The Imperialists: The Complete Trilogy

by H. T. Kofruk

  “What about our protocols? Did you show them how to retrieve data from the ship’s computer?”

  He put on an expression of exasperation. “Yes, but I only had access to data concerning my operations. Data security was very strict on my ship. I felt that since my access codes would only give them information about a few of dead security personnel and their mission, it wouldn’t do much harm.” The last words exited his mouth with a light sob.

  She seemed moved by his performance. “You’ll have to tell my superiors everything you told them. Do you remember who you talked to?”

  “Several people. They never gave me their names. I can remember the faces and that’s all”

  “Okay” she said after a brief pause. “You need to get some rest. We’ll take off after my men have finished combing the wreckage site.”

  He nodded his acquiescence.

  He reflected on what had really happened as soon as she left and he was alone in his bubble.

  After ensuring all crewmembers of the Atlantic Alliance fleet around Janpu had ingested a poison that became fatal only when the victim was exposed to a certain pitch of sound, he had been alone on the lifeless mothership until the Chinese forces appeared to conduct their first full combat test of the bio-engineered Nikruk army. The test had been a success with ten thousand Nikruk soldiers killing more than fifty thousand Atlantic troops within a space of six hours. His infiltration within the Atlantic Alliance Navy had been instrumental in creating this opportunity and he knew he would be rewarded by the Walking God.

  He detested his blond hair and light complexion that were necessary to fool his enemies into thinking he was one of them. He looked like a Caucasian infidel.

  He had then participated in the defence of Bladun, a major source of keumigen crystals within Chinese territory. The Atlantic Alliance had taken the offensive, foolishly believing they had had the element of surprise. Bladun was defended with relative ease and the enemy lost more than double their number of ships. He had boarded one of the Atlantic Alliance motherships, the Devil’s Repent, with hundreds of Nikruk soldiers. All crewmembers save the admiral were killed.

  It was a display of utter contempt to use the captured mothership to attack the Atlantic Alliance colonial capital, the planet Lordsphere. He had proudly slit the throat of the captive admiral, knowing his holograph was being projected to dozens of enemy ships. The ensuing battle in space had been intense, and he had almost not made it.

  Nobody had told him about the plan to use a fusion-tipped missile on Lordsphere, which had not only destroyed the planet but also created a minor star where it had been. His sixth sense for combat had been tingling and he had only just escaped in a transport vessel. He had at first been bitter about the brush with death but then decided that he was just a mere instrument in the Chinese quest for glory. After all, had he not killed numerous compatriots to fulfil his role as a spy? The Emperor would not sacrifice his tools if the benefits didn’t outweigh the costs.

  He had been badly injured in the battle and had had to wait for his body to heal before his expected move to the Heavenly Tower where he would be able to serve the Emperor by His side. While his flesh healed and his bones fused together, the unspeakable happened. The Emperor had been murdered by his own son, the renegade Han Fann. What was even more unspeakable was the death of his own father, Colonel Qin, head of the Shadows and faithful servant to the late Emperor.

  His agony on losing his liege and his father on the same day had been excruciating. It had seemed the world around him had collapsed, that he had been sucked into the dark abyss of anarchy. And now, the same Han Fann was leading a rebel force against the Empire? All Chinese intelligence pointed to the treacherous prince as the main cause behind the death of his newly crowned elder half-brother, Han Xiao, at the hands of the Nikruk. Experts suggested that Han Fann had somehow gained control of the treasonous monsters and used them to attack the Imperial capital, Huangjing. He shuddered at the thought of ten thousand elite Chinese soldiers murdered inside their own barracks.

  Another marine entered the room. His light footsteps were surely those of the scout at the wreckage site. To his surprise, the marine was Chinese.

  “I have a question about the accident” said the marine in a thick Chinese accent.

  He looked at the traitor with cold eyes but said nothing.

  “Did you hear explosions before the transport vessel landed?”

  “Yes.”

  “How many and what magnitude?”

  “The exact magnitude was muffled by the reinforced compartment in which I was held. I think I heard one big explosion followed by two or three smaller. Then again, those could have been mere echoes or reverberations caused by the initial bang.”

  “That’s assuming the source of the explosions was inside the ship?”

  “Why would anyone cause an explosion inside the ship?”

  “It could have been a malfunction or a bomb that accidentally went off.”

  He sighed irritably. “I don’t know, sergeant. I only know that an explosion brought down the ship.”

  “Chinese cells are normally made from containment curtains. If the explosion was strong enough to cut the power, then the curtains would have disappeared and you would have died with the others.”

  “My cell on whatever planet I was before was made from containment curtains. For some reason, my cell on the vessel was a small reinforced room.”

  “Nobody told you where they were taking you?”

  “I have already told your superior. No.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  The marine nodded curtly before leaving. The way he moved was characteristic of the teachings of the S.I.A.D.O academy, the assassin and spy school in which he had spent fifteen years of his life training and learning. Each student was selected at the age of five after rigorous genetic, physical, psychological and intelligence tests. Only one in five finished the school. The marine was surely one of those who never made it to the end though he had probably nearly succeeded. In the end, even failures with only five years of training in the academy would become very competent soldiers, bodyguards or hired muscle once they became old enough. But they weren’t true Shadows, nor were those who completed all but the final year, where failures didn’t leave the school in shame, but died painfully.

  How did Han Fann manage to kill his father, one of the most celebrated Shadows? This still baffled him. His hatred of the only surviving member of the Imperial Family was so intense it was almost painful. He now knew he had another role; he had to infiltrate the newly formed government of United Terra, or Diqiu Lianmeng, of which Han Fann was a powerful member, using his most prized skills: infiltration and assassination. He had to avenge his father, both deceased Emperors and all the Chinese citizens who had died as a result of his betrayal. He, Qin Huei, one of the most successful Shadow assassins in history, would right what was wrong.

  Chapter 2: Nuevo Santiago

  ‘Her death both extinguished and rekindled my faith in God. It extinguished the dogmas, the indoctrination, the mindless slavery to a farce. It stripped down belief to its bare necessities; the quest to grant meaning to a meaningless loss of a beautiful life.’ - Terry Southend, personal memoir, year 2915

  The rain fell incessantly as it had for the last four days. It felt good all the same after having been cooped up in a relatively small vessel for fourteen months. 'If you're lucky you'll get there during the dry season, or else you're screwed for five months 'cause it won't ever stop pissing down!' She chuckled on remembering the Andrewsian monk who had barely managed to keep his drunken head up. I haven't been lucky for four years.

  The air was cool but heavy from humidity. The planet New Washington was populated by around two million humans; half of them were native locals while the other half was made up of enterprising Earth-born Rendens. Rendens were generally subject to jealousy by the native-born humans since they represented a privileged class.

  The physical traits of locals and
Earth-born created certain contrasts; the natives were mostly of Latin-American stock while the Earth-born were generally Caucasian; the slightly lower gravity of the planet enabled natives to grow taller and, hence, the average height of local men was around six foot four.

  Heera certainly stood out since she was neither of Latino or Caucasian stock. Bin'ja, on the other hand, blended surprisingly in with his seven foot height, albeit with the proper disguise. It helped that the climate on Tierra del Señor, the sole super-continent near the pole, was generally cold, windy and wet, necessitating thick clothing. The massive figure of a heavily clothed Bin'ja only got the occasional stare. Heera was too short to be a local, and the fact that enterprising females were quite rare within former Atlantic Alliance territory made her more of an oddity.

  The couple walked down the narrow streets of Nuevo Santiago. A day lasted forty three hours on the planet, giving them a long night to finish their task. Both wore long cloaks to hide the shapes of their bodies. They stopped in front of a section of the wall of a four-story building made of brown bricks. An overflowing can of rubbish stood to one side while a hissing black cat bared its claws at them. A torrent of steam from a faulty pipe further discouraged anyone from getting closer to the wall.

  “Twenty-two, X, sixty-seven, P, eighteen, U” said Heera in a firm voice.

  The cat started to arch it back and hiss even louder. The acrid smell of urine made her wrinkle her nose. She knew, however, that this smell had two purposes; first to entice people to move on; the second to hide the tell-tale smell of ozone given off during a Web-Com scan.

  After a few seconds, during which the cat was getting hysterical, the wall disappeared along with the rubbish bin, the cat and the myriad of steaming pipes. The shiny black strip of a holograph projector appeared on the ground in front of a pair of heavy-looking metal doors. Two metal circles on each door rotated away from each other, creating a soft screeching sound. The sound of several other bolts moving around didn’t seem to end until the doors slid open all of a sudden in a surprisingly smooth fashion. A large man, almost certainly a local from his curly black hair and great height, stood staring at them with hostile eyes.

  “What do you want?” he asked in an accent that suggested that the One Tongue was not his first language.

  “We have an appointment” replied Heera.

  The man squinted as he tried to make out who was speaking to him under all the thick clothing. “What’s your name?”

  “Cecilia”

  “Show me your face.”

  Heera complied by removing the thick fur hat and woollen mask. The man seemed momentarily surprised at her Asian appearance but then regained his slightly hostile look. One of his eyes was covered by an arcane device still used in some of the colonies to display Web-Com information. The way his other eye shifted let her know that he was confirming who she was, probably from footage from her last visit. His eye came back to rest on her and then immediately bounced to the hulking figure of Bin’ja.

  “He waits outside” he said.

  “He’s my bodyguard. He goes where I go.”

  The man looked adamant however and stared down at her. After a few seconds of meeting his glare, she put on her hat and mask and turned around.

  “Tell your jefe that the deal fell through because you made me feel threatened” she said and made as if to walk away.

  She had barely made one step when she heard the man swearing under his breath. “Okay, señorita. Both of you get in before someone sees us” he said before deactivating an invisible containment curtain.

  She smiled under her mask on his predictability. He wasn’t hired to make judgment calls or take initiative, only to follow orders. If he had known how desperate she was, he would have let her go, knowing she had to come back.

  They swept by the man who looked up nervously at the hidden figure of Bin’ja. The light hit the yellow eyes of the alien for a fraction of a second and they seemed to shine with a golden hue as he looked at him. He was unsettled for a moment and almost forgot to reactivate the holograph of the wall before closing the metal doors.

  An inner pressure door opened with a loud hiss, releasing a breeze of warm, dry air. The interior was brightly lit with several couches and low tables arranged in a rather random manner. Several tall men were seated on stools at the bar. Otherwise, the large room was empty except for an immense man with a shiny bald head and a thick black moustache. Seated on a black leather couch, he was wearing a white silk shirt that was unbuttoned, exposing his flabby flesh. He resembled a walrus, thought Heera, especially when he smiled blankly at them. He put his feet up on the low table in front of him, showing large, hairy feet, as if to show them how at ease he was.

  A tall slender girl suddenly appeared from behind the bar. She had long dark hair and wore a tight black leather dress that showed her athletic curves. A long glass full of some obscure drink was held delicately between her long fingers. She came out and headed to the fat man. She sat down slowly next to him, almost as if to tease him with her curves. The fat man’s eyes seemed to bulge out at the sight of her long thighs. He licked his moustache.

  The girl proceeded to put her hands over his large belly and then rubbed down towards his crotch. The fat man seemed to enjoy the sensation and moaned. Their wet lips met.

  It was after an unnecessarily long kiss that she seemed to notice the new entrants. She looked at them with intense eyes and smiled. The fat man’s eyes were looking groggy, perhaps from something in the drink. She suddenly slapped his belly.

  “Get out, Toro, mummy has business to discuss” she said to the man who was at least fifteen years her senior.

  The man made a grunting sound as he got up from the deep couch and made his way to a door in the back near the bar. The girl looked on as he walked away.

  “What can I say? I like older, big men” she said with a playful smile.

  Heera didn’t know what to say about the obscene scene she had just witnessed.

  “Come, sit with Mamá Luna” she beckoned with long fingers tipped with shiny black fingernails.

  Heera walked purposefully towards her.

  “Hey, one of you idiotas. Take the lady’s cloak” she said as she clicked her fingers.

  One of the men at the bar walked over and took her thick coat. Bin’ja remained cloaked and shook his head slowly when the man approached him. The girl who called herself Mamá Luna looked intently at the unflattering paramilitary clothes worn by Heera.

  “My dear, we have to get you a wardrobe manager. I can see you have a sexy body under all that. Why on earth would you hide it?”

  Heera smiled. “I don’t want to attract unwanted attention. Discretion is my weapon.”

  Mamá Luna smiled back. “Everything is a weapon. We girls, especially beautiful girls like you and I, we have to use our beauty to get what we want. And I want a lot.”

  “I just want one thing, for now.”

  “Ah yes. But before we come to that, I want to know more about you.”

  “As I said, discretion is my weapon.”

  “Knowledge is a weapon, and I want to know.”

  An icy silence ensued while the two women stared at each other. It was Mamá Luna who broke the silence with a throaty laugh.

  “I was born in this infernal city. My mother was raped by an off-worlder and the result was me. Poor her!”

  Heera kept her silence. Though the girl appeared to be amicable, she sensed something off about the whole situation and her mind raced to figure what it was.

  “She died when I was twelve. It probably saved her a lot of suffering” she continued. She gestured to Heera to sit next to her in the indent where the fat man had sat.

  Heera approached the couch and sat down slowly with a sufficient gap between her and Mamá Luna. The patch was still warm. Strangely, she was reminded of the warmth of physical touch, something she had foregone for more than four years.

  Mamá Luna looked much taller so close up. In fact, she l
ooked well over six foot tall with slender yet muscular limbs. Heera jumped suddenly when the taller woman put a hand on her thigh. With a firm gesture, she removed her large hand. “I’m sorry but I don’t like to be touched.”

  Mamá Luna looked slightly taken aback. The touch of a sneer appeared on her face before putting on the same amicable smile. “Do you know how I became the boss of the largest crime syndicate in New Washington? You’d be surprised but it started as a working girl. A whore.”

  Heera wasn’t so surprised that Mamá Luna had been a prostitute. Nuevo Santiago was a hotbed of prostitution and girls as young as twelve, already as tall as fully grown Earth-born women, were waiting on street corners.

  “I used the only weapon at my disposal. You’d be surprised what you can make men do just with what you have between your legs.” With that she put her large, manicured hand on Heera’s thigh again. When Heera tried to sweep it away again, she abruptly grabbed her by the wrist with a strong grip.

  Heera was slightly surprised but not as shocked as Mamá Luna had hoped. Her calm seemed to surprise Mamá Luna, in turn, who after staring dangerously at her, returned to her smile. This girl is nuts.

  “Let go of my wrist” she said flatly. Mamá Luna complied.

  “I like you, Cecilia. I think we can become good friends. I hear you’re Earth-born? You know how many powerful men in New Washington would love nothing more than a Renden wife?”

  “I’m not interested.”

  “Yes, because you’re already in love. I can tell.”

  Heera suddenly felt her ears flush red. Mamá Luna laughed throatily again.

  “I have another weapon, my most important. It’s finding out people’s secrets. Who is he? You want to buy a ship from me to get to him?”

  Heera didn’t answer immediately. “I want to buy a ship, that’s all you need to know.”

  “And have you prepared the money?” she said with honey in her voice.

  Heera took out a Web-Com terminal the size of her palm and turned it on. A pile of banknotes, each one made of thin slices of indestructible graphonite, appeared.