The Imperialists: The Complete Trilogy
Page 35
Fann realized that Tuul was inviting him to join a terrorist anarchist organisation. “Tuul, you’re asking me to join something that will destroy me.”
“No!” exclaimed Tuul. “The Imperial Family isn’t you, Fann. It’s a sick creation that came out of a test tube hundreds of years ago because we needed a symbol, a banner to fight for. Don’t tell me you believe those stupid stories. You don’t believe that your ancestor arose from his grave to guide his lost people through the turmoil after the fall of the Communist Party, do you? The Han bloodline died out thousands of years ago and it shouldn’t have been revived. The New Han Empire, the outer-space colonies, the Ten Thousand Year Harmony, it’s all based on a bullshit farce. And people and aliens are dying to defend it or by opposing it.”
Fann knew that Tuul was telling the truth. It had passed his mind more than once how ridiculous his ‘divineness’ was, how his bloodline was an abomination of both time and life. “But if not for the New Han Empire, what other choice did the Chinese people have? Anarchy, poverty and misery?” he said, immediately realizing how weak his argument was.
“The people aren’t stupid. The only reason they tolerate this farce is because it gives a decent portion of them a certain amount of stability, the privileged and powerful portion at least. They don’t need to be fed bullshit to know what they want” said Tuul.
“Without a strong leader, the Chinese people will be slaves to those fanatic One God followers or swallowed by the immoral and mercantilist Pacific” rebuked Fann.
“Just as you swallowed Mongolia and Siberia?” Tuul’s voice had a dangerous edge to it.
Fann was getting more and more defensive and was puzzled why. “What are you suggesting? That we surrender to the other empires? We just let ourselves be governed by merchants and zealots?”
Tuul sighed. “If only you knew. I told you last time that our goal was to overthrow the Han Imperial Family. But we’re also going to overthrow the One God theocracy, the Orthodox dictatorship and the Pacific Federation government that’s a slave to the industrial families. Our goal is to find a common purpose for all humanity under one banner.”
Fann sat shocked at Tuul’s proposition. The idea of a common Renden future had mostly disappeared when the United Nations disintegrated due to disagreements between several major powers. There existed only a few valid charters that defined any agreements or common goals of all Rendens, the main one being the Charter Convention of Earth. The other empires were only ever considered competition or enemies to be overcome or destroyed.
The Chinese prince nodded his head in comprehension. He realized why he had defended the idea of the Empire in the face of Tuul’s onslaughts; he wanted to be convinced of something greater, to have all the indoctrinated justifications for the Empire to be picked out piece by piece.
Chapter 11: Distress
‘In any well-functioning society or organization, the qualities of the leader are secondary to the qualities of the followers providing checks and balances.’ - Frank Lung, Independent Political Scientist,
There was only one fully functioning amplifier suit and it had been fitted for Bongani’s dimensions. That gave the smuggler the unpleasant task of clearing the immediate vicinity from ‘snowballs’. The creatures emitted a small amount of heat and were, therefore, detectable with the suit visor’s thermal tracking which was overlaid with normal spectrum vision in order to give some form to the eternal whiteness.
Terry was pretty sure that the creatures detected heat and, hence, were attracted to the ship which had a slight heat signature despite stealth capabilities. David had been unconscious for a week after losing a portion of his face. He still only had limited control over his body despite having gained consciousness almost a month ago. He couldn’t speak properly due to his lack of tongue and his food had to be ground down into a pulp. His current condition and their difficult predicament put him into a melancholy and hopeless mood despite Bongani’s best efforts to cheer him up.
David used a brain-wave magnifier to send his thoughts to the ship’s Web-Com which were then said in the ship computer’s voice. “Terry, how long have we been on this godforsaken planet?” said the ship in a voice and accent so removed from David’s.
“Four months” he replied flatly. Is there a god to forsake us? “Four months and three days.”
“I’m tired” said David via the ship.
“You can say that again” replied Terry.
“No, I mean really tired.”
Terry looked at David. The relatively pale-skinned Afrikan was unhealthily white with pasty skin. He had lost at least twenty pounds of weight in the past weeks. Wrinkles had formed on what was left of his face and his eyes were bloodshot and tired.
“I’m so tired, Terry” repeated David. “I’m tired of not having any hope, tired of not knowing if the ship’s generator is going to break down tomorrow leaving us to freeze to death, tired of wondering whether Bongani will come back alive, just tired.”
Terry was tired too. For him, the main concern wasn’t day-to-day survival but lack of future. He didn’t know whether he would get off this planet, had no idea what he would do if he did, and didn’t dare hope he would ever see Earth again. He didn’t know whether the two holes in his heart, one from Heera’s death and the other from a sense of betrayal of his faith, would ever be healed. Yet he knew he couldn’t say any of this to David who was in a much lower place than him. He knew that mentality was eighty per cent of survival.
“While we’re still alive, there’s still hope. You’ll get your face back and we’ll laugh about this in a few years” he said, not sure whether his own uncertainty had crept into his voice.
David didn’t answer immediately. When he did, Terry was positive that the ship wasn’t conveying all the emotion that David was pouring into his speech. “I don’t think I can do this anymore, Terry. We’ve been trying to survive on this hellhole for months, only to have awoken a hellish creature. I keep thinking that we shouldn’t have rescued you and Heera that day, and it’s a cowardly thought that’s tearing me apart. I see Bongani in pain seeing me like this. I don’t like being a victim and a coward, Terry. I want to end it.”
Terry saw tears welling at David’s eyes. The guilt from having dragged the Afrikan couple into this stabbed at him. He knew anything he said to David would be just empty words. David just wanted to die.
“But you’ll destroy Bongani. We can’t just roll over, David.” He went to where David was sitting propped up against the wall and grasped his thin hand. “We’ve been through a lot together. We should have died ten times in the last few months but we made it. You got two friends here. If we make it, we’ll make it together. If it all seems too much, we’ll all die together. But for now, we got to keep hope.”
The words and physical contact seemed have an effect. David’s eyes grew stronger and he clasped back Terry’s hand. “Two friends, hope” he repeated simply through the ship’s voice. A slight smile broke out in his gaunt face.
Terry smiled back and was relieved that David had brightened up, however minutely. He was hardly in a mental position to cheer on anyone.
The door of the ship opened with the characteristic hiss of pressure release and Bongani entered, relieving Terry even more. “What the hell are you doing? Put on your damn insulating suit!” he yelled at Terry.
Terry smiled at Bongani’s typical insolence. He got up and put on his heat suit and then a thick anorak. Bongani had cleared all visible snowball creatures along the path with his pulse rifle. They still had to be quick since the heat released from the rifle also attracted the little monsters. Terry was also carrying a rifle but given the creatures’ almost perfect camouflage, he would be helpless if one happened to avoid Bongani’s thermal vision and attacked him. He wished he had some armour, or at least a helmet with a visor to protect his face. The thought of a snowball stuck to his face and pumping digestive liquids into him made him very nerv
ous, especially after having witnessed David go through it.
The weather was foul with blizzards whipping up clouds of dusty snow. Vision was very limited and the wind was blowing hard against them, almost as if it was telling them to go back to the ship. Today was the first time they were going fishing after the snowball’s attack on David. A week on the ship’s tasteless rations along with tests on the small beasts with various weapons was enough to convince them to take the risk.
Terry made sure his weapon was on wide beam which would spread the damage over a larger area, sacrificing power over range. Their previous tests had shown them that though the creatures were very resistant to heat weapons such as laser, shock weapons would have them bursting even at low power.
He was hesitant to discuss what David had said to him with Bongani. On one hand, they were lovers and partners for many years now and Bongani had the right to know if David was having suicidal thoughts. On the other hand, what could Bongani do other than temporarily make David feel better? He decided he wouldn’t say anything because he felt for some reason that David wouldn’t want him to. And besides, the big Afrikan had a lot of his own worries.
They arrived at the lake without any event. The howling wind and snow obliged Terry to cover his face. Any attempt at conversation would be drowned out by the wind.
Terry drilled a hole into the ice while Bongani prepared the hooked carbon string, observing all the time for specks of heat. Terry had lost his enthusiasm for fishing since they had been eating basically the same type of fish for months. The danger presented by the snowballs also significantly reduced the fun side of ice fishing. But it was a way to keep occupied in the white boredom.
After a good half hour waiting for something to take a bite, the weather visibly improved as the wind died down and sunlight became visible through the clouds. Terry was glad of the change but Bongani seemed indifferent as he scanned the area for signs of movement.
“Do you see anything?” asked Terry unnecessarily.
Bongani shook his head. “No little fucker creeping up to give you a good kiss.”
Terry appreciated Bongani’s attempt at humour. He had a pretty good idea how much his mind must have been strained the past weeks. “You know the first thing I’m going to do when I’m out of here?”
Bongani looked at Terry with a surprised look which soon turned to a frown. “No, and I don’t want to know” he said flatly.
“Come on. Okay, tell me what you want to do.”
The older man looked as if he was suppressing anger. “We can’t have this conversation. We have to assume…”
“Assume what? That we’re going to die here, just the three of us? That we’re going to have to pull the trigger on each other? We’ve beaten the odds more than once. I’m planning to do it again.”
Bongani shook his head slowly. “What gives you that kind of hope, Terry? What do you think is the probability that a ship just happens to pass by and scan the surface?”
“What do you think was the probability that a couple of smugglers scan the surface of a remote planet, just in time to find two people fighting to survive?” rebutted Terry.
“The probability of encountering such an improbable event diminishes the more often we need such improbability” said Bongani, to which Terry gave a gesture showing that he didn’t understand. “Never mind, arsehole” he sighed. “Suffice to say you probably used up all your luck with that rescue.”
“Well, if past bad deeds are any way to measure future misfortune, I’m way luckier than I should be.”
The two men waited in almost silence the following two hours, during which they caught one small fish. Terry threw it back in the water. The sun was already waning, a signal that they should start making their way back to the shack. They packed in their gear and began the journey with Bongani vigilantly scanning for any heat.
The day remained calm and sunny. The planet was not far from an asteroid belt and shooting stars were visible in the marine blue sky as small meteors burned upon entrance into the atmosphere. Terry theorized that that was one of the reasons the climate on this planet remained so cold despite being closer to its sun than Earth was. He had discussed with Bongani the higher propensity of meteors striking the surface, creating planet-wide explosions that would release so much debris in the air, the sunlight would be blocked and a sort of nuclear winter would occur for decades. That would also explain the snowball creature’s resistance to extreme heat and cold.
But that evening, Terry could only imagine those streaks in the sky as space shuttles flying at Mach ten. His father had wanted him to become a Tiger Shark pilot but he had decided he wanted to be on the ground and in the heat of battle. That night, he would have killed for a Tiger Shark and the ability to fly it.
Bongani had to fire his weapon twice during the trudge back to the shack when he spied orange specks in his visor. Two snowballs were obliterated. When the red ship came into view, there was only a few minutes of sunlight left before the world would become pitch black. The last orange rays of the sun gleamed on the red exterior of the ship as they approached it. The rifle cradled in Bongani’s arm suddenly gave out a low beep.
“What? My rifle is on energy cell mode. The wireless energy transfer has been cut” he said after checking the status display hidden under a sliding biocarbon-plastic cover. “The same with my amplifier suit” he exclaimed again.
The two looked at each other momentarily, trying to make sense of this ominous signal. “The generator is down” declared Terry.
The two rushed towards the ship. The thought of having no power, no heat and no energized weapons was suffocating to both of them. The med-unit, the nutrient recovery dispenser, the distress-signal emitter, everything would stop functioning. Terry seriously started considering David’s request earlier that day.
As if he knew that they were coming, David emerged from the ship and started waving. Terry could feel the urgency in his gestures. He was no mechanic but felt he had to try and make the generator start. Perhaps Bongani, being the ship captain and sometimes the mechanic, would be able to fix it?
As they approached, however, Terry could see that David’s gestures were full of urgency but not out of distress. He was, in fact, jumping up and down as if from unfiltered glee. The sceptic in him was shouting that David was probably happy that they had no choice but to die together and end the misery now.
Bongani arrived a good few hundred yards before Terry, having used his amplifiers. David was using gestures to tell Bongani something and the two had ended up when he finally arrived out of breath.
“Terry, you should go inside and take a look” said Bongani, annoying Terry for not telling him directly what was going on.
The only light inside the ship came from the ship communication holograph projector. The head of an elderly man was shown eerily pale with static from the out-dated machine. Terry soon realized why the wireless energy transfer was cut even though the generator seemed to be running intact; the ancient communication device was an energy guzzler that would strain the fragile generator. David had run outside because he couldn’t turn on the ship computer to convey what he was thinking while keeping the communication open. He needed someone to speak to the person on the communication device.
“Hello?” said the holographic head. The dim interior of the ship made it difficult to see Terry.
“Hello” replied Terry.
“Identify yourself” said the elderly man.
Terry could see the man was in his late sixties or early seventies and of Latin descent. He had a long face with sharp cheekbones and deep-set eyes that were both charismatic and strangely sad at the same time. The short slightly curly hair was cut in the typical military manner. He was about to blurt out ‘you first’ but decided that was a juvenile response. Besides, given the man’s accent, Terry was almost sure that he was from the Atlantic Alliance. “Terry Southend” he replied instead.
“Lieutenant Terry Southend, Marine Corps 102nd?” said
the holograph with a bewildered expression.
“You know me?”
“Show yourself” said the elderly man in a manner that suggested that he was used to giving orders and being obeyed.
Terry fumbled in his anorak pocket for the small doctor’s flashlight that had belonged to Heera. He turned it on and shined it on his face, blinding his vision for a brief moment. When he turned it off, leaving echoes in his eyes, the elderly man looked satisfied.
“You’ve been through a lot, son” said the holograph. The remark brought a ball to his throat, especially with one of Heera’s possessions in his hand. “My name is Rick Hernandez, Admiral of Fleet 11423. Well, at least what’s left of it.”
Terry almost cried out in joy.
The admiral continued. “My ship, the Virgin Mary, and another cruiser are in orbit. We were already on our way to this planet since the ship computer pointed out its abundant water supply but then we caught your distress broadcast four days ago. How many of you are down there?”
“Three, sir. The other two are citizens of the Afrikan Republic. One of them is injured, sir” replied Terry.
“Okay. We’ll have a landing craft there in fifteen minutes. Get yourself and your friends ready.”
“Yes, sir. There is a strange organism on this planet, a small creature that looks like a snowball at first sight. It’s highly dangerous so I’d advise any personnel on the landing craft to be fully armoured” said Terry.
The elderly officer nodded. “Thank you for your warning. Now get ready, marine.”
Terry could barely suppress his feelings. “Thank you, sir” he said with a hint of a sob.
The elderly man held the slightest of smiles on the corner of his mouth. “You’re welcome, son.”
Chapter 12: Replaced
‘My heart melts at the thought of Miaolin. She was the true Empress. I cannot fathom what drove her from my thoughts. I now realize that she was the gentlest soul who ever walked the Earth. I only wish that my heart was full of her love rather than the scorn of the mother of Xiao, she who will never be named again. I clearly see Fann’s resemblance to his mother and it breaks my heart that I have treated him so unfairly. Perhaps it was precisely that; he reminded me too much of her and it hurt me to see her in him. Despite what the priests say, I am not a noble man, much less a god. I am a man who cannot distinguish true love from selfish exploitation.’ – Diary of Emperor Han Ching-diu, year 2906