The Imperialists: The Complete Trilogy

by H. T. Kofruk

  “Lovely to see actual banknotes in this age of Web-Com transfer. Original, non-sequential Afrikan Republic banknotes, I gather?”

  “That’s the only proper currency.”

  Mamá Luna nodded. “But why don’t you have them here? Showing me a holograph isn’t very reassuring, my dear.”

  “You’re not stupid, Luna. We both know why” replied Heera.

  The taller woman giggled. “Tell me about him, Heera. Is he tall and strong? Is he a manly man who takes command? Is that what you like, to be commanded?”

  Heera stood up. “Enough of your crap, Luna. The money is hidden somewhere very near but impossible to find without my instructions. If you’re not willing to give me that ship, maybe I’ll go to one of your rivals.”

  “My dear, I’m just trying to be friendly. But sadly, I can’t give you the ship just based on a holograph of money. Could you?”

  The men at the bar had all stood up at some point and had edged closer to the couch. Mamá Luna took out a holograph projector similar to Heera’s.

  “You see, silly girl, I have something to show you.” A holograph appeared with the head of a native-looking middle-aged man. “I have many rivals in my business, but I also have clients. It is in my best wishes to make my clients happy. This particular client is called Pedeira and he buys what I sell for a premium since he trusts the quality. But every now and again, I need to do some customer relationship management. Do you know what that is, silly girl?

  “Well, he needs a young wife. He needs a young, exotic, Renden wife. You’re beautiful on top of being young and exotic. You’d be a perfect passport to set foot on Earth.”

  At that point, Bin’ja made a threatening rumbling sound. He took off his mask to expose his alien face and gleaming yellow eyes.

  Mamá Luna, however, just looked at him with amusement. “Yes, your precious bodyguard. Funny how he resembles those monsters running around on Earth.”

  She switched the holograph to show combat footage of the battles being fought against the Nikruk on the Renden home planet. “How much do you think United Terra or the Chinese Empire would pay for a specimen? Those things notoriously leave no bodies to study.”

  Partitions in the walls of the spacious room suddenly opened up. A dozen more armed men emerged, all of them pointing their weapons at Bin’ja.

  “I have no intention of giving you a ship” she continued. She lifted her right hand with three long fingers erect. “First” she said as she counted off her first finger, “I know you don’t have the money to pay me. Second, I can get almost as much money from selling you off to Pedeira. Lastly, I can get ten times the money from selling him alive to the authorities” she said as she waved her hand in the general direction of Bin’ja. “So tell me why I should give you the ship, silly girl?”

  “Because I’ll kill you if not” said Heera icily.

  The harsh tone and words seemed to have no effect as the boss of Nuevo Santiago’s biggest drug organization laughed with her head tilted back. “I like you so much, my dear!” she said wiping tears from her eyes.

  Heera only just dodged the slash of the synthetic fingernails that adorned the hands of Mamá Luna. She also managed to block a kick from her bladed black boots. Bin’ja threw off his heavy cloak and shrieked. It was answered by pulse fire from two dozen rifles on stun mode. The large alien had already become a brown blur, however.

  Heera stood and took out a knife made from the sharpened, transparent teeth of a termite-ray from Tzakbat. Since it was one hundred per cent organic and she kept it on her ankle sheath, it rarely got detected. Mamá Luna gracefully stood and displayed her more formidable weapons; two hands full of synthetic carbon claws and a long, dark blade that protruded from her forearm. The blade had created a wound in her muscular forearm as it parted the skin, but she didn’t even seem to notice it. Heera felt that her small blade was puny.

  The taller woman lunged at her with spectacular force. Heera guessed that she had had augmentations done to her body, probably on the black market. She had heard that most of them were done by charlatans and were incredibly painful. Indeed, almost half of them ended in death. She dodged the swipe of the long blade and swung her own in an upward arc. The small transparent blade made contact with Mamá Luna’s skin and left a shallow scratch.

  The look of her own blood made her eyes go wide. She lunged again but this time followed her attack with a strike of her bladed boot. Heera blocked the initial blow but had to jump away to escape the kick. She fell on the floor and saw a shallow but long cut on her left side.

  Bin’ja, meanwhile, had been shot several times already with stun pulses. The enemy soon realized that they did virtually nothing to him and increased the output of their rifles. A few of them decided to use projectile weapons instead, creating ear-popping banging sounds.

  He jumped on one of them, instantly breaking his spine from vertical force, and then grabbed the head of the man next to him. He quickly twisted it, breaking his neck before disappearing into a brown flash once again. The weapon fire was incessant and couches, bottles and tables exploded into tiny fragments. A projectile grazed the back of his hand when he stopped to grab another man and threw him against the wall. He jumped and kicked two more men, breaking their ribs. He was about to strike another one when his vision became purple and an unbearable pain throbbed in his head. He let out shriek of pain that almost deafened everyone in the room.

  Heera knew what was happening; it had already occurred five times in the last four years.

  “Bin’ja!” she cried.

  The sinewy fingers of her opponent grasped her neck in a tight grip while she immobilized her knife-wielding arm with an equally strong hand. With shocking strength, Mamá Luna slammed her down on the hard floor, taking the wind out of her. Her instincts told her to react quickly despite the pain in her torso. Forcing her legs to move, she wrapped them around the arm that was holding her neck. Still unable to breathe, she used the strength in her waist and brought down Mamá Luna equally forcefully, compelling her to release both vice-like grips. She now had both thighs and arms wrapped around Mamá Luna’s right arm. The mob boss tried to edge the blade protruding from her forearm towards Heera’s face.

  Heera pulled on her arm with all the strength she could muster and felt the arm crack. Mamá Luna yelled painfully.

  “You bitch! I’ll kill you!” she screamed with blood-shot eyes as both women stood up gasping.

  Air finally entered painfully into Heera’s lungs. Her attention was hopelessly divided between her adversary and Bin’ja who was now surrounded by gun-toting men. She had gained a bit of time by breaking Mamá Luna’s arm but what about all the armed men? She regretted taking such a big gamble; she had no money and the holograph had been fabricated. But there was no other way to get off the planet since the ship she had taken from Haseeb four years ago couldn’t be repaired.

  Bin’ja was being mentally attacked by the strange entity that had taken on the role of Mother, the Nikruk deity. He had told Heera that she considered him a vast threat and tried from time to time to destroy his mind. Why she considered him such a threat, he didn’t know. The attacks usually lasted a few minutes but left him exhausted. She looked at Mamá Luna and then at Bin’ja and then at Mamá Luna again. The taller woman lunged.

  Chapter 3: Theories

  ‘Is the propagation of new technology, welfare and new ideas sufficient justification to invade and dominate? Even from the perspective of the more advanced would-be invaders, invasion and propagation of 'better lives' are, at best, moral equivalents that cancel each other out. For the seemingly backwards, primitive invadees, the answer is clearly a resounding No.’ - Terry Southend, , year 2916.

  The door knocked three times in a precise and heavy manner. Terry could tell that it was Bongani at the door and sighed. Though they were best friends, Bongani's company was often tiresome and even maddening at times.

  "Enter" he said reluctantly.
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  As predicted, the tall, dark figure of one of the best captains in the United Terra navy emerged. The bright light from the hallway contrasted with the dimness of Terry's room and the Afrikan almost looked like a dark, featureless spirit.

  "Hello, Bongani."

  "Good evening, Terry"

  "Evening? What time is it?"

  "Nine pm. An hour after you were supposed to join me for dinner."

  A pang of guilt went through Terry. He had lost track of time yet again and let his mind wander.

  "I'm so sorry, my friend."

  Bongani laughed heartily, however, and ebbed away some of the guilt in his mind.

  "I expected to be stood up for some reason. Maybe because it's about the tenth time it happened?"

  "Well, you know how I am. I truly am sorry" replied Terry with the hint of a grin.

  The door closed behind him and the dim yellow light of the room lit up Bongani's face as he approached his friend. Terry could see that he had a plate in his hand covered with a cloth.

  "Some fuel for that machine you call a body" he said as he handed the food to him.

  Terry smiled gratefully and gestured to him to sit at the only other chair in the room in front of his grey metallic desk.

  "Is this chicken real?" he inquired after the inspecting the contents of the plate.

  "It's synthetic but I think our food engineers are getting better at it. The texture's about right. The potatoes and cucumber are all authentic."

  He forked a piece of roasted chicken and smelled it inquisitively. "I just don't understand why they can't get the damn chemical stench out of it. If we can travel the stars, we can make proper synthetic meat." He took the fork to his mouth and chewed thankfully, realizing he was hungry.

  "So what have you been working on?" asked Bongani in a tone that seemed to not relish what Terry was going to say.

  Terry lit up on being asked, however. "A new piece on the separation of Church and State. A lot of the people from the Atlantic Alliance are secretly wishing that the One God movement becomes the official religion of United Terra."

  "Bad idea."

  "It's a horrible idea. Especially with two thirds of the military coming from the other empires. It's a recipe for disaster."

  "So why do they keep insisting on it?"

  "Because it's been the only thing they've known for hundreds of years. They're afraid of such a drastic change."

  "A bunch of idiots if you ask me. We're in a war of survival where the whole Six Empire structure has collapsed, and they're still thinking about the status of their stupid religion?"

  Terry put on a grim face. "It's a serious question, Bongani. You're an atheist so you wouldn't necessarily understand the trauma they're going through."

  Bongani showed his palms to say that he was not going to argue since it was something they had already discussed multiple times. "So, what's your rationale?"

  "It's complicated. The people of the Enlightenment and the American Revolution knew why this was so important. They had witnessed and experienced the passion and wars that religion can provoke if it's left as a governing instrument."

  "The Hundred Year War, the struggle between the Holy Roman Empire and the Pope, Cromwell’s conquest of Ireland.”

  “Yes, and that’s just between different branches or interpretations of Christianity. They realized that the governed will always hold on to their religions and new ones will always spring up. If the government itself wasn’t free of religion, they realized that they couldn’t govern the whole population.”

  “You didn’t have to look at history to figure that out. The Afrikan Republic is a hotbed for religions from Islam to Christian to Animism. Our founders already knew what you said. That’s what a lot of them brought back from Europe or America.”

  “But it has to be explained in the context of our times. We didn’t coexist with intelligent aliens when the Republic was founded” said Terry with his mouth full of potato.

  Bongani laughed. “Finish your food first. We’ll talk about your theories later.”

  Terry put his hand up as if to say he was almost finished eating. “If you ever bring me food again, and I don’t mean for this to be a regular occurrence, you have to lessen the portions. I’m already getting too pudgy.”

  Bongani looked at Terry’s pale skin and larger frame. He was afraid that the former marine was spending too much time alone in front of his Web-Com terminal. “Terry, you need to get out more. What you’re doing is necessary but you’re throwing away your health while you do it.”

  “What are you talking about? I’m still as fit as a bull” replied Terry with his arms up as if to show his biceps.

  “We need a good soldier more than we need a good philosopher right now.”

  “I’m done with soldiering around. I’ve already killed enough. I’m one of the worst genocidal maniacs in the universe. Let the others do the killing.”

  “If you don’t mind me saying so, few others do it better than you.”

  Terry’s expression darkened. “There are always more people out there who would kill for a way of life. Let them at least kill for the right way of life.”

  “The Nikruk are on the verge of eradicating all humans on Earth. They know how to use our technology and getting better at it all the time. There are even signs that different specialized castes have started to appear, almost like a bee colony. There is no right way of life if we don’t survive as a species.”

  Terry lifted his head angrily. “What’s so great about humanity that’s worth surviving anyway? If we die out, the galaxy will probably become a better place.” The bitterness of the years wasted killing aliens had surfaced in his voice and he regretted it immediately.

  “If you think that the Yinhexi will be free of war and violence if we die out, you’ve been smoking, Terry. The last four centuries we showed them basically how technological superiority and abundance in resource can make them all-powerful. If given the means, don’t you think that one of the other races of intelligent beings could follow our same path? We’ve set a bad example that won’t die with our extinction.”

  Terry pondered what Bongani said. “Note taken. So you’re suggesting that we commit yet another xenocide?”

  “The implications aren’t the same. The Chinese, the Pacific, the Orthodox and you guys have all committed xenocide for power, for religious fervour, for whatever else, even though our survival was never in peril. Our battle with the Nikruk is a fight for survival. You know as well as I do that they’re going to search out each and every one of us until we’re extinct.”

  “There are some elements within U.T. that believe that we need to vacate Earth. If the Nikruk want Earth, we should give it to them as penance for having taken away the homes of so many others.”

  “Well they’re idiots. We’ve made this ‘Mother’ into the most insecure being in the universe. She’s not going to stop at Earth if she feels there’s a clue of a hint of a threat.”

  “Fann doesn’t think so.”

  Bongani grumbled. “Don’t get me started with Fann.”

  Fann was in the simulation chamber with a squad of trainees. Although Terry and Bongani could see only a large, bare room, they knew that the people inside were seeing, hearing, smelling and feeling a simulated combat situation. Fann was playing the role of squad leader and the other soldiers obeyed his every command.

  Terry turned on a Web-Com terminal to display what Fann was seeing. The setting was urban, perhaps one of the cities of the Chinese Empire. Fann looked to his right and left to check that his soldiers were in the correct formation. The typical line formation was deemed inadequate to combat the Nikruk so the new U-shaped formation was developed where a rear soldier looked out for the others in the two columns in front of him who progressively looked from front to back as they got closer to him. The two soldiers heading the two column would be the squad leader and deputy squad leader while the rear solider was usually another experienced non-commissioned officer.<
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  The squad was surrounded by tall, abandoned buildings and piles of rubble, all taken from recent holograph footage from Earth.

  “Chang, keep your eyes on the left flank” said Fann who was playing the role of rear soldier. “Olsen, I need you to keep an eye up high. These guys could come jumping out of the windows.”

  Just as he said that, a familiar shriek echoed in the streets and a brown blur came crashing down from a sixth-story window. The soldiers automatically stood back to back and knelt down with only two soldiers engaging the brown smudge in the air. A pile of nearby rubble gave way to another alien but a well-aimed incinerator grenade got him before he could jump out. Terry smiled at seeing his input being put to use in training.

  “Deploy curtain!” said the trainee who was playing the role of deputy squad leader.

  Three soldiers rolled out fist-sized balls that created three electrical curtains as soon as they became static. Two more Nikruk emerged from nowhere, shooting at the Rendens. One soldier was hit and his simulation suit went into override mode, forcing him to lie down as if dead.

  They managed to bring one down with continuous fire but the other two continued to whizz around. One of the peculiarities observed from footage from Earth was the Nikruk preference for close combat. They were generally ungifted marksmen and seemed to relish the opportunity to get up close. The electrical curtain was devised for that reason; it created a temporary field around the squad that shocked anything that attempted to pass by. One of the brown aliens attempted just that and the sudden bolt of electricity rendered it immobile for a couple seconds, more than enough time for three squad members to riddle it with pulse fire.

  The temptation to all participate in the killing of one vulnerable Nikruk was overwhelming so squads had to be trained not to do so. The last Nikruk escaped in another brown blur, despite the best efforts to bring it down. The deputy squad leader put his hand up and signalled for two of his soldiers to check the bodies of the hit Nikruk of which one was still alive. Two pulse rounds to the head and it went limp.