The Imperialists: The Complete Trilogy

by H. T. Kofruk

  As soon as the vortex was large enough, the UTS Novelty, Glory, and Horizon flew through at light speed. Red and blue streaks towards the west showed how furiously the battle was raging. Without stopping more than a few seconds, the three ships split up at light speed only to reappear among the enemy ships.

  Fann was in his element. He launched a dozen missiles from close range at a strangely shaped enemy ship and pounded another with all his laser and pulse cannons before disappearing. The Novelty materialised not far away where he fired all his weapons at a large, log-shaped, previously Orthodox ship. A bright explosion indicated that one of the nuclear missiles that he had fired had found its target.

  Beads of sweat hung on Bongani’s temple. After only twenty minutes, he had had to abandon the log formation after losing ships to the enemy Death Beam, a weapon against which there existed no form of defence. The best thing he could do was to order ships to get between enemy vessels so that they couldn’t use the terrible weapon so liberally. His and four other motherships made their way stubbornly towards the wormhole station and had just managed to destroy. The giant black disk in the Afrikan sky could no longer resist Earth’s gravity and slowly but surely started to fall into the sea off the coast of Nigeria.

  The appearance of Fann’s Novelty and the other two wildcard ships was starting to take effect as the Nikruk began, in some cases, to shoot at each other. He promised to himself that if he and Fann ever got out of this alive, he would stop giving the prince such a hard time.

  UTS Grand, one of the four motherships accompanying his own, suddenly stopped moving and became unresponsive. It could only mean that it had been hit by Death Beam. He immediately gave orders for evasive action and to identify the source of the weapon fire.

  “We’ve lost a third of the fleet, sir” said Walker.

  “But we’ve taken sixty of their ships with us. Hopefully Fann’s tactic will give us better odds.”

  Bongani knew that, given their horrific losses only an hour into battle, the odds of overcoming the Nikruk fleet was slim. Seventy-two ships was nothing compared to the mighty fleets previously operated by the Renden empires. Renouncing all colonies occupied by intelligent aliens meant that United Terra seriously lacked the labour and resources to bounce back in terms of ship numbers, all in a bout of idealism and hope for a new galactic order. He started to resent the lofty ideals planted into so many minds by Terry.

  An ominous vibration suddenly caught his ear. “Bear thirty degrees to port side!” he yelled since the sound seemed to be coming from the right. The gravity shield had trouble keeping up with the abrupt movement and everyone on the bridge was rattled like rag dolls.

  “All systems functioning at over ninety per cent, sir” said Captain Lin, the security officer whose high-pitched voice effectively communicated his relief.

  “Contact the captain of the air group”

  The communications officer tried to call the captain of the pilots on board the ship who had just flown back after contributing to the destruction of the wormhole station. After three attempts, he looked at Bongani and shook his head.

  “Shit, we’ve lost all our fighter pilots to the Death Beam” muttered Bongani. “We’ve got to find a way to detect it. We can’t even identify ships with Death Beam capabilities” he lamented.

  “We’ve lost over two hundred vital signals on the starboard side of the ships, sir” said someone who he had trouble identifying with the voice alone.

  “Which god damn ship is using Death Beam?” he thought aloud. “Have any clues been found on enemy ship exterior?”

  As soon as the words exited his mouth, one of the twig-covered-boulder design ships came into view directly in front of them at less than a mile away. Bongani instinctively knew that it was armed with Death Beam, and at this distance, evasion was futile.

  “Switch to infra-red” he said without really understanding why. It really was just a hunch.

  The main holograph changed to hues of blue, green and the occasional bright red caused by explosions. The ship right in front of them was, however, pulsating with red and yellow.

  “The ship’s heating up, sir” said the science officer unnecessarily.

  Bongani understood that unlike conventional Renden weapons, the Death Beam had no need for separate shafts or gun barrels. The whole ship effectively became a gun, and the whole process caused it to heat up before releasing the mysterious, life-extinguishing energy. And what was a better instrument to do this than a space warship designed to take temperatures of thousands of degrees and dissipate the heat into the vacuum within seconds?

  He ensured that the image was shared with the other remaining ships of the fleet with the hope that it would help them even if it wouldn’t ultimately help his own vessel. He lifted his drenched left sleeve to reveal a silicon strap that displayed the vital signs of David. Sighing heavily on seeing that his life-partner was still alive, he resisted the urge to say something to him. He had no right to deprive a ship’s crew of the captain in such a tight, decisive battle.

  The ship still pulsated with yellow-hot energy. He clenched his jaw and looked at his eventual killer with defiant eyes when something unusual happened; the bright yellow expanded and became white within less than a second.

  “Switch back to normal spectrum” ordered Bongani.

  “A nuclear missile it would seem, sir” said Walker with the relief evident in his voice.

  “It seems to have come from the surface, sir” reported another bridge crewmember.

  At the same time, multiple large and small explosions were visible at the wormhole station. Bongani couldn’t believe his eyes.

  “We’re getting a transmission, sir” yelled the communications officer. “We can’t get geo-localisation but it’s definitely coming from the surface.”

  As soon as the message was decrypted it was displayed on the main holograph projector. It read ‘For he built the earth in seven days landing among us sinners on whose souls rest Cyril.’

  Chapter 29: Second Front

  ‘I have struggled my whole life with my…condition. Empathising with other people remains a purely intellectual endeavour that lacks the emotional connection I often observe in others. I am not innately a psychopath for I do feel anger, anxiety and fear. How the better emotions were supressed by the ‘program’ is still a mystery to me.’ – Qin Huei, personal memoir, year 2935

  The combined might of the three largest conglomerates in the known universe had struggled to build eighteen ships in the last two years. Qin knew that though the rate was similar to that of peace time production, the revenues generated by selling weapons during times of war should have more than tripled it. The only reason that came to mind was a feeble means of protest by the Pacific Federation industrial families against the heavy-handed, menacing ways of Bo.

  Another manifestation of this protest was the design of the new ships; none had taken into account the traditional, dragon-tiger-turtle designs of the Chinese Empire. Instead, they took on the sleek, compact designs preferred by the Pacific Federation. None of that mattered to Qin as long as they functioned correctly. The discovery of the secret, one-sided contract with the cowardly conglomerates of the Pacific had at least nearly doubled the number of ships at his disposal.

  Manning all the new ships had been done in a record three days. In reality, that meant that the three month trial period to ensure all systems functioned correctly had been omitted and the crews only had had the barest of time to get used to controls, a problem compounded by the fact that all user manuals and control panels were either in Korean or Roman characters, another form of the conglomerates’ display of displeasure.

  Qin didn’t pretend to command a ship. His speciality was espionage and assassination, not commanding several fleets of ships and thousands of crewmembers. He only drew out a broad strategy with certain goals, not forgetting to place Shadows in each ship to keep the bridge crewmembers on their toes. He found it amusing how the Shadows rallied around h
im with barely any coercion. Like him, they all needed a figure of loyalty. It was a quality hammered into them through decades of training. Though they were perhaps the most resourceful, autonomous soldiers, they were also paradoxically the most dependent and insecure. Was that why he felt a dark shroud of uncertainty?

  It wasn’t, therefore, surprising how Bo had mismanaged the meagre leftovers of the New Han Empire. Without a clear goal, a focal point of loyalty, Bo had been completely lost. All he knew was that he wanted to stay in control. Though it screamed against all his training and mental conditioning, Qin had to concede that United Terra had been the only logical choice. The Chinese Empire had lost ninety per cent of its ships and two thirds of its wormhole stations since the beginning of the war; it had barely enough to stay alive, let alone win back Earth. Exploiting alien colonies became more and more difficult as non-Renden subjects sensed weakness in their colonial masters. Revolt, sabotage and terrorism made it almost impossible to wring any production from them. What other choice did China have other than United Terra?

  And Qin vowed he would do his part. If the Han Emperor could not be the object of his undying loyalty, then perhaps…perhaps Geraldine could. Ever since his departure from the Jibaru System, he felt a slight inkling of guilt whenever he thought of her. Her look of disappointment when she shot him with a stun pulse had resembled so remarkably…her. He shook her from his immediate attention, knowing her face would linger on in the corners of his mind.

  “Light-speed!” said a voice, presumably that of Admiral Hu, supreme commander of the final Chinese fleet, probably forever.

  The order was acknowledged and repeated by half a dozen other voices that all sounded similar to Qin. He occupied a corner in the bridge of the hastily christened Universe where he could survey the battle while leaving decision-making to more experienced naval commanders. The holograph of the ship exterior morphed into the single-planet system that was home to the Nikruk.

  He looked curiously at how much the Nikruk planet had changed since the last time he had been here almost a decade ago. Swaths of dark clouds covered large portions of the surface and flashes of lightning from enormous electrical storms ignited them every few seconds. It almost felt that the whole world was expressing its anger at being first trespassed upon, and then enslaved.

  “Enemy contact” said someone on the bridge.

  A swarm of ships in a strange design blinked onto the holograph. Most of them were clustered near the surface of the planet, presumably defending the main Tree from any attacks. The rest were not further than a thousand miles away near the sole, Chinese-made wormhole station. Qin’s assumption had been correct; the aliens were more obsessed with defending their Mother than securing the wormhole station. Intelligence had suggested that they didn’t yet have full access to wormhole technology and couldn’t, hence, build new stations, though judging from the startling speed with which they had mastered building spaceships, it would only reasonably take them a couple years to do so.

  The goal of the mission was to be deceptive, to appear to attack the Tree while actually targeting the station.

  “Enemy pulse fire detected.”

  Qin could feel his adrenaline rise.

  “Sir, an unknown vessel has appeared just one mega-metre away” reported the ship navigation officer to the captain.

  “One of ours?”

  “It seems like a UT vessel, though no wormhole activity was detected. It’s a small transporter.”

  Chapter 30: The Choices We Make

  ‘The greatest disability I ever suffered was not the lack of my left arm; it was rather my ignorance of love. The greatest skill I ever learned was not swordplay; it was raising a family.’ – Paul Camileri, personal memoir, year unknown.

  It was the inexplicable feeling of doom. Heera couldn’t talk to anyone about this and it was killing her slowly inside. Everyone’s fate was in danger, even her own. Yet Terry seemed resigned to it, as if he was seeking some sort of penance for the death that he had created in his own, relatively short life. He always assured her that they would both be safe, that he would do everything to keep it that way. But she spied a certain sadness in him, as if he somehow knew that failure awaited him.

  The four Rendens and Bin’ja were back in their ship. Three days had passed and a plan had been formulated with the knowledge of Grinya and his mother, Vahsoo.

  “The portal will be ready within three minutes” said the high-pitched voice of Grinya.

  “Understood” replied Sara.

  “Remember, cousins, that you are to keep your knowledge of us to your graves. Our planet will soon be transported to another part of the galaxy for the last time. This will be the final contact between homo-sapiens and our kind.”

  “Thank you, Grinya, for everything” said Anton.

  “Good luck.”

  As the ship approached the planetary shield, the past few days whizzed by Heera’s mind. They had planned to leave the following day when the shield was predicted to enter a weakening phase. The whole plan had been so ridiculously optimistic that all four of them had more or less been in a state of renunciation. But Grinya had suddenly hurried their departure due to ‘ideal conditions’.

  “What did Vahsoo see?” she asked.

  The Neanderthal’s holograph showed him trying to remain calm. “She died this morning.”

  The news didn’t shock her for some reason. “Did she try and break through the shield?”

  Grinya nodded. “Her mind couldn’t take the strain. She only said that you need to leave now.”

  Heera put her hand over her heart. “Thank you again, cousin” she said, using the last word for the first time to address the hosts.

  “Be gone now, cousin, and fight.”

  The shield was merely three hundred feet away. When the tip of the ship’s nose touched it, the screeching sound of tearing metal reverberated even though hull integrity seemed to hold. Holographs and control panels started to blink as exterior interference mounted. When the ominous sound was on the point of becoming unbearable, it all stopped and the holograph of Grinya disappeared. The ship’s displays blinked one final time before swiftly morphing to show a large projection of a planet.

  Bin’ja got up from his seat. “Sha’am” he said in a voice uncharacteristically charged with emotion. “My home.”

  The four Rendens gazed at the ominous, cloud-filled planet. Heera touched Bin’ja’s hand and he squeezed back.

  “Chinese forces in the vicinity” said Sara.

  Everyone on board was surprised to see an armada of Chinese warships not too far from their entry point into the system.

  “That’s why Vahsoo sent us today. She knew the Chinese were attacking the planet” said Terry.

  “That just leaves the question whether they’re going to help us or blow us into smithereens. I hope they decide on the first option” said Anton unnecessarily.

  “Hail them” ordered Terry.

  The head of a Chinese captain appeared. “Captain Yu Biao of the Universe” he said in Chinese. “Identify yourself or be considered an enemy.”

  “Colonel Terry Southend, United Terra Marine Corps. Are you in charge of the Chinese fleet?” answered Terry in the One Tongue.

  “We are on the verge of attacking. What is your business here?” said the captain, his voice overlaid with the ship computer’s simultaneous translation.

  “I need the help of your fleet. We can end this but we need to get on the surface, next to one of the Great Trees.”

  “Are you out of your mind? Our mission is…”

  The communication was cut and new, familiar head appeared. “Colonel Southend? It’s surprising to find you in this corner of the universe.”

  Heera didn’t immediately recognize the Chinese assassin who had attempted to kill Han Fann. She had only seen him once briefly and had remarked his hollow cheeks and tired and madness-stricken eyes. The man whose holograph she was looking at now looked as if he was confidently in his element to th
e point of being cocky.

  “Qin? What are you doing here?” said Terry with a trace of hostility in his voice.

  “My part. Our primary mission is to destroy the wormhole station in the orbit of the Nikruk home planet. If we survive that, we’ll attack the surface itself. We have a smaller force attacking another recent discovery where we believe the aliens have their primary breeding facility.”

  “You mean the breeding facility that you created to make your army” said Anton with even more hostility.

  “Let’s not waste time pointing fingers like children” replied Qin with the same annoying confidence. Heera didn’t like the tone of his voice but had to admit that his suggestion was the right one. “Now, why are you here and how is it we didn’t detect your approach?”

  “You have to change your mission objective. We have a way to destroy this ‘Mother’ once and for all, but we need safe passage to the surface.”

  Qin lost his confident expression and a shade of hesitation passed. “How sure is your method?”

  Heera could see a look of slight discomfort come over Terry’s face for a split second. “It’s foolproof if we can land next to a tree.”

  Qin laughed out loud. “A foolproof method and they only sent a tiny vessel to carry it out. And I was expecting a little more conviction from you, colonel.”

  “Just get me there, and I will succeed, Qin. We’ll be able to neutralise every Nikruk alive.”

  “Even your friend there?”

  All the heads turned to the hulking figure of Bin’ja. “Every Nikruk” replied the large alien without hesitation.

  The assassin looked thoughtful for a moment. “There are seventy thousand marines and fleet personnel in this operation against a far superior enemy force. I need to be sure that their lives won’t be risked for nothing.”