Page 16 of The Space Traveller's Lover

THE CONQUERORS

After every star system we conquer, there is

always another … and another.

Supreme Commander Kuzhma-Or is leaning over the central platform’s large golden balcony, casting his admiring gaze over the vast ocean. To his side, Rothwen seems to be wholly absorbed, looking up into the night sky.

As the packed starry heaven reflects over the darkened waters, it seems as though the entire visible universe has come to descend over one single place.

Still, as if the beautiful, mesmerising spectacle was not enough, the resplendent reddened disc of a giant moon peeks out from the mercurial horizon, tinting the moving waters with a blood-lit spill.

Kuzhma-Or keeps immersing himself in the magnificent scenery, stirring up memories of his precious home planet.

Only the sound of the pounding waves rippling on the gravelled shore below interrupts his thoughts.

His piercing eyes dart from one star to another, sometimes resting on some of the distant worlds he has already conquered.

He slowly nods, poised in self-assurance, inflating his chest as he breathes in the intensely mineral-charged air.

“Nowhere is more beautiful than our world. When we finish our next daring mission in Ankjeshur” (Omega Centauri), “the magnificent supercluster, we must return to our homeland on an extended visit. I must stop wandering about—”

“Stop? The great Kuzhma-Or stopping?” Rothwen bursts out in laughter.

Kuzhma-Or’s face toughens. He clutches and pulls on the balcony’s golden rails as if wanting to uproot it altogether.

How could I be thinking about stopping? But his brief ill-temper soon dissipates, and he ends up joining Rothwen in his hilarious rapture, their bursts of laughter resonating throughout the vaulted archways.

“Ah, the Rom-Ghenshar spirit never rests!” Kuzhma-Or roars as he gives a final admiring glance towards the rising moon and starts walking away.

“Suan enjie” (Always victorious), Rothwen cheers, pushing hard on the guard rails with his knuckles before following Kuzhma-Or into the archway.

As they make their way into the UniverseScope’s long corridors, Kuzhma-Or shares his thoughts, opening up his broadcasting brain frequency: Can you remind me, Rothwen, why we left this planet until now? We know it will be effortless, and there are still vast reaches to claim.

Rothwen tunes into Kuzhma-Or’s transmission frequency as he replies, It’s on our way to Omega Centauri. We wanted to finish an easy target before embarking on our most difficult mission yet, especially after the challenges of the dying pulsar with its orbiting triple planets.

“Yes, it was brilliant how you dismantled the whole magnetosphere with our unstoppable destroyer-crafts.” Kuzhma-Or’s gloats, his face glowing with infinite satisfaction. There’s nothing more he enjoys than remembering past victories while preparing for the next.

The supreme commander and his faithful master navigator have been on more adventures together than they can recount in a single night of celebration.

They are the vanguard of the Rom-Ghenshar expeditions, the ones who go on the forefront and always return with nothing less than total victory, setting up the subjugated domains for the subsequent all-out Rom-Ghenshar occupation.

For this particular mission on planet Earth, they built the underground Rom-Ghenshar command base, painstakingly duplicating the landscape of their cherished planet, Rom-Enjie.

Their vast army of self-replicating robots dug and shaped the virgin rocks, moulding them into a sumptuous multi-pillared fortress at the centre of an artificial ocean.

They recreated their oxygen-rich watery environment, sculpting their living quarters to their planet’s likeness, replicating their native ecosystem.

From their impregnable fortress, they could come and go as they liked, spy on any earthlings as much as they wanted, and prepare their takeover of the completely unaware inhabitants.

Humans could never detect their all-pervasive impenetrable non-baryonic shields.

“After every star system we conquer, there is always another … and another,” Kuzhma-Or boasts.

At the end of the long aisle, they can see Athguer walking over the sparkling high podium, closely inspecting the massive platform extending wall-to-wall beneath his feet.

Athguer rushes to greet them as they climb onto the platform’s gleaming steps.

“Everything is going as expected,” Athguer announces as Kuzhma-Or and Rothwen pace all around the glassy stage, sometimes briefly stopping to inspect a particular place.

As Kuzhma-Or walks over the glittering podium, he glances at the bustling images of crowded human cities appearing on the translucent surface.

A subtle smile of approval slightly softens his usually stern expression.

Through the UniverseScope’s multi-focusing layers, they have a complete, unimpeded view of what’s happening above ground on the planet, at any location they choose to stand on.

Not only can they see it and hear it; they can precisely control it at their will.

“All the robots are on standby,” Rothwen adds.

“Indeed,” Athguer confirms.

“I got the signal from the Grand Fleet. They’re expecting my order to assemble outside the Oort Cloud,” Kuzhma-Or announces, looking proudly at Rothwen.

“You can give the order, Yei Boishen” (My Commander). “I’ve finished programming their routes.”

“Shewe” (Very well). “That’s what I most admire about you, Rothwen. You’re always ahead of the game—so precise, so efficient. Are you sure you are not a robot?”

Rothwen and Athguer burst out in laughter, and Kuzhma-Or promptly joins them as they gather jovially around one another. Even in the middle of all their planning, they always find an excuse for some relaxing humour, however short-lived.

“Finally, we can go ahead with the last stage of our plans”—Kuzhma-Or breaks his laughter with an uneasy gaze at Rothwen—“after we had to change it all because of your unrelenting demand.”

“A small delay and change of plans won’t interfere with our grand scheme,” Rothwen snaps.

“But I must say, Rothwen, your perseverance is unparalleled, only closely matched by your blind obsession with that human replica.”

“Her name is Shaillah!” Rothwen seethes, his bottled-up anger flaring through his narrowing eyes.

Kuzhma-Or lifts his hand in a calming gesture. “I now understand, Rothwen, thinking about it. She may be one of those short-term trophies you usually claim … and then discard.”

“I take what I want when I want. And I may deal with the consequences later,” Rothwen blurts out.

“We know, Rothwen, we know,” Athguer intervenes, trying to defuse the rising tension. “You also want to feel how we used to feel, to forget the coldness of our souls, even temporarily.”

“Cut out the rhetoric, Athguer. I don’t need your sympathy,” Rothwen directs a scolding gaze at Athguer while stepping back from them.

Kuzhma-Or walks forwards, confronting Rothwen’s simmering expression. Then he adds in a slightly conciliatory tone, “Remember, my distinguished master navigator, our iron hearts are what gives us our power.”

“I brought her here. It will be my decision what to do with her. Leave me alone!” Rothwen fumes, walking along the glassy surface in an exasperated gait.

“Are you sure she will be able to withstand it down here? You know I will test her,” Kuzhma-Or warns.

Rothwen suddenly stops and turns around to challenge Kuzhma-Or’s doubting gaze as he vows, “I’ll train her. She learns fast!”

Kuzhma-Or can see the raw determination in Rothwen’s undaunting glare, but he can’t stop himself from riling Rothwen further. “Even for the Grand Fleet expedition?” the supreme commander asks ironically, raising his thick white eyebrows .

“I haven’t thought that far ahead yet, My Commander,” Rothwen replies nonchalantly as he jumps off the high platform. “And you know me. I’m a space warrior. I’d rather travel alone.”

Kuzhma-Or folds his arms, his sceptical face flaring in a dismissive smirk, as Rothwen impassively looks up to him.

“Permission to leave, My Commander,” Rothwen calmly asks.

Kuzhma-Or is used to his master navigator’s dark moods and shifting obsessions, and there’s no point in opposing him any longer for something that will surely pass, he promptly concludes.

So, with a brief nod, he lets Rothwen go.

The headstrong master navigator solemnly bows to his supreme commander before turning around and walking into the aisle.

“Rothwen is always pushing his boundaries,” Athguer notes.

As Rothwen walks away, he feels their sceptical stare and listens to their doubtful thoughts, but the seemingly implausible is precisely what his restless spirit craves.

Before going out of view, he turns around and defiantly warns them, “I will be bringing Shaillah to our fest tonight. She is with me now. You should treat her fairly.”