Progeny (The Progenitor Trilogy, Book Three) (68 page)

As the skyline of Bolivar City began to show in the hazy distance - the needle-like spires glinting in the early morning sun - the traffic began to slow to a crawl.  They soon saw the reason why: low speed restrictions had been enforced where the traffic passed through what had once been a toll barrier and was now an armed checkpoint.  Armoured personnel carriers flanked the road, whilst troops in body armour, toting rifles and other weapons manned the barrier. Meanwhile, their comrades used tripod mounted devices to scan the flow of vehicles as they passed slowly through the open toll gates.

Trapped in the one-way river of traffic, Steven, Isaacs and Anna had no choice but to head onwards.  There were no exits where they could pull off beforehand, and no way that they could cross into the opposite carriageway.

‘Well, this doesn’t look good,’ said Isaacs nervously as the checkpoint approached, his eye lingering on the turreted weapons of the APCs hunched low at the side of the road.

‘Like I said before, we play it cool and we’ll have no trouble,’ replied Steven, though he couldn’t help but feel the butterflies in his stomach as they drove inexorably towards the soldiers.

‘Let’s hope so,’ said Anna, softly.  ‘There’s no way that we can realistically make a run for it in this traffic.  They start shooting and we’re trapped.’

Carried along in the flow, they were soon mere metres from the barrier.  Isaacs tried to get a good look at the troops manning the checkpoint, doing his best to make his actions seem nonchalant.  The armoured figures were talking, even joking with one another.  They looked bored by the task that they had been given and many of them weren’t really paying that much attention to the traffic passing by.  He breathed a sigh of relief.  They looked reassuringly human.  He commented on the fact to the others.

‘The intel. that the Hidden Hand had gathered suggested that a lot of them still are,’ replied Steven.  ‘The Shapers only need the officers, and the loyalty of the men under them, for the most part.  It’s only the Marine Corp and Army units and the full time PDF that have been completely enslaved.  Look at these guys, look at the physical condition they’re in. They aren’t full time soldiers. This guy on the left here looks more like an insurance salesman to me.’

‘So what, the Shapers are choosy about who they enslave?’ said Isaacs.

‘To an extent, yeah.  We think that there are limits on how many enslaved units the higher ups – the ships, command nodes and the Shapers themselves - can control.  It probably comes down to processing power and the limits of their communications.  Besides, why bother doing it when you can replace or co-opt the elites and get the rest to follow?  These guys here are probably too scared by the chaos of what’s been happening lately, the war, Morgan’s coup and so on, not to do as they are told, particularly when they start to hear about what happens to those who don’t.  None of them want to be singled out and they all want to do their bit to restore order.  Plus it gives them a chance to feel involved, to feel important, to do their bit.’

‘Great.  Amateurs with guns,’ said Isaacs.

They were almost at the barrier now.  The car in front was waved through.  Steven edged the truck forward as an armoured figure stepped out in front of them with a hand raised in a stop signal.  His colleagues on either side, four in all, eyed the occupants of the truck through dark, tinted goggles.

‘Shit!’ hissed Isaacs.  ‘Just our kind of luck.  Hope you’ve got a plan to get us out of here.’

‘Let me do the talking,’ said Steven, as a podgy sergeant ambled over, rifle held slackly in his right hand, and made motions for him to wind the driver’s side window down.

‘Morning, Sergeant,’ said Steven as the man approached the open window.  ‘Is there a problem?’

‘This vehicle has auto-drive systems, correct?’ said the Sergeant.

‘Yeah, of course it does,’ Steven replied.

‘You aren’t using them.  Why?’ said the Sergeant, accusingly.

‘Ah, you know.  I used to live on a frontier planet without a nav-sat network in place.  Got used to doing my own driving.  I guess I like to keep my hand in, once in a while.  Can’t beat the feeling of being in control, you know?’

‘What planet?’

‘Huh?  Oh, Bishop’s Claim, Woomera system.  Real shit hole,’ Steven replied and laughed a little.  The Sergeant’s expression didn’t change.  Overhead, there was a sudden roar as a PDF gunship appeared over the road and began to circle

‘I see.  You got any ID?’ said the Sergeant.

‘Sure,’ Steven replied, and handed over the license he had chosen as part of his faked identity.  The Sergeant glanced at it for a tense moment, appearing to scrutinise the picture printed onto its plasticised surface and then passed it back to him without bothering to scan it.

‘Okay, well, we got a lot of traffic on this road today with the new security restrictions in place,’ said the Sergeant.  ‘You might want to use the auto-drive like everyone else.  In the interests of safety, you understand.’

‘Yeah, of course.  Sorry,’ Steven replied, feigning sheepishness.

‘Have a good day, sir,’ said the Sergeant, before stepping back from the truck and waving him through.

As the truck pulled away, and Steven engaged the auto-drive as instructed, Isaacs let out a long sigh of relief.

‘Well that was fun,’ said Anna.

‘He was an idiot,’ said Steven.  ‘Guy didn’t even check my license properly.  He was having too much fun playing cop.  The old adage about the little man with the badge is still true, it seems.’

‘Well if that’s the calibre of troops that the enemy have at their disposal, then we shouldn’t have too much trouble,’ said Isaacs.

‘Don’t get complacent,’ said Steven, darkly.  ‘There was a full company of marines under Cox’s command when the Shapers took them, and god knows what other Army and Marine Corp assets have been enslaved and moved in-system.  The Hidden Hand have seen a lot of troops and activity in and around the bases here, not to mention the main spaceport.  I had a word with Commander Baldwin, too.  Her people saw groups of enslaved troops backed up by air support combing the jungle on their way here, probably looking for survivors from the fleet.  Luckily, they managed to avoid engaging them, but it was a close run thing, I gather.  Make no mistake, the Shapers have control of some serious military assets in this system.  They just aren’t using them to man checkpoints.  Then of course, there are the ones you don’t notice so much.  Any of these cars could be carrying a Shaper agent assigned to watch us, and we don’t know who might have been watching at that checkpoint.’

‘Shit, I get the picture, okay?’ said Isaacs, uneasily.  ‘Isn’t there a silver lining to all this?’

‘Not while that thing’s hanging in the sky above us, no,’ Steven replied and jabbed a finger at the shape peeping out from a gap in the clouds above the city.  Even from this distance, it was clear that the ship had changed shape, its long jointed arms coming together like grasping claws.  As they watched there was a flicker of light from between those massive limbs which quickly faded in the morning sky.

As the city grew nearer, the volume of police and military traffic in the sky above increased markedly.  Police AG shuttles appeared to be regularly patrolling over the roads leading into Bolivar City, sweeping low over the mass of moving vehicles, red and blue lights pulsing on their undersides. Army gunships moved at speed at higher altitudes, ferrying troops to and from missions in the surrounding countryside like industrious bees going about their business, and Isaacs, Anna and Steven were heading straight into the hive.

Entering the city without incident, they headed downtown towards the spaceport, although Steven remained on edge and on several occasions, began to become suspicious of other vehicles on the road that appeared to be shadowing them.  If they were being followed, those doing it were careful to disguise themselves.  Steven took evasive manoeuvres, regaining manual control of the car, changing lanes and making sudden turns once they were off the highway to shake off potential pursuers.  Those he suspected did not follow, and in the end he concluded it was just his healthy level of paranoia at work.

Bolivar City itself was quiet, unusually so.  Although it was now approaching the middle of the day, the streets were largely empty except for police and army patrols, and a few citizens scurrying to and fro.  Normally, the planetary capital was a bustling, brash place.  The streets would generally be packed with business folk and shoppers, the cafes and bars gearing up for the lunch time trade and already busy with smartly dressed men and women on the make, the pavements outside a pulsing river of humanity beneath the bright sun, the roads and sky lanes thrumming with traffic. 

Now, it was a different town. There was the noticeable military presence, first of all. Army vehicles and groups of armoured men and women manned key points.  Civilian cars moved to and fro beneath their gaze, their drivers careful not to do anything that might attract the ire of the authorities. The people that they saw on foot wore nervous expressions and were doing their utmost not to attract attention, a contrast to the normal state of affairs in a city known for doing the opposite.  They moved quickly, their eyes averted from other people and fixed firmly at the floor.  The city was still busy, but people didn’t linger in the open, didn’t stop to chat to others.  The restaurants and pavement cafes were deserted, the shops empty of customers.  People seemed to be staying in their homes or in their places of business, only emerging to travel between the two.

Isaacs guided them to a down at heel hotel a stone’s throw from the spaceport, in an area constantly noisy from the spacecraft landing and lifting off only a few kilometres away.  They checked in, were asked to show I.D. by a bored looking desk clerk who only gave what they produced a cursory glance and assigned them two adjoining rooms on the top floor.  The place was clean, but sparsely furnished and drab.  The paint peeled from the walls, the bathrooms were stained with patches of damp and the sole screen in Isaacs and Anna’s room had an odd yellow tinge to its image.

They parked the truck in the hotel’s basement garage, unloaded its contents whilst taking care not to be seen, and carried them up to the rooms inside a few holdalls.  Last of all was large, sealed crate.

‘What the hell is this?’ said Isaacs, eyeing the lump of square black plastic.

‘A little collateral,’ Steven replied.  ‘It’s some of that Cloudfrond that we brought with us.  I figured that we might be able to use it.  It’s all part of my cover story, after all.  Failing that, it’s so spicy we could probably use it as a weapon if the worst came to the worst.  Would you mind?’ he said, indicating towards the crate and holding up hands that already each held a heavy bag.  Isaacs sighed and, grabbing the crate in both hands, proceeded to lug it up to the room.

Pulling aside the cheap curtains, it was possible to see right across the sea of warehouses, shipping company offices, stacks of crates and ranks of parked vehicles to the spaceport itself, where gleaming, atmosphere capable ships squatted on square kilometres of concrete around the mass of low terminal buildings.  Every so often there was a deep roar as one lifted off into the clear blue sky or another descended.  Isaacs had been watching the ships come and go, noting the types.

‘Lot of military traffic,’ he said.  ‘Hardly any of it civilian at all, actually.  Local departure schedule reads cancelled for just about everything.’

‘So much for Morgan’s claims about it being business as normal,’ said Anna.  ‘Sounds like they’re locking the place down.’

‘News reports are citing some bullshit about possible terrorist threats,’ said Steven.  ‘I’d consider the fact that it might actually be true, given the circumstances, if I thought that the locals would have had time to organise themselves.’

‘There’s the survivors from the Commonwealth fleet,’ Isaacs suggested.

‘Possibly, I doubt it though.  The Shapers are hunting them down, I think.  I bet that’s what all the military traffic is for.  There must be people scattered all over this side of the moon.  Either that, or they’re busy quelling the locals into “co-operating.”’

‘So what now?’ asked Isaacs.

‘Now?  Now I go sight-seeing.  I want to take a look around.  See what we’re up against, first hand.  Might have a wander up near the Assembly and see what I can see.’

‘And what about us?’ said Anna.

‘You two can head on into town and see if any of your old contacts are still around.  See what gossip you can pick up about what’s going on around here.  Try and get us an in on anything that might get us close to anything or anyone military.  Just, you know, don’t make it too obvious that that’s what we’re after.  Ask, but don’t ask, if you know what I mean.’

‘Yeah, don’t want to seem too eager.  I get it.  It’ll depend who we run into, if anyone.  If pressed I’ll make out we’re interested in black market military stuff.  My guess is, though, anyone who had the chance got out of the system when they could, but we’ll see what we can do.’

‘Good.  We’ll meet back here tonight.  Don’t try to speak each other by any other means except face to face.  It’s safe to assume that all communications traffic is likely to be compromised.  If I don’t show by the morning, you leave and go back to the Hidden Hand.  Got it?’

‘Sure.’

‘And no guns, either.  You’re trying to avoid attracting the attention of law enforcement.  We’ll only use them when we have a target to hit.’

Later that afternoon, Isaacs and Anna made their way on foot through the eerily quiet streets.  Now that the mid-day traffic had subsided, there was only the occasional civilian vehicle and almost no pedestrians.  Police cars and Army transports occasionally rumbled past, the occupants never giving the two figures a second glance.  Litter swirled in the warm breeze around the empty furniture of deserted pavement cafes, and across streets and parks almost devoid of people.

‘Where is everyone?’ said Anna, as they walked briskly towards the centre of town.

‘Keeping their heads down, I imagine,’ replied Isaacs.  ‘So should we.  Don’t look anyone in the eye.  Especially cops.’