The Imperialists: The Complete Trilogy

by H. T. Kofruk

  Blizzard winds ripped violently at his clothes. The world was a barren cold land covered in snow and ice. The ship computer had called the planet R-8771 and it was officially Atlantic Alliance territory. It had been a planet deemed fit for terraforming experiments. It was in the gravitational range, had an atmosphere and vast quantities of water and was even in the temperature range, but near the lower limits. But evidently trials had ceased at some point.

  He squinted to see the two black figures approaching from the distance. He crouched on the floor, picked up a ball of snow and slowly nibbled at it as he waited. The two figures gained details as they approached and he could make out the tall figure of Bongani and that of his shorter, leaner partner, David. The terraforming hadn’t been a complete failure and some species of fish, krill and various other marine life forms had survived under the ice.

  Terry was well aware what dull company he was. He didn’t speak during the day, barely ate and would find tears on his face almost every morning. He wasn’t motivated to even lend a helping hand to the Afrikan couple. He wondered constantly whether anything was really worth doing when it could be undone or taken away so easily. Was God just testing his faith as he did Job’s? Was he having a cruel bet with the Devil that his faith would prevail even in the face of all the hardship he threw his way? Sorry to disappoint.

  Before he knew it, Bongani was standing in front of him, his towering figure casting a shadow in the pale sunlight. He was holding two fish tied together with carbon cables, each a foot long. Terry didn’t even ask how they caught the fish, didn’t really care for all that mattered.

  “Today we caught two” Bongani declared while gesturing proudly to his harvest. “and they are both big and fat.” Bongani was smiling, his straight white teeth contrasting to his almost black skin.

  Terry knew Bongani was being patient with him and was even trying to cheer him up. But none of it mattered. The three men had landed two weeks ago on the planet after spending six weeks in space. The small craft that had detached from the two Afrikan smugglers’ cargo ship was damaged following an attack from a Chinese destroyer. Everyone else who had stayed in the cargo area had died as a consequence. Though the small ship had its own fission generator, it lacked light-speed capabilities and the generator itself had taken damage in such close vicinity to the pulse shock wave. The fastest it could take them was a third of light speed and even that seemed to strain considerably the fragile ship.

  They had come across the planet almost out of chance after three weeks of putting the ship’s computer to work to find a habitable planet with breathable air and water. When they arrived and had done a scan of the surface, they had to decide whether it was better to land on the barren, cold planet and send distress signals or take their chances again and search for another planet or better still, an Atlantic Alliance vessel.

  It was decided that landing would increase their chances of survival considerably since the fission generator could, in theory, provide sufficient energy for light, heat and other survival needs for years if necessary while continuing to use it in space would most probably bring about a malfunction in the vast vacuum. David had estimated they had a week, maybe two if they were lucky, to find another planet. Even in the relatively high density of planets and stars in this part of the Yinhexi, that was still worse than looking for a needle in a ton of hay.

  So as a consequence, the small craft became a heated shack in the middle of a snowy desert. Blizzard storms would suddenly whip up at unsuspecting moments and threaten to bury the survivors in snow where they stood. One consolation was the discovery of the ‘lake’ three miles from where they had landed. They didn’t really know whether it was indeed a lake or part of a vast ocean but the ice was thinner there for some reason and a small laser was sufficient to burn a hole in it. Bongani had tied a small sensor unit on a long strand of carbon to investigate whether there was any life down there and was surprised to view images of fish that resembled trout and sardines. The algae that grew on the bottom of the ice would have been one of the first achievements in the terraforming project, followed by the krill, creating a self-sustaining micro-ecosystem.

  Bongani set the frozen fish down on the ground and went inside the shack to get a heat slate. David took out a bottle of salt water from the lake to give some flavour to the fish while it cooked.

  “Could use some lemon and coriander” said David, who was something of a cook. “Wouldn’t say no to a cube of butter either.”

  The heat slate was a slab of plastic with a copper cover filled with two solutions that created heat when they chemically reacted. David switched on the slate and waited for it to heat up sufficiently. When it did, the smell of cooked fish soon filled the immediate vicinity, a smell that felt too alien in their current predicament. Terry hadn’t realized how hungry he was. David put the salt water in a metal cup and heated it as well. Once it boiled and diminished in volume, he poured the more concentrated salt water slowly over the fish, creating white clouds of steam.

  Bongani passed the whole cooked fish to Terry who hesitated before accepting it. A broad smile broke out of Bongani’s face as if the acceptance was the first sign that Terry was ‘coming back’. David continued his meticulous cooking of the second fish, adding salt water where he saw fit. He too looked up when Terry started eating and exchanged a hopeful look with Bongani.

  Terry did enjoy the fish but wondered whether it would be worth feeding his body when his soul was so starved. He felt as if all good emotions had been squeezed out of his body, including faith. He couldn’t believe that a supreme being who was in any way good could let his love die in such a manner, especially after his years of service.

  Even now while chewing the freshly cooked fish, his mind was doing something that it had never done; question the existence of God. Fish meat and bone caught in his scruffy beard as he stared into the snowy horizon as if searching for something. After all my killing in the name of God, what good has it done? We are taught to create Heaven on Earth, but what has our arrival on different worlds created? Am I not more akin to the Devil than to God? What is my purpose? Is there such a purpose? Is my purpose the same as that of the salmon, the rat or the pigeon? To live, to die, to reproduce? If there is no God to watch over us, to guide us, then what is the difference between me and any other animal?

  He looked at what was left of the fish; bones and cooked flesh. He felt a strange camaraderie with the trout, as if the trout was telling him that they were essentially the same; pieces of carbon that had, for some reason, taken the form of something that moved and ate and fucked, only to go back to carbon.

  “Terry” called out Bongani.

  He turned his eyes to the two other men staring at him. He could see that they had already finished their meal and the fish he had been eating was now almost frozen in the cold wind. The pity in their eyes was unbearable. He threw the fish on the floor and walked inside the shuttle-turned-shack. In the sudden darkness, he felt his way to his isolated corner where his mat and covers were lying. He lay down and covered himself entirely, fighting back tears. Heera’s death had extinguished his love for life and his love for God in the same millisecond. He felt as empty as a Russian doll.

  Bongani walked in and turned on the lights. Terry could hear his footsteps approaching him. Bongani was the last person he wanted to see or talk to at the moment. He remembered how the ex-soldier had stopped him from rescuing Heera. He had known at the time that trying to get Heera before the missile impact was impossible but it didn’t matter. He would have gladly died trying and Bongani had prevented him.

  In some ways, Terry felt he should be thankful to Bongani for probably saving his life. But Bongani didn’t know what an awful torture his life was at the moment, and how it would be until he put an end to it. Yes, put an end to it. If God really was there to judge him, he would spit at his feet and gladly take the stairs down to Hell.

  Bongani didn’t say anything. He was well aware that Terry resented him for what
had happened on the ship a couple months ago. If it was anyone else, he would have contemplated killing him for putting everyone in a foul mood. In Terry’s case, however, he felt a surprising empathy. He too had lived the life of a killing machine, only to lose someone so dear to him. When a soldier’s guilt loses its counterweight, it rolls down the hill and snowballs into something that can’t be managed. Despite all that, he was sick of Terry’s unchanging attitude.

  “Terry” he called out, standing not two feet away from the bundle of blankets. “Lieutenant Southend!” he shouted in his most soldierly voice when he got no reply.

  This time he kicked Terry in the back with his snow-covered boots, bringing out a pain-filled moan. “Get up you piece of shit!” he cried out.

  He kicked once more and this time Terry didn’t even make a sound. With a sigh, he was about to leave but decided to give him one last kick. This time, a strong grip stopped his foot. Bongani tried to pry his foot out of the grip but it was like a vice.

  “Kick me one more time and I’ll kill you” said the bundle of blankets that was holding his foot. With a shove Terry let go of the foot.

  Bongani was glad he finally got a response but his pride did not allow himself to be talked to in that manner. He was still captain of the ship that was now a shack. He pulled back a couple steps and this time ran at Terry. “I said get up!” he said forcefully as this time he aimed to give Terry a good bruising in the back.

  Terry blocked the kick with his left forearm and rammed into the smuggler with his right shoulder. It was one fluid motion, a result of years of military hand-to-hand combat training. With his left fist, he threw a punch aiming for the jaw in the darkness. He punched thin air, however, and instead received a knee to the chest that left him breathless. Bongani lit a lighter and brought it to the cigar stump in his mouth, illuminating his dark face and the contrasting white of his eyes. His mouth opened to form a wide grin. Terry felt he was being mocked, as if Bongani wasn’t taking his pain seriously. The anger gave him new energy.

  Meanwhile, David had cleaned the heat slate with snow and had gone to urinate fifty feet from the shack. He was only fifteen feet away when he heard the tumbling noise above the sound of the wind whipping in his ears. He ran to the shack, only to be crushed by the hefty body of his partner that had flown out of the brusquely opened door.

  Terry walked out of the door, with a determined face full of murder. Bongani got up, giving David room to breathe, and took up a fighting stance.

  “Don’t worry, I’ve got this” he said quietly to the bomb expert.

  Terry slowly approached like the Grim Reaper, his eyes full of malice. When he threw a deadly punch to the temple, the big Afrikan kicked him low in the knee, stopping him before he was even in range. The kick brought Terry down to one knee and Bongani aimed another kick at his head. Terry caught the heavy kick with both hands and swept his opponent’s standing leg with his own, bringing him down to the floor. He then jumped up and tried to get on top of Bongani to hit him in the face, only to be kicked back by the smuggler’s long right leg.

  Bongani got up and took his stance again. Terry also took a stance, something that told Bongani that he was starting to enjoy the fight. It was the bigger man who attacked first this time, aiming a punch to the head while preparing to immediately follow through with another to the liver. He never got to use his second punch, however, since his first punch was blocked and he somehow found himself with his arm in a position where it could easily be broken. Using his larger frame, he pulled his arm out of the lock position and gave Terry a side kick to the chest.

  Terry immediately bounced back up as if he had been expecting the kick and charged at the Afrikan who was off balance. He jumped and came down with a fist that struck Bongani’s jaw. The dark towering figure fell down into the snow face first. Terry stood victorious but oddly remorseful next to Bongani. David rushed to see if his partner was alright.

  Neither David nor Terry saw it coming. The big smuggler suddenly got up and struck Terry in right cheek, sending him flying. It was a hard blow, enough to knock a bull out. But Terry was tougher than a bull with his physical augmentations and managed to get up again. Blood was pouring out of his nose and a nasty cut in his cheek. He spat out blood and saw the contrast it created in the white snow. For some reason it made him laugh, as if he had unlawfully slept with a virgin or something. Still laughing, he made his way to the heaving black figure.

  “That’s enough guys. You’re gonna kill each other” said David sensibly.

  The two soldiers ignored him completely. Bongani’s lip was swollen to double its original size, making him look deformed. He also spat out blood and a tooth. His fist was slow this time and Terry easily dodged it and punched him in the stomach. The physical effort of punching seemed exhausting and Terry paused to breathe. Bongani didn’t let the opportunity go and hit Terry with the back of his fist on the other cheek, sending him staggering. He staggered back and hit Bongani again in the face.

  The two were now just about standing, exchanging blows whenever one garnered enough energy to throw one. Both their eyes were swollen to the extent that they could hardly see. In the end, they weren’t even landing any blows despite the fact that none of them were moving or dodging.

  David walked purposefully to the pair standing in the blizzard exchanging punches like a pair of bad comedians. He first punched Bongani in the face for being such a pig-headed idiot. He then punched Terry, who was still waving his arms around, for hitting his partner. Both went down easily, fainting blissfully in the snow.

  “Ah, shit” he muttered to himself at the prospect of dragging the two men, both of whom were taller and weightier than him, into the shack.

  Chapter 4: Shipwrecked

  ‘Rendens display unusual violence or threats of violence at very little provocation. War became such an advanced instrument that it forgot its own purpose. In the beginning, Rendens, as with most other intelligent and semi-intelligent species, used war to alleviate resource constraints. But the later Renden wars seem to stem from less concrete causes: ideas, the perception of a threat even if the other party meant no threat, obscure landmarks, etc. War was no longer a means to an end, it became the end itself.’ – Xhavo vo Kaur, Janpek Historian, , year 2819

  The IGN Virgin Mary extended its carbon pipes towards the Atlantic Alliance cruiser, the Red Sea. With the two ships barely a hundred feet from each other, the pipe that was about to connect them was still treated gingerly with several sailors in atmospheric suits guiding it. The operation was highly unorthodox and none of the two ships were really equipped to carry it out. As far as Admiral Rick Hernandez knew, it had never been done in the past century.

  Atlantic Alliance navy vessels were usually loaded with solidified vital elements such as oxygen and hydrogen. These elements could, depending on the need, be transformed into water or released as oxygen by the central atmosphere generator. The ships themselves were completely air-tight with barely any welding done on the outer-shells.

  When the Rick had ordered all ships in his fleet to jump using light speed, only his ship and the Red Sea had been quick enough. In the two seconds between his order issuance and his ship’s jump, he saw several other ships also igniting their light-speed drives. The planet-killing fusion missile first caused an implosion five miles from the surface of Lordsphere, sucking in everything with power similar to that of a small black hole. The Virgin Mary was already almost one astronomical unit away from Lordsphere and hence, only slightly felt the immense gravity unleashed by the implosion.

  The Red Sea, on the other hand, had been stuck at an awkward distance where the implosion wasn’t pulling it back, but its own light-speed drive was incapable of pushing it forward. When the implosion turned to an explosion, the cruiser was in damage range but it was the combination of the push of the explosion and the light-speed jump that had almost destroyed it. It had tumbled at a speed roughly twenty per cent fas
ter than light for six minutes, enough to fry its gravity shield. The exterior of the ship had started to peel off and the early stages of ship disintegration were well on their way. Everybody on board was suspended animation for five of the six minutes, and they struggled frantically to bring the ship out of hyper-speed. A third of the service members aboard had perished from heat exposure, lack of oxygen or being sucked out of the ship through the many holes in the hull.

  The Red Sea was the only other ship in the fleet that was known to have survived. All the others were either engulfed by the new star that used to be Lordsphere, the capital of the Atlantic Alliance’s outer-space empire, or somewhere else in the Yinhexi out of communication distance.

  The Virgin Mary had found the Atlantic cruiser through encrypted broadcasts. They were two light weeks away from each other. When Rick’s crew finally reached the Red Sea, the cruiser’s gravity shield barely had worked and the atmosphere-creator had almost been depleted of oxygen. Its sewage recycling system had also taken a hit, creating a stench in the ship that was only exasperated by the lack of oxygen.

  The Red Sea’s light speed drive had given out after a few days and its abysmal condition had forced the young new commander to maroon the ship next to a large meteor. None of its pulse or laser cannons functioned and it only had a dozen missiles left. Its two squadrons of Tiger Shark fighters had all deployed in the orbit of Lordsphere and none of them had returned in time for the light-speed jump. In short, it was a sitting duck if any enemy ships happened to decrypt the electronic waves it was sending or triangulated its sending position.