The Imperialists: The Complete Trilogy

by H. T. Kofruk

  Xiao approached the tiny plant that was no more than six inches tall. Unlike its more mature versions, the stalk of the plant was a dark green while the two leaves on top, spread out like wings, were purple. Each leaf was no more than an inch long and perhaps a quarter inch wide. The young emperor stroked a leaf and saw that it had a patch of black at the centre.

  “It is your symbol, Your Highness. It will become more intricate as the plant matures” said Ma.

  Xiao looked carefully at it and realized that it resembled a dragon. He imagined a giant tree, a mile in height with a canopy large enough to give shade to a giant. All of the thousands of leaves would have the symbol of a dragon. This tiny plant was his glorious legacy to the New Han Empire. The sudden swelling of emotions almost brought tears to his eyes. If only mother were here to see him…

  “Is it to your liking, My Emperor?” asked Ma carefully. He was secretly incredibly satisfied that his touch of finesse seemed to please his liege so much.

  “Today is a great day, my subjects” said Xiao in a voice as broad as he could muster. “Today shall be remembered in history.”

  “May you live ten thousand years, Your Highness” said Colonel Bo.

  “May you live ten thousand years” repeated Colonel Ma.

  “How long will it take to mature?”

  Ma hesitated for a second. “At the current rate of growth, Your Highness, it will be the size of a large dragon-claw tree in two weeks. It should outgrow the largest sequoia on Earth in two months. In a year, it will fill out to become the size of the tree outside.”

  “And its abilities?”

  “We have sensed that its range of ‘quantum’ waves has already grown exponentially in the last hours. It is already very powerful.”

  ‘So much power, in such a small thing’ thought Xiao. “And it will take orders from me?”

  “I have also included myself, Your Highness, for the initial training phase.”

  “And that phase is done?”

  Colonel Ma nodded. As soon as he did, a blade suddenly protruded from his chest. The head science officer’s eyes grew wide and he opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out but a sigh-like sound. He lifted his right hand and pointed at Xiao. Colonel Bo extracted his geratinium blade from Ma’s back, causing the dead scientist to crumple to the floor.

  As the party with one member less exited the bunker, Xiao called out to the science officer who was waiting outside. “What is your name and rank?”

  The officer whose face was covered with a mask clicked to attention and yelled “Captain! Zhi! Xin!”

  “Well, Captain Zhi. You are now the head officer responsible for the care of the plant. Is that clear?” said Xiao.

  The dumbfounded officer said nothing and looked stupidly as the glider whisked away.

  ***

  Her lung capacity had grown, as had her hair. She wiped the sweat from her forehead. Her skin had gained a healthy tan from the exposure to the perpetual sun. She had run four miles, no small feat given she had barely been able to run a mile three weeks earlier. Haseeb warned her that prolonged exposure could have detrimental effects since her skin was still young after regeneration. But she knew that most of the UV would be absorbed by the bio-rubber. She also knew that he slightly resented her spending so much time exercising or together with Bin’ja.

  Heera walked back to the ship and entered the code to open the pressure hatch. She walked with confident steps up the stairs that led to the ‘living area’. Haseeb was usually studying local bacteria or compiling data at this time. If he was bored, he would further study the geometric shapes that constituted the Hummer language.

  She stripped off her bio-suit and stepped into the shower. The ship was almost completely self-reliant when it came to water with a highly efficient moisture retrieval system. The purifying chemicals in the water had made her skin slightly sting for a few days after her emergence from the regenerative vat. But she now felt the gratifying, relaxing streams of water on her body without any discomfort.

  She got out of the shower drying her inch-long hair with a towel made of Hummer fur and another wrapped around her body. Haseeb had told her that the Hummers would shed their fur every eighteen months but much of it was salvaged to make clothes. Though she no longer needed to, out of habit she bent down to let her hair fall so she could dry it more effectively. Realizing the stupidity of the act, she straightened up to find Haseeb standing in the room.

  “Haseeb” she gasped. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  The staring planetologist seemed to come to his senses. “I…I didn’t know you were already back.”

  “Well, can you get out until I get dressed or at least turn around?”

  He walked around a corner. “I’m sorry, Heera. Is this okay?”

  “Yeah, it’s fine. Did you want to talk to me about something?” said Heera as she started to get dressed.

  Haseeb fidgeted. He was wearing a frayed cotton shirt with a pair of jeans that had been repaired far too many times. He suddenly became very conscious of his careless appearance. When was the last time I shaved? Or had a haircut? “Nothing in particular” he lied.

  “We probably need to talk, Haseeb” said Heera, her voice slightly strained from the effort of pulling a shirt over her head.

  “Yes, indeed” replied Haseeb nervously. Could she be asking him? Surely, they were after all the last two human beings in the world.

  “That’s good news. I really need more visibility right now. I’ve basically lost almost a year of my life.”

  Haseeb wasn’t really listening anymore. He had gone through the accompaniment holographs many times in the first two years. At the end of the day, they were just programs designed to satisfy his needs and they became boring. He then went for sexual v-reality experiences that were more engaging. At first, he had only done the most standard routines; he meets a girl at a bar or a club or a park, they talk, they go to one of their respective homes and sleep together. It had taken him another two years to venture into anything spicier, partially out of a ridiculous sense of guilt.

  He had then tried out more adventurous routines, sometimes with multiple partners at a time, sometimes in dangerous locations, etc. He had even managed to get through the thirty nine positions of the Karma Sutra, a feat he had thought impossible given the tortuous positions some of them required.

  None of that, however, could compare to holding, caressing and kissing a real woman. And a beautiful woman at that! When he had brought the burned body of Heera to the ship and put it into the vat, he noticed her perfect proportions. Her skin had been scorched and she had suffered terrible physical shocks but her long legs, tight torso and well-formed breasts were still evident. For months, he had gazed at her naked body gaining skin and form. He had never, however, dared touch her. It had seemed absurdly criminal, as if he was committing some sort of sacrilege.

  Now she was healed and getting into shape, touching her was impossible. She was frighteningly fit and she had told him of her martial arts and military training so forcing himself on her, even if he wanted to which he didn’t, would probably have backfired. She should be willing! He had healed her and taken care of her for months! Why was she not offering herself to him?

  “Are you okay?” said Heera’s voice. She was standing right in front of him, looking at him with a curious and concerned expression.

  He realized that he had an erection. He was suddenly very ashamed and nervous of her noticing. “I’m fine, thank you. I was just thinking of some test results from earlier on.”

  She raised her eyebrow for a brief second. “Did you understand anything I said?”

  “Err…no. Sorry. Could you repeat?”

  Heera sighed. “I was saying, with some difficulty I might add, that we need to think about the future.”

  “I totally agree.”

  “I’ve already been here for months. As I’ve already told you, there’s a war raging throughout the Yinhexi.”

&nb
sp; He smiled dreamily. “So why go anywhere knowing that we could die, right?”

  Heera’s face expressed shock and disbelief. “No, that’s not exactly what I was thinking. I need to get back to my family and...and someone else.”

  “Oh. I thought that…”

  He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence. A holograph appeared of a Hummer banging on the pressure hatch and making loud humming noises.

  “Isn’t that Weirdo?” said Heera, managing now to tell some of the individual Hummers apart.

  “But…”

  “What’s he saying? He looks distressed”

  Haseeb felt like getting his pulse rifle, which he had never actually used, and shooting the Hummer. Heera was already getting her translator goggles on. He felt the urge to rip them off her, along with her clothes and take her on the floor. That Hummer and its problems could go to hell.

  “I can’t understand the shapes, Haseeb. Here, you try” said Heera as she handed over the goggles to the planetologist.

  He looked at the shapes and colours and finally said “Bin’ja is in trouble.”

  The speed at which Heera left the room and jumped down the stairs shocked him. Her fit frame bounded gracefully down the stairs and she fisted the button to open the pressure hatch.

  “Where is he?” she asked without a translator device.

  Weirdo seemed to understand from the context, however, and led her towards the sun. Haseeb came hurrying after them.

  They found Bin’ja on the way to his favourite spot from which he looked at the sun. He was writhing in pain with wild shrieks coming from his open, frothing mouth. Given his size and strength no one, not even Weirdo, dared touch him.

  “Bin’ja” called out Heera. “What’s wrong?”

  Haseeb noticed the genuine concern in her voice and expression and felt a pang of jealously. The beast tried to say something but the words gave way to growls. Haseeb suddenly regretted not bringing the pulse rifle. Perhaps he could have brought the alien out of his misery? After all, he could be an obstruction in his plans.

  “Mother” Bin’ja finally managed to say.

  Heera edged nearer to Bin’ja. “What’s wrong with Mother? Did they destroy her?”

  Bin’ja looked at her with sudden calm in his piercing yellow eyes before getting into a worse writhing state. Haseeb felt he should do something but couldn’t figure out what. He wouldn’t dare go near the thing in its current dangerous state but perhaps if he helped out, Heera would look kindly at the act. But what could he do?

  After a good few minutes of helplessly watching the alien suffer, the pain he was going through finally seemed to subside. By this time Heera was already cradling Bin’ja’s head. Through his fits of pain, Bin’ja managed to keep his enormous strength from hurting Heera who looked hopelessly fragile next to him.

  By the time he was in a state to sit up, Weirdo had gone and come back from the village with a pot of water. The Nikruk leader took the pot and drank it in one gulp. “Thank you” he said with a bow of his head.

  “What’s wrong with Mother?” inquired Heera once she saw he could talk calmly.

  “I don’t understand. There are two Mothers.”

  Chapter 17: R&R

  ‘I would like to thank Doctor J.M. Park, Doctor Vijay Rahman, Doctor Keiko Tanaka, Admiral Chakrit Kanarot and the Tri-Star Corporation. For millennia, we as a species have wondered what was out there beyond the sky. Early Christians thought it was a myriad of celestial bodies revolving around Earth. For the Polynesians, it was the sky from which the islands of the Pacific fell. Our recent endeavours into the final frontier have been cursory despite our relentless efforts. That is about to change.’ – Doctor Steven Dai-Yu Chan, at presentation of first functioning prototype wormhole creator, year 2403

  The debris had all been cleared and most of the life-support systems were back on line. The crew members of the Virgin Mary and the Red Sea had worked for almost two weeks to make the Atlantic Alliance Military Wormhole Transit Station U347-1 habitable while repair work on the fusion generator and the wormhole creator continued.

  When the two Atlantic Alliance war vessels arrived at the station, built on a small planet orbiting a bright white dwarf star, it had all the classic marks of an attack. Most of the debris in space had dispersed by this point but the damage to the station was obvious. At least one fleet of enemy vessels had engaged it.

  Terry had led the first party entering the station with full atmospheric gear. He had seen that the defending forces had managed to repel the attack and then had abandoned the station voluntarily. Given the relatively weak strategic importance of the station, he guessed that it must have been to consolidate forces at more important points within the empire. Power, light support, gravity generators and communications had all been purposefully turned off.

  Further investigation had shown that the fusion generator, though technically operational, would take at least three weeks to start up again. After all, creating a tiny sun enclosed within a giant magnetic metal and titanium shell was still an exceedingly dangerous and delicate operation that could never be hurried. The wormhole creator also needed repair but, thankfully, nothing that required materials they didn’t already have.

  Terry had been offered the position of second-in-command of the 31st Marine Battalion that was attached to the Virgin Mary. Knowing the resentment that a sudden ‘parachute’ appointment could create in the rank and file, he declined, instead opting for the position of ship security officer. Though his military occupation speciality didn’t include security, there hadn’t been enough officers to fill the vacancy. On top of that, being a member of a navy warship’s official crew was naturally reserved for navy personnel. Terry sensed that Admiral Hernandez had pulled some strings to keep him on the bridge.

  As security officer, his daily tasks included ensuring that communication codes were updated regularly, security and safety protocols were strictly observed by everyone aboard, ship security personnel were doing their jobs, weapons and hazardous material were properly stored at all times and there were no hull breaches. More mundane tasks such as checking ship oxygen and water levels and ensuring boarding and dispatch logs were properly filled out also fell under his responsibility. In short, his new job was boring and tedious.

  He at least appreciated the fact that it kept him busy and focused. If he didn’t tire himself out mentally and physically each day, he would lay awake for hours. Sleepless nights were still relatively frequent and when he did sleep, he invariably dreamed about death. And not just any death. After almost a year, the pain failed to subside. Every dream was as real as the day he had seen the explosion, the day he had felt like the most helpless man in the universe. Every morning his cheeks stung from the salty liquid that he had spilled from his eyes. How could the loss of someone with whom he had only spent a few months affect him so much?

  With the departure of Bongani and David, he felt more alone than ever. The ship chaplain held service every three days, and Terry was conspicuous for his absence. He could no longer find solace in faith or in the soothing divine words from the lips of a priest. The day the Afrikan couple left, he had embraced them as brothers. He had especially forged a bond with Bongani so strong that both of them were certain they could count on the other for help even in the most dire, hopeless situations. He had been truly sad when he said farewell to them as they boarded a small but powerful confiscated smuggling ship. As the small vessel drifted out of the docks of the Virgin Mary, Terry had stared at it until the light speed drive came into action and it disappeared in a flash.

  There was a lot of debate on and how many ships should go to the Carulio System once the wormhole creator was functional. Admiral Hernandez had decided that both ships would go despite the obvious risks that followed. The reason behind the decision was relatively simple; ships rarely acted alone and crewmembers on both vessels would be far less nervous knowing that another friendly ship was nearby. From that day forth, personnel on the stat
ion would be kept at a minimum in case the enemy detected any activity. If the enemy did appear, the station would be abandoned and charges would be used to destroy it.

  With the fusion generator expected to be running in two days, Terry got a tingling feeling every time he realized what was being attempted. He arrived at the docks of the station in an Orca transport vessel with twenty other soldiers. Half of them were going on security duty while the other half was going for rest and recreation. Terry observed them and behind their confident faces he could read the anxiety. Even the sergeant of the security detail, who looked as if he had spent decades fighting, looked nervously at his soldiers and then back into blank space. It was the first time that these soldiers were unsure of their superiority, their natural right as masters of the Yinhexi.

  “Excuse me, sir” said a corporal sitting opposite Terry who was leaving for R&R.

  Terry lifted his eyes to meet the young soldier’s. He was in his early twenties with dark hair, large cheekbones and thin lips. “Yes, corporal?”

  The soldier hesitated. “Do you think we can win this war, sir?”

  Terry realized that everybody’s eyes were on him, including the veteran sergeant’s. As a senior officer and a well-known marine, he knew what he said would at that moment would spread like wildfire among the men. “Soldier, we can win this war, but not until we change how we think.”

  “How do you mean, sir?” asked another on-duty soldier who lowered his eyes when his sergeant glared at him.

  Terry took a deep breath. “The enemy has more ships, more resources, an intact communication network and a deadly synthetic army. In that light, we can only lose, or fight a protracted guerrilla war for decades from barely inhabitable fringe planets.” He saw the soldiers’ eyes look down in disappointment. “But” he continued “we’re not going to lose.”

  “What makes you so sure, sir?” This time the question came from the sergeant who looked at him with inquiring and suspicious eyes.

  “Because a war isn’t won just through numbers or weapons. It’s won through the hearts and the firm belief of soldiers like us. It’s won through how we bring friends and allies into the fold.”