dealt with via the proper legal channels and in the mean time I intend to retake Highpoint Station one way or another. The Commonwealth will not tolerate insurrections of this nature that threaten its interests or those of its allies. We have already received additional intelligence reports to your own that suggest that the Vendiri have been assisted by alien powers hostile to the Commonwealth. Chen out.’

  Steven swore and switched off the comm. She wasn’t going to back down, maybe he should contact the protestors and warn them in case they hadn’t realised it yet. He fiddled with the comm.’s controls and aimed a tight beam transmission at the station. A Vendiri appeared on the screen, the same one who had just been talking with Chen.

  ‘Can I help you?’ he said.

  ‘My name is Steven Harris. I’m a Commonwealth intelligence agent.’

  ‘A spy?’

  ‘Yes, since you put it like that,’ he saw the Vendiri’s expression darken and tried to allay his fear. ‘Please, you have to hear me out. I’ve been down on your planet; I’ve seen the conditions down there. Despite whom I work for I agree with your cause, but you have to leave the station. I know Captain Chen rather well and she isn’t bluffing. She will use force to retake the station. Some of you could die.’

  ‘Agent ah… Harris. I do not fear that possibility. Those of us who die or who are imprisoned shall become martyrs to our cause. Do you know nothing of your own history, of what happened when oppressive rulers attempted to quell uprisings with the use of violence?’ Steven nodded. ‘I am well educated and I have taken time to study something of human culture in order to know my enemy. Let me draw an analogy: killing revolutionaries is like fighting the Hydra of Greek myth. You cut off one head and two will sprout to take its place. Captain Chen cannot win this day whatever she decides to do if we hold firm. Even if Khonsari succeed in landing their troops here we will deal with them one way or another eventually. I appreciate your concern Agent Harris, but do not worry about us,’ the Vendiri ended the call. The comm. immediately sprang into life again, it was Chen.

  ‘We just monitored you making a tight beam transmission to the station. How dare you attempt to intervene in this situation and attempt to override me! I am in command here! I would have thought that you were in enough trouble already Agent Harris, but it seems you just don’t know when to stop do you?’

  ‘I was trying to bring this situation to a peaceful resolution, before you send your attack dogs in Captain. Harris out.’

  ‘How dare you…’

  Steven cut the link. He glanced idly at one of the monitors on the console that was displaying a zoomed in image of the station hub. Something was moving on its surface, a Vendiri figure in a space-suit, lugging a large object.

  Mittu Voreethi-Chal struggled across the surface of the docking hub, the package strapped across the back of his suit making his movements difficult as he tried to suppress the grief that was clouding his vision with tears. He had to do this right. He’d only get one chance to show those alien bastards what he thought of them.

  The truth was that he hadn’t always hated the Humans. They’d given him a good job in the docks at Highpoint, working to load and unload the cargo vessels that came and went almost constantly and they paid well. When the Pollen had arrived he’d thought nothing of it: another stupid craze amongst young Vendiri who should know better. He continued to unload it from the incoming freighters like any other cargo, until the effects of the Pollen became apparent and he began to feel a little uneasy about handing the stuff.

  It was the deaths of two of his brood siblings from the Pollen that shattered Mittu’s world. His two sisters had been reduced to drooling mental cripples before they died, and Mittu felt responsible. After all, he had helped to ship the stuff down to the planet so that they could buy it.

  When the resistance reached his province he gladly joined. He wanted to make amends and hit back at the Commonwealth. He wanted blood, human blood. Two week later, when the plan to seize Highpoint was hatched he eagerly participated. The other resistance members gladly let him come: as a former employee at the station he was able to provide them with an accurate layout and a plan for seizing it quickly. However Mittu had his own agenda.

  His experience at the docks meant that he knew when and where various cargoes would arrive and where they would be stored before distribution to the planet below. Furthermore, he knew where within the station the secure cargo holds were located that were used for storing shipments of weapons, demolition explosives and other hazardous items. The confusion caused by the attempted seizure of the facility had allowed him to steal a particularly deadly model of armour piercing missile, such as the mercenaries had been using against entrenched Vendiri positions, and conceal it in a little used storage compartment. All Mittu needed now was a suitable target to use it on.

  When the Mark Antony arrived he thought he had hit the jackpot. The en
ormous vessel was parked a mere two kilometres from the station and its shields were inactive. Mittu had grown used to starship technology during his time working the Highpoint docks. He noticed that the light blue haze that should have surrounded the vessel was absent. Mittu guessed that the defence turrets might be off-line too as they all appeared to be locked into the stowed position. The destroyer’s captain was obviously over confident that they were safe from attack. He’d show them otherwise. From this range the Mark Antony was an unmissable target.

  Mittu had scrambled on the outer skin of the station hub and had magnetically clamped his suit to the surface to prevent the recoil blowing him off the station. He had examined the weapon before he set out and it seemed easy enough to use. There were instructional diagrams printed on the tube: Pull out the safety catch, point and press the trigger.

  Peering at the Mark Antony he could see the ship’s bridge. It was quite heavily armoured, but with the ship’s shields powered down he thought that the heavy warhead of the missile might stand a chance. It would give its Captain a shock in any case. He hoped it would be a fatal one. Mittu sighted the weapon on the small black haired, blue clad human female who stood in the centre of the bridge and who was clearly visible through its windows. He squeezed the trigger.

  Steven saw the flash of light from the station hub and realised with a jolt what the Vendiri in the suit had been carrying. Too late.

  The missile crossed the gap between the station and the Mark Antony in a split second. Mittu’s aim was faultless. The shaped charge of the missile’s warhead impacted in the exact centre of one of the thick panes that formed the front wall of the bridge. Chen spotted the flash from the missile launch and the incoming projectile just in time and dived behind her command console as the warhead exploded against the bridge windows with a deafening crack, shattering the material and scattering shrapnel and shards of glass across the bridge.