by H. T. Kofruk
"Stop simulation" said Fann.
The holographs disappeared and the bare, grey exterior of the simulation hall became visible to the trainees.
"That was much better than last time. The formation was kept tight and no one panicked. Those things are faster, stronger and much more manoeuvrable than us even with the absence of amplifier suits. What is our biggest advantage in the face of such an adversary?"
A confident hand went up.
"Go on, Private Bashir"
The owner of the raised hand lifted off the helmet to reveal the face of a brown-skinned girl with crew-cut hair and a gleaming red piercing on the side of her nose.
"Al-Bashir, sir" she said with bright eyes.
"Yes, I'm sorry, Private Al-Bashir. What's the biggest advantage that a tactical ground force can have over a Nikruk death squad?"
"Apart from better air and orbital support, sir?"
Fann nodded.
"Better tactical organization."
"And what does that mean on the ground?"
"It means we can move more effectively as a unit, sir."
"That's a load of horse-shit" said Bongani who had just entered the simulation hall.
Fann frowned at the intrusion on his training session.
"I've fought those things and I can tell you, they move in unison like a flock of migrating birds. Their sense of combat is beyond anything we can train into you."
The private stared with a defiant air at the formidable navy admiral. "Then what's the point of training, if I may, sir?"
"So you don't crap your undies when you first come across them and at least manage a shot before your head gets ripped off" said Bongani as he stared back down at the girl. "And if you ask me, a woman is usually a hindrance in battle."
"Just like Camelia Shin, the secret service agent who saved President Ray Razak, sir?"
Terry could only smile at the feisty girl. "Private Al-Bashir, my colleague is just trying to make you understand that no amount of training will completely prepare you for the real thing. You would be wise to take it with a grain of salt; the enemy will not move like they do in simulations despite our best efforts. Their tactics, their movement patterns are evolving as they adapt to ours."
Fann released his breath as if to blow out steam. "Okay, everybody get out of your suits and meet me at the debriefing room for observation in twenty minutes."
He turned at the two intruders with a sharp expression once the trainees had filed out of the room. "Are you here to undermine me and my training methods?" he asked.
"A load of good your precious training will do, Princey" said Bongani before taking out a cigar from his pocket.
"No smoking in my facility. So are you proposing we just send them out with no training and hope they know what to do?"
Terry knew Bongani was just trying to anger Fann on purpose. "Fann, I just need your opinion on something. Do you think that Mother will stop hunting Rendens if we guarantee her safety?"
Fann shook his and sighed irritably. "You barged into my session for me take sides with one of you two in another one of your useless discussions?"
"It's not useless, Princey" said Bongani. "It could provide a means to end this war and ensure our survival as a species."
"I told you not to call me that."
"I'll stop calling you that once you get rid of that gold and jade stick up your arse."
Fann clenched his fists and walked forward as he stared up at Bongani. Terry quickly intercepted him and took him by the arm. "Can you wait outside for five minutes?" he said to Bongani with an expression of exasperation.
The dark face of Bongani held a smirk as he walked casually out.
"I've never met anyone so infuriating in my life. What does he have against me?" said Fann once the two were alone.
Terry had thought that Bongani took a disliking to Fann because he held him somehow responsible for the war. But then he increasingly got the feeling it was due to class perception; Bongani came from a very modest background and had to fight for everything while Fann was from the most exclusive family in the universe. Not only that, the former Berserker believed that all wars were generally brewed by the rich and powerful while the poor died in them, something Terry found difficult to refute. Bongani had admitted to all this after getting drunk together on some obscure spirit.
"He does that to everyone" he lied. "You shouldn't let him get to you or he'll just enjoy it more."
Fann swore something in Chinese under his breath. "So you want my opinion?" he said after having calmed a bit.
Terry nodded.
"I think we can perhaps negotiate with her. She's a highly intelligent being so she probably knows that a protracted war will be bloody and dangerous. But the question is how will she know that she can trust us?"
Nodding again, Terry said "Can she trust us?"
The former-prince shrugged. "I don't think even we can trust us."
"If there's no trust, then we need something to ensure each party sticks to their side of the deal."
"Well, old noble families did exchange hostages as a symbol of trust."
Terry shook his head. "We can't send a hostage. Besides, who would go?"
"And who can she send when she's become a sort of hive queen?"
He paused a moment before answering. "Thanks. It's given me something else to think about."
"Something else to add to your pile of theories?"
Terry smiled and clapped Fann on the shoulder before moving towards the door.
"Terry" called out Fann. "Next time, come alone, please."
When Terry came out of the simulation room, he found himself face to face with the girl in the training session beaming up at him. She was still in her amplifier suit but with the armour deflated.
"Private Al-Bashir. I think General Han will be out soon" he said with an awkward edge to his voice.
"No, sir. I was waiting to talk to you" she replied.
"I'm no longer military, so you don't have to call me 'sir'. Just call me Terry."
"Councillor Southend?"
"Just Terry, please."
She blushed slightly. "Okay Terry. I just wanted to tell you that I read all your articles and I agree with everything you say. I found them so inspiring."
"They're essays, just my opinions really. You shouldn't really agree with all of them. I find it flattering nonetheless, Private Al-Bashir."
"Fatima" she said. "Since you're no longer military."
Terry smiled. "It's good to know that what I write is being read. Even more knowing it inspired. Thank you, Fatima."
She smiled back. Fann walked out of the simulation room and looked at them with a puzzled expression. Fatima gained her military stiffness and marched away. Terry walked the other direction without saying anything.
Chapter 4: The Ten
‘We need just look into our past, see how we interacted with 'exotic' cultures within the confounds of Earth to see why we have acted as such with intelligent extra-terrestrials.’ - Terry Southend, personal memoir, year 2914
Ten was a good number. She had learned the basics of Renden mathematics through the one called Saj'ra before killing him by overloading his mind to the point of destruction. Since then, she had deduced many of her own mathematic theories and had proven them. But ten seemed like a good, round number. She even liked how the Chinese word sounded: Shi.
So ten gifted young ones were conceived. Unlike the countless millions she had created who were basically copies of two originals, each one of the Ten were unique. Unlike the soulless, unintelligent legions of killing machines, she had felt the Ten already questioning, pondering and hypothesizing in their shells. Balancing intelligence and total obedience would be tricky; she didn't want to create one like Bin'ja. Rendens seemed to have grown more intelligent and knowledgeable by socializing and sharing. She could not take that risk with the Ten and, hence, had engineered them to hate and despise each other.
She sensed a minute cracking sound b
eneath her vast canopy. She shifted her consciousness to the first of the Ten to find his shell so stifling that he had to push his way out into the unknown dangers of the world.
'Shi'ran' she whispered his name to him. His mind was focused on the insurmountable task of breaking free of his foetal prison. He struggled relentlessly, his tiny hands pushing against a wall of solid darkness. She sent more encouragement to him.
She saw through his eyes the sudden blade of light entering his tiny cell. It dazzled and disoriented him but he kept going. The smell of a thousand plants, of the moist earth gave him strength as did the sound of the breeze rustling the giant leaves of the Great Tree that was his Mother.
He gave out a high-pitched screech as he pushed open the crack and pushed his tiny face out to the world for the first time. He drank in the sights, the smells and the sounds of the giant tree that gave him shade.
'Well done Shi'ran' she said to him.
He let out another screech of joy. 'Mother' he said. 'I have succeeded.'
His mind was absorbing the world around him like the dry earth does the rain. Two adults came and gently picked him up. These two were relatively young but they had been engineered to reach adulthood within a much shorter time span. The main advantage of a long childhood and adolescence was to gain as much knowledge and experience before becoming mature; workers with mechanical, repetitive tasks only required perfunctory education. Besides, most of what they needed had been genetically inserted at the instinct level. They instinctively felt the need to take care of helpless hatchlings with no real intellectual or emotional intervention.
Shi'ran echoed his mother's thoughts. 'Logically, a highly specialized society is the most efficient.'
'Yes, and that is why your role is so important.'
'Do the ones who hold me speak?'
'No, their vocal chords have been removed. They only need to obey commands.'
'That is logical. No genetic waste on useless functions.'
'What is your function?'
'To command and control. And to obey.'
'You are an intelligent extension of my consciousness.'
'To kill Rendens?'
'Yes, to kill Rendens.'
She sent him visions of Rendens killing and maiming his brothers. Great Trees went up in flames from the fire of Renden missiles.
'They will kill us all if they have the chance' she said after sending the terrible images.
'We are a threat to them. They are a threat to us. It is logical to exterminate them.'
The two drones took him to pile of giant purple fruit, each one almost as large as an adult Nikruk. One of them plunged his strong, clawed hand into the thick skin and pulled out a fistful of bright red juicy flesh. Shi'ran eagerly took a mouthful and reeled at the sweetness. He felt the warm embrace of Mother in his mind. His protector, his creator, his provider, his god.
Mother felt three more of the Ten stirring in their eggs and sent more drones to tend to them. Shi'ran sensed the presence of his new brothers and was filled with an inexplicable hatred. She was satisfied with his mental reaction. Hatred and jealousy were useful tools.
She peered into his genetic material and checked whether his protein structure expressed everything correctly. It was hard to tell even for her whether everything would turn out exactly as desired; lots of attributes were determined by the nurturing environment and experiences. He did, nonetheless, have ten per cent more brain mass than his 'normal' brothers. The part responsible for reason and calculation was particularly larger. The primal region of his mind was also markedly developed, making him more aggressive and greedy.
She delved deeper into his bones, muscles and organs. With the right nurture, he would grow to be stronger, faster and deadlier than any of the Nikruk, rivalled only by his nine litter brothers.
'Are you satisfied, Mother?' he said.
'Yes. You will be a leader, answering only to me. You will bring me victory.'
'Yes, Mother. I will bring you the heads of all Rendens I kill.'
'I only hope you will do better than Shi'bar or Shi'sum' she said knowing that the mention of his newly named brothers would bring out a highly competitive side to him.
He predictably growled at their names.
'Shi'bar will be better at calculating than you. Shi'sum will be stronger. Shi'or will be able to see much further.'
Another growl. She was content to see that no thought of killing his litter brothers crossed his mind. The old Mother was at least right in that aspect; if her offspring were to start fighting among themselves, it would only weaken the whole. Now to put her new experiments to use.
Chapter 5: Britain
‘The Six Empires of Earth are so different in political system that devising a universal system that can be easily accepted by all of them will be an almost insurmountable task by any measure. How can any form of government be considered legitimate given the vastly different political traditions of the Six? What is the principle that can be both a common denominator and a goal to strive for in terms of government for each and every Renden?’ - Terry Southend,
The summer sun beat down hard on his grey armour. A taller soldier in the black armour of the Afrikan Cetshwayo unit stood to his left while a former member of the Atlantic Alliance Celestial Guard stood to his right in gleaming white. All three soldiers scanned the cloudless sky for specks of black.
Paul Camileri lifted off his helmet and massaged the back of his neck. The unfiltered light hurt his eyes. "It may have been a false alarm" he said.
The Black Berserker took off his helmet to reveal a pale-skinned face with frizzy dark hair. "Seems possible. May have seen a flock of migrating birds and mistook them for a squad of transport ships."
"This is the second time this week. Those comedians on the French coast are probably having a laugh at our expense" said the last soldier who only lifted his visor to show wrinkled eyes under bushy blond eyebrows.
Paul looked at him. "Those comedians are risking their lives for us. They're not even military people."
The other soldier finally took off his helmet. "I know, I know, sir. It's just bloody frustrating each time. We've just scared the whole of Britain for nothing. Again."
Paul turned his back on the narrow sea dividing Britain from the European mainland. Thousands of soldiers in an assortment of uniforms broke the deathly silence and started to pack in the artillery, missiles and tornado generators that were poised to deter an air attack.
He walked purposefully to a large earthen mound into which a metal door was installed. Upon entering, he climbed down a spiral staircase that took him fifty feet underground into a large man-made cavern. About fifty soldiers and civilians were chatting in the immense space full of holographs, Web-Com sender-receivers and artillery command and control units. Relief was evident in the tones of conversations. He opened a second door at one end of the space and walked into his office, his shoulders slumping as soon as he closed it behind him.
His hope of having a few minutes to shake off the battle-nerves ended in slight disappointment when he heard a knock on his door. He breathed deeply and told whoever was planning to disturb him to enter.
"Another false alarm, Sir Paul" said the loud voice of a woman. The short, slightly pudgy figure of Sir Elena Miburu, one of the few female knights to have survived the Orthodox betrayal.
Paul liked Elena. Though she was a few years his senior, she never challenged his authority, something that he still encountered among some of the older surviving knights of the Grey Order. She was also the elder sister of Gabriel, his squire who had almost certainly perished when the Orthodox navy had bombed Constantine, the Grey Catholic home, with hundreds of nuclear weapons.
"Another false alarm, Sir Elena" repeated Paul.
"I think this waiting around is more unbearable than the actual fighting" she said before sitting down heavily on a couch that lined one of the walls of the office and stroking the scabbard of her sword. "I'd like
to get Sacred Justice into some alien necks before long."
Paul knew that Elena wasn't the most gifted melee fighter, though she was an excellent markswoman and a very effective tactician. Paul tried to keep the irritation of being denied his solitude from his voice. "We're not yet ready to deter a full attack. I'm personally relieved."
Elena didn't seem to notice his tone. "I know the Orthodox were a bunch of treacherous whores, but I would sure like some of their air support. Five years of war and we're almost reduced to stone age technology."
Paul knew she was exaggerating but had to admit he was startled at the enemy's swift destruction of so many of their satellites and communication stations. The Nikruk had betrayed their Chinese masters only once they had learned everything they needed. "Even some rudimentary way to survey the sky would be welcome."
"I was thinking more about orbital missiles and drones."
Paul reflected on the course of the war the past four years. The aliens had started by killing the Chinese Emperor and then taking control of China's vast nuclear arsenal. Four Chinese warships had then been taken over by Nikruk aliens getting ready for deployment. How they had known how to operate the ships was beyond his comprehension. The Orthodox Empire had been thrown into confusion as soon as the first Nikruk attacks occurred on their troops. They had believed that the Chinese Empire had turned against them and retaliated with attacks on Chinese warships.
Taking advantage of the chaos in the enemy camp, Paul had led a force of thirty thousand troops consisting of Catholic and Peace Alliance troops into Europe. There they managed to rendezvous with five thousand additional Grey Catholic troops, the remnants of the First Grey Army that had been fighting in Europe before having been almost annihilated by the Orthodox with Chinese assistance.
The combined forces had landed in southern England eighteen months ago and had managed to rid the island nation of Nikruk. Since then, the Nikruk had basically taken control of the whole of Eurasia and the Americas. Britain was the only place free of the alien mercenary-turned-invaders.
"The Chinese and Orthodox did a good job of destroying the Atlantic and Pacific navies before they turned on each other. We can only hope the aliens don't learn too fast how to use the few remaining ships they operate" said Paul.
