This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
October 31, 1471
Gold Coast
“Kill Them All!” Sunni Ali Ber commanded. “Except this one,” he pointed at the man whom just threatened his daughter’s life, wanting to make him suffer for days before publicaly executing him.
“No, Father, wait,” Afia’s Twi automatically translated into English across the digital screen of Simon Jahaz’s contact lenses.
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“Did he hurt you?” Ber’s brow narrowed. “Violate your virtue?” Two of his men held the reigns of his black horse as he dismounted with eyes blazed in red fury.
“No, he did not,” Afia rubbed the slight soreness around her neck. “But that’s the man who fought for me.” She nodded towards the man knelt down, only known to her as Kwabena.
Fresh in from his latest campaign in Timbuktu, the warrior king wasn’t too pleased with how his personal guard failed at protecting his Afia. And he’d heard of this Kwabena while away via messenger; something about pale-faced invaders from the far north enroute to betray and conquer them.
“Has this Kwabena come to join forces?” Ber clearly meant asking for his daughter’s hand in marriage. “To seek my approval?”
“No, Father,” Afia lowered her braided head. “He’s already chosen another bride.”
“Who?” Ber looked around the village.
“Me,” Woelinam purposely moved, deactivating the digital cloaking suit. “Kwabena’s an honorable man.”
“Very well, release him.” Ber ordered his men.
“And my father?” Woelinam bowed her head. “Has he returned with you?”
“He died bravely in battle.”
“Oh, no!”
“No worries, my child,” Ber crossed his massive arms. “You’re my responsibility now.”
Sunni Ali Ber nodded. He troops separated this new ally, Kwabena, from the prisoner of war.
Simon Jahaz kept his gaze forward while walking behind the warrior king. He didn’t flinch at the sound of agony from Mr. Hanks’ remaining mercenaries being speared to death.
His real concern was coming up with a story to explain how five dead bodies just disappeared into black smoke. Talk about thinking on his feet.
Elapsed Mission Time: 3 Hours, 15 Minutes, 9 Seconds
“You’ve merely postpone the inevitable, Kwabena,” Mr. Hanks shook his head.
“Hey, I’m not the one tied up, waiting for crucifixion,” Simon Jahaz bit into a fresh mango.
“Corporate will only send more to stop you.”
“You just let me worry about those greedy bastards.”
“And you think he’ll actually believe you about the white Europeans sailing this way?”
“I’ll convince him so.”
“You can’t rewrite history, Simon.”
“Why not? Your masters have.”
“You mean, my employer.”
“Semantics.”
“Lies to rationalize your terrorism.”
“We’re in this for the long haul.”
“And we’ll kill every last one of you religious martyrs.”
“Well, if you’ve studied my jacket—”
“Oh, I have,” Hanks nodded.”
“Then you’d know I’m not a religious man, just a solider like you.”
“You’re nothing like me.”
“Whatever, man.”
“The bloody cheek on you.”
“Hey, brotha, it is what it is.”
“I’m not your ‘brotha.'”
“You’re still a Black man like me.”
“And you’ll go through with this marriage,” Hanks ignored his last comment. “Knowing full well how it’ll cause a ripple along the timeline?”
“It’s bigger than you or I,” Jahaz said.
“No, shit, it is,” Mr. Hanks gritted his teeth. “And erasing generations of our future doesn’t fucking phase you in the least, does it?”
“I have a family, too.”
“You had a family.”
“Yeah, no thanks to Mammoth.”
“This won’t bring any of them back.”
“No doubt.”
“You’ll prevent even your own birth.”
“I’m no martyr.”
“Sure, you are, Simon,” Hanks said. “And just how many virgins will be waiting for you in paradise again?”
“You’ve been reading outdated intel.”
“Oh, have I now?”
“What do you care?” Jahaz stepped closer. “Hey, remember, I’m just another terrorist from that shithole country called America.”
“Holy Christ,” Hanks was disgusted just looking at him now. “When will you people just get over it, and move on?”
“Just as soon as you all leave us the hell alone.”
“Look, we didn’t make the States a third world country, you did.”
“You’ll believe anything they’ve programmed you to believe,” Jahaz turned his back on him.
“Well, it’s the truth, isn’t it?”
“Sure, your truth.”
“Hey, asshole, how about a last request for a dying man?”
Jahaz looked over his shoulder.
“I’ve gotta know, man.”
“Know what?”
“C’mon.”
“See this bad boy here,” Jahaz raised his shirt, revealing a six-inch surgical scar along his spine.
“No way,” Hanks was impressed. “A miniaturize tumbler inside your body?”
“Uh-huh.”
“But what about the radiation?”
“I’ve told you enough already.”
“That explains how you’re able to freely time jump from episode to episode without any time limit. Who has this tech?”
“Hence, the word freedom.”
Colonizers
Sunni Ali Ber ensured complete privacy as two soldiers escorted Kwabena inside his war room. Women were standing by for any special requests; however, the newest edition to the clan graciously refused, making the warrior king’s stern glance dismiss the scantily-clad dressed females with a silent quickness.
“So, Kwabena, my future son,” Ber welcomed with outstretched arms. “We finally meet face to face.”
“Great King,” Simon Jahaz slightly bowed his head. “The honor’s all mine.”
They discussed battle formations, war plans and advanced technology, giving full tactical advantage against the multiple hordes of white European colonizers on the way to enslave their sovereign nation. They talked about future descendants from a dying world, already plotting more than six centuries in the future to reconquer them over and over again until total domination for all time.
***
Elapsed Mission Time: 59 Minutes, 3 Seconds
Mr. Hanks’ combat contact lenses reminded him how much time he didn’t have. He wondered why that asshole Simon Jahaz purposely left them inside. Prick just wanted to rub it in, the restrained mercenary thought. I’ve got to do something fast, or else he’ll ruin everything we’ve worked for.
Hanks exhausted his tatted up Infinite Form weapons earlier this morning. Ignoring the urge to beg for water to quench his thirst, he tried once more to squeeze either of his tied wrists loose.
“Shit,” Hanks quietly swore. Then someone entered.
***
Elapsed Mission Time: 28 Minutes, 19 Seconds
“You’ve told me quite a tale, Kwabena,” Sunni Ali Ber nodded. “This magic called. . .”
“Technology,” Simon Jahaz completed the warrior king’s thought.
“Yes, this technology,” Ber said. “Will aid our people in destroying the colonizers.”
“Just remember one thing,” Jahaz said with respect. “Show no mercy whatsoever. Because I assure you, they’ll show you none.”
“Kill them all.”
“Yes, Great King, kill them all.”
Treachery
“He’s escaped!” Several warriors armed to the teeth barged into Sunni Ali Ber’s quarters.
“What?” Ber stood in anger.
“That’s impossible,” Jahaz said.
“We’ve caught his accomplice,” Ber’s captain of his personal guard swore with a bowed head.
“Who is this traitor?” Ber demanded. “Where is he?”
“She,” the captain corrected him.
“A woman?” Ber looked at Jahaz. “Come with me, Kwabena!”
Elapsed Mission Time: 14 Minutes, 2 Seconds
Six men surrounded her out in the center of the village with the late afternoon sun beaming down on all of them. Only one of them spoke to their approaching captain, whom led their warrior king.
“You?” Sunni Ali Ber was in shock. “This doesn’t make any sense. Why, girl?”
“Because she doesn’t deserve him,” Afia cried in front of them all.
“Who, Kwabena?”
“She’s not even your blood.”
“He’s already chosen Woelinam.”
“I’m your daughter!”
“And I’m your king!”
The captain looked up as if to inquire about taking the princess into custody but thought twice about it. He waited instead.
“Kwabena,” Ber said.
“Yes, Great King,” Jahaz held back his anger about Mr. Hanks’ escape.
“Apologies for my daughter’s actions,” Ber’s voice was surprisingly somber. “She’s a bit older than Woeliem, and fears no suitable man will want to take her on as wife.”
“No apologies necessary,” Jahaz said. “I’m more concerned about that criminal’s escape.”
“My men will find him.”
“You don’t understand—”
“This is my land.”
“Of course.”
“We will recapture him.”
“May I assist?”
“Commendable,” Ber touched his shoulder. “But I ask you for one favor before you leave.”
“Anything,” Jahaz just wanted to pursue his enemy before his clock read all zero, zapping him back to the year 2137.
“Would you consider taking on Afia as your first wife?”
“Wife?”
“Of course, you’ll still have Woeliem as your second wife,” Ber said as a consolation. “I mean, her father died victoriously in Timbuktu. She’s my responsibility but my own blood must come first. You understand, don’t you?”
Jahaz didn’t have time to refuse this man at the moment. Time was running thin. He begrudgingly agreed, and joined about twenty or so warrior class on the hunt for Mr. Hanks.
He’s got a broken arm, Jahaz thought. It’ll slow him down.
As he mounts a horse, he looks back at Woelinam. He can see the disappointment in her eyes, having to share her love with a woman who has nothing but the worst intentions.
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Copyright 2018
Based on the eNovella “Etched in Memory,” of Rising Tales, Vol. 1, “Colonizers,” Episode 3 of a Simon Jahaz Tale, is a NEW multipart eSeries SOLELY FOR THE NEGROMANOSPHERE.
You can scoop up Rising Tales, Vol. 1 as well as Marcus’s most recent Broke and Ashy urban eNovella series at an Amazon Kindle near you.
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