by H. T. Kofruk
The Heavenly Tower was over three hundred feet tall and shaped like a giant jade-coloured pillar with a golden dragon wrapped around it, the dragon’s head roaring towards the east at the summit. The mouth of the dragon, covered with reinforced glass, was the vantage point from which the Emperor looked down on the common people with fatherly love.
Four Shadows were standing in the room, wearing black armoured suits that were the lightest and strongest ever invented. Only one of them, a grey-haired man, had his head and face uncovered. He had an equally grey thick moustache and bushy eyebrows above brown eyes that did not blink. Fann knew that somewhere in the room would be at least two more Shadows hiding and watching.
“The Imperial City has not lost a petal of its beauty since I left” said Fann as he walked past a fountain shaped like a water spring coming down an ice-capped mountain. “Nor have you added a single wrinkle to your forehead, Colonel Qin.”
“My forehead is wrinkled enough, my prince. Years of worrying for your father’s safety have left me prematurely old” answered the grey-haired Shadow.
“If I had your physical and mental abilities at your age, Uncle, I would be the happiest man in the world.”
The older man chuckled. “You haven’t called me uncle since you were ten.”
“You mistake. I have always called you that. It was Xiao who stopped once he found out you were not of imperial blood.” Colonel Qin didn’t say anything to that.
“I have seen you have become a strong, weathered man, my prince” he said as he looked at the tall, well-built physique of the Imperial son.
Fann just smiled. “I saw holographs of my father, you and Admiral Liu as young boys in the palace. I regret that I never had any friends like you growing up.”
“You had your brother, my prince.”
“Yes” said Fann thoughtfully. “I had my brother.”
He remembered how one summer day when both Imperial Princes were thirteen, Fann had confessed to his brother his interest in a palace servant. Xiao had seemed sympathetic enough and encouraged his younger brother to pursue the girl. “You are divine. She will be honoured” he had said.
Two days later, Fann saw the girl leaving bruised and half-naked from Xiao’s quarters. Fann was already much bigger and stronger than Xiao so he rushed in and beat his elder half-brother until he begged for forgiveness. But as soon as Fann left, Xiao went to the Empress and told his story, that the girl had chosen him over Fann and that had made the younger prince jealous enough to beat the Crown Prince.
The Empress went to her husband and demanded a harsh punishment. For the first time in decades, the Dragon Rod was taken out. The thin, golden stick was made of wood with a handle that was shaped like a phoenix. Its name was derived from the belief that only a phoenix could bring calm to a dragon. In front of the Court, the Empress and the Crown Prince, Fann lifted his trousers to expose his calves. The Emperor, egged on by his wife, struck fifty times with the Dragon Rod until the yellow cushion on which Fann stood was wet with blood. Fann had promised himself that he wouldn’t shed a tear but by the tenth strike, his eyes were already glazed with tears.
When Fann emerged from his memories, he was startled to find his father standing in front of him. He bowed low and said “May you live ten thousand years, father.”
The Emperor didn’t say anything at first and merely grabbed his second son by the shoulder. “Welcome home, my son.”
Fann was surprised at the affection showed by his father. Ever since his mother had died, Fann felt as if he was an uncomfortable burden on the family, someone often talked about but seldom talked to. The new Empress, his step-mother, used to openly express her disdain of the former Crown Prince, swiftly leaving the room whenever he entered or making him leave with a scornful stare.
“Sit” said the Emperor after he led his son to two chairs made of bamboo and silk at either side of a chess table made of gold and translucent glass. The pieces were jade circles carved and painted with gold pictures of animals or ancient characters. Half of them had red painted edges while the other half had blue. The Emperor seated himself on the side with the red pieces while Fann awkwardly sat opposite him.
The Emperor made the first move with a soldier piece. A serving girl arrived while Fann was thinking and put a jade kettle and two jade cups on a small glass table next to them. She then meticulously poured the Longjing green tea to the rim of the small cups. The Emperor grasped a cup and deeply inhaled the misty steam before sipping the excellent tea. Fann found himself predicting each of the possible moves of his father and calculated each contingency plan.
In silence, with only the pouring and sipping of tea, the Imperial father and son played on for two hours until finally, the son quietly said “Jiàng sǐ”. Checkmate. The Emperor merely laughed and stood up. He walked quietly to the giant window pane where the illuminated city shone in the fading daylight.
Fann stood up and walked towards his father. “Why have you summoned me here, father? Surely, it wasn’t just to have a good chess adversary?”
Still looking out the window, the Emperor replied “You and Liu are the only ones who can beat me in chess. Xiao never even bothered to learn.” He paused. “A war is coming, my son, one to end all wars.”
Fann could only guess what this meant. Was his father going to initiate a war on Earth? “Father?” he merely asked.
The old ruler turned around and looked at the Shadows in the room. “Leave us, all of you.” Two more Shadows in black materialized from nowhere and the six of them bowed and left the room with the serving girl hurrying behind them.
“Fann, what do you think of Xiao?”
The question caught Fann by surprise. “He is the Crown Prince and will one day take your place.”
“I didn’t ask you what he was; I asked you what you think about him.” Seeing his son hesitating, he added “I want an honest answer.”
After few more seconds of hesitation, Fann finally drew up the courage. “He is weak and spoiled. He enjoys cruelty and places too much faith in himself.”
“He is my making” said the Emperor after a brief pause. “I am the ruler of the largest empire that the universe has ever seen, and yet I have failed my first-born. Now that his mother is dead, I can see that.”
“She…she loved him very much, perhaps too much.”
“It had nothing to do with love, Fann. He as well as I were just her tools to realize her ambitions. Every time I waged war, every time I invaded a planet, every time I spurred on our scientists for better weapons, it was to appear a better man to her. What a fool I was.” He paused again. “My final gift to her was to be the universe. When I lost my hand, she stoked my anger. She wanted the heads of all those who conspired against me and I promised them. And now, even in her death, I live to please her it seems.”
“Are you starting a war with the other empires, Father? With all of them?” Fann was at the same time shocked and annoyed at his father’s revelations.
“It has already started. As you said, Xiao is not the one to lead the Imperial Forces. He is neither loved nor respected by the men. You, on the other hand, are loved by all.”
Fann realized what his father wanted to do. He wanted a competent member of the Imperial Family to lead the wars against the other empires, and by extension, other worlds.
“Father, this is folly. We are about to start a war with the whole galaxy. Billions will die. It is a war we cannot win.”
“We can and we must. I will not be mocked by her when I enter Heaven. I want to leave you an empire that will dwarf anything we’ve seen.”
The prince was about to say something but then closed his mouth again. “What are you saying, father? Are you making me Crown Prince again? Why? Xiao will resist.”
His father looked so old and frail all of a sudden. His mind had been ground to pieces by the late Empress who had shamelessly used him. He was her slave even in her death. The Emperor sat down on a cushioned chair and leaned back. His back and knees
cracked as he sat as if it was the first time in a long time.
“You will win this war and you will reign as a wise and just ruler of the largest empire in history. Xiao will come soon to Huangjing and I will strip him of his title. Now leave me so I can rest. Tell the serving girl that I am ready to eat.”
Fann did not know what to do or say so he simply accepted the apparent dismissal. What terrors do the future hold?
Chapter 31: Captured
‘Empirical evidence suggest that the humanoid form provides many advantages for the development of intelligent beings; of the roughly eight hundred identified intelligent aliens in the Yinhexi, more than ninety per cent are humanoid or close to humanoid.’ - Pacific Federation Alien Intelligence Handbook, version 29.1
Terry counted about thirty AA uniforms huddled in the middle of the command centre. Their lack of injuries and wounds suggested that they had surrendered. Cowards. When the aliens had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, the urge to protect was stronger than his fear of the aliens. Bongani had taken a swig of his ‘battle potion’ a few minutes before the sudden appearance of the aliens. His reflexes were lightening quick and he managed to kill one of them with a pulse through the throat. Another rushed at him only to be met by the Black Berserker’s studded fist to the side of the head, sending it staggering. A third jumped on top of him with such a force that Terry was certain that Bongani was dead.
Even Heera had played her part, shooting with a pulse rifle that she had picked up before being flung against a wall. That had ignited him and he used all his military training to kill anyone that approached Heera. Even without wearing an amplifier suit, his sudden awareness permitted him to fight off the aliens for a while. But there were too many and they were too fast. One of them managed to disarm him and grab him by the throat.
When they were taken to the command centre and Bongani was dumped on the floor, Terry was glad to hear him groan. Though he disagreed with practically everything the older soldier stood for, he found that they shared a soldier’s bond; the knowledge that both of them had experienced and done the worst in war.
Terry spied one of the Atlantic officers looking intently at Bongani. He sensed an air of discomfort in the muscular, grey-haired man as soon as he saw the Afrikan. Though the officer had taken his uniform jacket off, making his rank unknown, Terry guessed that from the look of him he was probably a high ranking officer, probably a colonel or a general. So that was Bongani’s contact on the station...
The Rendens were surrounded by fifty or so aliens. Their mere presence was suffocating, bringing back flashbacks of their vicious attack on Janpu. He remembered how they tunnelled through the ground and jumped in the air at impossible speed, how they effortlessly tore out the limbs of armoured soldiers, how their war screams were deafening. They were like a pack of hungry wolves loosed in among a herd of sheep. Atlantic soldiers, sheep! What was puzzling was their strange air of calmness and dignity now. Were these wolves placated by their recent kills?
Another striking difference was the perceived age difference between these aliens and those that had attacked the Atlantic invasion force. The faces of these aliens were visibly wrinkled and the skin withheld within those wrinkles was pale, presumably from old age. Only a few of them retained a look of relative youth. One of them was seated on a chair, his eyes firmly closed, surrounded by a cadre of supposed bodyguards. As if sensing Terry’s glance, the seated one abruptly opened his eyes, the yellow-gold irises sparkling with knowledge. He said something to Terry in Imperial Chinese. Though Terry had learned the language at the Military Academy, he had never had the opportunity to use it. He understood, however, the three words uttered by the alien leader. “I know you.”
Heera looked at Terry with a confused look, as did the Atlantic soldiers clustered near him.
“I…” He didn’t know how to respond, especially in Chinese.
Heera, who had a better command of the language, intervened: “Why are you here? What do you want from us?” The use of the Chinese language by the alien leader painted a much more complete picture of the origins of these aliens. “Did the Chinese create you?”
The aliens around her made a low rumbling noise, something that could be considered laughter.
The leader’s eyes shifted toward her. “Our creator is Mother”
Another alien, thinner than the others, stepped forward. He also shared some of the traits of youth compared to the majority of the others and spoke in much more fluent Chinese. “We have been waiting for a way to communicate with these ones. They do not understand the Renden language” he said with a shrug. Terry and Heera both noted how his gestures and mannerisms were very ‘human’.
Heera guessed that they had tried to communicate with the captives, but none of them understood or spoke Imperial Chinese. Typical Atlantic education. She was sure that one of the sources of the animosity between the Atlantic Alliance and the Chinese Empire was their mutual unwillingness to learn each other’s languages, hindering communication.
“We need a ship and someone who knows how to operate the wormhole creator” the alien leader said.
“Why? Where do you want to go?” asked Heera.
“Back to our home to liberate our brethren.”
The response ignited a series of murmurs of confusion among the aliens. The young one that stood beside the leader spoke in raised voices, as did a few of the others. Their gestures and voice tones suggested that they disagreed with the leader. A short, stocky alien stood in front of Bin’ja and said something harsh while pointing a finger at him. At that another alien, who had stood silently on the other side of the leader, made several threatening gestures to the shorter alien while talking in a low but dangerous voice. ‘Internal conflict’ thought Terry. ‘We can use that.’
The grey-haired officer who had been eyeing Bongani earlier moved close to Terry. “What did he say?”
His muscular shoulders, thick waist and well-worn knuckles suggested that he was a former army armoured infantryman, probably from the one southern states of Atlantic America judging by his accent. After decades in service, good connections and a few medals, he had most likely been given his current position in order to ‘prepare for retirement’.
“They want to go home” was the simple reply. Heera sensed something in Terry’s voice that could almost replace ‘they’ with ‘I’. The older officer felt uncomfortable from the strange reply and just cleared his throat. Another groan from Bongani had him heading back to the cluster.
Heera went to Bongani and lifted off his helmet. The visor had cracked into fragments and the helmet itself was dented by the blow to the head. It seemed that though he had suffered a concussion from the vicious blow, the tough armour and shock absorption technology for which Afrika was famous had saved him. She took out a small, flat rectangular device from the pocket on her left arm and placed it on Bongani’s head. As she turned it on, the white case glowed slightly blue, which meant that it was giving off a cold relaxant.
Bin’ja was getting tired of the arguing around him. The aggressiveness and harshness of the words passing between his brothers was unusual and worrisome. After the attack on the wormhole station, during which they had lost their ship, Bin’ja started questioning their original goal of attacking Earth. With no ship, no planet-killing fusion missiles, how was this the path that Mother set up for them? The thirst for revenge, an idea that he had essentially planted in his brothers’ heads, combined with the weakening of Mother, had had the effect of making the Free Nikruk blood-thirsty. He felt that they were starting to enjoy killing in battle rage.
This was not something Mother would ever want. Their plan was failing because it was not the path Mother set out for them. Then why else would she have given them an advanced Renden ship with unimaginably powerful weapons? The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that their objective was to help the thousands of their brothers still locked up in the prison complex of their home. There hadn’t been a natural Nikruk b
irth for many years; with the Renden monopolization of Mother’s sap, the only ones that were born were creations of Renden experiments. Within a few years, the natural born Nikruk who still held strong ties to Mother and to their previous fathers would die out. He needed to see to it that the heritage and knowledge passed down from countless generations of fathers would not die out with them.
“Enough!” he pronounced in the Nikruk tongue. The other aliens fell silent. He slowly rose, standing to full height. Even the Rendens could feel something different about this one; he possessed a regal yet benevolent air about him that commanded submission. Terry could swear he saw a pink aura around him.
“This is not Mother’s will. We must go back and save our brothers. If revenge is the path, then it can wait until the safety of our race is assured. We must win back our brothers, our fathers, and Mother!” The last words were said with such a force that it seemed the air around him trembled.
As if to mock the moment of solemn silence that followed the words of Bin’ja, the communicator hooked to Bongani’s ear came alive with David’s voice. “Guys, it’s been a while now. Any news?”
Everybody’s eyes, both Renden and Nikruk, turned to Bongani, who, as if stimulated by his partner’s voice, opened his eyes and started coughing. Realizing his head was being cradled by Heera and hundreds of pairs of eyes were staring at him, he sat up awkwardly.
“Hello? Bongani? Is everything alright?” inquired David again.
“David, I’ll call you back.” With that he switched off his communicator and cut off David’s protests.
“Are you alright?” asked Terry.
“Just a bit of a headache” said Bongani as he rubbed his bald head. “What’s going on?” he whispered nervously.
The Atlantic soldiers looked inquisitively at the strange trio, all except the one old officer who pretended to look elsewhere.
“We need your ship” said the slim alien next to the leader in fluent Chinese again. “And we need someone who knows how to operate the wormhole creator.”
