v01 mission2 chapter1
A man sat on his chair, thinking to himself.
It was a vast armchair with specific customisations, so it fit his body perfectly and provided the exact level of required support at all times. This chair was so comfortable that the man hardly ever needed to leave the chair.
Hmm...
The chair was surrounded by screens, front and back. Each screen carried information on this man’s projects and plans. There was a lower layer of screens, and an upper layer of screens. And since all the screens formed a circle around the man, there were ten screens on each level and a total of twenty in all. The man could rotate his chair anytime to respond to a screen.
But if he was totally flanked by screens at every angle, how was the man going to leave his location?
Simple. This was just a sunken data and operations room. If the man wanted to leave, the floor would rise to the level above, which would leave the screens below and no longer blocking the man’s exit.
Right now the man did not feel like leaving. He lay back in his chair and spread his legs and arms. It was a very luxurious feeling. In this position he was mostly facing up, so he naturally was looking at the pleasureable views above. Mmmm.
“Hey, watch your teeth!” The man smirked to the head bobbing just below his waist.
There was a woman with spiky blonde-orange hair kneeling between his legs, and she was serving him. She was dressed in the uniform of a Blue Zina.
The man reached down with both hands and lovingly caressed the spiky-soft hair. The woman did not respond except to make murmurs of submission and satisfaction. This was the proper way to respond to her master, the great Rudolf Binhagen.
Rudolf continued smirking. He had not looked at the Blue Zina at all. His eyes were fixated on another woman – one dressed in a White Zina outfit. The White Zina was walking around in the operations center above, supervising other White Zinas. Like other White Zinas, her skirt was very short, allowing Rudolf a view of her panties from below.
A lot of work to do, but everything was coming along fine.
The uranium mining had been smooth. The network of regional alliances was functioning well. Arms deals in the region were profitable. The uranium reprocessing and enrichment plant was online. Other projects to encourage and forment regional instability and mutual suspicion were underway.
Rudolf Binhagen, you are very smart, the man crowed silently to himself.
To the woman in Blue at his feet, he ordered with a single barked word: “tongue!”
The Blue Zina complied.
But Rudolf Binhagen was not one to rest. He wanted to do more, get more results. He was an overachiever.
Unlike this continent of underachievers.
And Rudolf wanted to demonstrate his superiority here.
But there was one little matter...
He had a minor little action in Northeastern Nigeria yesterday that met with some difficulty. No harm done, but still a bit unexpected nonetheless. The team sent to sabotage a rival mining firm was defeated by what seemed to be a few local do-gooders.
“Hm!” Rudolf punched one fist into an open palm.
This was a continent of inferior people. As clearly demonstrated by their incompetent governments.
500 years ago, the incompetence of these governments had resulted in traders coming in and easily purchasing the lives of millions of slaves.
300 years ago, the traders simply marched inland and grabbed natural resources for themselves, and the locals scarcely resisted.
200 years ago, they were colonized and made to worship their new masters and their masters’ gods.
100 years ago, foreign corporations plundered the continent’s natural resources while local dictators stashed vast sums in the same banks that supported these exploitative corporations.
Binhagen felt he was only following the footsteps of naturally superior people like him.
And now they dared talk back? And even worse, fight back – and win?
There was absolutely no reason for them to win. Every independence movement on this continent, had required vast numbers on the part of these people, to remove their colonial masters.
After which these people promptly got their own new masters. In most cases, these new masters were much worse than the colonists. They were incompetent like Mugabe, they were genocidial like Idi Amin, they were kleptocrats like Mobutu, they were psychotic like Nguema, they were clowns like Qaddafi, they were imbeciles like Zuma... all of which showed that these people didn’t deserve any respect. Give them the right to vote, and this is what happens.
Rudolf made a gesture, and the screen he was looking at scrolled down.
But in modern times, most things were automated. You couldn’t use vast numbers to defeat technology anymore. And the Binhagens had access to the best technology.
It was time for Rudolf to come and reassert the natural superiority of people like himself.
Rudolf reached below and ruffled the hair of his Blue Zina.
And Rudolf’s women, of course. With them, he would repopulate this continent after the current undeserving inhabitants were removed.
At an Airstrip
“Attention!”
Six women in blue uniforms stood ramrod straight. They had their chins in the air. Their tight military uniforms clung to their breasts, emphasizing the bras and nipples underneath. They held taser anti-drone guns by their sides.
“At ease!”
The women relaxed. But they did more than that. In this organization, the term ‘at ease’ carried a different meaning from what it meant in a regular military. This organization had some of the traditions of private right wing militias. When its members were put ‘at ease’, it meant they could position themselves in anyway they liked, as long as they continued holding their weapons and were ready for a fight.
So one woman put one hand on a hip, and swayed sexily to the side while hefting her taser gun into the air. This was possible because taser guns were far lighter than their predecessors such as the Stinger.
Another woman turned to the side and made a pose like a model.
A woman went down on one knee and placed her gun butt on her higher knee, pointing up. This meant that her short skirt rode up her hips. She did so to flaunt her sexuality.
One woman lowered her gun, but stood with legs very wide apart. It was a casual and arrogant pose, and her short skirt was hiked up as a result.
Two women turned and leaned casually against each other, lifting one leg each to flaunt their thighs as they waved their guns.
The entire scene conveyed pride and superiority, as though they owned the world. They didn’t need to stand still; they didn’t need to stand at attention. On this continent they were masters, bwanas, baas, bosses.
“Very good.”
A slim young woman walked past the six Blue Zinas. She had long, straight blonde hair. Her face was quite sweet and tween-y looking. She was wearing a thin white blouse with long, rolled up sleeves that was practically translucent in the sun. She had long white stockings and schoolgirl-like shoes on. Thanks to the wind blowing through this desert, her short blue skirt danced around her hips and revealed her panties with every step.
The young woman looked like a cute schoolgirl or cheerleader at first glance.
If you looked more closely, you might see intelligence in these gray-green eyes. And if you spent a few more seconds observing her, you might decide that there was an unknown, undefined hardness to these features that belied their cute and pretty exterior. Something brutal and animalistic.
The young woman had reached the end of this short lineup. She turned on the spot, her skirt flying up to waist level for a moment. With a sweet smile, she asked the six Blue Zinas:
“Blue Zinas, are you ready to defend our facility?”
“Yes, Ms Yojo!”
“Are you ready to shoot anyone who challenges us?”
“Yes, Ms Yojo!”
Yojo put her hands on her hips and posed by her six Blue Zinas. There was no one else to look at them or take a photograph, but she did it anyway. The entire culture of the Zinas demanded it. Sexy moves, sexy poses, pride, expression of an attitude of self-assured entitlement. They were superior. They were above the law. They were more deserving than others. And they flaunted their bodies, because they were proud that these bodies would be used to produce a new population to replace the inferior stock on this continent.
Right now the Binhagens had no right to mine uranium in this region, but the Chadian government lacked a sufficiently strong military to stop them. So they were going to do whatever they wanted. If any mercenaries or private security contractors showed up to challenge, the Blue Zinas would take them out.
Akia’s Dream
Travelling at about 50kph, it would be four hours before the SPOEX got near enough to Mao to place an order. Fortunately for Akia, the Benefactors had provided additional flowerpower outfits. She did not need to retrieve her original clothes from the inside of the vacuum cleaner, which would have been really nasty.
Having nothing else to do, Akia went to bed.
...
Queen Akia was having a dream. A hentai one, no less. Somehow her body must have known. If she lost many levels of her former skills and powers because she was in cryo, there must have been a timer somewhere. The Great Timer in the Sky, some kind of clock sitting on the Great Stool of Power or something.
Maybe the Gods, the Abosoms or someone like them, were keeping track.
So someone knew that she hadn’t had sex in more than 30 years.
And somehow, she wanted it. She craved the feeling of someone else. Man or woman, she wanted that intimacy.
Ahhh... ahh.... Akia moaned. Those hands moving all over her body...
[Description censored]
Suddenly she woke up.
Akia looked around her. The room was dark and there was no one else but her. The moon shone in from the outside and bathed her dark skin with its cold light, further emphasizing her loneliness. She would have to rebuild her life in this era.
Kambuzi
Akia had initially feared that after her long cryosleep followed by that dream, she would be tormented with insomnia and spend the entire time thinking about the world she had lost. But hopefully that silly and embarassing dream was just an outlier. She slept well after that, as though her subconscious had finally purged its needs. The airship, and her bed, were both really comfortable.
As the SPOEX neared the city of Mao in Chad, Sugto set up a video call with the Bringto outlet. Maya and Sugto placed their orders immediately; they seemed to be very clear on what they wanted, and they ordered enough for several meals. Akia needed more time to get used to things.
...
“Shit-o? What shit are you talking about?” The man asked. “I’ll have you know we’re highly rated. Our food is not like shit...”
“It’s a hot sauce,” Akia returned calmly. “You don’t carry this?”
“No shit. O.”
“The Chinese takeaways I knew in Ghana always had it.”
“We’re in the middle of a desert.”
“So what do you have to offer that is hot and spicy?”
“Kambuzi sauce,” the man replied. “Max request is 2 packets per dish ordered.”
“Not eating that,” Maya said immediately. “Akia, you can have mine.”
Akia felt it was a little strange. “Isn’t Kambuzi from Southern Africa?” She asked the man. “That’s seven thousand kilometers from here. And here you say it’s a desert and can’t get shito...”
“Yeah, but our company is based in South Africa.”
Akia thought the man was full of crap, but she didn’t want to say anything else in case he got angry and decided to put something unpleasant in her food. So she kept quiet.
While waiting for the food to be prepared, Akia went through the messages. Then she sat back and put both hands on her armrests in a regal manner.
“We have a new mission, should we choose to accept it,” Akia announced to her teammates.
“Why is there a new mission?” Maya didn’t sound too enthusiastic. Probably being beaten up was not too pleasant for her.
“It happened after I submitted my report,” Akia said evenly. “And besides, the missions that the computer proposes, are not mandatory. We’re not going to get penalized for not carrying out missions.”
Just that you want to do them, Maya thought to herself. But she didn’t argue with her boss. She understood that she had been rescued, given a new life on board an airship that offered a life substantially more luxurious than her previous one. The amount and variety of ice cream in the freezers on board was astonishing. There were opportunities for adventure and doing good things. It seemed worth trying out for now.
Sugto was reading the messages.
“So they want us to check this out. Looks like Aouzou Strip territory. Possible illegal uranium mining?”
“Just possibly. Satellite photos don’t tell the whole story. And a couple of drones sent to check out the area seem to have, well, failed.”
“Okay, so nobody is that sure.”
“But there’s some kind of activity going on. So we have to check that out. An airstrip doesn’t just appear in the middle of some wasteland.”
“It could be perfectly legal.”
“Not by Chadian standards. Apparently their government computers don’t indicate any mining permits were given out for that specific block.” Akia had been surprised that Chad did have computerized and online government administration, but thirty years is a long time when it comes to technological change.
Sugto was doubtful. “But what are we supposed to do? Who’s paying us? Not N’Djamena?”
“Doesn’t matter, Sugto,” Akia said. “I don’t like the idea of dubious parties secretly mining something as dangerous as uranium. Won’t hurt to pop over.”
“Would hurt if they decided to pop us over with firearms.”
Dingdong! Dingdong!
The sound of a doorbell was heard throughout the airship, interrupting what might have developed into an argument.
“That’s our cue,” Sugto said. “A drone is at our, well, front door. The main platform door.”
High Frutose Corn Syrup
The ZZO members were having their meal.
“Oh my goodness!” Akia slapped a hand to her mouth.
“Now you see why I refuse to eat their kambuzi?” Maya was working at a tub of peanut ice cream. She had come across the peanut ice cream while looking through the freezer, and simply decided to eat the ice cream first and leave her bringto orders for later.
“Is it that hot?” Sugto stirred.
“No it isn’t,” Akia replied. “But this isn’t kambuzi, or any form of chili pepper known to people. This is high frutose corn syrup!”
“Everything that comes from a packet and is given out by a chain outlet, IS high frutose corn syrup!” Sugto laughed.
“The Africa I grew up in...” Akia stopped.
“Is now like everywhere else,” Maya smirked as she finally defeated a particularly hard part of her ice cream. “We’re civilized!” Maya lifted the spoon to her mouth triumphantly.
“And civilized people eat high frutose corn syrup!” Sugto concluded with a shrug of his shoulders. “Kinshasa now has one of the world’s highest number of fast food outlets per capita.”
Maya took a mouthful of ice cream. “See, by avoiding these packet sauces, I save on calories and can eat more ice cream.”
Little Yellow Dress
Maya was dressing.
She took out a yellow outfit. The skirt was short, and the top revealed a lot of cleavage, and it came with a nice belt.
After hitting the floor yesterday in that dusty factory floor, her previous outfit had to be put into the wash.
The Benefactors had actually had four different outfits placed for Maya, and multiple copies of each outfit. But Maya was a woman. No way Maya could be seen wearing exactly the same things twice in a row.
Madiba... no, it couldn’t have been him. He was long gone. But if it really was Madiba, or anything like him, that would explain why Maya was issued multiples of the same outfit. It must have been a habit formed from years of imprisonment...
Yesterday had been bad, bad! Her leader shouldn’t have made the decision to fight, Maya told herself, ignoring the fact that Maya’s own choice of words had helped escalate the situation.
Then again, the fight also led to an interesting discovery. Apparently this leader had skills and powers that normal people didn’t, or so it seemed. Sugto told Maya that despite Maya’s defeat, Akia had won a battle against these ten women all by herself, and the combined ten could only score one hit on Akia.
Maya remembered her Benefactors had told her:
Your leader is not from this time, but do not hold that against her. She is ready for any time. She may have some difficulties in her initial battles, because she has lost many of her powers due to the passage of time. But follow her, do not give up. She will regain her powers and lead you well.
Maybe this was true.
Whatever.
Maya looked in the mirror and fluffed out her curly hair. Being from modest circumstances, she wasn’t extremely concerned about her appearance. She hardly wore any makeup on a daily basis. Apart from the cost of cosmetics, it might have gotten her attacked back in her hometown. But she was still going to look good if she could.
Looking down, Maya patted down her dress.
Ready to negotiate, Maya thought to herself. At least, please let this be just a negotiation. Or conversation. No fights, please. There had been enough violence where she grew up.
The Aouzou Strip
Akia and Sugto stood at the windows, looking down at this land.
The Aouzou Strip was a strip of land disputed between Libya and Chad, and considered to be rich in uranium deposits. Because of this, it led to a series of wars between Chad and Libya in the 1970s and 1980s. Chad won the war, and after that also won the postwar settlement when the International Court of Justice overwhelmingly awarded the Aouzou strip to Chad.
Blaming the French for helping Chad during this war, Libya is thought to be responsible for the bombing of UTA Flight 772 in neighboring Niger in 1989.
Chad won the war for land, but it didn’t really win the peace. Since the Aouzou strip was not seriously explored and mined. Instead subsequent Chadian governments ignored the sparsely populated area. And now it seemed that somebody had come to help themselves to the resources...
Akia was on the lookout for signs of vehicular activity in this region. She wondered what a modern Toyota technical would look like...
The Toyota War
Libya started the war with a far superior military. Yet Chad finally won this war against Libya with an overwhelming victory. Leading to interesting consequences for decades afterwards.
Why?
It was this war that saw the widespread and highly effective use of the technical. The Chadian military was less well equipped, less well trained, and deployed improvised vehicles against Libya’s specialized modern fighting vehicles. Libya had air superiority. Yet the Chadians won. Chad deployed ordinary Toyota Land Cruisers and pickups against Libya. These were easy to purchase and maintain, hence highly practical vehicles for undertrained soldiers. Toyota pickups were basically unarmored, but due to their weight they didn’t trigger landmines, they could move quickly, and they had less refuelling problems across the vast desert between Libya and Chad.
Chad fought and won this war as a legitimate state against a formal military invasion from another state. But due to the incredible effectiveness of the Toyotas against a superior conventional opponent, they became the favored vehicles of jihadis worldwide for the next few decades.
To give an example: a Toyota Landcruiser has a mileage of 9-11 kilometers per liter. On a full tank of 93 liters, they can travel nearly 1000km. Enough fuel for a few jihadis to drive in from a hideout in Anbar province, shoot up a bunch of Iraqi cities along the Euphrates, and drive back.
Another foreign power tried deploying the mighty M1 Abrams Main Battle Tank against the jihadis in technicals. The M1 Abrams could not even drive half as fast as the technicals. Yet to even start up the tank would consume 38 liters of fuel. The mileage was 0.25km per liter, and it consumed 0.7 liters per minute even when idle. By the time the M1 Abrams got to the jihadis’ hideout deep in Anbar province, it would have to be refuelled for a fight. Which means every battle tank had to be followed by an oil truck.
And it was always this oil truck that insurgents in Iraq or Afghanistan targeted. Since they were fast enough to make a circle around the M1 Abrams and go for the supply columns behind. The insurgents only needed to use commonly available bullets to take out the oil trucks. After which the tanks had no fuel to continue fighting.
The jihadis could resupply cheap, fast and easily. Their enemies had long, unwieldly, vulnerable supply lines. So the jihadis could always stay in the field. And who had to pull out of Iraq and Afghanistan in the end?
