The Imperialists: The Complete Trilogy

by H. T. Kofruk

  Surprisingly fast for her size, Zaram purposely dropped down to the floor and aimed the protruded nozzle of a particle plasma gun at Tarats’ feet. An invisible, silent beam cut through the table and chair legs, leaving a jagged ditch along the ground in its path before ending in a large hole in the opposite wall. An eruption of pressurised air and dust blinded her momentarily until her eyes caught the motion of the old Tzak warrior. She could hear the guards already duelling with each other and by the sound of it, at least one of the Carulion guards was dying.

  A second nozzle came out of her jagged right claw, this time producing a green haze poisonous only to Tzak. A long blade just barely missed her head and she saw that Tarats had prepared thoroughly for combat. He was wearing a nose filter and kept his jaw clamped shut. She also noted that his robe had turned red, a colour invisible to Zaram due to their deep ocean origins.

  She had trained enough to know how to distinguish a Tzak warrior from his outlines and she shot out her smaller left hand to punch at him before swinging in an arc with her larger right claw. She used the momentum of the large swinging action to help herself up. Confusion and dust punctuated the following seconds during which her fighting instincts were put to the test against the wily old Tzak who used his speed and semi-invisibility well.

  Her vision sensed a second distortion in the dust and she put her claw up just in time to block a blow from another long Tzak blade. She guessed that among the guards, the two Carulions were dead and only one Tzak remained. That made the fight two against one. But the enemy had to breathe at some point and when they did, they would inhale the haze that would insert thousands of parasites into their lungs. The tiny creatures would generate heat as they fed on the internal flesh, eventually enough to blow up the breathing organs from within.

  But the Tzak could hold their breath for at least ten minutes, a trait evolved from the frequent sandstorms of minute particles on their wretched planet. Ten minutes was an eternity in combat. She needed another source of leverage before help would arrive. Her mind worked at high speed to come up with some sort of advantage.

  It turned out that she didn’t need to. Something started to bang on the thick doors of the meeting hall, something unnaturally strong. All three surviving beings in the room looked as the strong doors started to bend from the repeated impact. The dust started to clear and she could make out the outlines of the dead Carulion guards who had escorted her.

  “What have you done?” hissed Tarats.

  The doors flung wide open at that moment and two brown blurs flew in. A deafening shriek made her blood freeze. It seemed to have the same effect on the two Tzak as neither of them reacted when two giant brown monsters with yellow eyes grabbed both of them. Zaram looked with satisfaction as one of the monsters tore out Tarats’ lower jaw. He consequently inhaled the green gas and the parasites started immediately attacking his lungs.

  One of the most influential warlords of Tzakbhat soon found heat building up inside him. The monster still stared down at him with a blank, robotic expression until he heard his lungs pop.

  Chapter 8: Backpedalling

  ‘How did the Pacific Federation succumb to this? This is a prime example of how money pollutes democracy. How can any nation or super-state profess to give equal political rights to its citizens when i) you must pay an astronomical sum to be a candidate in any election, ii) more astronomical sums, provided by the Pacific's powerful conglomerates, are needed for campaigns, and iii) would-be politicians actively court conglomerates for funds?’ - Terry Southend, , year 2916

  Terry looked at the curvaceous yet muscled figure of Fatima as she walked towards him naked among the haphazardly thrown clothes. The aroma of the sweetened green tea smothered the smell of sweat and exertion. He remarked how her short hair, glistening with perspiration, gave her a mischievous, slightly boyish look. The small dots where needles had pierced her skin to inject nano-bots, bio-metal alloy and a host of chemicals following basic training had still not healed. He wanted her to settle the cups down quickly so they could have a second round but it almost seemed she was walking in slow motion, her surroundings appearing as a haze.

  It was when she was only two paces away that her image overlapped with another. Her body became thinner and slightly taller while her skin complexion lightened. Her hair grew to form a tidy ponytail. ‘Coffee?’ said Heera with a military blanket wrapped around her. ‘No, I prefer to stay free of mood-changing substances’ he whispered beneath his breath.

  “I’m sorry?” said Fatima.

  He looked at her with a stupid expression feeling as if an iron fist was crushing his heart.

  “Nothing” he said.

  She looked at him for a moment before sitting down next to him on the bed. She handed him a cup of tea which he sipped out of politeness. He had shared intimacy with another person for the first time since Heera’s death but he couldn’t help but feel a hole in his soul. The black hand of guilt crept into his mind. It was as if he was cheating on both Heera and Fatima but with none of them.

  Fatima put her hand on his rough cheek and pulled his face towards hers. Her eyes were playful and happy but for a pained shadow. Dimples appeared on her cheeks as she curled her lips to form a determined smile. To his surprise, she suddenly got back up and started picking up her clothes. He watched her dress without saying anything, appreciating the fact that she didn’t try to impose herself on him, to pry out the source of his pain. He could see that she had chosen the patient but determined path.

  He was almost glad when he saw the holograph of David knocking on his door. He got up and put on a gown before Fatima, now fully dressed in military fatigues, opened the door. Before leaving she gave him one last glance. David stood at the door with a slightly bewildered look before she pushed passed him.

  “Captain Jameson” said Terry with mock formality.

  “Councillor Southend” responded David with a smile. They both waited until the door slid closed. “Getting some action finally?”

  Terry tilted his head to give an ambiguous response.

  “Is the mighty Terry Southend embarrassed?” laughed David.

  “Er…why are you here?”

  “Come Terry. You’ve done nothing wrong. No need to act like you’ve committed a delinquency.”

  “I wasn’t aware that I was acting like that, nosey bastard.”

  David laughed. “Okay, okay, Councillor Southend. I’ll just say this though; it’s good to see you let go a bit.”

  Terry raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure you’re here for something other than to pry into my private life, David.”

  The captain of the UTS Pride, a retrofitted Atlantic Alliance cruiser, sunk into a leather bean bag. “I just wanted to get our message straight. It’s United Terra’s first official meeting with a newly independent alien race.”

  Terry was well aware of the importance of the meeting that would be held in four days. Hoonak had been, until two years ago, a planet within the Pacific Federation outer space empire. When the Pacific Federation troops and ships left at the outbreak of war without returning, the Hoonaki had declared independence. Even though the Pacific Federation’s two century rule was mostly tolerant and peaceful, the Hoonaki were understandably suspicious of Renden motives and hostile towards their former colonial masters.

  “I’m still adding the finishing touches to our terms. It’s taking longer than expected because I have to study some of their history and our Pacific friends maintain that they were beloved masters that only ever thought of the welfare of their dull subjects.”

  David chuckled at that. “Typical imperialist reasoning. Well don’t take too long. Ambassador Kong is getting anxious.”

  “I told him it would be ready in two days.”

  “Well, you know he’s nervous about some of your ideas, that you’re making too many concessions to other species.”

  Terry rolled his eyes. “What concessions? That we’d stop murdering their children and taking
their resources? That we’d grant them the right to exist and prosper as a species?”

  David held up his palms. “Hey, don’t say anything to me. It’s Kong you have to persuade. My advice, my friend, is to finish it as soon as possible so you can arbitrate with him.”

  “How about finishing as late as possible so he won’t have time to say a damn thing?”

  “I think you’re forgetting that he’s the one who’s going to stay on the planet to carve out a new relationship if they accept our terms.”

  “Yes, and all he knows about diplomacy and forging relationships is bombing any race into submission. Why did we choose him for this important mission again?”

  It was David’s turn to roll his eyes. He was about to say something when his Web-Com receiver beeped.

  “Bridge to Captain Jameson” said a female voice.

  After asking to be excused to Terry with a brief look, David activated his receiver and a holograph of the ship’s communications officer appeared.

  “What is it, Lieutenant Aznar?”

  The head of the communications officer morphed into that of the Commander Ngoc, the ship’s first officer. “Sir, I have just attempted to convey the situation report to United Terra headquarters.”

  “And?” said David with a hint of irritation that suggested that the commander had previously shown signs of lack of judgement and initiative.

  “No one has received the report, sir. Lieutenant Aznar confirms.”

  “Impossible. I spoke to Admiral Hernandez just a few hours ago. Have you tried...”

  “We’ve tried everything, sir. No reception confirmation, no orders issued, nothing. We’ve already attempted four times, sir.”

  David looked at Terry with wide eyes and then back at the holograph. “Have you tried contacting Station UTS-6?”

  The crewmembers and marines on board the UTS Pride showed Terry the utmost respect as he passed them by; he liked to think it was because they sympathized with his political ideals but was almost sure it was due to his famed career in the Marine Corps. Even after two years as a civilian, it felt strange to enter the bridge in civilian attire. David was in conversation with the holograph of a young officer in one of the few wormholes stations under United Terra control.

  “How long has the blackout lasted?” demanded David.

  “We’ve been trying to contact them for the past two hours, sir.”

  “Have you contacted the other wormhole stations?”

  “Yes, sir. All wormhole stations are accounted for.”

  Terry saw an unmistakable sigh of relief come out of David’s mouth unnoticeable to other crewmembers; Bongani’s mothership was docked at one of the stations.

  “Has any reconnaissance been attempted?”

  “Not yet, sir. An emergency meeting has convened to work out the next course of action.”

  David paused to think for a moment before speaking. “Given the situation, I am going to postpone the diplomatic mission to Hoonak. Open a transport wormhole from our current position back to the place of the meeting.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but only Admiral Hernandez can authorize…”

  “Admiral Hernandez could be dead!” shouted David making the young officer visibly jump. “My navigations officer will send you the coordinates. I expect the wormhole within five minutes” he said in a calmer voice before abruptly breaking off communication.

  Terry stood near the edge of the bridge to avoid interfering with the crew’s operations.

  When they reached the wormhole station UTS-11, Terry had to wait for two hours as the emergency meeting convened since it was strictly for military personnel; civilian members of the Interim Government would only be notified and consulted about the decisions taken.

  Bongani, admiral of Fleet One of the United Terra, was the first to come out and greet Terry with a brief hug. Terry could see that the role had already taken a toll on his friend from the bags that were beginning to form under his eyes.

  “So, what’s going on?” asked Terry. He noticed that two other officers who he didn’t recognise were standing nearby.

  Bongani sighed heavily. “We’re assuming that the Interim Government and all senior members of our forces have been killed.”

  Terry nodded. It was the most pessimistic and yet the most realistic explication of the lack of communication.

  “You know what that means. President Razak, Admiral Hernandez, Admiral Liu, the other council members, we have to assume that they’re all dead. The members of the meeting are the most senior members of the armed forces. And you’re the only surviving council member of the Interim Government. That makes you…”

  “President” gasped Terry. “Wait, I’m too young!”

  “Age is never a factor, Terry. And besides, I think at this time and moment we have to set aside ideas about governing a planet that we don’t control. The Carulions and the Tzak have to be considered our enemies from now on.”

  “The bastards used Death Beam weapons” said Terry with sudden exclamation. “It’s silent and keeps all machines running. They’ve taken our ships to reverse engineer them!”

  “That’s the assumption. Before I explain anything further, I have to ask a favour” said Bongani in a careful tone. One of the officers behind him stepped forward. Terry saw that he was a marine. “This is Lieutenant Colonel Sagawa.”

  The officer saluted him and he nodded back. “Sagawa is currently the highest ranking marine.”

  Terry saw what was coming. “I can’t, Bongani” he said before being asked.

  “It will only be temporary. We need someone to lead our Marine Corps.”

  “What about Fann?” said Terry desperately. He knew he would have to accept.

  “He’s going to captain a navy vessel. Without the sanctuary in the Carulio System, we’re vulnerable to attacks from the remnants of the Chinese Imperial Forces and the Orthodox. We have to speed up our plans for the liberation of Earth. We need an experienced marine to spearhead the invasion”

  Terry didn’t answer immediately. Taking off the uniform was the best choice he had made and it didn’t seem right to break such a solemn oath to himself. He was happy to be using his ideas to mould and forge the ideals of a new order. The fact that he had grown in influence and political stature by the mass acceptance of these ideals had him given a deeply rewarding feeling. Would his many followers become harsh critics if he donned an armoured amplifier suit once again? How would his messages of tolerance, acceptance and common goals for humanity be perceived if he picked up another pulse rifle?

  But then again, even with his grand ideas and calls for mutual respect, the times were inevitably violent. Was he not leaving the dirty work to others while hiding behind words and speeches? Did ultimate peace not require a sudden flare of violence? Perhaps the late Emperor Han Ching-diu had been correct after all…

  “First one in. Last one out” muttered Terry finally.

  A broad smile broke out of Bongani’s dark face. “That’s right, General Southend.”

  “Damn it, Bongani” he said before whipping around and walking away.

  Bongani was soon joined by David. The couple watched the lonely figure of Terry walk with heavy weights weighing down his shoulders.

  “If he goes down this road again, he may never remerge this time” said David.

  “I think so, too. He’s only just about gained a balance in his soul and we have to tell him to give it up for humanity. I think I may just be the worst kind of friend.”

  David squeezed his lover’s shoulder.

  Chapter 9: Face to Face

  ‘Studying the government of the Atlantic Alliance with objectivity was not an easy task for someone with my background. What I do know is that elections were all for show, since there were no real political parties and all candidates had to be sanctioned by a high-priest, bishop or, for Alliance-wide elections, by the Pope himself. The Church Intelligence Bureau was the most feared organisation whose goal was to ensure all politicians, m
ilitary commanders and anyone else of influence were strict adherents to the One God way. It can even be argued that even more power was centred around the One God Pope than the Chinese Emperor.’ - Terry Southend, , year 2916

  The stench was overwhelming. Thousands of Nikruk carcasses had already been burned and buried in mass graves but fishing out the bloated, rotting ones from the sea as they created a putrid barrier against the white cliffs was taking much longer than expected. Some of his lieutenants had suggested that they line the cliff with impaled cadavers to instil fear across the sea but he somehow knew that the monsters wouldn’t be intimidated.

  The defence was deemed a success; only a few dozen casualties had been sustained by the defending forces. Morale was high, as a result, and some of his lieutenants were even suggesting going on a counter attack to the Continent. Sergeant Major Grimly, the elderly former Celestial Guard, was one of them. Paul knew this could be problematic since the senior non-commissioned officer was something of a hero among the Atlantic Alliance soldiers under his command.

  Sir Elena Miburu stared at him as he surveyed the retrieval of the alien carcasses.

  “What?” he exclaimed after finding the stare unbearable.

  “Just thought you’d be happier with such a victory” she answered with a smile.

  Paul sighed. “I’ll only be happy when total victory comes and we’ve gotten every monster off this world.”

  “You’ll succeed” she replied simply before shifting her gaze to the sea. A strong gust of wind blew, momentarily cleansing the air of the rotten stench and replacing it with a fresh, salty aroma.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “You’ve led us well so far against impossible odds, Sir Paul. God has chosen you with a gift and a destiny.”

  He realized what she was saying would almost have been considered heresy under Catholic law. He felt a sudden jolt in his heart at the thought of Constantine, the Catholics’ home for the last four centuries. One of the Orthodox fleetmen now under his command had confirmed what he had feared; Constantine was now a radioactive wasteland and the whole Catholic clergy had died with it. His knightly title, his priesthood and his military rank had lost all meaning. The Pope who had vested in him these titles had died a terrible death and no other senior member of the Church had survived either. He was not only the military leader of the Renden resistance forces on Earth; he was also among the highest ranking Catholic clergymen.