The Praegressus Project: Part One Read online

  THE PRAEGRESSUS PROJECT

  PART ONE

  AARON HODGES

  CONTENTS

  Copyright

  About the Author

  Rebirth

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Epilogue

  Renegades

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Epilogue

  Retaliation

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  Rebellion

  Afterword

  Also by Aaron Hodges

  Written by Aaron Hodges

  Cover Art by Roman Designs

  The Praegressus Project

  Book 1: Rebirth

  Book 2: Renegades

  Book 3: Retaliation

  Book 4: Rebellion

  Book 5: Retribution

  The Sword of Light Trilogy

  Book 1: Stormwielder

  Book 2: Firestorm

  Book 3: Soul Blade

  Copyright © November 2017 Aaron Hodges.

  First Edition

  All rights reserved.

  The National Library of New Zealand

  ISBN-13: 978-0-994147585

  Aaron Hodges was born in 1989 in the small town of Whakatane, New Zealand. He studied for five years at the University of Auckland, completing a Bachelor’s of Science in Biology and Geography, and a Masters of Environmental Engineering. After working as an environmental consultant for two years, he grew tired of office work and decided to quit his job and explore the world. During his travels he picked up an old draft of a novel he once wrote in High School – titled The Sword of Light – and began to rewrite the story. Six months later he published his first novel, Stormwielder. And the rest, as they say, is history.

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  For Dad, for fighting to the end.

  For Nana, for always being there.

  For Mum, for being the strongest person I know.

  And for love, wherever we find it.

  REBIRTH

  BOOK 1 OF THE PRAEGRESSUS PROJECT

  PROLOGUE

  “Another pint, hun?”

  Liz grated her teeth as a man’s voice carried from across the room. Sucking in a breath, she forced herself to smile and looked around at the speaker. He sat alone at the table in the corner, a lopsided grin stretching across his unshaven cheeks. Catching her gaze, he waved his empty mug. Keeping the smile fixed on her face, Liz moved across to serve him.

  “Just the beer, sir?” she asked as she took the glass. “It’s last call.”

  His dark black eyes squinted up at her, as though struggling to understand her words. He was swaying slightly in his chair, and Liz was quite sure he’d already had enough. Unfortunately, the bar’s manager, Andrew, was never one to refuse a paying customer.

  Finally, the man belched and waved the glass at her stomach. “What else is on the menu, luv?”

  He said the words with a leer that made Liz want to rip the mug from his hand and smash him over the head with it. Instead, she gritted her teeth and smiled sweetly. “Just the usual,” she tried to keep the anger from her voice. “Kitchen is closed though.”

  “Not interested in the kitchen.” He leaned forward in his chair, and the stench of garlic and cigarettes wafted over Liz. “Always wanted a taste of something rural.”

  Liz’s stomach churned and in a flash of anger she snatched the glass from the man’s grease-stained fingers. Then, stealing herself, she took a breath, and laughed. “Grass Valley Ale it is!”

  Without waiting for a response, she spun on her heel and retreated through the maze of tables. Her neck prickled as she sensed him staring, but she did not look back. Moving behind the bar, she added the mug to the growing stack of dishes she had to tackle after closing and took a fresh one from beneath the bar.

  She shuddered as she turned and caught his beady eyes watching her from the corner. The man had to be at least forty – more than twice her own seventeen years of age. Ignoring him, she carefully poured out a fresh pint of Grass Valley Ale.

  “Keeping our guests happy I hope, Liz?” She jumped as Andrew’s voice came from beside her.

  At six-foot-five with a buzz cut and heavily built shoulders, Andrew towered over Liz’s own five feet and two inches. He had served five years with the Western Allied States military before retiring from active duty and starting his own bar here in Sacramento. Or so he said – it wasn’t like there was any way to verify his story. Even in city, computers and the internet were only accessible for the rich and privileged. Where she’d grown up, they’d been lucky just to have electricity.

  Crossing his tattooed arms, Andrew raised an eyebrow. She quickly flicked off the tap and placed the pint on a serving tray before faci
ng him. “He’s just drunk, Andrew,” she said. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  “I didn’t say handle him,” Andrew said coldly. “I said keep him happy.”

  Liz swallowed as his cold green eyes stared down at her, but she stood her ground. “That’s what the beer’s for,” she nodded at the mug, taking advantage of the opportunity to break eye contact. “I’d better not keep him waiting.”

  Feeling cornered, Liz snatched up the metal tray and raced back out amongst the tables. The other customers ignored her as she made her way between them. Only a few tables were occupied now – it was Tuesday night and most people had already left for their beds. The few who remained were mostly men in their thirties and forties, too young to have fought in the war than had claimed so many of their fathers. Most sported the pale complexions of the urban working class, although a couple had darker tans that matched her own.

  “One Grass Valley Ale,” she announced cheerfully as she reached the man’s table and placed the beer in front of him. “Is that the lot for the night?”

  Without answering, the man swept up the beer and gulped it down. He let out a long sigh as he placed the mug back on the table and grinned up at her. “I like the taste.” Before she could react, his arm shot out and wrapped around her waist. “Matter of fact, it’s made me hungry for the real thing.” He laughed as he dragged her forward.

  Liz’s heart dropped into the pit of her stomach as she felt his hand grasping her backside. The awful stench of his breath smothered her. Puckering up his lips, the man tried to drag her in for a kiss. She twisted away, the tray still clutched in one hand, and tried to shove him off. But even drunk, he was twice her size, and too strong to resist in such confined quarters.

  “Get off,” she growled, the words grating up from the back of her throat.

  “What? You think you’re too good for me, ya little rural tramp?” His other hand came up, going for her breasts. “Come on sweets, you know–”

  Whatever he’d been about to say was cut off as Liz gripped her metal serving tray in both hands and brought it down on his head. A satisfying clang echoed through the room as it struck, and the hand around her waist vanished.

  The man reeled back in his chair, his hands clutching his face. Blood dribbled from a gash on his forehead, tangling with his greying hair. He lurched to his feet with a roar, sending the table and his freshly poured ale crashing to the ground. The sound of breaking glass was punctuated by his screams as Liz retreated a step, holding the tray in front of her like a shield. Her assailant swung his arms blindly in her direction, but alcohol had dimmed his senses and his blows went nowhere near her. Face beet red and cursing, he staggered in her direction.

  “Oy!” Andrew’s voice cut through the man’s shouts like a knife.

  Liz glanced back and saw him stepping out from behind the bar, baseball bat in hand.

  “What’s going on here?” he growled as he marched towards them. The other patrons watched on, eyes wide, silent.

  Still in a drunken rage, the man took another step towards Liz before he seemed to catch himself. His eyes flickered uncertainly at Andrew, then back to her. “The little tramp hit me!”

  Anger flickered in Liz’s stomach. Throwing caution to the wind, she drew her lips back in a sneer and stepped towards him. “Why don’t you call me that again?” she growled, flourishing the tray.

  Before her assailant had a chance to answer, a rough hand caught Liz by the collar and hauled her back. She cried out as the tray slipped from her fingers and landed on her foot. Cursing, she staggered sideways, but before she could regain her balance, Andrew shoved her again, sending her crashing down into an empty table.

  “Out!” Andrew screamed, waving his bat around above his head.

  Liz scrambled back across the wooden floor, feeling the dried beer sticking to her clothes. Once out of range of his bat, she picked herself up and stood facing him. A wave of heat swept through her. She struggled to keep from shaking as she clenched her fists.

  “What?” she ground out the question.

  “I said out!” Andrew repeated, pointing the bat at her chest. “I’ve had enough of you. Your lot aren’t worth the trouble.”

  Now Liz really was shaking. She opened her mouth to argue, and then snapped it closed again. Glancing around the room, she saw the eyes of everyone watching her. Ice spread through her chest as she looked back at her boss.

  “What about my pay?” she tried to keep her voice as calm as possible.

  “Consider it compensation for the damages.” Sneering, he took a step towards her, until the bat prodded her in the chest.

  Stomach twisting, Liz considered holding her ground. She needed that money – especially after the commotion here. She would have to move again now, would have to pack her things and leave the room she’d already paid a month in advance for. Without that money, she wouldn’t have enough for another.

  But she could see this was not a fight she was about to win. Letting out a long breath, she flicked a strand of curly black hair from her eyes and snorted. “Good riddance,” she spat.

  Spinning on her heel, she headed for the door. Her face burned as half a dozen eyes followed her. As she passed the last table she paused, then lurched sideways, upending its contents onto the floor. The two men sitting there shouted and jumped to their feet as beer splattered them. But by the time they tried to grab her, Liz had already fled through the door.

  Outside, Liz blinked, struggling to see as her eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness. The bar had no windows facing the road, and the streetlight out front was broken. Not knowing if anyone was going to come after her, she quickly started off along the street, her hands still trembling with pent-up rage.

  “Hope you enjoy cleaning up,” she muttered under her breath.

  Inside though, she was cursing herself, even as she tried to work out a plan that didn’t involve sleeping on the streets for the rest of the winter. Staying in this suburb was no longer an option – not after the commotion she’d caused. There would be questions asked, and even though she’d been working off the books, it wouldn’t take long for someone to connect the dots. After that, it was only a matter of time before they found her.

  Taking the next street on her right, Liz disappeared into the shadows between the buildings. They were near the outskirts of Sacramento here, where the streets were still relatively quiet, free of the traffic clogging the centre. Even so, she could never quite feel comfortable in the city. The countryside was her home – as everyone here seemed quick to remind her – but there was no work for her there. And while she could get by on what she trapped and scavenged, she couldn’t stand the thought of another winter spent exposed to the icy elements.

  So as the winds had begun to change this year, she had packed up her rucksack and headed for Sacramento. It was a long way from her hometown, but she was afraid any city closer would raise suspicions, make it easier for someone to find her. And until now, it had seemed she’d made the right choice. With the pennies she scraped together working at Andrew’s bar, she’d managed to rent what amounted to a closet in the basement of an apartment building. It was cold and damp, containing nothing more than a mouldy mattress, but it was better than being woken up by falling snow. And it was off the books too – safe.