by H. T. Kofruk
“Close the door” commanded the same robotic voice.
Fann complied again with some difficulty. When the door was finally back in place, he turned a pressure wheel that locked the door with several iron bars entering grooves in the wall. He felt the air being sucked out but immediately replaced by purified oxygen. More lights lit up in what turned out to be a narrow corridor no wider than the front door. Fann could see that the yellow light came from some sort of chemical mixed in with the cement walls. Ten feet from him stood a tall figure wrapped in a long black cloak. The figure was more than seven feet tall with a slim frame. Only a matte black mask was free of the free-flowing black cloth.
Slowly, the figure lifted its long, thin arm to its face and a three fingered hand emerged from the folds of the cloak. With slow, purposeful movements, the hand grabbed the mask and lifted it off. The peculiar face of the Shinjakren alien was revealed. The dull grey tone of its wrinkly skin suggested that this one was either quite old, or hadn’t consumed enough nitrogen, a key component in most of the produce from its planet. The single large blue eye could protrude to face left or right without the Shinjakren having to turn its face. The two smaller eyes lodged on either side of its oval face were only there to detect distance.
“Tuul does not meet anybody easily, even royalty” it said through its round mouth lined with small sharp teeth. Fann knew that a separate pair of complex ‘lips’ were located deep in its throat, allowing it to articulate complicated words. It wasn’t the first time he thought that Shinjakren faces looked like the arses of old dogs.
“He will meet me. Does he know of my presence?”
“He is probably watching us right now.”
Looking up to where he imagined cameras to be, Fann shouted “Tuul! Where are you, you good-for-nothing Mongol!”
The sudden shout startled the Shinjakren who took out a pulse sidearm from under its cloak. After pointing it a few seconds at the prince, it seemed to have received a message from a Web-Com implant and slowly put it away. “Follow me” it said before turning swiftly.
Fann followed the alien down the corridor to another door which slid sleekly open to reveal a gravity lift. Once the two entered and the descent began, an awkward silence ensued.
“So, what’s your name?” asked Fann.
The tall alien seemed reluctant to speak but finally answered. “Kinsai”
Fann realized that the Shinjakren was a female. The only way to distinguish Shinjakren genders short of pulling down their trousers was by their names or their scent, the latter being the preferred method of Shinjakren using the scent organs located on their fingertips.
“How long have you been on Earth?” Fann inquired again, trying to sound nonchalant despite her presence on the Renden home planet being a major crime.
“Four years” she answered, again with a tone suggesting the conversation was finished.
“Did you serve in the Imperial Army?” This time he received no answer. After another few seconds of awkward silence, he again inquired “Did you fight on Mana-yul?” referring to the planet on which he had commanded a counter-insurgency group that included a Shinjakren battalion. If she said yes, it would mean that she knew who he was and she had once been commanded by him. Kinsai shook her head irritably, however. She turned her head slightly towards the other side, telling him implicitly that she didn’t want to speak at all.
The gravity lift started slowing down. Fann estimated they had descended roughly half a mile into the crust. When it finally came to a stop, the floor illuminated and the door slid open with the same sleek motion. A flood of light momentarily blinded him after the relative dimness of the gravity lift interior. Kinsai stepped out of the lift, her bare, three-toed feet making no sound. Fann followed still squinting.
He would never have imagined a space so vast could have existed at such a depth. The subterranean ‘cave’ was a smooth dome at least three hundred feet at its highest point. The gravity lift was located at one end of the vast cavern and he could see the domed ceiling ending almost a thousand feet at the other end. The whole dome was apparently covered with a holograph of a deep blue sky with some spots of cloud. Optical illusions tricked him into thinking birds were flying straight from one end to the other. The floor of the cavern was ridiculously covered with grass and soil.
“What is this place?” he muttered, more to himself than to Kinsai.
“Our headquarters” she replied.
“Headquarters of what?” he queried, still looking at the domed ceiling with a pathetic expression of wonder.
“Come” she said, ignoring his question. She walked forward with the springy steps characteristic of her race.
Fann counted about fifty or sixty occupants in the vast cavern. Among them were about twenty aliens including three more Shinjakren. Strangely, there were even children playing in the grass, both Renden and alien. A light breeze, almost certainly synthetic given the location, ruffled Kinsai’s black cloak. She looked like a nomadic tribeswoman stalking the plains of Earth, thought Fann.
One of the Renden children, a young Chinese boy, ran up to Kinsai. “Kinsai! Look what I’ve made” he boasted, showing her a small wooden pistol. “Bang bang!” he cried as he pretended to shoot her.
Kinsai looked down at him and the two eyes on either side of her head changed from black to blue, an expression roughly equivalent to a smile. Despite her vastly different appearance, the young boy seemed to understand the expression and laughed back. “I have work to do, Chiyun. Go play with your brother” she said in her deep voice that sounded strangely feminine now Fann knew her gender.
They passed some huts and the people who populated the cavern stared more strangely at Fann than at the humanoid alien leading him forward. In what appeared to be the exact centre of the cavern was a large cylindrical tent about eight feet high and with a diameter of roughly fifty feet. The ‘roof’ of the tent was a flat conical shape. The light but sturdy-looking structure was slightly elevated on a wooden platform. A Mongolian yurt, how typical.
At the entrance of the tent, Kinsai spoke softly to whoever was inside. “Prince Fann is here.”
A gruff, familiar voice answered. “Send him in, Kinsai.”
Kinsai made way for Fann, staring down at him with her central blue eye. Fann opened the wooden door of the yurt and entered. The interior was well lit from a hole in the centre of the conical roof. Intertwined strips of wood lined the white wall and roof. Carpets adorned the wooden floor, except for a square in the middle of the large interior right under the hole in the roof. A lone man was surrounded by a half-cylindrical glass screen that was showing various images. He seemed to be immersed in whatever information was being shown.
“Tuul?” called out Fann, straining his eyes to see through the glass monitors.
“Come round” said the man who Fann assumed was Tuul.
He walked towards the centre and then around the semi-circle bordered off by the glass. When he got to the edge, he saw the broad back of the man he was seeking. “Tuul?” he called once again.
The man swivelled around in his chair. A broad smile broke out of the masculine, rather ugly face. Fann returned the smile, recognising his old friend. Tuul got up from his chair and approached the prince. Fann saw he was wearing a traditional blue Mongolian garment with a purple sash around his thick waist. The two embraced laughing.
“How long has it been?” said Tuul. He had a nose that looked as if had been broken multiple times and a square jaw. His smile revealed several gold teeth.
“Six, almost seven years”
“So, Your Highness, what brings you to my humble abode?”
“Don’t call me that. And you call this humble? An underground paradise just for you and a select few?”
“Well, this place already existed. It was originally a Russian heavy weapons lab that was never discovered until a few years ago. I added a few touches just to keep me from becoming claustrophobic. How did you find me?”
“Being
of divine blood does have some advantages, even if I am now a renegade being hunted.”
Tuul nodded as if he already knew the story. “Was it you?” he asked carefully.
“What? No!” replied Fann as if he had been insulted. “You know I would never do that. I never really respected my father but I could never bring myself to kill him.”
The Mongolian cut him off before he could speak further. “First, my friend, we will drink some tea.” He then led the younger man to a corner where a thick carpet and cushions were laid out and the two sat down. Soon a plump young girl, obviously Tuul’s daughter judging from the resemblance, entered carrying a low table with cheese, bread and a kettle of newly brewed Mongolian milk tea. Fann was confused at how the girl knew to come but then realised that it was probably a custom to welcome guests. Once the table was set, the young girl disappeared without a word and Tuul commenced to pour the tea in the provided cups.
Fann found the tea extremely savoury and helped himself to some of the cheese and bread. He hadn’t realised how hungry he had been. The older man grinned at the prince’s voracious appetite. After feeling sufficiently nourished, Fann told the old man what had happened at the Heavenly Tower, about the death of his father and the leader of the Shadows. While telling the story, he was surprised to find tears on his face. Perhaps he hadn’t really respected his father, but he knew then that he had, at least, loved him.
“I always knew that Xiao was a measly little shit” he said. Not many people would have dared speak about the new Emperor in front of Fann in that manner even if he was a fugitive.
“Father knew it too, only too late” Fann said dreamily.
“Well, I know it’s bad to speak ill of the dead, but your father was a complete idiot when it came to that bitch of an empress. I mean, her legs weren’t only wrapped around his waist, they were wrapped around his brain as well”
Fann sighed. He was slightly resentful at that moment of the candid relationship he had with his friend. But how long had it been since he enjoyed a real honest conversation?
“How has everything been with you? I see you got fat” he said, trying to lighten the mood.
Tuul laughed. “Well, I always saw this coming” he said slapping his bulk. “My old man was enormous and my granddad was even bigger. I always wanted a nice big boy as well but only got three daughters.” He went on to explain what had happened to him after fifteen years in the Imperial Army as a counter-terrorism specialist. Fann had served under him as a young captain for three years before being parachuted to the rank of colonel on his father’s insistence. The army had been all that Tuul knew, having enlisted when he was eighteen. His natural strength and judgement earned him a battlefield commission after his squad leader had been killed during a counter-terrorism operation on Shinjak.
“After quitting that awful job killing supposed terrorists and torturing children, I got a job as a bodyguard for one of those pretty boys you see in the v-reality experiences, those actors who would run away screaming at the first sign of blood. Well, I gave mine a concussion and a few cracked ribs after I saw him strangling a prostitute. Made me a fugitive but I’m still glad I did it.
“So I went back home to the desert. Didn’t think the security forces would come find me there. That’s where I met my fat ugly wife. How she was beautiful back then. Feet bigger than mine, fat arse and breasts that could suffocate you.
“Well it turned out I was wrong. They did find me. But with us Mongolians, you mess with one of us, you mess with all of us. The people in the village fought back and the security guys retreated. That’s when the Imperial Forces came.”
“The Imperial Army came? To get one fugitive?” Fann couldn’t believe it.
“Yup, two companies. It turns out that the local administrator appointed by Huangjing was having a lot of problems with us villagers; he was trying to attract a government project in the area but we weren’t having it. So he filed a report saying we were planning to instigate another Mongolian secession movement. You know how the last one went. That was enough to bring two whole companies of armoured infantrymen to the Gobi desert. My parents, my brothers, my cousins, even my dogs died that day. There was no report of this on the Web-Com and no official death tally. But my village alone was home to three thousand people and I don’t know anyone else who made it. I later heard almost ten villages like mine didn’t exist anymore.”
Fann had no idea what to say. He peered at the big man’s face and saw his eyes glazed with tears. He knew of some of the atrocities committed by the Empire on distant planets but he was completely ignorant to what was going on Earth.
“Well, at least I got out with my wife and my first daughter. Don’t ask me how, but we did. We ran for months, almost starving a couple times. Ended up here since we heard that the government usually stayed away from this toilet.”
Tuul stopped to chew on a bit of cheese and downed some tea. Fann eyed the anger and sense of betrayal emanating from his former mentor. The Mongolian looked as if he was seeing something afar as he swore under his breath in his native tongue. He spat in a plate and made as if to stand up.
“Where are you going? You haven’t finished your story”
“Not much more to tell. Joined the local mafia, didn’t like it, killed the boss, took over the organisation, found this place, made it my home and hideout. I’ve got to go. We’ve still got to decide what to do with you.”
Fann was taken aback. “What to do with me? Why?”
Tuul chuckled. “You’ve just walked in on a secret organisation in its secret headquarters. I don’t think even our friendship could save you from that.”
“Organisation? Headquarters? For what? What are you planning to do down here?”
Another chuckle. “You really haven’t smartened up since the last time we met. We’re going to overthrow the Han Imperial Family.”
Chapter 6: Snowballs
‘Sometimes, a terraforming experiment can have unforeseen consequences. We have not completely mastered the art of introducing, mixing and balancing life forms. In some rare cases, certain extreme biological entities have evolved to the point that they become almost impossible to get rid of.’ - Doctor Youssef Al-Seif, Renden Isolationist Activist, year 2871
The makeshift punch bag was holding better than the previous one. Terry was counting his blows and it still looked pretty solid after a thousand. He had fashioned it out of an empty aluminium canister that had housed the backup data drive and about thirty feet of cable he had ripped out from here and there. Some of the cable wrapped around the canister was starting to get frayed but he could easily turn the cylinder around and start on fresher cable.
His fist was hurting, as were his shoulders and back, from the constant punching and kicking. But the pain was also a pleasure, keeping his mind focused on his body. Two weeks had passed since his fight with Bongani and his face had almost regained its normal volume. The fight was a relief that had awoken his sense of purpose. Both he and Bongani knew that they could have easily killed each other if they had wanted to. Terry guessed that Bongani needed the boost just as much as he did after having lost his beloved ship.
The door to the shack opened and David peered in. “We’re going in ten minutes, Terry” he said.
Terry nodded before landing a few more final punches. His body was covered in sweat and he knew he had to dry out before donning his heat garments. After stretching his muscles, he took out a piece of cloth that had originally been part of his old Marine Corps uniform and wiped most of the sweat off his body and face. Once his breathing returned to normal and he felt he was no longer sweating, he donned his clothes and then his heat-suit. He would have loved to have taken a hot shower but given the conditions, that was a luxury that they could only enjoy rarely. The first two weeks had gone by with the three men not washing at all but the bodily stench soon got overwhelming and they took turns taking showers every now and again after gathering and heating a sufficient amount of ice.
Fi
fteen minutes later the shack was a red dot behind the three men as they trudged on in the snow. Thankfully the weather was relatively mild with a clear sky. Terry still sometimes had to squint behind his darkened goggles from the glare reflected by the white snow. It was the fourth time he was joining the two Afrikans on their daily fishing expeditions. For a week, David had had to go on his own since Terry and Bongani were still recovering from their bout of mutual physical punishment. Bongani especially had gotten a frightful fever afterwards and David was pained to watch his partner sometimes become delirious. Terry felt sorry for having basically vented his frustration at the older man.
Another half hour and they finally arrived at the frozen lake. David, probably correctly, had suggested that the lake was in fact part of the sea since the water was salty. The group nevertheless continued to call it ‘the lake’. Shallow indentations in the ice showed the holes created during their previous visit that had frozen over since. A gush of wind swept up flakes of snow that looked like sand in a white desert.
David took out his small laser and made another hole in the frozen lake, creating clouds of steam as the ice vaporized directly without passing by the intermediate liquid form. Bongani unwound the long strand of carbon cable with four small metallic hooks tied along it. He then took out a piece of cloth, which also happened to be part of Terry’s old uniform, and unwrapped the pieces of fish meat he had saved. His cold hands fumbling, he managed to pierce the frozen meat with the crude metal hooks.
David lowered the baited carbon string down the hole. They only managed to catch anything worth eating every other day. Patience was key. Terry felt like one of the Inuit tribesmen he had seen in a documentary v-reality piece about lost cultures. He sat down on the snowy floor, ready to wait a good while. He took out a paper book from his coat pocket. Bongani had a hobby of collecting old books, many of them banned by the One God Church. ‘I like them because just having them seems to piss off some very powerful people’ he had said when Terry discovered the crate, at first looking for something to burn outside. Bongani had threatened to kill him if he burned a single page.
