Imperium: Revelation: Book Two in the Imperium Trilogy

by Paul M Calvert

  A three-dimensional page appeared in front of her, hanging opaquely two foot away from her face, which turned as she moved her head. “Just think of what you want, Karen, and it will appear in your field of vision. You control the print size, speed of page turning etc, here…don’t worry, you will get used to it,” he said, answering her next question before she could even articulate it. “If it makes you feel any better, you are acclimatising faster than almost anyone from Earth I can remember. I think it’s probably because you were brought up in an era of rapid and unprecedented technological change, unlike most of your forebears. You shouldn’t be too hard on yourself.”

  Karen mimicked the action she’d seen Christine make earlier, by looking up at the ceiling before responding. “Thank you, Vimes, but I’m not sure if that makes me feel any better or not. By the way, why don’t I smell? I’ve not seen or used any deodorant since coming here, yet haven’t noticed any downside.”

  “The scented water in the shower contains a specific inhibitor that works on the sweat cells, effectively stopping any bacteria from multiplying. Very effective. No need for anything further.”

  “Oh, that’s clever. Do you call it smart-water?”

  Vimes chuckled, “No, Karen, we call it water, but I see why you might think otherwise. Now, if I may, I recommend that you begin here,” the screen in front of her changed, “paying particular attention to the parts I’ve highlighted for you. Is that all or would you like me to arrange for a drink or light snack to be brought to you?”

  Karen nodded. “A big mug of breakfast tea and a prawn sandwich with mayo and pepper, if you have it here?” she asked hopefully.

  “Ten minutes and I’ll have them delivered.”

  And with that, Karen began reading about her prospective hosts. First Contact had been made with the Felidae during the reign of Alexander’s grandfather, Richard. Having never met a feline race before, the Diplomats had no reference point to work from and, at first, relations had been peaceful, if distant, with both sides working slowly towards an exchange of Ambassadors. Unfortunately, the Felidae mistook the painstaking nature of the human negotiations as both a sign of weakness and an unwillingness to agree a peace treaty, so had walked away from the talks, shunning any further attempts by the Empire to reestablish them.

  Shortly afterwards, the two Empires clashed over a mineral rich mining system in neutral space already being exploited by a large human consortium. The incumbent miners successfully fought off attempts by their Felidae opposite numbers to take over their operations on the fourth planet, but within two weeks were obliterated by a huge war fleet that bombarded their position from orbit, then hunted down every survivor, killing every man, woman, and child. In total, nearly four thousand humans lost their lives on the planet, with a further three hundred and fifty killed at the newly formed Jump Station. Unaware of why the Jump Station was no longer responding, a small task force had been sent to the system to determine the reason, only to find it controlled by the Felidae. Curiously, they didn’t attack the task force and seemed genuinely puzzled at the human's reaction when they provided sensor data of their attack and obliteration of the small mining colony and Station.

  Wisely, the Captain of the task force had not attacked the far larger Felidae fleet and simply dispatched a fast message drone back to Capital for instructions. Two weeks later, a massive human fleet Jumped through to relieve the initial task force. Again, the Felidae seemed totally surprised at the human's reaction and appearance of the fleet, seemingly unaware that their actions had caused any sort of offence. Inevitably, the scene had been set for conflict and when the angry humans attempted to retake control of the planet, the puzzled Felidae struck, sparking a war that ultimately dragged on for twenty-one years and cost billions of lives on both sides.

  Karen paused from reading, leaning back into the soft leather armchair and reached across for another cup of tea, pouring herself from the teapot that never seemed to get cold or empty. Reading the reports had been a surreal experience, unlike anything she had known before. The act of reading had triggered visions of the actual events, together with sounds, smells, and even tastes, that made the experience so immersive. Vimes had explained that the data was embedded within the report itself, and like the plaques in the military museum and the advertising in the shopping areas was automatically transmitted to her implant whenever a page was read or a picture looked at in the document. By experiencing it in such a fashion, retention of the data was reinforced into long-term memory.

  Although the reports themselves were completely emotionless, the act of reading and experiencing what had happened was disconcerting for Karen and she found herself needing to take a short break due to its intensity.

  “It’s intense, isn’t it,” stated Vimes, rather than asking.

  Karen nodded, “It certainly is. Reading a book will never quite be the same again, will it?” she asked.

  “Don’t worry, there are still traditional books around if you prefer them, in fact, the Palace has a huge library…it’s here should you wish to visit at some point. I can arrange for any book to be brought to your suite if you would prefer.” Vimes mentally showed her it’s location. “Take a short break before beginning again. Christine won't be free for another two hours so you have plenty of time. More food?”

  “No, thank you.” Karen got up and walked over to the window overlooking the coast. The day outside was warm and clear, allowing her an uninterrupted few across the bay and far out to sea where she could make out a few small fishing or pleasure boats. Almost without conscious thought on her part, the window lensed itself, magnifying the scene and bringing one of the boats into sharp focus. Another thought and the ceiling became transparent, showing the open sky above the Palace, along with the sounds and smells. The illusion was almost perfect, but if she looked hard enough she could see the faint outline of the room. She breathed deeply, the faint smell of blooming flowers and the tang of ozone from the salt water coming together in a refreshing mix that helped her think.

  “It really is like magic, Arthur C Clarke sure got that right,” she thought to herself after a few minutes staring out at the view. She walked back to the comfortable armchair and sat down, willing the screen to appear again in front of her. Within moments, she was once again taken back two hundred years in the past. Karen found the autopsy reports particularly interesting, especially the paw/pad design of the Felidae which allowed them to hold and manipulate tools. She wondered if this was natural or some form of genetic manipulation that had taken place in the past but couldn’t find any evidence either way, but suspected the latter.

  From the records, she watched as the war spread from the initial system across two whole sectors of space along the border. Initially, no quarter was given in battle by the Felidae, who made no distinction between civilians or combatants, but this changed once they became aware the Empire wasn’t following suit and was treating its prisoners well. The tactics used by the Felidae were unusual. Sometimes they would attack immediately while at others they avoided contact and engaged only if they had no choice, even then acting as if they were taunting or playing with the Empire forces.

  Karen noted, however, that despite their early ruthlessness in exterminating every human they could find, they took care not to make any planets uninhabitable, unlike the Empire which had done so on a number of occasions when trying to dislodge them from a star system. The war dragged on for two decades, bleeding both Empires white until a truce of sorts was arranged which eventually led to the peace accords and eventual complete cessation of hostilities. Karen spotted that Christine had obviously been the last person to read these private reports and had made copious notes, setting out her ideas as to why events had unfolded as they did, in particular why the Felidae had sued for peace. She found herself agreeing with Christine's assessment, which went against the commonly held belief that the Felidae were mercurial in their temperament, in that she thought them honourable, but with their own alien logic that
we hadn't yet been able to fully understand. That she had gone on to forge a long-standing and long-distance relationship with the current Felidae Empress, made her think that Christine had a better grasp on what made them tick than anyone. Karen made a note of her own to bring the matter up with Christine later that afternoon, then went back to reading.

  “Christine’s free shortly, Karen,” interrupted the voice of Vimes, breaking her concentration, “you’ve been sitting in that chair for the past two hours, so it’s time you took a break and got ready.”

  Karen closed down the page and dismissed the viewer, stretching as she uncurled herself from the armchair and stood up, unwinding the tension she now felt in her neck muscles and shoulders. “Where are we meeting?” she asked, yawning loudly, noting she was hungry again.

  “The refectory, where breakfast is normally held. It’s currently empty and has lovely views across the grounds. She’ll meet you there in thirty minutes with a selection of staff she has invited to meet and get to know you. Any food preferences?

  “No, not really. Surprise me with some local dishes please, but only if you think I’ll like them,” Karen quickly added as a rider.

  “I’ve selected several choices of clothes for you and they are laid out in the bedroom, but feel free to chose something else if they don’t suit. I’m still learning your fashion tastes so forgive me if I’m way off the mark.”

  Karen took a deep breath. “If I’m being introduced to people, let's dress to impress.”

  Scene 22, 1940. Home from home

  The days were passing quickly for Alexander, split between travelling around London and spending time in the museums learning all he could about this world and his adopted country’s place in it. Unfortunately, many of the exhibits he’d really wanted to see had been taken away and stored safely until the end of the war, whenever that might be. The evenings were another matter and he found himself spending a lot of time with Bill and Ena, listening to the radio or going for long walks on the weekends or digging up the small garden and planting vegetables. His hands had taken on an unaccustomed roughness from all the spade work, especially after Ena had presented him with a shovel and asked if he could set up the Anderson Shelter that had been languishing up against the back fence since Bill had gone off with the British Expeditionary Force. It took him two days to dig out the hard-packed earth and builders rubble to make a hole large enough to fit the corrugated iron shelter, almost slicing two of his fingers off when it slipped out of his grip and the serrated metal edges gouged a deep, two-inch cut across them. It was almost worth the pain for Ena had taken pity on him and washed out the wound under the tap, scolding him when he squirmed at the iodine she then proceeded to pour into the cut.

  “What are you, a man or a mouse?” Ena had asked him as she stitched together the cuts, before wrapping them in a clean bandage and giving him a rare smile when he squeaked in response to her question. Vimes had reassured him the wound would be healed by the morning but nonetheless, it had been painful despite Ena’s surprising gentleness as he’d expected her to be somewhat rougher, given the way she normally reacted when he was around.

  Relations between the three of them had seemed a little strained to Alexander. Bill had shown him every courtesy, but Ena, apart from the profuse apologies for having kneed him in the groin at their first meeting, had been keeping her distance and seemed to avoid being left alone in a room with him. He had tried to make friends with her, offering to help get the shopping or carry the heavy bags for her, but she’d refused his offers of assistance on multiple occasions so he’d simply stopped asking. As a result of this lack of warmth, Alexander took every opportunity to get out on his own and see the sights and sounds of London.

  Today, as a treat, Bill had taken Alexander to the nearest pub, The Bunch of Grapes, situated on the corner of Naylor, Green Hundred and Bird in Bush roads, where the two of them were currently nursing a pint of brown ale and discussing the fall of France that had occurred the previous week. By now, he was getting used to the strange looks he was getting from people and had been trying to ignore them, but still found it annoying at times, especially when some people stared openly.

  “Bill, I need to ask you something.”

  “What is it, Alex? You look like something’s bothering you,” responded Bill, already on his second pint while Alexander was still nursing his first.

  “I know my colour and size makes me stand out, but why the stares all the time? I went to help an old lady with her bags and she looked like she would scream, almost pushing me away. What am I doing wrong?”

  Bill sighed, setting down his pint and looking up at Alexander. “You have to understand, Alex, most people around here, apart from going hop-picking in Kent during the summer, have never left London and I doubt there’s more than a handful that regularly travel more than five miles from home. Now me, I’ve been with the Army all my life and have served abroad, even spending some time in Egypt, would you believe.” Bill looked uncomfortable for a moment. “Worst case of the shi…runs I’ve ever had, I can tell you.”

  Alexander held up his hand, stopping Bill in mid flow.

  “Runs?” he asked, neither he nor Vimes understanding what it meant.

  By now, Bill was used to these questions from Alex, so smiled and explained. “Going to the toilet…you know, the world falling out of your bottom,” he replied, blowing a raspberry for emphasis and laughing loudly at the result, the beer having loosened his tongue a little.

  “Oh, I get it,” said Alexander, laughing with him. “But what’s that got to do with it?”

  “If you’d let me finish, I would have told you. You see, most folk have never seen someone your colour or, if they have, it’s been from the pictures where coloured folk and such like are depicted as heathens or different. That, coupled with your size, makes you stand out like a sore thumb. Now me, I know differently, having travelled a bit.”

  “But I don’t look that different, in fact, if it wasn’t for my colour I’d look just like you or Ena.”

  “True, but then there’s your size. You have to duck when you walk through a door, Alex, and you are built like a brick shi…outhouse. That on its own is enough to get you more than a few looks. Add to that your colour and bingo. Stares.” Bill looked thoughtful for a few moments, and Alexander could see he was debating whether to say more. He looked Alexander in the eyes. “You need to be careful too, Alex, there’s some unsavoury characters around here now, what with many of the men away in the army. Some have been sniffing around our Ena. That’s another reason I’ve been pleased to have had you around and staying with us these past few weeks. As it happens, I’ve been assessed fit enough to go back to the regiment so it’s off to the barracks for me on Monday, training up new recruits. Having you in the house while I’m gone will make some people think twice before doing anything stupid if you get my meaning.”

  “That’s something else I wanted to talk about, Bill. Why’s Ena been avoiding me? I know we didn’t exactly get introduced the way people normally do in England unless being kicked in the groin is normal around here, but even so, she doesn’t seem to like me.”

  Bill sighed and looked down at his half-empty pint glass, the faceted sides picking up and reflecting light from the window. “She’s not been one for small talk, at least, not since her mum died from the cancer. Before then she was as chatty and as sweet a girl as anyone could wish for. She nursed her mum for almost a year, alone too, as I was abroad with the regiment and neither of them wanted to burden me.” Bill sniffed loudly, then coughed before continuing, “By the time I found out what was going on from a neighbour and got back, it was too late and she was dead and buried. Ena made all the arrangements too, bless her, then found herself a job at the shirt factory where she’s working now. That sort of thing can change a person you know, toughen ‘em up and make you question what life’s all about. She changed while I was gone and not for the better, more’s the pity.”

  Bill sniffed again, then
picked up his glass and drained it, putting it down on the table with a loud thwack. Alexander could see the pain was still close to the surface, despite this having happened years before.

  “I don’t normally talk about it, not even to Ena and she’s the only thing I’ve got left.” He looked up at Alexander and smiled thinly. “Don’t take it personally, son, she’s like that with everybody now. Anyway, she sorted out your hand, didn’t she? Right, is it your round or mine? Mine I suppose, since you don’t have any money! Same again?” he asked, heading to the wooden bar, grateful to have changed the subject.

  “Yes, please, thanks, Bill,” replied Alexander, not for the first time wondering how he was going to get by in this world with no recognisable skills to his name. Even with Vimes extensive knowledge of old technologies, trying to find employment that would allow him to live a life of relative comfort whilst at the same time acquiring the equipment to begin constructing a communicator, was a daunting prospect. He sat quietly, watching Bill stand at the bar trying to attract the barman’s attention, thinking about what he had just heard. Who were these unsavoury characters Bill spoke about, he wondered? How could he help Ena get over what happened? All these things went through his mind, his brow furrowing as he sought answers.

  “Here we are,” said Bill, walking over with a pint in each hand, passing one over before taking a drink from his own, then wiping the bead of froth from his top lip. “I think this is going to be my last one as I’m getting a bit too maudlin for my liking.” He sat down and stared hard at Alexander, who recognised that look.

  “I’ve had my eye on you, lad, since we first met outside Dunkirk. You’re a fine fellow, but there’s something about you that I can’t pin down. Now, don’t get me wrong, you did right by me and the boys back there and have been a good chap, but if there’s something I need to know before I go off to the barracks, be a good lad and tell me now…man to man.” He looked questioningly at Alexander who stared back, holding Bill’s gaze with his own, as he sought to decide exactly how much to trust him with. Over the past weeks he’d come to understand just how decent a chap Bill was and despite the risks, a large part of him wanted to trust him with the truth. He could hear Vimes wanting to interrupt and say something, but Alexander silenced him, wanting the decision to be his alone. In the end, caution won out and Alexander shook his head.