CHARON

CHAPTER ONE: CHARON

 

And here we are on Charon. Many believe the souls of the dead hover here. At least, that's what they've been saying for a long time. All around is silence. So deafening, it's enough to drive you mad. We are the last remaining outsiders from Zegandaria. But more on that later. For now, suffice it to say that many of the things I thought earlier were not true at all, quite the opposite in fact. The more time passed, the worse it got.

Loneliness did not bear well on most of us. There were madmen. There were the crippled. But we tried to be strong and continue on our way as it was meant to be. Somewhere in there was the hope that Charon would be just a starting point for our space travels once civilization on our distant planet was destroyed. There was no way it could be otherwise.

The atmosphere on Charon was generally pretty sparse and not very friendly, but that's not what I mean. The temperature on its surface was practically close to absolute zero. Astronomers' findings attest to its past formation after a collision with an object in the Kuiper belt[1] billions of years ago. It sounds exciting, but in practice it was just a huge chunk of rock covered in ice. It's named after that angry boatman who ferried the dead across the River Styx, where they began their afterlife.  And there my knowledge stops.

When we moved, we were told this place would be heaven and promised a new life. Few of us had memories of our previous planet.

On Charon, though, we bury the dead in silence. We don't want the Unknowns to read our minds and lose even this last refuge.

Life goes on monotonously and rather listlessly, but I try to do something meaningful in my meaningless daily life.

In general, one of the few things I see are pissed off faces of people who don't know where to go. It's pretty depressing. The colonization of this satellite didn't go particularly smoothly, and even now we survive under almost spartan conditions.

Everyone is forced to contribute to the common good. This is the situation. It couldn't be otherwise, after the loss of our planet and most of the Outer Ring planets.

Every day the same thing is repeated. Of course, many of us never went to school. But we are taught from a young age to beware of the Unseen. These creatures take the form of your thoughts and can catch you even as you sleep. Many times I have had nightmares of being eaten, which is not pleasant.

So many of us have almost nothing to do on this little colony. Zegandaria is a dead world to us, located at an incommensurably great distance. At least it's cozy here and the few survivors try to lift our spirits day to day. Sure, there are some who go crazy, but that happens too.

Astronomer-scientists have convinced us that the view from our little satellite is most beautiful - it couldn't compare with hot Venus, nor rocky Mercury, nor cold Neptune.

We rejoiced at the opportunity of obtaining a last haven where we could secure our existence. It was all a matter of time. The few veterans of the City of the Sun wanted to help, and when they left it with Von Blask, they decided to settle here. The place was relatively little explored and it was a chance for us to get some development on how to survive on our own. On Zegandaria everything was too well settled and we didn't appreciate it at all.

Von Blask was seventy years old, but his appearance was indicative enough that he had no intention of giving up and giving up the front.

The veteran's psyche is something special and very important. He never fights for himself, or for anything arbitrary, but defends the weak and infirm - those who need protection.

Von Blask shed a tear as he and Sasia parted - he knew things get tough when you part with an old friend. She tried to comfort him:

- I'm going to the planet Ufur Gan. Maybe we won't see each other again. But you saved my life.

Von Blask wasn't the sentimental type, and he had a white beard to boot.

A mass of folk had died under his guns, but he was tough enough to realize something. When someone kills you, you owe him, not for anything else, but because you didn't bother to work your way up. In that tedious scrabble to achieve nothing! Von Blask knew that the fate of many wounded soldiers who resided in the 'City of Light' was quite tragic. Some died there among their own kind. Craving for attention and understanding. No one could tell what was going through the heads of perishing loners. They were doomed by their very birth. But they knew that some kind of salvation awaited them in the afterlife. Or at least they wished it were so!

Von Blask made a commitment to save people, and set out to fulfill it. It was his mission, and he would follow it to the end. Many marveled at his vigor and asked him what he would do next, since he was losing his sanctuary after leaving the City of Light. But he was determined to help many.

 

[1] The Kuiper belt is a part of the solar system located at a distance of 30 AU to 50 AU from the Sun with an inclination close to the ecliptic. It is a circumstellar disk extending beyond the planets. It is similar to the Asteroid Belt but much larger - 20 times wider and 20 to 200 times more massive.

A VETERAN

CHAPTER TWO: A VETERAN

 

When you've lived this long, you just want to be gone, like an unneeded leaf in the fall. Von Blask knew that after the dissolution of the City of Light, many would ask, "Now where?" So much trepidation and hope. So many expectations. And here they were, already close to their final destination? Was this their calling all these years? Is this what they fought for? These questions frankly tormented him, but on the other hand they were his support and helped him move forward. Somewhere in there he could hear the voice of change in his head. Of that which would propel him and define his life for the next ten or fifteen years. He was too old now, he was downright ancient by Zegandarian standards, where the average lifespan was around fifty years and few rarely exceeded it.

Try as they might, the veterans were remorseful about their further fate. They didn't know what to do and therein lay their tragedy. They wanted to continue on their way and be of use to society, but their resocialization was problematic.

A man like Von Blask was chosen to deal with and solve this problem.

Before their redistribution, some details had to be clarified as well. One of them concerned their past, which was quite often dark. The problem was that they were recruiting (or recruiting) people from the poorest districts of Enzok Ra, and sometimes even from some desert oases somewhere in Learnia. There was no guarantee what these people had done before they committed themselves to their professional careers. But Von Blask didn't want to be presumptuous. Their private lives were their own business. They were being asked to kill, and not care in the process. If they pulled the trigger, then they were getting up. That was his philosophy.

He'd always viewed the Zegandarian Confederacy as a bunch of shitheads and assholes who'd only clung to their earnest privileges and hadn't even sniffed a fight for the simple reason that they hadn't left their Archison - and that mattered. It wasn't as if you were at the head of the chain of command and some snot-nosed sap was evaluating your actions through a cyclotron synthesizer. It was a simplicity that never changed over time.

Von Blask had a simple battle prayer:

"I am always angry, I enter combat without fear, then I sleep soundly, I have committed no sin!"

None of his soldiers, members of the platoon under his command, had ever raised any complaint because he treated them badly or did not respect their fighting qualities.

Von Blask was only too happy about that fact. But he knew in his heart that a new and terrible battle was beginning for the survival of the younger generation, and he would see it through.

It was far easier to populate the planets of the so-called Outer Ring - there were fewer trade restrictions at this point, and they were relatively distant from Zegandaria, though the distance to the nearest planet was on the order of a hundred parsecs. But the tachyon engines could easily overcome it.

As the ex-fighters gathered, they looked at him admiringly, his tall stature of almost six feet five inches[1] inspiring confidence that he knew what he was doing and could still shoulder this latest challenge.

- "And where exactly are we going to go?, was the logical question on their part. - Kikluk Sor is too narrow - not for anything else, but because there are no prospects for development there. I just don't see what we can do," called Ezonald Erdumsan, who was one of his most trusted men.

-  "We could just go to Osonia," suggested another.

For some time there were various suggestions.

-  "Gene Paley was killed on Sebur Nag, ugly as that sounds," Von Blask replied grimly. "It's a beautiful planet and its inhabitants are peaceful, but it can't be our home. We need a place of our own, like the planet Zegandaria itself was. This we must seek well."

Ezonald Erdumsan decided to take part in their discussion:

- What about Charon?

-  "What is that?," most puzzled, but after some searching they found out it was a small satellite of the dwarf planet Pluto.

-  "Strange name," Von Blask muttered.

-  "They're said to be sometimes thought of as a double planet, " Erdumsan spoke up, still a little of his knowledge.

-  "Which would mean?," some of the soldiers asked.

-  "Which would mean that it is as big as its own planet," Von Blask explained to them in turn. "Why not?"

-  "And what are the climatic conditions?," someone else asked.

-  "Well, it's covered in ice with a temperature close to absolute zero," Erdumsan added wryly.

-  "Then this place is extremely dangerous and unsuitable?," they contradicted him.

-  "It is, but we can build a temporary settlement until we find a suitable planet that is really ready to receive us," Von Blask suggested to them, wanting to punch his pet in the shoulder.

-  "The evidence suggests that there is a planet Earth that is only a distance from...," stammered Erdumsan.

-  "Wait, wait," replied Von Blask. "Your idea is generally worth considering, but on two serious conditions. What is the potential capacity of the residence and how long could we stay?"

-  "I'd put the question another way," Erdumsan tried to put all his knowledge into words, "its four moons[2], well, five if you include Charon of course, move chaotically, but the difference between a satellite planet and a binary planet is the centre of mass. In our case, it will play a huge role, because we will be able to extract raw materials from these satellites very easily."

-  "Even if your logic is correct, I'm still not completely convinced," on Blask scratched at his suit.

-  "Well, look, we don't have much choice," Erdumsan tried to argue his point to the end, "the Confederation of Zegandaria hates us because of the knowledge we have of so many battles, we won't be completely at home on Osonia or Cebur Nag, on Oros Hinto we'll just be in a nest of technocrats, and here...," he paused, "we'll be at peace for a very long time."

Von Blask mused. The political situation at the moment was such that Erdumsan was, in fact, quite right. The brainwashed cyberpunk atmosphere was almost disastrous for most of the inhabitants, but the harsh climate wasn't particularly preferable either.

During their studies at the Military Academy they had studied an extremely interesting composition:

"Both the former and the latter,

both emanate from the same source,

but differ in name;

this manifests as darkness.

Darkness among darkness.

The gateway to all secrets.[3]"

You see the logic is simple," he replied to them, "perhaps it would be best to go where our own heart draws us. We have not been able to live fully with wars, technology and vast finances, but we can live in peace and see where we have come from. I've heard an amazing story from my great-great-great grandmother that on this distant Earth, we originated as a civilization and are just sojourners on Zegandaria. She didn't believe in the bullshit about the god Erduk or Midriel at all. She considered them propaganda. And maybe it was.

-  "We've been philosophising too much," called Gerard Downs, who, as one might guess, was some distant relative of Averia Downs. "We must make a decision. We have no time. The harsh climate will make us more adaptable. The youth are getting sick of all this nanodrama, and total control has also corrupted the whole system. Just to make you cry!"

-  "Okay, it's settled," they all shouted in unison, "This will be our place!"

 

[1] Six feet five inches equals approximately 195 cm.

[2] The names of the four moons are Hydra, Nicta, Cerberus and Styx.

[3] Excerpt from Tao De Jing by the Chinese thinker and philosopher Lao Tzu.

THE INCONSPICUOUS

CHAPTER THREE: THE INCONSPICUOUS

 

Perhaps I didn't mention that coexisting with the Invisibles isn't easy. Many have lost their reason. Well, it's not really accurate to say, but to people unaccustomed to seeing ethereal matter, it seemed just right. Besides, what were they to do amidst all this darkness?

There was nowhere to go either. A space colony on a small satellite is generally not the best example of entertainment. There were so many cases of suicide. Yeah the veteran Von Blask hadn't taken that into consideration - something really important.

But many of us were bled dry with memories of Kenji Nolsuro and his brave son. They wanted to look like him, or at least try. But somewhere in there, I began to understand what really meant something in this life, and I think that's what's important.

These amorphous creatures are quite an interesting sight, but they're also kind of frightening. Imagine your worst nightmares walking by you. Well, now maybe you'll get some vague idea of what I'm talking about. But it's not just that. Many of us hadn't the faintest idea how to survive outside the colonial town of Semrik Sin, which was named after one of the brave warriors who had shipped us here. Enough for now. In fact, I might just add that quite a few of my acquaintances hid the fact that they had seen these creatures - not so much out of fear as the possibility of social rejection. You know, according to the old saying, there is no unpunished good. And I totally share that opinion.

Semrik Sin was a truly impressive old warrior - Von Blask's right-hand man. He knew well when to speak and when to be silent. That did him honor. He had never extolled his virtues, as he considered it a sign of disrespect.

Deep in the psyche of every warrior lies a hesitation as to whether he is right and will become the cause of the ruin of someone's life. Each of us realizes how decrepit the moral notions of our time are, and only a warrior's honor is capable of erasing these weaknesses to some degree. A warrior must always serve as an example!

Whatever any one of us could do would do it at the right time for everyone who is part of the group so we are raised! It's in our blood!

When I see a small colonial town on a small satellite like Charon, a strange thought invariably arises in my mind. How much effort has been spent to create something so, well, so fleeting! It is almost beyond belief what long-term strategies our ancestors have plotted for our "glorious future", trying to get us drunk with their enthusiasm. I know such reasoning doesn't sound very good and is even a bit naive, but that's the situation! And maybe it will be so in the future! How much I have racked my brains over this issue! I hardly ever find an answer that satisfies me! But let us still give everyone their due! It has always been so and it will always be so!

Any beginning is more than difficult, especially when you are trying to establish a sustainable colony and nature is not in your favor, well, at all.

But let's bring the most important question to the forefront, and that is why did the inconspicuous choose us? Where lies the clue? What makes us so special or what is it that attracts their attention! This question is definitely of great importance! And I would like to get a satisfactory answer if at all possible! There are, however, certain obstacles to its obtaining! And I hope with time they will disappear completely!

The inconspicuous have no face, and prefer sometimes to hide it with a palm. And their long amorphous fingers are definitely intimidating. I'm not entirely convinced they were really born that way, or if they ever were! Who could possibly know that?

It's strange what questions are going through the head of a boy like me, but my survival ultimately depends on them so there's no way to compromise on that! Believe me - I know perfectly well what I'm talking about and would never presume to be so wordy where they are concerned.

Anyway, Semrik Sin has done his best to solve the problems of our existence properly and to have as many comforts as possible and so it is ultimately right. Don't get me wrong! Semrik is a veteran and has been to the "City of Light". I would trust him with my own life if I had to, and have even done so in the past.

Semrik Sin is an oddball - one of the greatest I've ever seen, but I like him. How many times has he taken us on meteorite hunts! We - the little ones - saw in him a kind of hero who could always defend himself, even though his age was probably older than our grandfathers' as well.

No one knew how old the warriors of the "City of Light" were - some said they were over a hundred, though. As for his character - he was the kindest, most affable and pleasant person you could meet. One can't even believe that he killed so bloodthirsty with those hands. But we all have our dark sides and that will never change.

No one dared ask him how he practically got to the "City of Light" after so many veterans were in prison on other charges. He had found a little salvation for his soul, but at what cost.

Many will laugh at this reasoning, but no matter how much I bang my head I can still see his smiling face, ready to help us and come to our aid at the right moment.

Sadly, he passed away recently, leaving us wonderful moments as a legacy. He was the most generous soul you could imagine. A true knight!

Don't get me wrong, but when you see someone like him, then everyone you meet, you subconsciously compare them to your idol. It's pretty naive, but that's just the way it is!

He was also the first to organize the veterans against the inconspicuous. He did his best to give us some protection. And I think he succeeded. Not that he hated them, but he wanted to live!

THE SEMRIK SIN COLONY

CHAPTER FOUR: THE SEMRIK SIN COLONY

 

You see, many scientists have argued over one simple fact - how many people it actually takes to maintain a sustainable space colony. And so far there is no exact answer. Ours numbered almost sixty thousand people. The only thing I can say is that I deeply doubt that anyone would take such a risk alone.

The first problem when we arrived was the different atmosphere we had to adjust to. The spacesuits we used on Zegandaria were woefully inadequate in this respect. You know that each one of them is specifically tailored to protect us from the climate changes of planet Zegandaria. Or at least to protect our ancestors, but there's just no way that can happen here. We shed so many tears until we really found the formula that works. We were just living like a dream - day to day. Each of us wanted to achieve our dream and survive in this inhospitable world. The electronic valves for the compressed air supply could easily be damaged due to the extremely low temperatures.

However, it is worth mentioning here that its surface is littered with numerous craters and chasms and it is a real challenge to walk around in such an environment. But not to digress.

The colony had to be well protected from the inconspicuous, and that's not so easy. Trust me. First things first. No walls or weapons can stop them. It takes much more than that!

I've heard rumors that before we were sent here, the Confederation of Zegandaria received confidential information, paid for with many electronic credits from Kikluk Sor, that such strange creatures inhabit this place. It defies belief that they ever agreed to ship us here! But after all, that is the situation! We're not allowed to stay out too long because they might possess us.

The old veterans of the City of Light are slowly beginning to die. Nature takes its toll naturally and this is the situation! We pretend not to notice, but with each death we lose a patron and the situation becomes more and more stressful as many of us miss their experience and routine.

Many are those who don't understand what it really means to lose a dear friend. It is more than a catastrophe. It is a nightmare.

Semrik Sin was one of the last of the Mohicans[1], but his time was running out too and he knew it inwardly very well. He had problems with some of his internal organs. There was no organ replacement in the City of Light, just a quick repair of some open wounds. Soldiers were supposed to achieve mental enlightenment, not so much dealing with side things.

Each and every warrior of light had to pass a morale test in order to be fit to handle their primary task and protect others. Not all were capable of that. That's why some of the veterans died and weren't accepted into the City of Light. In other words, it wasn't nearly enough to fight on the battlefield, as too many things would become much more important later on.

When Semrik Sin died, there were too many people present at his funeral. Each and every one wanted to say goodbye to our great friend and show their respect for him. Under ordinary circumstances, this event would not have been something extraordinary, but under the present circumstances it certainly was.

All in all, the funeral ceremony left us with the impression that our destiny was preordained and a brand new life awaited us.

Many would never forget the words of Semrik Sin "Life is an emanation of where you want to go!" - they sounded quite incomprehensible to me at the time, but with time I became convinced that this was not exactly the case. Semrik Sin had lived to the age of eighty-five - and he did so in his desire to help us all build our lives.

When we closed his eyes, there were many wistful ones. Here was Von Blask himself, who was about a year younger than himself and had always looked upon him as an older brother.

 

[1] Mohicans - a famous North American tribe.

THE COSMIC PLAGUE

 

CHAPTER FIVE: THE COSMIC PLAGUE

 

It came from who knows where - to some as a blessing, to others as a curse. But for most of us, used to dealing with Charon's super-extreme weather conditions, it was just like a sad addition to the landscape. Some may well remember the so-called meteorite hunts. Charon had a frozen inland ocean about which relatively little was known. But we were certainly convinced that it lay beneath the lithosphere, and near-volcanic channels connected it to the surface. We had launched probes to reach it many times before, but without result. Time passed, and the colony's need for water grew exponentially. The answer to this question is not straightforward. There were too many variables to consider. According to research from very far back, an amount on the order of three gallons, or that makes toward eleven liters, is considered sufficient, which may not seem like too much, but in practice is too much of a load for us. Water cannot be stored in liquid form at these temperatures, which is more than obvious, but there is another serious problem. In fact, special georane transducers were used to store water extracted from the planet's underground in the form of tiny nanogranules, each of which could store up to about 3 millilitres of water.

As I have said, the advanced knowledge we had left behind on our previous planet was not much, and we could not now take full advantage of it. We still had to cope even with our meagre available resources, and that was a real challenge. Somewhere in there we began to feel the effects of the space plague. We called it "the uninvited guest" and I was aware that it had taken victims on other planets in the distant past. Strange were the symptoms of this cosmic plague. Man first degraded morally, and very soon began to behave like an animal and drool like some kind of monster. As for its vector, it was the cosmic Anzaranium buffoon, which was something like the fleas of the past. Several terrible waves passed - each successive one stronger than the last, and everything lined up in a rather strange way. According to some, the plague came from beyond the confines of the solar system, but even now there is no certain confirmation of this fact. The more I think about it, the more I find that there is great simplicity in the way we perceive the disease in question. The most incredible precautions are put in place - many of which don't even work like humans do. But we are forced to cope by manual means. You might ask, what exactly are the handy tools needed to combat such an insidious disease? Well, frankly, a variety of them. Only the very rich could afford so-called plague doctors for the simple reason that it was too expensive to avail oneself of the services of such a specialist.

Perhaps I have not mentioned in sufficient detail the symptoms of the so-called space plague, and, believe me, there are many to be mentioned. As a matter of fact, the first symptoms were quite difficult to spot. The skin was fading slightly and there were barely noticeable scabs on the face. Then the surface of the skin shrunk and little by little her scary face began to show. The Anzarani buffoon was a rather brutal predator. Yes, some would say, a great wonder, but it wasn't exactly. I don't want to describe the torment of the unfortunates either - it was indescribable. Just a few rough strokes would give you the crudest idea as to the gravity of their situation. This disgusting parasite eating away at skin and tissue, and turning them into a walking corpse, was, to say the least, rather unpleasant. Controlling its population was also a real challenge. But here was where the following contradiction arose - wasn't it impossible for the Anzarani buffoon to thrive in such conditions, and here I do mean the harsh and even murderous climate of Charon. Well, not exactly!

The buffoon seemed to show remarkable signs of intelligence and handled even the most treacherous conditions like a true ghost warrior. It was obvious that it couldn't get under the suits and deal with all these problems.

This little animal is very cunning and brazen, but more on that later. One thing we can say right now - there is probably not another case like this in the entire solar system.

Our spacesuits had nothing in common with the old advanced models made of quisson and kevlarite. The current ones were only a pathetic imitation, but they were still good for something. For example, the electronic valves had been replaced with fully mechanical equivalents, which was primitive. On the other hand, our visors couldn't pick off the Sun's fierce glare well either. There were also blinded, which reduced our resistance. Yes, the Sun's rays were reaching Charon after all. A pitiful semblance of light - a memory of another life. And of another world! A world that, at least in my opinion, will never return!

But here I digress a little - what is true in this case is our desire to continue the human race as our sole and unflinching mission. That alone could really insert some meaning into our otherwise meaningless existence. Each of the other races inhabiting Zegandaria had taken their own independent path of development - and we had coexisted for so long. It's unbelievable how quickly life changes!

On one of our many meteorite hunts, we came across something very strange - parts of a communications satellite had fallen onto the wreckage of one of them from some unknown place. We had never seen anything like it before. Communication on Zegandaria was through other channels, and by no means in so primitive a manner. I could only interject the modest fact that deep down I was aware that we could not use Riandan teraflyters here to eavesdrop as had once been done in the polis. The signals we did pick up were in the form of radio waves though, which to me is laughable. Yes, some will say, so these electromagnetic waves propagate through space at the speed of light. But the Riandan teraflyter used a completely different principle to accomplish communication. Let me clarify for those who were not into physics - there was not a single child or adult on the planet Zegandaria who did not understand mechanics and quantum physics. It was like the A-B-C of our education. As we came across various nuggets of information from Earth that we planned to later make contact with, I became familiar with some of the advances in the past and discovered enough interesting things about what Earthlings understood about physics, including quantum physics. According to general relativity, we all knew very well that the speed of light was the limit of possibility, and radio waves travelled at exactly the same speed. One of the scientists in the past - one John Singleton[1] - had discovered an interesting gadget known as a polarization synchrotron, which, broadly speaking, increased their speed as it drove them through a magnetic field. But to return to our own technology - while Singleton's discovery impressed me greatly, the Riandan teraflyters used tachyon nanotechnology that could overcome much higher speeds. The problem was that it was inapplicable here on Charon, and the reason was obvious - too few of us had the knowledge to assemble it, and no one had taken the blueprints when we left, since we were traveling incognito - such was the order of the Zegandarian Confederation.

The size of this meteorite was something like 5 cubic meters, so I would describe it as medium - and in this case I am not being guided by any science, but expressing my opinion from the point of view of the colony. From the point of view of our survival, they were vital because on their surface we sometimes found interesting things, and on the other hand we mined various metals such as nickel, magnesium, iron, silicon, aluminium and so on. There were other useful elements such as sulphur which also came into our use. This was the cheapest way in our opinion.

Maybe that was when we were attacked by those disgusting buggers!

 

[1] John Singleton - a scientist with major contributions to the field of electromagnetism.

THE FUNERAL

- "Father," I said to him, "please don't be offended, but I would like to die in peace."

Charles Bukowski "The True Story of the Madman Who Lived with the Beasts"

 

CHAPTER SIX: THE FUNERAL

 

Semrik Sin was buried, as we said, with all possible honors, which was a little difficult, given that Charon was practically made of ice and rock and was quite a bit less dense than Pluto. In that sense, launching the burial capsule was problematic. But still successful!

We all watched with bated breath as the little burial capsule gradually rose, began to recede, becoming a very small dot, and disappeared into infinity - as if it had sunk into nothingness. Doesn't sound very romantic, does it?

After the ceremony was over, everyone went home. Only Von Blask remained, who had an overly thoughtful look on his face. And he definitely scared us with his bearish smile.

- "I have lost a very good friend of mine!," he said. "And you have lost a lot too. But you will only find that out later! I'm sure you don't realize it enough yet!" he added meaningfully."

And nobody saw or heard anything more of him. They would all have forgiven him if he had at least said goodbye, but he didn't. He had accomplished his mission, and henceforth it was to be entirely up to himself.

Supplying a space colony with all the raw materials it needs to exist is another serious challenge that's a little hard to explain. We didn't have access to the so-called elendorans, or hyras, that grew in abundance on a planet like Zegandaria. So we used greenhouses. But there was a serious problem here the space plague had brought some space parasites to our plantings. A friend had come across some footage from Earth - I didn't ask him exactly where he'd found it either, as everyone could harvest their own loot when searching the various debris that sometimes passed by Charon.

You'd ask yourself though what exactly was on them - well some weird phylloxera-like animal[1], just munching on plants. It was fun to watch, but not harmless. It was a real predator! It ate so greedily.

Viewing these materials almost caused a revolution in the colony. Our food depended on the space greenhouses - they were like a temple to us, and now it could all go to hell!

These magnificent facilities were the size of an envoran[2] pitch - or was it something like space football. The main crops we grew were ginseng, which generally came with quite specific requirements, but was quite sufficient for our survival. The greenhouses were polyhedron-shaped and adapted to withstand so-called space storms. And Charon was effectively Pluto's first line of defence against the fierce solar winds[3].

Strange how thinly our lives hung here - like horsehair. It is worth recalling, however, that Von Blask's departure was soon forgotten, which in itself is proof of how ungrateful people really are.

And he had tried to do his job well. I remember that I was one of his favorites, and one of the first he taught to catch meteorites. As quaint as it may sound, he was a man with a gentle soul - but most wouldn't understand that. It was just that life had made him hard and unfeeling, because he'd had his making-out with junk for most of it.

On one of those walks, which happened not long before the funeral in question, he told me the following:

- My boy, this life is full of scum. Especially nasty are those with power. Ah, we have enough of those on Charon. You'll see where this leads.

I would never forget those words of his that burned me like coals. Were we no longer living free? Was this not our land? Was it not God's design that we survive right here?

Charon, for some strange reason, had been passed over by the various colonizers and we could breathe freely. However, according to some, the will of the individual is fundamental and that is something special - I don't mean to sound like a drowning man, of course! Many of those who transgressed my orders were punished.

You could say that Von Blask appointed me as a kind of deputy. Not that I really wanted it - don't get me wrong! No, no, and no again! But sometimes in life that's just what happens!

You see, according to the old wisdom, "The road to Hell is strewn with good intentions," every good venture has failed morally, and that's no accident. On the contrary!

In essence, the death of Semrik Sin was the turning point in our history. I want you to know one more thing - in the depths of his consciousness, Semrik Sin left a certain amount of sadness and carried it to the grave, along with some secrets. And perhaps it was for his own good that he did not witness a lot of vile deeds that would have further embittered him and shattered his psyche. He went like a true warrior - with his head held high and his eyes closed.

 

[1] Phylloxera (Viteus vitifolii) is a very small aphid up to 1 mm in oval shape with red eyes that establishes in the root system.

[2] Envoran is a futuristic game that definitely contributes to maintaining a sustainable space colony, as the revenue from ticket sales is used for its economy.

[3] The solar or stellar wind is a stream of charged particles and plasma being ejected into the upper layers of a star.

THE GIFT

CHAPTER SEVEN: THE GIFT

 

The Ufurgans had given Von Blask a number of useful gadgets and many interesting and valuable items, such as the famous Ufurgan poison. Believe it or not, this solved the bugger problem in negative time. But somewhere in there, there was a lot of plant damage left. Beautiful green plants with purple flowers were cultivated with special care. We used them to make a cosmic porridge, which in our language was known as cosondur. I definitely didn't like the taste of it, but there was nowhere else to go. That was the situation - it wasn't a question of what we liked and didn't like!

The Ufurgans were known for a number of quirks, but in this case they did an excellent job. Thank you, really thank you from the bottom of my heart!

Then the first big foul happened - I was already in charge of the colony only to realize what a screwed up lot I had drawn. And that's when the second plague wave hit, and literally gave the game away. There were all sorts of attempts to stop it, but it wasn't that easy. And I want to make something brutally clear - its impact on people's psyche. Imagine a person's mind as immaculately clean glass with not even a scratch on it - as the disease progressed, people lost their self-confidence and shrank inwards, which in turn meant that they got eaten up by their own fears and complexes. This made it even harder to help them. And some were sinking miserably.

When madness overwhelms you, you can do all sorts of stupid things. It's too bad that so many good friends went that way. But the wheel has turned and the demonic forces have left us little choice.

Few realized that the Unspeakables were coming to us in our sleep and trying to drink from our life juices to sustain their own survival. This process caused them pain, but they did not give up. Some were even about to disintegrate their astral bodies, which could only be seen more clearly by initiates as ordinary people tried to ignore them. But their influence was felt throughout the colony. Several times they tried to inform me of their strange and rather unpleasant passing, but I pretended not to know. Deep down I felt I had the strength to deal with them and try to rid the colony of the suffering they brought with them. But it could all very easily have been turned upside down.

Then MacDougle Enbright, one of the older elders, came over and tried to give me some friendly advice:

- "Bendo, my friend," he turned to him, "you know these bastards. You know about their dirty little souls. They don't want to be looked in the face because they are clearly aware of the deeds in their past lives. These vile creatures want to drive us mad. And it can't go on much longer."

- Remember, my friend, He that is born of flesh and blood is mortal... He cannot enter into the Kingdom of God because flesh and blood cannot inherit it.

- "But they are neither," he ventured to object.

The atmosphere was becoming distressing enough, and I did not want to refute my friend's opinion by wasting my time with such nonsense. Don't get me wrong, most of us here on this planet weren't close. Everyone was only looking into their own bowl. And everything had to happen that way. Everyone fought for their survival through certain techniques and didn't depend on others too much. And most often died alone and misunderstood.

Bendo was a big jolly fellow, and at one time a truly indispensable friend. He tried to be my shadow and looked out for me. Even too much.

Ever since I'd been in charge of the colony, my commitments had grown in an avalanche. But somewhere in there, I realized one thing. The people I'd once considered close weren't. That special period of maturation had shaped us as individuals. The Ufurgan poison had to be applied most carefully, and the Anzarani buffoon was soon exterminated, but then that cosmic phylloxera that told us the game swooped in. We never recovered after that. Both Bendo and I had a lot to live through. Side by side!

FALSE FRIENDS

CHAPTER EIGHT: FALSE FRIENDS

 

While growing up in Semrik Sin, it was all too common for us to play different games. It was inevitable. You know, I've been seeing the future leaders of the colony since I was a kid. They didn't want to scrape along the bottom like idiots, but were in a hurry to emerge and establish themselves with some quality

The inconspicuous unexpectedly visited us and then took their first victim. It was Bendo. He passed away in his sleep. I cried a lot, but could do nothing. Then I saw the scars on his neck - they were as if someone had very carefully tried to strangle him. He had been trying long enough because the bruises could still be seen in his carotid artery area. It was disgusting. What kind of freak had allowed himself to do this to my best friend?

I don't remember what happened next. It's all a blur to me.

But the mood of the others soured further once they realized what was going to happen to them after his death. First, Bendo was in charge of the colony in my absence, when I was trying to find some raw materials that were being bought around the Asteroid Belt in that part of the system.

Because of that, we had to shoot several people who were not in their places to protect his life. This has gone on for far too long now. Bendo wasn't much liked for the simple reason that he couldn't help but hurt someone with the power he had.

Bendo had imposed a pattern of behavior that did not appeal to many. He demanded that the greenhouses be ready in the early morning and that the plants be given more fertilizer and phosphate, which would help them grow faster. I did not want to inconvenience anyone, so I took the situation with all seriousness. It was time something was done.

We had lost too many people, and we could too easily lose the rest.

McDougle Enbright might have been doing all the talking, but it was my own head on the chopping block, and that was highly unpleasant.

That bastard son of an Enbright was harbouring serious intentions to displace me even now, but justice prevailed - on one of the visits of the Invisibles, he was the victim. Enbright has always been utterly antipathetic to me and I have not had a good opinion of his entourage either. They were all shady types.

Enbright was into smuggling and all sorts of nasty stuff like racketeering, dealing in alchocol in western bottles and so on. Yes, there were no charging regimes in place here, but it was still proper for him to share at least a small portion of his illicit gains with the colony's general coffers. The city of Semrik Sin was, after all, a city of free men. Or at least that was the idea at first. Later, things changed.

And by now I feel really strongly that this man was incapable of normal emotions, let alone anything more in this life. He was going from blow to blow, and I think it's a blessing that his life path ended just like that.

Somewhere around this time, the Unsullied also kidnapped Zerilia Cox, who was one of the relatively few women in the colony. She was a beautiful and stylish lady who was in charge of some specific food issues. She was a truly courageous woman, full of life and a real desire to succeed. But the Invisibles did not pass her by. She fell a second victim after Enbright. That bastard! He was a real bastard and a scoundrel! Just a rare disgusting character!

Anyway the others were no less intimidated, but I had to give them some confidence and help them out. I felt it was my responsibility.

Somewhere in there I could sense all too clearly and realistically that something was not right at all. I just knew it. And then came the big trouble.

THE EXILE

CHAPTER NINE: THE EXILE

 

Von Blask had gone to a rather unusual place, and it was one of Charon's companions, Cerberus. There was a small mining settlement there, and that was where the old warrior had decided to stop for a while before he really disappeared without a trace. Later the guard there reported to me and gave me the following coded electronic ciphergram.

%$670549863hgf45^78-475^&(*%$)#

Translated, all these characters meant "Von Blask was here. What should we do?"

I didn't pass over their message lightly because I knew what was going to happen. An old veteran like Von Blask wasn't going to lick his wounds, he was going to take concrete action. What was interesting, though, was what his real plan was. I didn't want to waste time guessing because I considered it pointless.

However, few had the intellect to guess his next move. I was one of them. But more on that later. Naturally, I didn't get the valuable information right away. And that decided the course of the story. Over time, I learned to judge people and evaluate their actions.

Another problem was the solar wind. This phenomenon consisted mainly of high-energy electrons and protons having the ability to overcome the stellar gravitational field and gain tremendous energy. But we still knew little about this process. This solar wind was interfering with our livorie panels for solar energy extraction and there was the need to clean them from time to time.

Electricity was needed not only for some of our basic needs, but also for the operation of some of the facilities. Yes, the irradiation lamps provided us with endless light, but we also needed certain specific probes that we used to dredge the ice in our desire to get water. That was one of our main priorities. And we terribly wanted everything to be right!

You see, in outer space, things can't be easy when they can be really hard. As for the help that was given by some other members of the colony towards my humble persona - that's another story.

Many wanted to be leaders in a place like that - something that was practically impossible. To be a leader required a host of specific qualities that almost no one really had.

However, it should not be assumed that leaders are infallible - this is a gross misconception.

The first huge mistake I made had to do with some interesting points. First, let it be known that the governance of the colony was done with a governor and his deputy. Pretty simple and effective means of imposing control.

There were some who tried to profit from the dead souls by recording them in a special electronic register. There was also a specific resale of Narenzian identification chips. We had kept this quirk from the previous colony.

But then Rento came along. We didn't know who he was - he was old and grey. Von Blask was long gone. Rento arrived at the Semrik Sin colony in a battered old speeder, which gave me serious suspicions that something terrible had happened.

I later learned that there had been a violent fight between Rento and Von Blask himself. The two men had locked lips - figuratively speaking - because they were wearing spacesuits, and Rento had barely managed to prevail in this unequal fight. Von Blask was renowned for his impressive physique. After killing the old veteran, he was hunted down and left Cerberus. Now the intergalactic police were hunting him down under tree and stone. I didn't know two points of the story, the first of which was where Rento had been before, and the second and perhaps far more significant what the serious reason for their altercation had been.

The Rento my eyes saw had hardly anything in common with the real Rento of old - his face was now quite brutal and he had a rather nervous demeanour. Maybe he was hiding something, but I never figured out exactly what. He came with the status of a political refugee, which in practice he was not, and asked for help.

I didn't mind responding and acting human, but Rento's personality remained a huge mystery. He was so strange and peculiar. Something in there somewhere had changed him. There was no trace left of the once bold man with a boisterous temper. He was a bit of a macho type, and a sort of type exuding a strange magnetism. But now he was just a different person.

- "I've seen the afterlife," he murmured, "everything we've left on Zegandaria will now come back to haunt us in full force. This is what I can say."

- "You don't sound very hopeful," I told him, "Well, I might as well know that, it's not something I haven't thought about. After all, the intergalactic police are a creation of this part of the universe. And it is responsible for preventing crime..."

- "I'm not talking about that," he cut me off. "I'm talking about the Invisibles. Why do they roam among you? Why do they kidnap you in your dreams and try to take your life? Why don't you have answers to all these questions yet?"

Then my attention suddenly sharpened. Significantly more rose to my eyes after the confession I had just made.

- "You don't know because the children you abandoned on Zegandaria were your own!," almost crescendoed Rento.

- "You're talking nonsense," I snapped at him, "This is nonsense and utter nonsense. What children the devil took him?"

- "I know perfectly well what I'm talking about," Rento foamed, "Von Blask was one of those who believed that, and that's why he was on the companion Cerberus."

- I beg your pardon? - I was about to jump up and slap him on the helmet of his spacesuit, What's all this simplicity? What was the cause of your quarrel? Do you feel better having taken his life?

Rento and I were communicating in a backwater place where the so-called Riandan terraflyers wouldn't record our conversation. Not that we had them here on Charon, but the survival of the last remnants of the Zegandarian population depended on this conversation.

"Von Blask was actually fighting his inner demons," Rento began cautiously, "He knew the truth about his son Hans Ausländer. But few would doubt that they were communicating from beyond the grave."

- "That's about as nutty as the simple fact that the intergalactic police haven't fried your ass," I snapped scathingly, "You're even lucky that I'm listening to you right now, and for some reason I still feel the urge to help you."

The landscape around us was so harsh that one's balls would simply freeze if one even glanced at the infinite dead scrapes on the satellite's surface. Pale stars twinkled lazily in the distance. They were most likely quite a distance away - it was the Oort Cloud, which was on the order of a thousand orbital radii away from Pluto. According to solar system scientists, it was responsible for almost all comets entering the inner solar system. Incidentally, this cloud was also a remnant of the primordial nebula that had once formed our entire universe.

Yes the hazy layers in its atmosphere were ubiquitous, but these few layers were created by photochemical reactions that resembled those in Titan's atmosphere. On the other hand, one had to take into account the so-called gravitational dance of Pluto and Charon, which had been studied by many prominent astronomers in that part of the universe.

But not to bore you with unnecessary details of our sky, I say "our" because it really felt like it. Here we had all built lives full of struggle and deprivation. We had experienced true survival first hand. Our life was so close to its earthly equivalent, if I could judge by my sketchy knowledge of this wonderful planet.

But Rento snapped me out of my romantic thoughts. And brought me back here - to Charon, where we were up to our necks in shit.

- "Come to your senses," he hissed in my ear. "Von Blask brought you here not to save you, but to destroy you. That was his hidden goal. He actually created the City of Light to hide the truth from the eyes of the rest of us. He never managed to completely fool everyone. When the quarantine regime was still in effect and the great cosmic plague threatened to wipe us all out, he came to me and told me that there was nothing more holding him back from helping some snot-nosed people - even more so those who, in his opinion, were doomed to a real and imminent doom. Notice I use his words verbatim."

- And yet I do not fully understand why such a violent conflict has broken out between you? I was indignant. What is Hans's connection?

- "The problem was that Hans had a cloned mind," he hissed impatiently. "That consciousness had, linked to the virtual demons, much like Jonathan Sacklin's consciousness."

- "Okay, will you spit the pebble out finally?," I didn't flinch.

- "Well, to be honest, Hans knew he was going to die - his life was coming to an end," Rento muttered, "Von Blask decided he had a chance to deal with these demons and buried Hans for good."

- "But how?," I asked again.

- It's just that there was a small military base on Cerberus, a sort of outpost of the Earth Federation, and it made logical sense for something like this to be hidden there. It could create a link to the virtual demons buried deep in the bowels of Zegandaria.

- "Apparently the earthlings are seriously concerned about their own safety," I joked lightly, realizing my joke was inappropriate, "And they haven't the slightest idea about the Invisibles!"

- "You're quite right there," Rento interjected seriously, "That's true, but only to a point. - The problem was that Von Blask had asked to negotiate with the Earth Federation for the sale of the Hans Auslander virtual virus, which, he had been the one to convince them, would help them deal with the alien invaders who had established their colony in relative proximity to the Kuiper Belt."

- "Like father, like son," I said angrily, "so he really is a traitor! And what a traitor!"

Rento had serious damage to his suit. Apparently he and the old man had traded the most ruthless blows and youth had taken over old age. Not that Rento should have been proud of his deed. I had serious agents in the nearby asteroids around Charon, and from their data I had obtained a short ciphergram that implicated him in a number of maraudings, cock-raids, frauds, beatings, and so on. The list was endless. Rento was no role model. But he had done his best to survive somehow under the new conditions. He wasn't under Detective Boss's wing now.

He didn't need to describe all the hardships he'd gone through trying to survive. The Intergalactic Police had put a bounty on his head of as much as one hundred thousand ents, the third largest bounty ever put on an individual human or alien mind. Only the Ervanans, coming from a very distant system, were determined to be a greater threat. But that had happened a long, long time ago.

Rento was lucky they hadn't stopped him, because Earthlings still kept some traditions about the Holy Inquisition, but now they called it the Holy Space Inquisition, which punished any subject who disagreed with Earth's laws, and Rento was just that kind of criminal - and one with a lot of experience and solid combat training. The snarling bastard could snap the neck of any intruder, and with silent movements no matter how solid a combat suit he wore. Rento had gotten his skills when he was a ghost warrior on his home planet. And nobody, and I mean nobody, dared fuck with him. They'd even made up a nickname for him, "The Mad Dog".

Rento knew full well that his end was coming, but he hoped I could use my connections on Charon to get him some sort of indulgence[1] that would allow him to travel under a neutral space flag to some planets in the solar system, and even beyond.

I didn't ask him exactly what had happened to him in all the time we hadn't seen each other. I remember as a kid, and here I mean long before my friendship with Bendo, who by the way always wanted to be first in the games, my dad spoke with respect about Rento. He had helped him deal with some unbearable impositions of Zegandaria. I didn't know any better, I just saw before me an elderly and somewhat desperate man - but don't get me wrong, a man like Rento could never be completely broken. Rather, his inner demons gnawed at him for the deed of Von Blask, whom he considered his idol. That doubt might have driven him to the grave, but I still found some sort of somewhat acceptable solution that could benefit both sides. Rento, after all, still possessed qualities so rare that almost no one had. His eyesight was that of a falcon, or better, and his determination and wits could rival those of the late Detective Boss.

The problem, as I said, was that the colony needed resupply. It was bloody difficult to build underground greenhouses that would be warm enough in a place where the average temperature hovered around minus 220 degrees Celsius, or 53 Kelvin, but we got the hang of it. See, digging out solid rock like this is not easy at all, but the boron probes did a pretty good job. We didn't have enough people to scoop out the broken rock and chunks of ice and clear the space for deeper digging. Other than that, the probes themselves couldn't reach too much depth. Sometimes they broke even though the element beronium possessed a hardness five times that of an Earth diamond. The more we picked up the pace, the further we fell behind. And I didn't like it. Then we decided to make some changes to the schedule. But that didn't really give a satisfactory result either. I was sure we could really do a lot more. I was just convinced!

During one of the many digs we discovered something strange. Rento had left a small box. I don't mean it was buried or anything, it just appeared out of nowhere. Inside he had put a special Narenzian chip full of instructions regarding exactly how to improve the properties of the probe and finish the greenhouses. I had forgotten that Rento was on the job as a mechanic in the War Corps. This was his way of thanking me for taking care of him.

He would travel and supply the colony with provisions and do espionage for free. He had pledged to do it for six whole months, and I didn't need any more to deal with all the simplicities we were mired in.

The laboratories were built on four levels below the surface. On the first level we stored the plants, on the second we had certain tools and implements, on the third were our water tanks, and on the fourth and final level was the compost needed to grow these plants. Even in space conditions we needed things like that.

We had heard from some of the smugglers, such as Rento by the way, that the earthlings use electrical pulse measurements by which they determine several important characteristics essential to the health of the plant[2].

Here on Charon, we proceeded in a different way - we were taught to value the simple things and thus gave all we had to the cause of common sustenance, which incidentally was growing in size. Many people resented having to literally sleep in greenhouses to monitor the life cycle of plants.

Then it occurred to me that we could apply technology similar to Earth's to help us deal with the trouble. After getting detailed blueprints from some trusted people who had contact with Cerberus' outpost, I decided to go it alone - as I said, the knowledge of any average Zegandarian rested on mechanics and quantum physics. In this case - it was more biology and some biochemistry. I didn't bother to predict the end result, but I finally did something similar - I decided to measure just two basic indicators, namely plant leaf thickness and environmental indicators. It took me quite a while to make a simple model, and I tried not to let others notice my failed attempts in this regard. Eventually, from a modified peos integrated circuit and some other circuit boards and wires, I put together a manageable model that could be applied to a plant. To build tolerably, we needed a lot more and then we solved the problem cardiNaly. We connected the livery panels to special artificial light devices that had to provide the required temperature and illumination. However, this only solved part of the problem. Later, with a friendly effort, we managed to provide similar conditions for all the plants. And you would not believe our agricultural yields almost tripled. I felt extremely proud of our achievement. The space plague was no longer attacking us. There were, of course, still isolated patients that nobody wanted to touch. There were some out there somewhere who were going to rot away ingloriously.

 

[1] Indulgence - exemption from ecclesiastical penalties imposed for the commission of a sin.

[2] The technology in question is called AgriHouse and is used by NASA.

THE EARTH FEDERATION

CHAPTER TEN: THE EARTH FEDERATION

 

Earth had changed a great deal in the advanced future-it was not at all what people in previous ages had been used to seeing. And for good reason. Earthlings wanted to impose total control over their system, and also to spread their influence as far as stars like Proxima Centauri. Its far-sighted leadership had made an interesting decision - to harness all its resources into building outposts to protect against various dangers. It wasn't so simple to solve such a problem, as opinions were all over the place and everyone was pulling the rug towards themselves. No matter how much they calculated - the nearest economically viable space outpost they had to form was Cerberus' outpost, which to them was something like the entrance to the solar system. And he had saved them more than once from malicious intruders. There were, for example, various alien races that were trying to contact the Earthlings in their attempts to colonize planet Earth.

Even in the very distant future, the colonization of New Earth did not go as its inhabitants expected. Humans had long since become slaves to the notion that nearby habitable worlds could become their actual refuge. But terraforming remained ever so distant and mysterious. It was a real sacrilege to think otherwise!

They had long ago encountered the corrosive atmosphere of Venus or the inhospitable Mars. The apparent change of an entire world could have taken thousands of years. And Earthlings didn't have the patience to wait that long. It was not to their taste. Not that earthlings were narrow-minded, but there was still too much water to run out.

The Zegandarians could be useful to them and give them a chance to touch much more advanced technology. Not that explorations of habitable exoplanets hadn't been done before. But things in building a space colony were too specific. Space radiation was also a huge problem for the majority of the astronauts that Earthlings sent to various points in order to deal with specific missions. A sustainable colony was being built through very different principles, which the Zegandarians inhabiting Charon still possessed. Even the youngsters had reached some level where they could cope with a number of everyday difficulties - such as maintaining the space greenhouses, supplying the colony with valuable resources, and not least even some of the more difficult tasks such as hunting meteorites and using bеronium probes to extract water from the satellite's underground bowels.

Earth's governance was on a completely different principle to that of Zegandaria - the former Earth governments were united in a supranational governing body called the Confederation. Within its jurisdiction were various possible problems relating to the survival of Earth's population. Not that the earthlings had not been in various communications with beings of other orders and densities, members of the so-called Galactic Confederation[1], and these luminous powers were concerned with the welfare of that part of the universe.

But the Zegandarians were beings of another nature. First, they had never made direct contact, which was of great importance. And secondly, somewhere in there it was clearly understood that there was a certain crass predatory policy on the part of the aliens that was far from the truth.

Back in the year 2435, which was much much earlier than when our King Midriel had been born according to the legends of Zegandarian folklore, one of the powerful Earth corporations, Korolan Bru, had sent certain forces to terraform and colonize the small satellite planet.

Korolan Bru was the most powerful economic, military and medical structure on earth, encompassing various sectors and specific industries where its wealthy interests were to bear serious fruit. The corporation was generating over four trillion Ents annually. The Enta was the currency of the future in roughly all countries that were on Earth.

Korolan Bru was also involved in some interesting projects in the field of genetic engineering. She had to account for the fact that many of the so-called biomutants of the future, which were essentially gene-modified soldiers, were her development. When an extra chromosome was added to the main DNA helix, the characteristics of the organisms were altered beyond recognition. Knowing what was contained in the human genome, the activities of corporations like Korolan Brew included tinkering with certain parts of the genome, especially in so-called non-coding DNA and pseudogenes. It was an area rich in research, and all of it could not help but yield staggering results at some stage. Everyone was aware that copying errors or uneven distribution of genetic material between different cells could cause unhealthy bonds to form, and hence degeneration of the genome.

Korolan Bru's medics and genetic engineers were trying to solve exactly this problem. In the non-coding DNA part, there were so-called telomeres, which were repetitive segments of non-coding DNA living at the ends of chromosomes. Later, earth scientists concluded that these very ends could be made longer and thus speed up or slow down the aging process.

A very valuable and important discovery given that the Earth Federation was sending clone warriors to the other side of the Galaxy. Whatever they were doing, there was no way they weren't accumulating so-called subjective time during the long-distance flights they were making. Mankind had advanced not only in genetic engineering, but practically in other fields such as the development of tachyon engines. Sure, they had a long way to go before they caught up to their counterparts from distant planets like Oros Hinto or for that matter Zegandaria itself, but still.

Let's apply a simple example, if the accumulated subjective time was expressed in Earth years, on average on each flight each pilot could accumulate between a few weeks to a few months, and in really rare cases up to about a year or two. Pilots entered the service quite young. Whereas on Zegandaria the Young Lions started at around fourteen years of age, by Earth standards youngsters were joining the ranks of the fleet at around seventeen or eighteen. With their genomes processed, their service could last as long as sixty years, which meant almost double the normal time. However, this was where the problem of space depression arose. Very often love triangles and even quadrangles formed between crew members. People were simply beating their depressed minds out in a variety of ways. Sometimes a disturbed sleep cycle could also pose a problem. But let's not go into too much detail.

The United Earth Fleet force had an impressive composition, divided into three units - for Earth orbit, for the Solar System, and for Far Open Space.

For each of these three divisions, a certain number of years were spent learning and practicing. For the first about nine, for the second twelve, and for the last as many as sixteen years. The training was long and rigorous. But it was on the Special Forces for the Exploration of Far Open Space that Earthlings relied in their attempts to preserve their population from adverse cosmic phenomena such as the extinction of their sun. Not that such a thing was going to happen too soon. But they were willing to do their best to protect themselves.

I want to clarify a few things here - the earthlings' idea of protection is rather, how shall I say, naive. We learned that they had atomic bombs and other oddities. I agree that such weapons are a serious thing, but they have some drawbacks that I would like to point out here. On Zegandaria the weapons were quite different. We used proton bombs. Or so I had heard from one of my great-great-great grandfathers. Their point of view could sometimes be presented in a very interesting way. The proton bomb was used for local conflicts, as they said. For serious long-range, a completely different type of weapon was used. For example, a protoplasmic arenium bomb, which could be put on a ship with tachyon engines to take it to the appropriate place where a collapsar jump could take place. The bomb was dropped with a deduction for the appropriate subjective time for its activation, and then the on-board engineers and pilots had to be very careful in calculating the time the ship had to enter the appropriate explosion site. As accidents had happened in the past, drones were also dispatched to be even safer and to be really well informed if there were any residual effects from the explosion that could be dangerous to the flight crew. The list of these weapons was really endless, but I would like to mention one last one that was a personal development of ours. This was the tachyon transducer, a portable particle accelerator that was quite capable of accelerating the particles of a particular object or body and dispersing it into pieces. How nasty! Fuck you alien invaders!

 

[1] Sal Racelli "Earth Changes and the Future of Humanity"

THE CERBERUS OUTPOST

CHAPTER ELEVEN: THE CERBERUS OUTPOST

 

Cerberus was another rather special place. One of its most interesting features was its overall location relative to Pluto's other moons, and in particular Charon itself. As you can well guess, the Cerberus satellite was named after that three-headed dog that was born of Typhon and Echidna. I've read a bit of the ancient Greek myths, as Rento did me this favor on one of his trips to Cerberus and introduced me to them in general terms. I have no sympathy for these animals, as I find them more fearsome than our Groandus that once roamed our lands. But one thing I can say for sure - his mission was to guide their souls to the underworld where they would rest forever!

Plus, given the bitter experience of our home planet, I have a grudge against all kinds of legends and myths. You all remember the heyday of Zegandaria and its true apogee. And where has it all led us?

Cerberus's outpost had a specific function - to make a link with Earth, but the link was not direct, it went through Mars. Certain communication stations were located there, which translated the signals and sent them to the final destination.

Incidentally, the Earthlings had made considerable progress in terraforming that planet, but there was still much to be desired.

I would like to clarify something else here. The surface of Mars had been modified according to Earth's ideas, which would mean that there were some signs of improvement in the direction of making it a habitable place. Humans still couldn't fully breathe without the use of a real spacesuit.

Somewhere far ahead there were ideas for actual terraforming, but for now the earthlings had no idea how to deal with some problems.

It had long been estimated that the whole process of becoming a truly full replacement for Earth would take about ten million years. And that was in terms of doubling its atmosphere not counting a lot of other things. So the famous carbon dioxide was too thin and cold to support liquid water, and hence many difficulties for the Earth Federation.

An ingenious man, Rufus Ebendhaus, born somewhere around 293525, put forward some rather productive methods for this purpose. His suggestion was, broadly speaking, to correct the idea of terraforming and to speed up this process as much as possible in the shortest possible time.

Building manorium turbines to convert carbon dioxide into oxygen was one of his many proposals. Of course, this would also have taken tens of thousands of years, but by his rough calculations it would have reduced the whole period to about a hundred thousand years, which was also an awful lot.

So the Earth Federation set about building colonies similar to our own, housed under glass covers. Yeah, they hardly had the knowledge of how to take advantage of our advanced technology, since endosian was a whole other category of material. I'll give you another example, breaking any kind of glass, no matter tempered or armoured, would most likely have been followed by decompression and eventual death. With endosiant, things were different - the punctures could be easily patched by emanarium torches that literally soldered the edges of the puncture. You'd ask how exactly it happened. Well, its molecular structure was just saturated enough that it could easily be "stretched" to some extent without compromising the integrity and stability of the atomic bonds.

Accumulation of cosmic radiation was another serious problem facing this colony. And for this reason, there was only a small settlement on Mars with people manning the translator stations.

Naturally, the manorium turbines provided them with an almost infinite supply of oxygen, but every four or five months their representatives had to return to Earth.

Yet how they had come by such advanced technology as the tachyon - well, very simply, they had bought it. And from where exactly - I had no idea!

Cerberus' outpost always included almost a hundred different platoons , which wasn't that many - between 3000 to 5000 soldiers and the accompanying personnel. It seemed very small to me, but I was later convinced that this was not the case at all.

By comparison, the translator stations on the surface of Mars had about two hundred to two hundred and fifty support personnel - who were engaged in a variety of tasks - not all of which were related to the translator stations. For example, a small group was busy mining minerals such as iron, magnesium, silicon, and aluminum.

Robot probes were digging into the planet's underbelly around the clock. It was cramped. Many friendships bound those working on Mars. They wanted a new life for themselves, but no one had ever told them they would never leave its surface. They were living and believing something false. Red Mars was going to become black for them, especially when they realized what was really in store for them. It was hard work and many were dying, hoping to return to their families on Earth. No one noticed their suffering, which was immense. We called them Hermoso[1] and frankly we were waiting for their deaths so we could take over Cerberus' sprawl.

From a military standpoint, a garrison deployment would have been far more far-reaching, but that was clearly not in the Earth Federation's power.

Rufus Ebendhaus had foreseen quite a few things about the terraforming process that helped their mineral yields, as mentioned. But the problem of cosmic radiation remained. Sometimes false reports were sent from Earth to send liaison ships to eventually bring them back, but they obligingly lingered to overrun the quarantine period so they could die a slow and painful death.

Ebendhaus was a dirty and nasty bastard of galactic proportions. Behind the mask of a scientist was a true beast who moved the pawns calculatingly.

 

[1] Hermoso - in Zegandarian dialect means "fools".

KOROLAN BRU CORPORATION

CHAPTER TWELVE: KOROLAN BRU CORPORATION

 

Korolan Bru was the most powerful and advanced space corporation, engaged in a wide range of activities. But somewhere in there a huge mistake had been made - and a completely deliberate one at that. They unexpectedly replaced the head of Cerberus' military divisions. That had never happened. And it hadn't caused much of a reaction on Earth, as the Earthlings were constantly bombarded with all sorts of nonsense to distract them.

Korolan Brew had been at the forefront of some of the most extensive research into not only the human genome, but various futuristic weapons.

For example, the ARG 143 plasma rifle was an interesting invention of hers. Or the neo-war robots that dug endlessly on Mars. There were definitely practitioners at work in it.

Korolan Bru tried to keep a certain distance from the civilian population, who wouldn't be aware of the exact extent of her interests.

In fact, the corporation was even a major sponsor of the Earth Federation itself, providing more than half of its budget. The rest came in the form of income from the various settlements on Cerberus and Mars, and also small mining colonies on the Moon.

Korolan Bru was one of the corporations shrouded in complete secrecy. There was one basic rule that governed this corporation. It was vengeance in its purest form.

There was no one who dared to say a word against this super-powerful interplanetary corporation and survive. Its management resembled not a pyramid, but rather a hydra with many heads, each of which was a different supervisor who was also interchangeable. It wouldn't be a stretch to say that many of them were liquidated rather brutally.

No one would ever know about the botched excavation of the lunar surface, which the corporation itself considered to be a big crock. The thing was, at one time one of its members had given the idea of mining HELIUM-3 , which would have provided inexhaustible energy for Earthlings.

In the past, earthlings had expected this isotope to completely replace their needs for various fuels such as oil and natural gas, but things didn't follow the script they wanted.

The yield on Earth was almost negligible, but the actual transportation from the Moon was a real challenge.

Of course, Korolan Brew decided to take it on and sent the best astronauts to do the job. Little by little, the earthlings realized they were being worked hard. Things hadn't improved significantly, and the prices of the new fuel had become astronomical. Not that that wasn't Korolan Brew's goal.

The procedure for extracting energy from this particular type of fuel was by what was called fusion, which involved an interaction between helium-3 and deuterium.

Thermonuclear fusion[1] was an inherently dangerous reaction in which the fusion of atomic nuclei formed heavier ones and energy was released. Things didn't go quite so smoothly at first, and one of the main labs was completely wiped out, along with all the adjacent infrastructure within a mile radius. But Korolan Bru immediately activated his powerful connections and everything went down quickly.

The main production facilities were concentrated within the confines of the UEN, which stood for United Earth Nations, or a supranational state operating as the face of the entire planet.

The Earth Federation ruled this super-powerful union, but in the shadows secretly stood Korolan Bru. And this went on long enough.

The corporation's strategy consisted of rather simple but effective ploys that definitely yielded results. Most of the senators on the Earth Federation's staff supported themselves on their salaries, but some of them were secret members of the Korolan Bru leadership. That was their real source of income.

Getting into the corporation itself was not easy and many had failed. One of the main criteria was that the candidate had to have a universal view of the events that were taking place and put the interests of the corporation first and foremost.

Rufus was spotted by the corporation early enough and managed to accomplish something unheard of - increasing its holdings by another planet. He was immoral and purposeful! And he got his way!

One time his superior asked him point blank:

- And just how far do you plan to go? He achieved much more than many of us.

I'd like to touch the stars on the other side of the Asteroid Belt. I'd like to make a sustainable settlement beyond the Kuiper Belt. Then I would die peacefully.

His tone was fairly neutral, but Rufus sensed the trap in it.

Earthlings generally showed no real need to resettle outside their own planet, which I persoNaly found odd. But that was their view of events.

The colonization process wasn't going particularly smoothly, but Rufus was doing his best in trying to solve the problem.

The Manorian Turbines were the real fruit of his immense efforts, but he knew that very soon he would not be able to pull the wool over the eyes of Korolan Bru's superiors.

He had to come up with something new and unheard of - something that would take his employers to the next level. Time was definitely not working in his favor. He had a feeling that soon he'd just fall into that interchangeable category and someone else would be setting the launch schedule for the Manorium turbines. And he would be lying deep underground. Lifeless!

 

[1] A type of nuclear reaction in which two or more atomic nuclei fuse to form a heavier nucleus.

THE DEATH OF JAKE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE DEATH OF JAKE

 

- "Did you feel their touch?," asked Jake Enroad, who incidentally was one of the very few punctual people in the colony.

- "It was almost inaudible," I said, trying to calculate in my confused mind exactly what my chances were if I was spotted.

- "I don't think they're acting out of spite, they're looking for a specific person," my companion confidently suggested.

His answer intrigued me. The kid was beating himself up. He was cocky enough to be completely on his own, not someone wiping his snot, as Von Blask kept telling us. He was also one of the few who didn't care if they died in their sleep, strangled by the Unnoticeables.

- "Well, what the hell, you may be quite right," I replied calmly, "The important thing is to finish what one has started. Isn't it?"

- "But you're completely mad?," he said breathlessly. "They may not exactly be human."

- "I wonder more who they're looking for," I added quietly, "I doubt they're wasting their time. We've already lost Enbright and Cox. Who's going to be next? I'm bass fishing that the situation is going to get shitty. What do you think?"

We were both raised on Charon. And we didn't know any other place. We had heard of the planet Zegandaria from various legends and rumors of ghost warriors. But it was just words. Nothing more.

- "What did they sense, or did they need?," continued Enroad in his musings.

- "I think it's just time to sleep," I interrupted him, and fell asleep as if slaughtered.

In my dreams I kept seeing the same recurring visions. I couldn't transcend my level and kept spinning in the same circle surrounded by dark nothingness. My soul was destined to die in isolation. To melt away and feel immense suffering. To be stopped in its path of development. To be obliterated forever and ever! In my nightmares I could clearly sense that someone or something was watching me and that this something had a specific purpose. Clearly my presence did not fit into its plans. Even to Charon, our survival was not guaranteed by anything. Daily difficulties aside, I began to question how well I actually knew everyone. So we just got up, worked long fourteen-hour shifts, and went to sleep. No closeness, no warmth, no affection. Nobody cared about anybody. Everyone prayed he wasn't next. To wake up in the morning with cold eyes full of horror that would inevitably spread to our battered souls.

Many of my so-called friends were people who frankly knocked their board and didn't care if you got shot with a plasma weapon during the regular work shift. They lived in a very tiny and enclosed illusory world that, if shattered, would show them the ugly reality.

I used to like a girl, love her, crave her, desire her, believe she was the one for me. I assumed I had a chance. But I soon realized that it was all a facade to hide behind. Somewhere in there, a secret and hypocritical voice was laughing at me mercilessly. It was trying to get in my way, and my romantic fantasies were honestly working against me.

In my dreams I had no friends, and I was walking along a beaten country road, dotted with a sparse third, and somewhere nearby there was a most ordinary country kenef with a glass door. You heard me right. It was almost sanitary.

I still couldn't understand the symbolism of this dream, as I had never resided on Earth. It was more distant to me than even Zegandaria itself.

I also always wondered why people kept averting their eyes from me. I do not wish to draw attention to my humble persona, but few will properly appreciate the truth of my life.

My Jake Enroad. He's always been my rock and never asked for anything.

In the morning we were awakened by an ugly cry. I was pinned to the anti-gravity bed and couldn't turn my head freely. It was like deja vu. And there was Enroad lying next to me - dead in his sleep with his mouth twisted. He was downright scary. Only his eyes were calmly closed. He had died with dignity.

I don't remember crying that day. And I had definitely suffered the greatest loss to date. And I was unlikely to meet another as loyal as him. A true friend. A real man. Not so easy to forget.

ERTOL GIS CORPORATION

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: ERTOL GIS CORPORATION

 

The Ertol Gis Corporation produced all sorts of interesting things, and one of its most serious developments was tied to the making of bulletproof vests. These were designed to protect subjects from a variety of different phenomena.

When Ertol Gis began her activities very few guessed that she would form a secret partnership with the Korolan Bru Corporation.

The two super-powered entities had made a serious partnership not only because of historical tradition, but also out of sheer pragmatism.

As for Earth's Korolan Bru, its ties to Zegandaria were strictly kept secret.

Many would question what the point of this close cooperation was, but other things came to the fore here - one of them being the sheer insight into the psyche of all the people inhabiting the two celestial bodies infinitely distant from each other.

On Earth, there were constantly huge wars for supremacy and the thirst for resources had led to endless changes of governments in the past. Some measures have been taken to avoid this problem, and this may have solved the problem somewhat.

Ertol Gis had not occupied the entire planet, like her partner, but she had no less capability.

On one occasion, Endugus Mylrow, one of her chief developers, made a statement that has remained forever in the memory of her population:

- We are here to serve, we are here to deal with hardship, we are here to survive. Ertol Gis assures you it is the latter, and that is what sets us apart from everyone else. We want you to live! I hope you understand that well!

Endugus Mylrow shared very different terminology and views to his colleague. Rufus was trying to revolutionize his entire planet. Ertol Gis wanted to change the mindset of the population and help it better defend itself. This was essential.

Every constant defined the relationship between them. The one and only major constant had to do with the mutual benefit between them in terms of trade.

Commercially speaking, there were not too many things that could be exchanged. The raw materials that went from Zegandaria were Kevlarite and of course Quizon. Earth had been engaged to send technology for manorium turbines. They were of some interest to certain groups of scientists on the planet.

Manorium turbines weren't all that necessary on Zegandaria, but they were a valuable source of oxygen for Kikluk Sor. So soon they were able to get large monetary transfers from Kikluk Sor specifically.

Ertol Gis was impressed by all those brains like Rufus Ebendhaus. But there was no taking them away from his competitor, depriving him of intellectual power.

Endugus Mylrow was trying his best to succeed in imposing a variety of techniques and forcing their advanced weaponry on Zegandaria.

Mylrow knew something strange - it wasn't Om Gur Nal enforcing the rules of the Ertol Gis Corporation, but the setting itself. But the funding was coming not only from the sovereign, who was long dead, but also from a powerful Kikluk Sor banking trust.

The bankers had listed the shares of the powerful corporation on the Kikluk Sor stock exchange, and it was mired in utter mystery and secrecy.

Ertol Gis had developed both of the supercomputers, making a link between them, which had been destroyed by Detective Boss's men.

After the Sovereign's death, the activities of the powerful corporate organization were taken to the most backwater places on planets like Osonia, Cebur Nag, and Kikluk Sor. And no one noticed.

But the leadership of Ertol Gis did not depart from Zegandaria. It stayed there a little longer. To look for some things. And that had a huge impact on the future events of our existence on Charon.

THE SECRET OF VON BLASK

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: THE SECRET OF VON BLASK

 

Von Blask died in a way that was not preferable. Rento concealed some of the facts concerning their altercation. They met on a Cerberus industrial platform. He was traveling incognito and clearly realized how strange it would be for a former commanding officer to be challenged in this manner. Von Blask dreamed of achieving great things in his exile and helping many others as well. But all was soon forgotten. No one was giving five bucks for him. Von Blask realized that he was not the true leader, but quite different forces had been driving him all these years. He realized that people had perceived him not on the basis of his outward image, but on a specific aura coming from others. It had kept him alive and craving this life. Von Blask - Hans' father - came from a prominent class. It wasn't widely known that they were actually true aristocrats who craved to deal with problems in this way. Von Blask had left that family for that very reason. There was no other reason for him to give up his huge family inheritance. The Von Blask family came from a special part of Zegandaria where everything was their property.

On the day of Von Blask's death, the nurse looked around and stirred him. She'd heard that ghost warriors sometimes looted significant amounts of money or valuables.

Von Blask believed in his principles. He hoped his soul didn't fall prey to some demons because he had appropriated something that simply wasn't his. The Ghost Warriors had their own morals, which differed greatly from the generally accepted beliefs and understandings of normal people. Von Blask could die with a clear conscience. He knew that he might face a harsh retribution in the afterlife for the vast number of lives he had taken.

He pretended to be asleep while the nurse stirred him most insolently. Suddenly she did something super unusual. She stood close to him and started praying - praying so fervently it was almost heartbreaking. Von Blask was nearly dead, and the only reason he hadn't closed his eyes in ages was the small amount of saline solution that had been poured over him, which had briefly revived him. He'd expressed a desire to see a priest, which Cerberus had practically none. He had been promised that the platoon commander would come and he would give his soul comfort. But he lingered. Von Blask wondered if he would live to share the secret that burned his breast. When he had lost hope altogether, he heard someone approaching. He strained what little strength he had left in an attempt to cope with the immense pain he felt from the wounds Rento had inflicted on him.

When the two had met on the platform, Von Blask realized that this fight would be his last, and he had no chance against a far younger (Rento was at least twenty-five years his junior) and cocky opponent. Von Blask still nearly finished Rento and only pure chance or divine providence had saved him from the fatal blow of his laser cutter.

When Von Blask collapsed, Rento didn't finish him off - he didn't see the point, but did his best to ease his end. Bandaged his wounds! This was ridiculous! And arranged for his admission to Cerberus' infirmary.

Yes, Von Blask was alive because of his worst enemy. Because of his mercy! His blood was nearly drained, and if it weren't for some of the nanoprobes temporarily patching up some of his most serious injuries, he wouldn't have even waited for the greedy nurse.

Von Blask was aware that in this life everyone looked to get the most and didn't protest - on the contrary, he found it natural. As natural as killing in his professional career. A true stallion, ready to castrate or kill!

The platoon commander walked up to the dying man and tried to look him in the eye. They were closed. But beneath them raged a fire of images-the events of a lifetime.

"He must be a righteous man!" thought the commander curiously. "But what is he looking for here! In my colony!"

The platoon commander was not yesterday's man. He was also more corrupt than the rulers of Korolan Bru. He wanted to do his job decently, but he also wanted to be able to profit. The nurse's brutal and predatory nature did not escape his gaze.

"She must have taken everything!," he thought. "It would be a pity if I really had to come for nothing! It will be a very hard night! It's practically Cerberus's eternal night! So what!"

But then he remembered something, and started. What if he knew something really important - that information could be traded away a lot more dearly than some dumb ents that weren't even real currency of exchange on a backwater companion like this.

He decided to search his memory, but didn't think to recognize the sufferer.

He examined his wounds carefully - they looked mortal. And the one who had inflicted them was hardly a novice. On the contrary!

Of one thing he was certain - it was none of his subordinates in the colony, and he later realized that this subject might not even be of this system. Where the hell had he come from!

Closing his eyes, Von Blask wiggled the fingers of one hand.

The commander spotted him and approached.

Since he couldn't speak, Von Blask made a motion with the fingers of one hand. He barely moved them.

The commander didn't need much - he understood immediately.

Von Blask had hidden a small Narenzian chip. The military man had never seen it. On it was carved in human letters, in the Earth language, "Charon."

Then the warrior gasped. Blood had filled the inside of his spacesuit. Rento was a well-known master of the martial art of "evoro". There was a special strike where, with a certain twist and slip, the weapon was knocked out of the opponent's hand, or rather out of the settled direction for aiming the strike, and its blade back into the attacker. Rento had seen the account of many of his opponents in this efficient enough manner.

Von Blask died. He died like a warrior, but not on the battlefield. He died in a stinking infirmary. In foreign territory.  Dies at night in his own blood. He'd lived as a foreigner all his life, and in the end he'd gotten what he deserved.

The corrupt platoon leader didn't know what to think. The letters were clearly visible on the surface of the chip - they were roughly scratched or even chipped. It was hard to tell which.

The military man looked around - there was no witness to their conversation. He quietly left sickbay. That night was the night of death!

GENOME MAN

" Science without religion is lame, religion without science is blind"

Albert Einstein

 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: GENOME MAN

 

Genomic Man was the crowning effort of the Ertol Gies Company - it was a thing of astonishing good - both as a discovery and as an application. Genomes were a way for many to see what the weak link in the human race was. Where exactly were its flaws? What lay at the root of it?

In the end, they were able to delve precisely into the pseudogenes of DNA. In the past, science had labeled them as junk, including various introns[1] and unbalanced sequences, but earth scientists had subsequently looked at things with different eyes. They began to realize what was actually going on. It turned out that maybe the evolution of the genome was hiding in them. Yes, various eukaryotic organisms had achieved enrichment of their genome by intermediate splicing of these very introns, but for a long time scientists had looked down on them in relation to the fact that they had arisen in the primitive cell as parasitic sequences. Well, after long and hard work, a number of new genes emerged that were quite useful.

Pilots who were cloned before birth had enhanced capabilities. But it was not physical strength that was the main focus of the work of Earth scientists, but the adaptability of the organism to different environments with extreme conditions.

Many would call this research immoral, but that was not at all accurate. Over time, they learned to value those genes that would be important to their survival.

The babies were worn in special ebaranium capsules filled with various mixtures of saline as close as possible to their natural environment in their mothers' wombs. Everything was calculated down to the last second, even hundredth.

If he could have seen them, Endugus Mylrow would have exclaimed:

Why have you assumed the role of God? This crosses all boundaries.

But subconsciously he would have marveled at the progress of his colleagues. And there was a reason why.

But the truth was that Earth had long been a place where all kinds of boundaries were crossed.

The cloned genome humans were designed not to think about what was about to happen. They threw themselves into battle without emotion because they had never received a mother's caress. The frightening thing was that the scientists of Korolan Bru had been given new unlimited powers by the Earth Federation and would meet any challenge that would come their way. They had to go all the way. Many of the flights were being limited to five-six-seven month expeditions to destinations like Mars. This was far from the taste of Earth bureaucrats. They had set their sights on conquerors far beyond the Kuiper Belt as the initial destination to unleash their vast influence. Nor could it be denied that the majority of specialists worked in isolation and did not cooperate at the various stages of cloning. They worked in complete secrecy and total silence. There was no exchange of emotions. The clones had to be perfect to fulfil their purpose. They did not have to exist in the next time period.

At one of the secret working ops, Hermonal Bivors, a prominent biochemist and genetic engineer, said something rather prosaic, but also scary:

- Do we need to care what the fate of the clone will be, even if he, by some amazing coincidence, learns to feel and understand like a normal human being? This, in our eyes, should only be a small, annoying, but very dangerous mistake that we should analyze and correct. In my personal professional opinion, most of the clones are unlikely to live beyond thirty-thirty-five or thirty-six years. Their lives will be completely devoted to serving our interests. And in the next period of time no one will remember them?

No one dared challenge his reasoning. They all nodded, not very confidently because of the slightly ominous atmosphere around them, but in their souls they realized that Hermonal Bivors was absolutely right.

One of the young trainee scientists only muttered:

- What would it be like for them in the afterlife? They would never fit into the line of creation!

To his particular surprise, Hermonal heard him, turned, came back with quick steps, and answered him:

- Colleague, you have expressed your opinion brilliantly. But we are not playing gods, we are playing survival. The human race cannot remain on this Earth forever though it will still continue to be our home for a relatively long time. Someone has to fall scapegoat and that someone has to be them!

The pilots were undergoing harsh and relentless training that took up much of the time they had. It was clones like these who worked in shifts on Mars. Corollan Brew had calculated, without regard to the moral side of the matter, of course, that it was much cheaper to make deliberate "delays" of so-called liaison ships, which, incidentally, might well be diverted to conquer new colonies around the solar system.

As an old rule, people of religious persuasion had become part of it all. They relied on higher powers to justify their actions, but that was just a kind of salve for their own guilty consciences.

To speed up the cloning process itself, special gene banks were prepared that contained ready-made DNA databases of people of all ages.

One of the most unpleasant parts of this process was the simple fact that there were also definite risks of allowing "defects" - there was also the production of cancerous growths, which were in fact a real plague for the scientists, who worried not so much about their own morality as about the actual occurrence of unpredictable growths.

The foresight of these studies was frightening enough, but the pace of progress was above all.

Over a period of some thirty years, the cloning process was optimized much like the production of a product.

There was also a certain play with the transfer of memories from the so-called donor to the clone that was created from its DNA.

Even we on Zegandaria would have been surprised at the monstrous meticulousness in following this whole plan.

Korolan Bru had his agents on Mars and also on the satellite Cerberus. They were also clones, of course, but they didn't know it. Top secret information that was absolutely forbidden even among the majority of the leadership was that only and only clones could leave the confines of the planet.

The corporation quickly began mobilizing its forces for its grand plans. The truth was that space projects were costing it an awful lot of money, and it had to curtail some of its intentions and concentrate on the minefields of the Moon, where manpower had been reduced to a sanitary minimum, the translational settlement of Mars, and not least, of course, the outpost of Cerberus.

But they knew this was not enough to maintain the balance of power with alien civilizations.

So they decided to use their available resources and transform their forces to consolidate their supremacy.

 

[1] An intron (short for intragenic region) is a nucleotide sequence that is removed during splicing during RNA maturation.

GERARD DOWNS

"Every child that has come into the world is a sign that God has not yet lost hope in humans."

 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: GERARD DOWNS

 

Gerard Downs was the man we needed, but unfortunately, after Von Blask's departure, he was squashed like a cockroach in a rather unfortunate meteor hunt. A lot of people screamed at the conditions they were put in. And Gerard Downs was famous far and wide.

Meteor showers were interesting to us kids, who later became youngsters and adults, as we had never seen anything like it. We left Zegandaria too young.

Charon was too remote a place - far away from all the other planets. Death reigned here. And icy hopelessness, so this cosmic phenomenon warmed our hearts.

Moving on the surface of Charon itself was a real challenge too - there was no doubt. The small satellite was covered in what's called nitrogen ice, which could blow you away like a bomb if something glowing touched it. Fortunately our spacesuits were advanced enough even though they were sort of homemade.

The Kuiper Belt was the main source of meteor showers in the solar system. All sorts of debris traveled in that region of the solar system, which we actively hunted, and sometimes some of it was actually useful.

But Gerard Downs was an adventurer who, back on Zegandaria, was known as a crazy head. He got us carried away very quickly, and one by one we were briefly separated from the pre-secured route. We could have easily perished.

Then one of the debris managed to shatter the glass of his visor and kill him.

His face changed, and he struggled for a small breath of oxygen - one last breath that never came. If we hadn't been tied to each other with very strong zerith ropes, he would have just flown off into orbit or straight into open space.

He looked so helpless, and we all knew he was a wonderful man and party animal. Since then, the colony has gotten even duller and sadder. A feeling of melancholy describes the sadness of the past, and utter hopelessness evokes real terror - a feeling that numbs your brain and makes you an easy victim.

After we returned, we prepared his corpse for burial. His spacesuit was unsuited, so you had to touch with extreme care - very easily one of us could have become a victim too. This time we decided not to use the so-called space capsules. And, frankly, after so many deaths - they weren't plentiful. He was cremated and his ashes were scattered across the surface of Charon. No, I don't find that romantic. I even find it pathetic!

Had Enroad lived, his words would have sounded like this: - You've lost another worthwhile friend, how long are you going to stay in a place like this? It's been completely dead for a long time. Isn't it time you got off your asses?

The problem was that we didn't have enough resources to get out. But soon I was going to change that situation.

Averia Downs was one of the few who still remembered the former planet of Zegandaria with fondness. She was too saddened by the death of her kin. She was lost in thought, but a manly girl like her couldn't suffer for shit for too long.

We still had to think about the aftermath of the plague and the various plagues that could befall us. The earthlings were still unaware of our presence, or so I hoped. I didn't know the actual ratio of their forces either, but it was more than clear that they were in their favor.

The darkness layered into our souls slowly and inexorably and many questioned why they were still breathing at all. The Invisibles had ceased their attacks, at least for a while.

Gerard Downs may be remembered for an impressive speech that is still etched in my mind - it was read by Averia before we scattered his ashes.

"You who think you are on the right path have long been on a very wrong one, Charon is not a place for death but for reflection and redemption. As much as you may not like it, the Unseen do exist. Whether you die of fear in your bed or keep your dignity is up to you. I don't expect you to understand me. But your bones will lie here somewhere one day. Is this the future you want for yourself. Will this be the end of Zegandaria?"

The tone in which Averia reads it - I just shudder more and her words hit me like hammers and her voice, slightly squeaky and ominous, sounds over the cyclotron synthesizer, letting us know how close we are to learning the truth.

If I had to say two kind words about the late Gerard, they would be "wisdom" and "love." He lived as if every day was his last and was grateful to the Almighty for his birth. I know that may sound old-fashioned to some. But that was him!

After it was all over, Averia came up to me and said:

- He considered you a friend! He left you a little present.

And secretly from the others he thrust something into my hand.

- "No, don't look at him in front of everyone," she told me a little nervously, "he said he would help you and you know what to do."

- "That's all I can do for you," she finished, backing away for fear of being noticed.

A little while later the remnants of Enbright's gang walked past me. Those bastards were going to get it - but not now. I had to put my plan into action first.

- You're a sneaky little bastard, Jervond. But we're gonna make you pay for McDougle's death.

I nearly burst out laughing at the mention of that bastard. Yeah, those fuckers had to get it or my name wouldn't be Jervond Om San! I was used to insolence, but on Charon it could reach enormous proportions.

Later we found Averia dead - she'd strangled herself with zerethium ropes. I think that was the last straw that really broke the cup of my patience.

Rento hadn't shown up in weeks, and I didn't know if the Intergalactic Police had finally caught him. We'd forged his papers, and it was a kind of recognition of his services to my father.

And just when I least expected it, he showed up.

He'd been supplying the colony with supplies since we'd been here almost twenty-five years by Earth reckoning, but Charon's time had flown very differently. For the record, a day on Charon was about six Earth days and nine Earth hours long, which might give you a rough idea of how drawn out everything was.

Rento had a haggard look about him.

- "I almost got caught," he muttered. - "The Intergalactic Police really have it coming," his tone indicated that he had already changed his mind about such an essential institution.

- "Did you bring the supplies?," I asked him rather brutally, "We haven't got too many!"

- "Well, yes, you're right!," he slapped his forehead. "I think I did take a little something."

There was so much stuff in the little transport shuttle. Normally they would have lasted us about a month, but this time Rento had taken triple that.

- "Maybe this is my last run," he spluttered, saliva spattering the glass of his visor. "I believe I owed you a little favour."

- "Even more," I replied, a little grimly.

Apparently my tone startled him somewhat. He looked around a little uneasily. And briefly laid out for me what was to happen.

Apparently Von Blask had gotten loose or something had happened. The computer virus "Hans" had fallen into their hands.

My brain worked quickly, but I still couldn't make the connection.

- "Don't you understand, they sent us here," Rento bellowed, "They did!"

- "Who, exactly?," I looked at him with a vague epiphany that something had slipped my mind.

The Ertol Gis Corporation, which ran Zegandaria. They're the ones who urged us to come here.

- "But that's ridiculous, " I countered, "What's the point? If they actually wanted to, they could harvest the viruses that are sealed under a giant sarcophagus for all time. Or at least that's how it was when we all left."

- "You're a fool," Rento hissed, "You've allowed fear and ignorance to blind your mind. The darkness has possessed you and you have become its servant. The light has long since fled from you. Is this the Jervond whose father I helped in time? Honestly, I can't even recognize you?"

The words stuck in my heart like laser cutters. They were so cruel, yet true. I couldn't help but agree with my friend that he was right. Certainly, the Intergalactic Police had taken pains to properly profile Rento, and in doing so, get a good look at his strengths and weaknesses. That was pretty scary, given that he had nowhere to run.

- "You might mention me in your prayers!," he insisted.

- "They were dying too much. Don't you want to be next? What I see now is just a reflection of the whole situation? Will you give up right now. You can build a new life somewhere else. 'And Von Blask won't be after you," I explained passionately, trying to reason with him and get him to see things through my eyes as well.

- "I don't think you're listening to me very carefully," Rento looked like a mortal, but the look hadn't lost its sternness, "We're running out of time, they want to get their hands on these particular viruses to get a better look at them."

I realized he wasn't joking. He was absolutely right.

- They intend to attack you soon. By the way, the clones that will be coming here at some point don't even realize what they're doing - not because they don't have brains, but just because that's how they were genetically selected. They have to serve. I advise you to flee, and this will be my last delivery. I believe, under the circumstances, I have done enough.

I didn't want to push it. So he did even more than enough. I decided to mentally mention him in my prayers - he had settled his accounts with Von Blask. The conflict was between them.

- "Look, I'm too old now," groaned Rento, who hadn't even turned seventy yet, "You'll have to manage from now on. I don't think the others will help you in your personal battle, but Averia Downs gave you something, didn't she?"

I wondered if I should tell him the truth. Maybe he was testing me. Maybe it was a trap? Rento had always struck me as a double bottom man, so even that was a possibility.

I thought about how well I knew Averia Downs. Well, actually, we'd barely spoken. This was getting awkward enough, and now even food was going to become a problem. Not that I counted on Rento being in this position for long. We'd already realized that we hadn't accomplished much in all the years we'd been here. We were getting more and more bogged down every day. Starvation, disease, harsh climate, the Unseen, death of close friends, or at least people I thought were close friends - the list was practically endless. One couldn't even determine which was the biggest trouble.

- Averia Downs actually gave you the real "Hans" virus. He activated all the others. She had tricked Von Blask, and he had tried to contact the Earth Federation.

- "Like father, like son, or maybe it was the other way around," I muttered under my breath, and Rento continued his last words. "Now this powerful trump card is in your hands. But there's something else. Enbright's gang won't leave you alone if the Unsullied don't finish you off, they certainly will. So try to buy time and everything will be fine, at least for a while. I don't think Cerberus's military commander has any real desire to interfere - one, he's a coward, and two, so he wants to keep the winnings for himself and get the hell out. He knows that after dealing with interlopers like you, his turn isn't too far away," he finished with a grim gesture.

We embraced fraternally. There were tears in our eyes. This man had done more for me than anyone else.

Rento left and I never saw him again. He was the kind of man who didn't like to complain. He wanted to indulge his suffering alone, or rather his doomed fate.

THE FORCES OF THE EARTH FEDERATION

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: THE FORCES OF THE EARTH FEDERATION

 

The Earth fleet was a formidable force, consisting of a vast number of cruisers, interceptor ships, battleships, battle speeders, and so on. Its command was entrusted to a young clone named GH306, who had been recently created, but had managed to acquire some sentience to create those risks of which the infamous Doctor Hermonal Bivors spoke. He knew that clones sometimes came to their senses, but he didn't care that much. He'd washed his hands of it and someone else would be targeted. The Doctor knew that all clones had a certain tolerance for life - not from a biological standpoint, but from a purely life standpoint. There had been cases of suicides, but the Doctor viewed them as annoying overkill and a waste of time and resources. It was simple mathematics.

GH306 had recently been promoted to commander of a squadron that was busy protecting the Asteroid Belt that lay between the inner and outer planets of the solar system.

It was located between Mars and Jupiter, and the ships guarded this area all too closely. Of course, there were no serious problems since Earth had regular membership in the so-called Galactic Federation. But sometimes uninvited guests were not lacking, so this time all available forces in the area were brought to heel.

The Ervanans, a parasitic and predatory race, had allowed themselves such intrusion without regard for the current galactic laws. They had entered these territories for a very specific purpose. Incidentally, it was proper to point out that very few of these celestial bodies were of any serious size - most asteroids were relatively sparsely distributed across the cosmic expanse - such was Ceres, for example.

It was there that the Ervanans decided to land temporarily - they knew they would be hard to spot if they did so here.

Their stay was relatively short and they sent scout ships beyond the Asteroid Belt - in the direction of Pluto. They had studied the capabilities of the Earth Federation, but even they did not know the capabilities of Korolan Bru.

That was exactly why they had been defeated most ingloriously. GH306 had made a very sneaky and ruthless ambush and dropped many atomic bombs on the enemy ships. The Ervanans, though technologically more advanced, had not expected such serious resistance. They had not appeared in this part of the Galaxy since.

 - "This plague has not been eradicated," GH306 pronounced with fervor, not because he had emotions, but because he was genetically programmed to do so, "They will return sometime, whether these or some others. We must protect the Earth."

The Earth fleet was under the direct command of a small group of specialists who could communicate with them via telepathy[1], but not too often. They only whispered the right thoughts to them if any of them strayed too far in their emotional susceptibility. This naturally caused them distress. A tremendous pain that was locked somewhere deep inside them. They didn't dare share about it all because the punishment was only one - instant death.

The Earth Federation did not care about their loss - not because it was not somewhat dependent on them itself, but because it intended to capture the critical number of displaced people who would provide it with the resources it needed in its further development.

Yet someone had missed the presence of errors in their cloning process.

Sometimes clones had memories of their donor's previous lives - vague traces of some unexpressed pain, a rebellion against the nature of life - of real life. Yes, they had some semblance of free will, but it was not intended by their creators to be human-like in any real sense.

The various Earthling ships had certain functions - some of them served as liaisons to the Mars robots and clones that operated them.

Other ships were of the Destroyer class - similar to those of Zegandaria, but their structure was vastly different. Earthlings still used composite alloys and nanomaterials. Instead, the inhabitants of Zegandaria emphasized kevlarite and silicon aronault, which were unknown to their Earth counterparts.

The most important function, however, was that of interceptor ships, on which the outcome of combat often depended.

It should be mentioned here that the Earth fleet was the real threat that loomed over many other civilizations - only they had no idea how little they needed to be wiped out.

The Earthmen were too cunning and cleverly simulated an excellent glide on the razor's edge. They knew they could easily be attacked by everyone else, and they hadn't gathered enough forces yet.

A clone made his decisions as if in another world - unbridled by scruples. Given the fact that he was going to die too soon, at about thirty-five or thirty-six, the prospect of having his name placed on a memorial plaque that would last through the ages aroused some enthusiasm in him.

The more they looked at their warped selves, they clearly saw all their moral and life degeneracy, but it was masked in a way that could be presented as socially useful. Even more, because of their role as cannon fodder, they had to be presented as something refined and almost aristocratic. That was how the system worked.

It was also not to be overlooked that many dangerous areas in the Kuiper Belt, including the dwarf planets of Haumea[2] and Makemake, were uncultivated according to the understanding of the super-powerful Korolan Bru Corporation. From an economic standpoint, they represented an appetizing morsel that could be bitten off relatively easily. Nor was it a technical problem that could not be overcome.

Haumea was a beautiful silvery world that could have been an excellent opportunity to move Cerberus' outpost to a place where resource extraction could actually be combined with warfare. There was frankly some irony in the fact that its surface temperature was less than 50 kelvin , which put it in roughly the same bracket as other relatively nearby dwarf planets, but the raw material extraction would have been enough to support a small settlement of about two hundred military personnel and a few interceptor ships that would have been the eyes and ears of the Earth Federation.

Also gravitating around Haumea were her two companions, Nimaka and Hyaka, named after the children of the fertility goddess in question.

But Galactic laws were in effect here to limit and deter cosmic aggression. There was also a serious problem. The humans still remembered the humiliation they had inflicted on the Ervanans and allowed for the possibility that sooner or later they would return.

The only one who actually remembered, and wished to remain etched in his memory, was the impressive performance of Or Suv Res, the commanding admiral of the Ervanan fleet, was the clone in question.

The Ervanans had been ordered to refrain from direct attack in order to better study the capabilities of this race. And they strictly adhered to that. Of course, the victory of GH306 was not to be downplayed.

They weren't aware of how technologically advanced they were during that time, nor how many bad memories they were feeding from their last encounter. The fact was that their defeat was the most overwhelming space military victory ever sustained by Earthlings. There was an electronic memorial plaque on Earth that could read the following, above and below:

"Clone GH306 boldly entered combat with Ervanan forces near the Asteroid Belt. He had used the 'sack' technique to his advantage, with which he surrounded and destroyed the enemy ships, still letting their commander Or Suv Res slip away! We do not know the exact numbers of the enemy, but witnesses to the battle state that the number of ships was over two thousand, strange as it may sound. They had long been secretly patrolling, and guarding, in a state of free hanging, some key points of this region. We assumed that the ingenious GH306 would get re-promoted, as the United Earth Fleet forces needed such heroes! Once again we bow to the sacrifices made in this colossal battle!"

Further on, the caption was strangely unreadable. Perhaps the command had seen fit to delete some unpalatable facts about their own losses, or simply to embellish their truly remarkable victory by refraining from sharing further information about the details of the battle.

 

[1] Telepathy (Greek: τηλε, meaning "long distance"; and Greek: πάθεια "feeling") is a parapsychological phenomenon - the transmission of thoughts and feelings between people over long distances without the use of technical means.

[2] The asteroid Haumea is named after the Hawaiian goddess of childbirth, Haumea.

METEORITE HUNTING

CHAPTER NINETEEN: METEORITE HUNTING

 

Hunting meteorites is romantic, but also dangerous. Gerard Downs was gone ingloriously, and I had been warned by Rento of the great danger that loomed over me. Of course, I had taken Enbright's men for a real threat long ago. They had an interest in my death for a number of reasons.

After our last adventure, I soon received clear indications that my time was numbered right by them.Perhaps, I, Jervond Om San, had neglected to mention some essential details of our daily life on Charon - it was far from consisting solely of sleeping, working, or even guarding our ridiculously small colony. There were quite a few other factors that had to be taken into account. The space hooligans were aggressive, but they couldn't really run the colony on their own - either because of their lack of knowledge and skill, or their own narrow-mindedness.

The misfits gathered around Enbright had a certain sense of importance when they were around such a prominent and distinguished thug - though many had long prayed that McDougle would simply go away, either from natural death or some other cause.

Perhaps fate heard their pleas and did indeed answer - and in time.

The problem was that the real source of funding for Enbright's group, was Zerilia Cox, who was also dead. They were running an illegal gambling operation that was dripping something. Anyone who didn't have currency, either Earth Ents or Galactic Federation e-credits, which probably vaguely resembled our own, that was in exchange on Zegandaria, paid otherwise. And no one complained. The problem was, amidst having the Unspeakables strike so unexpectedly before my friend Jake's death, the whole gamble came to naught, as Enbright's real goal was thought to be to raise enough funds to get out of "that hole," as he affectionately called Charon.

But not to go into unnecessary detail, as not everyone would have the patience to go into every detail.

It would be proper, however, to mention some details of the type of gambling activity they were developing. On Zegandaria they played "Entosu" and so on, but here there were no conditions for these games.

It was played on a huge field - roughly a metre and twenty by Earth standards. Each of the four players had life cards, which they paid for with their own blood, in cases where they couldn't even pay with food. In the course of the game, a veritable space war was waged on the colony, played to the last survivor, who was usually one of Enbright's men. There were also cases of people dying from excessive gambling. But Enbright was shrewd and tried to avoid this scenario, which incidentally also hurt his business reputation. When the game was lost, the delinquent was obliged to surrender his life to Enbright and his men. The shrewd business guru resold his wares secretly to other nearby human settlers. But we learned about that much, much later.

We didn't have the resources to organize a police force to deal with all his transgressions, since the yields from the space greenhouses were barely enough for us, and there was no point.

The late Zerilia Cox also became aware of her partner's greedy nature and soon backed off. Rumor had it that Enbright was preparing to physically remove her and pass the blame to the Unsullied.

But these creatures thwarted his attempts to do so.

I was in one of the main buildings of our colony. When building on Charon, especially when you're going to build some sort of more massive structure on a surface of rock mixed with nitrogen ice and methane, you have to follow certain principles. Our buildings were isometric in nature and oval-ovoid in shape - they had to be stable enough not to sink, nor their foundations to succumb to a possible collision with very small meteorites, which was not entirely out of the question after all, and neither were the solar winds for which our satellite was a major barrier. We had discovered a new alloy, chironium, which was much stronger than the kevlarite of Zegandaria - perhaps over three times so, and possessed the necessary elasticity and so-called deflection tolerance. In other words, we could enjoy the comfort of building structures more than one story above the surface, which in those conditions was pure luxury.

Typically, the service rooms were located on the first floor and the living quarters on the second and third floors.

I was just about to lie down on the anti-gravity bed and switch into hibernation mode when I was viciously attacked by at least five thugs. The spacesuit rattled from their blows - they were armed with Ansarian boxers, clearly wanting to kill me. Two of them also had laser cutters, but then I didn't have time to look around.

I reacted quickly and aimed a strike at the closest of them. As Von Blask's pet, I had inherited some of his fighting skills - he had studied under Kenji Nolsuro the basics of so-called space combat and was doing his best to pass that knowledge on to me, believing that I was destined to carry out important tasks.

And he turned out to be right. The impact nearly shattered the intruder's jaw and brutally shattered his suit's visor. Agonizing decompression followed and he began to slowly suffocate. He was wiry and didn't give up easily, so I grabbed the laser cutter of one of the attackers and stabbed him in the heart, finishing him off for good. This blow would have been shown by Rento shortly before we finally parted ways. He claimed the "evoro" had some advantages at close range. And that saved me.

The others ran away.

ENBRIGHT'S SECRET PAST

CHAPTER TWENTY: ENBRIGHT'S SECRET PAST

 

After the attack in question, I decided to dig carefully into the past of my worst enemy. It was shrouded by a deep secrecy that was decidedly too convenient and worked to the advantage of this now subdued subject.

Some experienced hand seemed to guard it. But at last I was able to get at something interesting. It turned out that McDougle Enbright was an Earth clone who had been spying among us. Then I decided to dig deeper. I didn't have a corpse, and I couldn't question left and right without arousing serious suspicions.

It turned out that the lifespan that was genetically determined for these creatures was the real cause of death.

- My God, that also means that Zerilia Cox and also my friend Jake were ...

Pain gripped my throat and I cried. I cried silently. I cried because I realized the tragic predestination of these creatures. But soon I understood. Apparently the Earthlings wanted to make contact - they weren't sure what race we belonged to, or what exactly the nature of our psyche was. I also didn't know if any information had been leaked by our colony members, who were being resold by Enbright in his cruel gambles.

- "Now that really means I have to take matters into my own hands," I said.

Behind me, the darkness seemed to agree with my position.

I decided to poke around after all, and maybe something would pop out of somewhere that would be of use to me about this scoundrel.

The only thing that came to light, however, was something rather disturbing.

Enbright seemed to have popped out of nowhere and had failed in any form to leave any trace behind. After a meticulous examination of the colony's archive, which was housed in one of the isolated dungeons not too far from some of the greenhouses, and was heavily guarded, I discovered a small Narenzian chip that was so encrypted that I was unable to even open it - let alone decipher the nature of its contents.

I was surprised, but I returned the chip to its place so that its absence would not be felt. I kept digging - and eventually absolutely nothing came out!

It was as if McDougle Enbright had not been born at all, nor had he had any life before Charon.

- "That's impossible," I exclaimed, "absolute madness."

I decided to question from afar some of his people who were perhaps more knowledgeable than myself.

The only thing I learned was that Enbright had been trying to sell some interesting things to someone and that was where he had first sensed some danger.

Enbright may have been a brash and self-righteous bully, but he was certainly a pretty intelligent man with balls and didn't care about anything or anyone.

I tried to make some guess as to what could have happened so much to put his courage in question?

It was as if even the walls were mute witnesses to all my fruitless searches.

Nor could his dead partner be of much use to me, which quite narrowed the range of my search.

One thing was clear - everything around him resembled mortal obscurity!

THE DEAD CITY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: THE DEAD CITY

 

The Dead City we called a very strange place. Perhaps I failed to mention that our colony was located in one of the craters in the southern part of Charon. It was located in the Dark North Polar Region - it was one of the coldest places on Charon, which was generally extremely inhospitable.

Some time ago we decided to organize an expedition to uncover possible traces of previous life on the satellite. We assumed that perhaps the Ervanans had stayed here briefly, but there was no way to be sure. Planning such an undertaking was not easy. I had to engage my best people to commit to the cause and really show their skills.

First the remoteness of our end goal was indeed a difficult hurdle. We couldn't just tread through the ice. Second, we also had no real weapons with which to deal with a potential adversary.I decided to take Jessica with me, who was the great-granddaughter of the late Mrs. Edwater, who had helpfully rescued Mark and Sasia at St. Joseph's Clinic. She had an innate sophistication and her bearing exuded real confidence.

I definitely needed a technician, too, because the built-in mechanisms and traps of some civilization could prove a serious test for us.

Finally, I felt a real dire need for people who could fight, because there weren't too many other suitable people besides me and Enbright's men.

Whether I wanted to or not, I had to seek their help and hope that the revelation I made about their leader would turn them in my favor.

I decided to meet in the greenhouses, after the evening shift there was a short pause, which was caused by the work cycle itself - it was the change of the parameters of the irrigation system. The problem was that due to the very freezing temperatures, we were using granulated water, which was gradually being absorbed by the plants.

The Enbright people were not impressed and were not at all willing to interfere with my projects. They were eager to play solo, which would mean to put the noose on themselves, because hunger and stalemate in the colony were increasing.

I was first approached by Rivinus Olk, who was so bloodthirsty and was in fact the right-hand man of Enbright himself:

I want you to know that for us to come, we have to get more than sweet talk about whether Enbright was cloned or not. On the other hand, the information you give is too valuable. So we've been led by the nose all this time. Damn it!" he finished his tirade with an audible curse.

'I don't want to lie to you, the colony we had intended to be sustainable may not be at all,' I called to Jervond Om San, a descendant of Seraija Gul San who was, after all, one of the last survivors of the Battle of Au Kaktir.

Our appearance somewhat respected them. They also knew that the ship had sunk long ago and were in a hurry to shed their skins. The problem was that while he was with me, Rento had canceled them in that part and the smugglers couldn't profit on the backs of the poor colonists. It was definitely messing with their health. And to rely on gambling profits in a place like this was pure madness!

I want to say one more thing here, in her lifetime, Zerilia Cox had put her affairs in order. And Magduggle - as much as he was written of as a charlatan and a rogue - was not. There were payment irregularities between the gang members, and on the whole my offer sounded enticing enough to them.

They still looked at me with suspicion, but I had a real feeling they were going to pounce. And I wasn't fooled.

- "Okay, we'll accompany you, but I want to know from now on what our actual share of the profit or loot will be. Black and white. And besides, we need more serious weapons. What are you practically offering us?," growled another gang member named Lozur Ban, who was the most bloodthirsty bastard of this rotten gang of blackmailers and murderers.

- "You'll get fifty per cent," I replied quietly, "I'll keep only ten for myself. And what I do with them is my business!"

- "And where will the other forty percent go?," another gang member inquired. "That's a lot of money."

- "That's none of your business either," I snapped at them.

They looked at each other. They felt I wasn't lying to them, but they also felt they were treading on thin ice that, if it cracked, could easily drown them. They were not treading very confidently, for they were used to imposing their own rules. And that was their own business.

I liked Lozur Ban - he was ready to snap any creature's neck, and he was just as strong as a small Groandus. That bastard clearly wasn't born a woman!

Our little council could easily attract prying eyes, so I made sure to take the necessary precautions. It was true that we didn't have any Riandan teraflyters, but I could still think of something. I was resourceful and flexible enough, and it was no coincidence that my great ancestor had been a great warrior.

I decided to just let the others go for green caviar by lying to them that the late Enbright had left a large fortune hidden away and they were given a certain amount of time to find it. You'd be amazed what wonders greed can work! You will be amazed indeed!

"Oh, yes, Jervond," I said to myself, "your time has come at last! Something depends on you now after all! Do your best! Do your work well! Don't give up! Don't!"

These thoughts ran through my mind in less than a millisecond. And hardly anyone was impressed.

- "Look, we're all guests in this world," I began in a strange voice, "many of us died, we may all die soon. You want to end up like my friend Jake in your own bed? Or do you want to fight like the predators you naturally are? The decision is yours."

My words obviously made a huge impression on them - they realized we could still find common ground.

Now we had to start preparing.

- "How many people do you need for this trip?," the fourth member of the team inquired, "We need to know in order to prepare!"

- "At least twelve people must take part in this expedition," I replied quite confidently, as if I had been leading expeditions all my life.

- "I think we can provide them," they replied in chorus.

- "That suits me perfectly," I ended the conversation.

Then we slowly made our way out of the greenhouses. Luckily for us, we had not attracted undue attention. My plan was already starting to work. I had turned my greatest enemies into my greatest friends!

The biggest irony was that our planet Pluto, had a retrograde orbit that testified to its violent past, and we were on Charon, a place where surviving without violence was nearly impossible!

THE SMUGGLER

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: THE SMUGGLER

 

- "Being a smuggler isn't for everyone," Rento was fond of saying, 'It takes an arse and a healthy psyche. Something more. It takes being able, when the going gets really tough and you get chased hard, to do the job all by yourself."

I loved him, even if I vaguely knew he was too dangerous. He was an example and a model of a slowly but irrevocably disappearing breed. He didn't venture under that moniker because he didn't have the vast knowledge of a warrior, or was less aware of the principles of astrophysics or quantum mechanics than myself. Rento wanted and loved this lifestyle. To be a member of the pack or a lone wolf. He had no other choice. In my opinion it was the end of an era of real men who kept their word.

Rento fiddled with something on his combat speeder and tried to sort out his jumbled thoughts.

- "Just think, mate," he turned to me amiably, "some really good men have gone. But the process of natural selection doesn't forgive at all. Those we thought were strong warriors and leaders turned out to be not so strong, or just people with little chance."

His reasoning, though simple, shocked me. He spoke the very truth.

- This world is going away. Perhaps a better beginning will come. But it certainly won't be the same. We are already living in another time and many of us feel it. Leave these lost souls to Charon - they don't have the strength of resistance that life requires. They don't know it and they don't want to know it either. They use the simplest and most abhorrent to life itself technique of survival - mimicry. It is not funny, it is scary.

- "What are you going to do when you're done with this craft?," I asked, "You still have to do something, don't you?"

- "I'll go over there," he pointed indefinitely with his hand.

I tried to trace the direction of his finger, but could make nothing out. Rento spoke cryptically.

- "Do you have any idea what brutal impositions corporations like Korolan Bru impose on Earthlings?," he suddenly changed the subject of the conversation.

- "Well, to be honest, I've never given it a second thought?," I muttered, "That's a very specific question in general?"

- "But vitally important," Rento confirmed, "The taxes are ninety-five per cent. Do you have any idea how to live on the pittance the Earth Federation gives you - and most kindly."

- "You speak of these things with great emotion," I marvelled.

- My dear Jervond, remember well social equality or the ideology of a perfect society is an illusion, but what I have seen with my own eyes exceeds even my wildest expectations. It is just a huge outrage and nothing more.

Rento finished repairing his machine and hurried to get ready to make one of the last deliveries.

He knew we were relying on him too much and he had good reason why.

The psyche of a smuggler was something very few people could understand.

The Intergalactic Police had put a huge bounty on his head not because he was breaking certain rules, but for the trivial reason that people like him wanted to live as they knew how. That is, Rento didn't account for the sums owed to her corrupt bosses. Pretty soon his transgressions became too much and he was forced to give up these ventures of his. Of course, no one knew yet that he had killed Von Blask because the military commander had promised to hold his tongue. He wanted to trade this valuable information, and if he was going to talk to anyone, it had to be either a senior associate of the Korolan Bru Corporation or one of the Earth Federation governors. For the moment, he couldn't leave his position on Cerberus, as due to the harsh conditions, a brutal rebellion could easily break out that might not be put down.

Needless to mention, there had been at least two rebellions in the recent past that were too dangerous for the entire colony and could have threatened the existence of this outpost that the Earth Federation hoped and relied upon.

The commander's name was Brutus and he knew how to bargain. He'd worked his way into this position with the most brutal of grasps and seized every opportunity for personal gain.

Brutus had quite a street manner, but he was by no means a fool - he knew how to bargain away a piece of information that could prove valuable and useful. But one of the things that stood out was the real possibility of achieving a ridiculous kind of autonomy.

The Earth Federation had devised a cunning ploy to encourage betrayals of commanders by giving them some autonomy.

Of course, nothing was known and Brutus was barely able to keep up with the rising demands. Many before him had failed and hadn't even gotten that far.

Earth wanted higher and higher performance, and Cerberus' growth opportunities were limited. However, Brutus was the first to provide professional nurses and also a military doctor to really be of help to the wounded veterans. Because of this sound judgment, he was able to pass on much valuable information to Earth Command.

As a matter of fact, when the Cerberus Outpost budget was voted on, some uncharacteristically sanctimonious comments were made concerning the development of the entire space policy of the Earth Federation.

The upkeep of the base, the platoons, the various installations, and not least the medical staff was in the order of a hundred billion ents, which was too much. It was almost four percent of the entire budget of the Korolan Bru Corporation, which had yet to deploy its serious conquest capabilities.

After the revelations had been made, however, the platoon commander hoped that the budget would be increased and his services to the common good would be honoured. He also hoped he wouldn't be left with just the one hope.

Anyway, the nurse had been questioned, not by the commander, but by someone else entirely, and it was highly likely that she had said something unpleasant.

But he would look into the matter. He immediately dropped his connections and did his best to learn everything he could get his hands on. Somewhere not very far ahead something really big was brewing!

Brutus was going to howl like a street dog, because he knew the Earth Federation was about to displace the outpost on the little dwarf planet Haumea, which to him was utter nonsense. Not that Cerberus's sprawl was going to cease to exist, but he could have easily lost his head.

He had only ordered access to Von Blask's body, and it had actually turned out to be a winning move. There was a small ciphergram in there, which he deciphered with a tremendous amount of willpower and the help of the colony's supercomputer.

"Rento, I fell by your hand. But know that in the next world ... there is retribution!"

Commander Brutus took a moment to comprehend what was written before him. Rento? So wasn't he the smuggler for whose head they wanted such a large bounty?

It was worth checking, but he couldn't do so directly as the Intergalactic Police were all too likely to sniff out his unhealthy interest in their work.

A short time later, a special news bulletin about him was received over internal channels via the Mars broadcasting station.

"Rento. Former bounty hunter. Zegandarian. Extremely dangerous and cunning smuggler!"

The commander wanted to sink straight into the ground and that was the end of him, but he quickly steeled himself and decided not to go down without a fight. He had to succeed and do something - otherwise he was done for good.

But somewhere behind him he heard voices. He quickly left the command room with the supercomputer. He also had to recharge his spacesuit, as oxygen was running out relatively quickly.

Then he realized. They were not alone. Rento had come here on this same little dwarf planet, and it hadn't just happened. What if it had been a Korolan Bru man?

He decided not to deal with him directly, but to share the valuable information in a way that his promotion couldn't escape. He didn't want to be liquidated for meddling in the corporation's affairs. It would have been utter nonsense! Korolan Bru used a special organization called the Holy Space Inquisition to kill, castrate, dismember, and destroy the unruly. Holy cosmic morality!

THE COSMIC INQUISITION

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: THE COSMIC INQUISITION

 

- "Let me go, you beasts," bellowed a young smuggler who clearly didn't have Rento's luck.

- "We'll castrate you for edification, scum," the Chief Executioner bellowed at him, "I have the right to turn you into a sexless individual. I'll completely incapacitate you and you'll end up on a mining colony on the moon. Having serious crimes on your record is simply outrageous. You've also been a chief accomplice in the heinous acts of so many other criminals."

The place of torture was extremely specific and really had to be what it is. On his head, the Chief Executioner wore a special ebon helmet that tied into his entire spacesuit. He was supposed to strike terror into the miscreants.

The criminal this time was only twenty-three Earth years old, with a sturdy build and pretty bad luck. They had attempted to transport certain forbidden raw materials and use some special restricted ports located on Mars. What happened afterwards with all this was completely unknown.

The restricted ports on Mars were located in the area of the so-called Utopia Basin. There the smugglers were far enough beyond the reach of Earth's jurisdiction to basically do whatever they wanted.

Naturally, one would ask, wasn't there a logical reason why some of all this wasn't happening that way? Was there no danger of being caught or even killed on the spot. After all, the most important displacement on Earth was right there. After all, all major communication was based at King Taris Base, from where Korolan Bru commanded their vast operations.

King Taris Base was so huge that it could hold not two hundred and fifty, but perhaps even over a thousand men, but that was not the purpose of Earth Command. It craved and desired a certain buffer or tolerance in case it had to recall some of its contingent stationed on Cerberus.

As time went on, the clones that died were removed in a very humane, in the Corporation's understanding, manner. They were used for various developments through which certain results could be achieved.

The exact location of King Taris was top secret, but it was assumed to be somewhere in the Alba Mons area, which in effect gave it some protection against the winds that blew incessantly on the Martian surface.

Alba Mons was also known as Alba Patera and was a cauldron-shaped volcanic peak, and even earlier it was known as the Arcadian Ring.

This location was not chosen by the Earth Federation by chance, as it was there that possible attacks by land from alien civilizations could be fought off. And for air defense, they relied on photon cannons, which were so densely spread throughout the base that it could get expensive. In addition to the cannons, there were several interceptor ships - ready to give a partial fightback.

The base was hidden well enough, yet the Ervanans had proven their brutal brazenness of encroaching on the living space of the human population.

So Korolan Bru decided to allocate a special portion of his budget to beef up its security.

OccasioNaly, the Holy Space Inquisition would send certain units to this very base, as the clones were known for their complete loyalty and lack of almost any emotion. Not too far away in the same crater was another structure that was close to the cargo docks and official space ports of Mars.

There the Inquisition conducted its punitive activities.

The young man was naked, awaiting his punishment. The executioner was in no hurry to end this torture. He had never punished anyone persoNaly before, and on Mars. But this time this criminal was too important and serious, if the Earth Federation's reports were to be believed.

- "You'll be forgiven the opportunity to carry out your misdeeds," he hissed to instil more fear in his victim.

They had bound him tightly with neo-ren ropes and he was reduced to a helpless state. He was so alone - abandoned by his companions, to whom he had brought rich booty.

The smugglers of the "Order of the Varks" were working only for their own personal gain, and that was right in their opinion.

Soon the executioner began the brutal operation. The youth showed spirit, but fainted from the immense pain. The executioner had made sure there was profuse bleeding and this satisfied his smugness as a torturer.

Only the surrounding walls of solid composite were a mute witness to all this atrocity. The light was so dim, and the neon lights cast their sickly luminous temperament all around.

A few minutes and the tissue was separated from the body, and the gaping huge wound was downright frightening and bleeding profusely.

The torturer continued his outrages, pouring a hydrochloric acid solution over the living wound - not too strong, but enough to cause brutal pain and send the fainting body into a beastly satanic trance.

Finally, when they were finished, they simply shot the unfortunate man. That at least ended his inhuman suffering.

The chief executioner removed his mask - he was a middle-aged man who knew what pain meant, having been disfigured himself in one of the brutal Ervanan invasions.

As for the new recruits, they had only transgressed the solar system's boundaries once, but they were practically frequent hidden observers beyond the Kuiper Belt. What was more, they were learning from the achievements of the humans, studying their weaknesses in their own way in anticipation of striking a blow at the enemy civilization one day.

But until then, there was still too much time ... too much time. And a lot was going to happen.

THE END OF THE RENTO

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: THE END OF THE RENTO

 

Rento was doomed to brutal remorse, but in time he became acutely aware of the sadness of life as a lone wolf. The more time passed, he realized that he would soon be unable to remain within the confines of the solar system, and returning to Zegandaria was impossible.

- "I've been through it all," he ground out through his teeth. "I killed all those. I killed for you, Detective Boss. And I was loyal to you. Now I've become a criminal to survive, and here comes the end of that line of work of mine. Where the hell am I, my God?"

Few could fight more skillfully than he, or hold a weapon in the way his hand could only acquire after Sebur Nag's intense training - away from the eyes of ordinary observers.

He was now deprived of the right to live, deprived of the right to craft, eager to realize his transgression and atone, if not to others or the Most High, at least to himself.

In the end, he decided to head for Haumea specifically, where he could die a true warrior.

Rento didn't want to go back, but he also realized something else - what a huge lie his life had been so far. So false and so meaningless - he had fallen victim to his own naivety to help others. He had tried so long, he had broken the rules so long, he had gotten away with it so many times.

He was Rento, determined to kill in the name of an immanent goal, but to protect others and help them as he understood it.

The Earth Federation had not yet established the Cerberus Dispatch, and that was very significant to them all. They had no real access to this place, and Rento had decided to end his life there.

The Earth poets had an interesting verse about this planet.

"Haumea - mother kindness,

To children you gave life,

Two beside thee are they - for ever!"

His speeder landed on Haumea and he stepped out of it. The cold was piercing. He took a few steps that seemed endless. He tried to give himself courage. Then he slowly reached for his weapon. The following memory flashed before his eyes.

Detective Boss had once told him:

- "I love you like a son, you whiny bastard. You're like the other half of my body - only worse," he coughed and laughed in his typical style.

- "Thanks, Dad, I mean, Detective Boss," muttered Rento, who was touched.

- "There's no room for sentimentality in our line of work, my boy," Detective Boss turned to him, "I love you subconsciously because I know you'd bet your ass and die for me. I'd do the same for you."

This conversation had been so long ago, but Rento remembered it. Detective Boss' squad had become number one on the entire planet of Zegandaria after that. And somewhere out there, deep inside, he had finally found his "family".

That "family" accepted him and gave him support - at least while they carried out their mutual missions. And not infrequently, Detective Boss tried to give some help to his fallen teammates. Even though he was in distress himself.

The stiff man was well aware that sooner or later it would come to that. He'd kept to himself for too long and isolated himself from the outside world. His relationship with Boss and the others kept him afloat. He had no purpose in life now. He had paid his debt to Jervond, too. What more did they expect? He owed no one anything anymore.

He pulled the trigger and fired. His soul separated from his body and he was able to see his whole tortured life as if in a dream. All the mistakes and woes. Every stupidity he had committed. Every good deed that had ripped itself from the depths of his heart.

His corpse thudded slowly, and the spacesuit, once it made contact with the surface, began to slowly freeze.

Only his eyes - bulging and sinister - were full of sadness, sadness for a life unlived, full of too much - too much suffering, even.

To some this suffering was nothing, but to the stern Rento it was redemption, for he had long gone down almost entirely conscious, but inevitably doomed by circumstance, he had forged his killer instinct.

There was a very simple regularity in nature - it was not the strongest, the fittest who survived, but the most adaptable to a given situation. Rento was already a passenger from much earlier, he had done his best to get this far.

His spacesuit was enveloped by the icy embrace of death. That was the price he paid for his mistakes!

A price too high!

The moments of oblivion would easily be triggered when his speeder disappeared into this icy hell as well.

COMPLETELY ALONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: COMPLETELY ALONE

 

Jervond was left completely alone and felt he had to get ready. The others weren't going to linger too long. The team was determined to get to the Dead City and find out if there was anything useful they could actually leave the planet with. They didn't know what they might find there, but they assumed it might be something that had escaped the eyes and ears of the Earth Federation for the simple reason that its ships had never landed here.

Earthlings clearly had some respect for Charon, who was generally associated with death.

This was welcome news to Jervond and his group.

Lest they find out about their trip - at least not immediately, they changed the shifts of the workers and left them to routine activities that could not, and should not, be interrupted until they left the confines of the colony.

Enbright's men stuck to their word and did a brilliant job. These chiefs had a certain sense of honour which in this instance they really justified.

They had to determine the exact route, of which there was comparatively little information.

The fact was that they had to cross up and down the whole of Charon until they reached where they were bound for.

The Dark North Polar Region had been too well studied by Earth astronomers, but unfortunately I had not been able to get my hands on a single Earth map in all these long years.

It was getting harder and harder, and as we left I decided to tell them one last time:

- Guys, we're going to almost certain death. Remember, this decision was yours, I decided to remind them again.

Nobody said anything.

We set off slowly and must have been able to cope with the whole situation, because nobody said a word.

Charon, as mythologized as it was, wasn't exactly where I wanted to end my days. It was an abode of doom. Maybe Rento was completely right that we weren't sent here by accident, but there was a deeper design. Maybe the super-powered Ertol Gis and Korolan Bru had worked out this scenario long, long before. Things were really looking more and more interesting as time went on.

Enbright's chieftains clearly had some training after all, and were giving their best to catch up with the pace. We were wearing well-insulated spacesuits that protected us from the adverse temperatures. Our weaponry consisted mostly of Enbright laser cutters, but I'd tried and stocked up on something more serious. There might have been some sign of life on Charon, besides us of course - though that was unlikely.

Depth of perception depended on how you were used to seeing reality, and it could take too many forms depending on that.

Enbright's people had only lived in a violent world, and that could play them a bad joke if something went wrong in the end.

First we passed through some of the toughest areas of Charon, such as Oz Terra, to reach our destination, which incidentally was also known as Mordor Macula. This interesting place was definitely shrouded in mystery and its origins were not fully explained by Earth astronomers. Of course, we were coming from Zegandaria, but we were still sort of guests in this place.

Perhaps I hadn't mentioned yet that our colony was located in a huge plateau near the south pole, but let's not digress too much. After all, we had too much of a journey ahead of us.

Time was advancing, and all the crew members were becoming more and more mortified, though it didn't quite show through their spacesuits.

We passed the Sea of Stillness, if we could call it that, and tried to skirt around it in our attempts to avoid the rock climbing.

This, however, might have played us a bad joke.

The solar wind was a danger, but we moved as carefully as we could to avoid falling victim to it.

THE BLINDFOLD FALLS FROM THE EYES

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: THE BLINDFOLD FALLS FROM THE EYES

 

At one point, Enbright's men apparently got loose and tried to attack me. It was a real travesty, as we could easily have flown off into open space if it hadn't been for the sturdy zeroth ropes holding us.

I fought off one or two, but there were fifteen of them and death was obviously going to find me in that place. Then I did something extremely sneaky - I hid a small rock in one of the compartments of my spacesuit. I pulled it out and hid it in my handful - when the first seeker approached, I clawed at him brutally and splashed his visor. Naturally, decompression ensued, which cost him his life. I didn't even look who I had hit. I knew the bastard was doomed and would be wiped from our final roster, which in that order of thought meant we'd screw up more.

- "Did you see where your reckless actions got you?," I roared at the cyclotron synthesizer. "You are to blame for your own downfall!"

- "You're leading us to certain death," McDougle's goons tried to justify, "And you don't know exactly where we're going yourself."

I figured it was pointless arguing with idiots, but that I should raise their fighting spirit at least a little - I couldn't go on completely alone.

- "If anyone dares such wilfulness again, they'll simply be left to their fate," I threatened them firmly, "That's my last word, and so it shall be."

Nobody made a sound. And we went calmly on. I'd like to share a bit about some of the geography of Charon, though. Though small, the planetoid was riddled with all sorts of craters and so on.

Eventually, Enbright's men realized they needed to tighten up. Lozur Bann was the one we needed, his brute strength a guarantee of safety.

He was definitely useful when it came to breaking someone's bones, but now a lot of other things needed to happen.

Lozur Ban didn't talk much, but unlike the rest of Enbright's men, he could listen and handle trouble on his own.

The implications for others who were unwilling to listen were all too clear - I could use him to impose my own will.

Rivinus Olk was still steady and willing to take the lead, so I decided not to ignore him and make him my deputy. I explained to him that we could split into smaller groups, which would make us a harder target. He agreed with my reasoning.

After we regrouped, we moved on. This helped us a lot.

It took us a long time to get out of Oz Terra, but we still made it in the end.

We had taken special ATVs that Rento had brought from somewhere, and I had paid him with changed IDs that would keep him safe for a while.

Rivinus Olk knew how to take the initiative the right way and even save the whole group, so I put him in charge of the first squad.

The strongest were moving behind, and so were the ones in front. We had borrowed this principle from the wolf pack, which had developed this strategy to protect its weaker members.

Not all members of Enbright's gang were of equal strength though.

The smaller ones were engaged in scouting and reconnaissance and marking the route for the others.

Suddenly, however, Rivinus stopped and approached me, saying sympathetically:

- What are we looking for anyway?

- Well, I think there may be Ervanan ships hidden out there. They may have suffered a shipwreck of sorts.

- "A shipwreck?," he looked at me uncomprehendingly.

- "They may have crashed on hard landing," I replied simply.

He nodded in understanding.

- And how are we going to use their weapons?

That was a really good question - we had never used weapons in the colony. I'd heard that on Zegandaria they'd made use of a variety of weapons like plasma rifles and so on, but we had no real idea how advanced the Ervanans were, and that might have failed us.

I'll also spare you many of the minor and annoying details, like the fact that some team members almost died from a rockfall.

I may have failed to say that in our journey so far we had explored the Sea of Tranquility, albeit briefly. We didn't want to waste unnecessary time because our oxygen was extremely limited.

As we began to enter Mordor Macula, I noticed that the surrounding darkness that was already abundant on Charon was just beginning to take a serious toll on the psyches of the others.

I didn't fear riots, but nothing was known all the same.

- "Try to stay closer," I ordered, relying on Rivinus Olk and Lozur Ban to be a deterrent to any possible accidents.

Mordor Macula had been formed, according to some theories, when hydrogen and methane had separated from Pluto and then layered on Charon's surface.

Yes, this particular spot was hardly the most convenient for landing, but there were certainly plenty of convenient places around where this aggressive race might have stationed their ships.

Rivinus Olk, Lozur Ban and I - Jervond Om San - looked into the distance - there was the reddish colour of that area. It seemed that this race, had chosen the right place for themselves. The place from where it could observe the Earth Federation covertly.

THE ERVANANS

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: THE ERVANANS

 

Many races were too aggressive, but none were as brutal as the Ervanans - they were simply the top of the predator pyramid. They were trying to gain the upper hand, but they couldn't win that crucial battle.

Admiral Or Suv Res had not forgiven the brutal loss that had set them back too far. They had prepared and missed a chance to impose themselves on the Galactic Federation, where Earth was an active member.

By some vast and inexplicable miracle, the Admiral had escaped the brutal punishment. But it made him all the more ambitious to just go back and get revenge.

He decided to hide some Charon ships - near the outpost of the humans, so he could secretly spy on them. The location was, in his opinion, downright perfect. Just perfect!

He was able to make amends for some of the losses his fleet had suffered, and that way the hidden ships wouldn't arouse anyone's suspicions.

He wished he had deployed many more, but he only managed to hide ten.

There was one important thing that had always affected the psyche of any commander, and that was the number of dead - in the case of Or Suv Res, it was truly enormous, even too much.

Few had any real chance of dealing with the scourge that the Ervanans had gradually become.

With the passage of time, they had conquered territories too vast - they were like locusts that left no room for the rest to live.

There were so many worlds beyond the Cloud of Oort, unknown to humans. Their engines could not make up for many of the shortcomings that were overcome by us Zegandarians.

There were many planetoids in the sparse belt beyond the Kuiper Belt that might have allowed for their displacement, but they were not under Galactic Federation jurisdiction either.

The Ervanans really wondered what to do - it wasn't so easy to just abandon their ships, but Admiral Orr Suv Res simply told them:

- That's an order, try not to be found!

The Ervanans rushed to carry out his orders, and they definitely made huge progress. Mordor Macula was a wonderful place to hide everything.

The Ervanan ships had certain features that were not to be overlooked. There was no better camouflage than theirs, but there was something in there somewhere that was definitely relevant - these ships could change shape according to what ships they had encountered before - this shape shifting was known as the chameleon effect.

These ships were built of peculiar materials as it had to be admitted that somewhere out there Earth engineers would give sweetly and dearly to take advantage of their advanced technology.

But the Ervanans destroyed their own ships for fear of falling into enemy hands.

The Ervanans were doing well enough in terms of their battle fleet, but that was not the way things stood in terms of their morale. From a human point of view, as science developed, so should morale, but this race needed more and more resources and had to get them from somewhere.

Before it had entered the solar system it had pounced on many other mouth-watering nuggets - but without much success, for the Galactic Federation guarded zealously the safety of its members.

Objectively speaking, this race had quite an advantage over the human race, which had begun its development much later.

The bodies of the Ervanans were far more resistant to cosmic radiation than that of their Earth counterparts.

We could apply a very simple example - in the past, astronauts who were sent on missions to Mars had a huge risk of developing cancer due to the doses of radiation they received.

An Ervanian wouldn't have suffered from that because his body wasn't affected by it all that much and he even had the biological ability to cleanse himself of it, albeit very slowly.

Their list of conquests was endless - they had first reached for some of the exoplanets around the Centaur constellation. There were enough interesting possible places for them to establish a possible colony.

But their resources weren't inexhaustible, frankly they needed to find a safe place where they could have a chance to catch their breath. The Earthmen were under the impression that the Ervanans were too numerous, which wasn't quite true. They had simply mobilized almost all of their available forces, which were organized and pointed in the right direction for a blitzkrieg war[1].

Not that they minded, but they were placed in a complete stalemate. There was something else to be known. The Ervanans never cooperated with other races because they felt it was beneath them. It was just genetically wired into their veins.

Om Suv Res had turned to those closest to him:

- If we perish, we should at least know that we have tried all possible options to find refuge. Do you hear me, you bastards, all of you!

Om Suv Res was not joking. He was very sick. And he knew he had to succeed.

At any cost!

They finally stopped at a small planet in the constellation Centaurus. It was Proxima B[2], which had not yet been colonized by humans. For some strange reason, the Galactic Federation hadn't colonized it either.

Om Suv Res had decided to station his main forces here, but he also launched patrol ships around just in case.

Yes, the planet was harsh - not like Earth, but it was a far better place than nothing.

The Ervanans would adjust somehow - they had inhabited harsher places in the past. The strange planet revolved around Proxima Centauri, and its surface temperature was on the order of 234 kelvin, which equated to about -39 degrees Celsius. Their chance. And they took it.

 

[1] Blitzkrieg - from German lightning war.

[2] Proxima B is 4.2 light years from Earth

RETURN TO THE ROOTS

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: RETURN TO THE ROOTS

 

Every one of us dreams of returning to our roots. And that's only natural. On Zegandaria, we believed that our connection to our planet came before anything else. To us, it was the entire world that existed at all. We wanted to be there, but it just wasn't going to happen. It was an illusion to claim otherwise. A part of a former life that was irretrievably gone.

When asked "How does it feel to be away from home?", I usually reply "I don't know, simply because I've never been there." Further conversation usually became redundant.

I was always looked at as an oddball. But the people in the colony needed my skills and especially my inimitable drive to survive.

Few were able to organize a simple barter economy based on efficient production, something with which I was perfectly familiar.

Let me tell you something simple about barter trade.

We used it, not because we couldn't put the Earth Ents into circulation, or even the Zegandarian e-credits, but because many of the people were enslaved by individuals like Enbright.

I also want to interject an interesting detail - there were one or two people who had hit the jackpot in exchanging Earth currency for Zegandarian currency - you might ask what the point was. Well, as I said, with the currency in question (ours of course!) you could gamble under the now deceased Enbright and it was one of the few chances to increase your personal wealth. Since we existed virtually almost as an autarky or closed holding - it was definitely a clever trick. The problem was that very, very rarely did anyone manage to play it. And then his brutal helpers came to the rescue.

That is, we lived in a semi-slaveholding society with peculiar habits.

Those who worked in the greenhouses also received only daily rations of food - nothing more.

If they needed to experience any different pleasures - they had to get their money's worth. And there were hardly any ways to earn them legally on Charon.

I want to put some things on the table here about stress. The fact that on Zegandaria we had experienced the events of the last war for Au Kaktir and a number of other savagery could not prepare us for the wild sense of isolation and utter serenity that Charon offered in abundance.

If we think of stress as an acid flooding our system, it is easy to conclude that it had a psychic and somatic aspect. In other words, every recruit who started working in the greenhouses, who was responsible for maintaining the livorium panels for energy extraction, who was simply patrolling, or who was otherwise occupied with some other activity of maintaining the colony's buildings experienced what is called logorrhea - that is, they could talk to themselves for hours. This was actually considered normal if it did not harm the rhythm of work. I may have failed to mention the fact that we had expanded our energy fields with panels and they now took up almost two and a half scintillas, which was quite an achievement.

Actually, that wasn't a bad idea at all, come to think of it. This increase would not have been possible without the help of Rento, through whom I was able to dispose of some small valuables we had brought with us from our native Zegandaria.

For example, I was able to sell the electronic blueprints of a heomon pump that was used for deep mining of frozen ice that could easily be turned into water. The thing was, Cerberus had huge problems in that regard. If on Charon, such a thing didn't seem quite necessary, as through complex conversion procedures we could mine water and even make ice cream, which after further processing was edible. For the curious, I would add that its initial temperature was so low that it was simply unhealthy.

Incidentally, if on Zegandaria even a child could have made use of the pump drawings and easily assembled a test model, those idiots on Cerberus had great difficulty. Though they were unaware of our presence on Charon, as the above-ground floors had a special evodonium camouflage that made them look like rocks - no doors or windows (sorry synth hatches!).

One time while I was walking around the colony (apparently I'm getting infected by the use of Earth words after all we were already using some of our barter items!) I was approached by one of the simple workers:

- Excuse me sir, I've always wanted to know what it's like to manage others. But I'll soon have to go gamble with Enbright and then my life will probably be over. He never forgives us mere mortals. This card game of life is actually a diabolical creation!

Then his words made a huge impression on me. And later I would find myself in the same situation.

FAMILY

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: FAMILY

 

Charon's notions of family were also fuzzy enough. And if the crew mated in various geometric formations when they came up, on Charon this was considered strictly forbidden - not out of any special considerations, but out of sheer pragmatism. There were children to be watched, and we had no electronic cuioses - at least not yet. And the technology was not preserved on our trip up.

Someone had suggested the bold idea of using the Rento, which was still in service with us, to somehow steal one from Earth.

One of the last times I saw him at all, he told me:

- This colony is dead. Earth's quavios, even space ones, are not suited are these extreme temperatures that are on Charon. You must have noticed that even the Emonarrian hydraulics of your enhanced spacesuit can barely handle the cold, and any simpler technology like heat exchangers in the cuvios and other oddities will only complicate matters.

- "Rento, you remember my planet, tell me something, please," I looked him pleadingly in the eye.

I must have looked like some little kid begging for ice cream made of nitrogen ice at that moment - not that there were any kids here on Charon. But just the comparison made me laugh.

Rento had always avoided private conversations with me, except for that one time when we'd discussed human equality.

- "Well, my friend, there's not much to tell. It's just that the predatory model of government has destroyed it," he said sadly. "But when we abandoned her she wasn't entirely dead."

- "How so?," I asked.

- "I told you - every thing in this universe has a life of its own," he said, with a slight annoyance in his voice. "It is not for us to interfere with the natural course of events. But we influence their nature."

- "You are mistaken!," he objected. "That we now inhabit Charon is not a whim of either Ertol Gis or Korolan Bru, but of something far deeper."

- What is it?

- "Do you know?," he looked at me, somewhat deadpan. "I wish I knew, too! But imagine you exist in one particular time period and don't exist in the next. What decisions are you going to make? How will they affect your destiny?"

- "It seems to me that your late father raised an inquisitive young man," he coughed softly. "Just be careful that the power struggle doesn't cause you to lose your soul."

- "I have heard," I turned to him, "that when we die we pass into what is called the astral state."

- "These things are not to be spoken of lightly," Rento became very serious, "Have you heard of the Seven Luminous Creatures?"

- "Perhaps you mean some of the races of the Galactic Federation?," I wondered.

- "No," was his answer, "let me tell you what the earthlings say about it - And the temple was filled with smoke from the glory of God and from His power; and no one could enter the temple until the seven plagues of the seven angels were finished."[1]

- "So that's a quote from some earthling book," I contradicted him.

- "It's called the Bible," Rento turned to me as if more knowledgeable.

- "And what are the holy creatures?," I continued with my questions.

- "They are called archangels," Rento answered me with a smile.

- "Do you really believe that?," I asked him quite seriously.

- "Well, Earthlings have long forgotten it," Rento continued, "They believe some technocratic nonsense now."

 

[1] The seven archangels are also known as the watchmen are mythical creatures known in the major world religions.

SOMEONE ELSE'S LIFE

CHAPTER THIRTY: SOMEONE ELSE'S LIFE

 

On Zegandaria, the god Erduk taught us that there were two kinds of people, Light and Dark. Those who were dark fed on the energy of the light ones. They were like energy vampires.

On Zegandaria, as I had already said, people rarely lived past fifty, and there was a reason for that. The teachings of Lord Erduk were very interesting in that regard-there was a passage there:

"In thirty years you shall live,

At forty - thou shalt see with other eyes,

In the end - not even fifty,

Thy path will end with me.

I - the god Erduk - am an old man,

And thy only master,

I take from thee thy gift,

and it is called life!"

From Rento's accounts, Om Gur Nal had cleverly used the cult of Erduk to bring about all the great disasters that had befallen our planet Zegandaria.

Now apparently on Charon things were repeating themselves and everything was going to start all over again.

My late friend Jake and I had discussed this matter a great deal - he told me in one of our many talks his interesting view.

- "Do you know why we are friends?," he whispered one night shortly before he died, "Because we both expect the Unseen - we are both trapped in our fears in the same way. We're just waiting, and time is running out."

I think Jake came out right somewhat, but it was later learned that the Unspeakables were none other than Enbright's men who punished delinquent debtors who were unwilling to pay.

There was a law of the colony which protected them from Enbright's encroachments, and which was made by myself as its leader and successor to the infamous Von Blask.

It read, "For anyone wrongfully disposing of the lives of others and not threatened by them for any reason, the penalty is death!"

It turned out that, using camouflage suits, Rento's gang had been suffocating people who had defaulted on their debts with a special new kind of gas called ambran, which they had gotten from who knew where. Or maybe the Ufurgans, who were smuggling, had sold it to them before we settled here.

But either way, nothing could be proved and they got away with their punishment.

Few would have challenged my decision for the simple reason that there was nothing more to happen. We had hit rock bottom. The human losses to the colony were significant and if I had liquidated them I would have simply confirmed something all too simple, that I could kill like them and was no different. So faced with the possibility of being brought before the Court Martial of Charon, which was in fact myself, they were recruited to be my assistants in the aforementioned expedition.

Incidentally, Enbright only let my hands loose to achieve his own plans.

That sadistic bastard and dirty scoundrel showed me the other side of life.

Somewhere in there, questioning some of his people, I realized that they had noticed his strange behavior after all.

Rivinus Olk, a great warrior, though part of his pack, told me the following:

He was peculiar and generally wanted everything for himself. Zerilia was fiSing the accounts of the whole group, but we suspect he was about to split off and leave Charon for good, as was Enbright himself.

CLONE GH306

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: CLONE GH306

 

When he returned from his mission, the clone was richly rewarded for his accomplishments. His merit in overcoming such an enemy as the Ervanans was not to be overlooked. This was unacceptable. Earth's senators spoke to him most kindly, doing their best to point out his impressive services without which Earth would most likely not exist.

But one thing was present - the ill-concealed contempt. Yes, governors were wonderful actors who craved a little attention. Each of them had built their political careers through a multitude of crimes, but in practice, to truly succeed in the sordid life of politics, they needed a patron of their own - most often a senior associate of Korolan Bru.

Everyone's path to power was very different. Not all were of noble lineage.

GH306 was greeted by a senator from the Upper House of the Earth Federation.

The strange political structure of this planet consisted of a four chamber parliament called the Senate. To each class of senators corresponded the corresponding stratum of the population - to the first stratum - the slaves - the senators had no vote, to the second stratum - the ex-slaves - the senators had only attendance and advisory rights in the deliberations of the Senate, to the third stratum - the free citizens - the senators usually had a vote, and the fourth and highest - were all those senior members of the Zegandaria such as the employees of the Korolan Bru Corporation - their representatives had a double vote and usually easily won any decision that went through the Senate for a vote.

- "We rejoice in your extraordinary victory," murmured Senator Joseph Olroy, who was so erudite and adept at space battles that he could outshine any average admiral in the Earth fleet. "This shows your exceptional ability to calculate complex trajectories and make risky decisions under heightened alert."

He was joined by Senator Bondor, who was one of the most important members of the Senate.

- "There is no way that promotion will slip away from you this time, my dear!," he exclaimed in his turn. You are simply a very valuable example of your breed.

The words were spoken unintentioNaly enough, but GH306 was affected and felt that, in general, clones were just second-hand creatures. He even had to thank them for raising him and that situation - it was no small thing.

In time, those two senators became his protectors and offered him the position of second-in-command of the fleet, and a few years later, he was entrusted with the entire fleet.

There was no question that, career-wise, he was to be considered an overachiever.

But as time went on, he felt sadder and sadder, and it was just eating him up inside.

How were the clones any different than the rest of them - so weren't they human beings too? Hadn't they given their lives so many times to protect the Earth Federation?

GH306 went back to his assigned room on Earth.

It was a beautiful estate in the Veoria region - it was actually the former North, Central and South America, which had been renamed because the Earth Federation thought it was far easier and pragmatic to run provinces instead of dealing with entire continents and countries.

Before he fell asleep he sensed something was wrong.

When he turned he saw his benefactors.

- "You should just disappear," they told him. "Clones need to realize that your feelings are harmful, but so are your excessive merits."

GH306 didn't know what to say or do. But with his innate reflexes, he turned and took both their guns away. The strength of a clone - not even the specially selected ones - exceeded human strength by about one and a half times.

GH306 easily snapped their necks like toothpicks and they collapsed lifeless to the floor of his room.

He was sure his crime would soon be known and he would receive a very severe punishment, but he had used legal self-defense.

The two late senators were driven by anxiety that the clone would seriously endanger their interests if he acquired too much power, but on the other hand they could not close their eyes to his extraordinary qualities either. This finally put them in a stalemate.

From there, the path of their anger towards obliterating its source was too short, and then Hell awaited them.

GH306 covered his head with his hands - he felt remorse - a feeling that wasn't particularly typical of a clone. This was his emotional Hell.

The possibility of a trial wasn't out of the question, but usually clones were dealt with the latter way. They were sentenced to death, or else life in the mining colonies on the moon.Given that their life expectancy wasn't particularly long, it was just a few years to give back to the Earth Federation.

THE TRIAL

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: THE TRIAL

 

The jury listened to GH306's reasoning - his explanations were a little strange from a human point of view. He was trying to make things clear - no excuses.

His potential accusers felt as if they were listening to a small child who was simply incapable of lying to them. But they could see that deep down this clone had doubts about his own nature.

Sometimes clones were allowed to keep some memories of their donor, but that didn't really exonerate them in the eyes of real people.

The futuristic building of Veoria should have been an honor in itself to any clone that was tried in it.

Its decoration was more than impressive, and few had escaped without convictions.

It was usually preferable to send the mines to the moon, where there was, after all, the possibility of minor relaxations in the regime for some high-profile defendants, as was the case with GH306.

However, it was difficult to predict which was more unpleasant for him.

Seeing the eyes of his own crew members, who had come here specifically in his defense, or the cold and expressionless eyes of the magistrates who were about to pronounce the dreaded sentence that would decide his further fate.

He would accept any decision they made. He was guided by the Articles of War, and had generally resolved that he would accept his end with dignity.

Before the actual trial began, by old tradition, all the necessary evidence and the case as a whole had to be presented.

The pleadings of the counsel for the two high governors were so florid and detailed that there could be no question of any extenuating circumstances.

They used specific words and definitions such as "the subject in question," "grave premeditation," and "murder in the first degree," clearly wishing to argue that the clone and clones in general should be treated as public enemies and that's that.

There was a profound formulation in the law which amounted to the following.

According to the constitution of the province, the most logical thing to do was to propose the death penalty, but given the person's special merits, there might have been some chance of pardon and partial rehabilitation.

The members of his crew who knew him best were first called upon, but, as we have said, their votes were not counted equally with the votes of real people.

- "Remember his great services to the defence of the Asteroid Belt," announced one of his cronies named Sonwright Vogue, "So he saved the entire planet Earth. That's a huge contribution.

His special part in freeing some of the captured human soldiers should not be forgotten," added another of his acquaintances.

- "Please treat him as you would, for he was attacked by his own benefactors," added his third defender.

The opinion of the jury was divided enough. Presumably there was no point in even wasting their time with nonsense and the verdict could have been given at the most at the second court meeting, but this time they feared some backlash.

GH306 on the contrary was silent and had his head bowed in anticipation of their decision. In the end though they gave him the floor for some brief speech.

He rose with dignity and stood behind the bank where he was to speak. There was a distant dreaminess in his gaze - like someone longing to deal with his problems, but in his own way.

- All my life I have tried to be who I am. And I have given much to this Earth Federation, which now treats me as a criminal and even a tribalist. The two late senators were like my fathers before I was mercilessly attacked by them and forced to spill their blood with these two hands. But it was legitimate self-defense that was unavoidable. I have heard rumors that the Earth Federation has new global plans that should increase the power and capacity of the Korolan Bru Corporation. That may have been an ulterior motive, me being removed. Don't get me wrong, we clones live thirty-five to thirty-six years, so there's not much to complain about. Our fate was predestined from the moment we were born. We were expected to serve obediently and obey our commanders directly. Sometimes the situation reached a complete farce, but we had no right to emotions. The bandage finally fell from my eyes. We were cannon fodder, but it was in our tragedy that the romance of our lives lay. That is, we were the faithful dogs of our masters and as such we were being indiscriminately obliterated! Don't take my speech as incitement to rebellion or anything like that - conditions on the moon are not much harsher than those on the battlefield. I do not wish to burden the budget of the Earth Federation, which is already stretched terribly thin with so many ambitious projects.

His reflections and free speeches caused an uproar among those present. The accusers were denounced, and no one dared to come out alone against these words, in which there was a great deal of truth.

But the law was still the law - they had to deal with the situation and just give some solution.

The jurors were divided and wished to retire to a short deliberation where they could deliberate some more - there was no time for unnecessary procrastination.

As more time passed, the sentiment against GH306 sharply changed and intensified. Not all were negative, of course.

He wasn't asking for sympathy, just a rudimentary understanding that he had resorted to legitimate self-defense.

Everyone awaited the court's decision with bated breath.

After some deliberation, they finally decided - he was to be sent to the moon to die in the Helium-3 mines.

The clone accepted his sentence with dignity and did not murmur in the least. Of course, the jury also decided to say a kind and encouraging word or two about his accomplishments to preserve the justice of the verdict.

The guards then escorted him out to be transported the next day to the nearest connection point and escorted to the flying port to the moon.

This construct was particularly important, as from there there was a real possibility that reinforcements could be transported directly to Mars, which saved some time, but still the fate of a prisoner did not appeal to him.

THE SEVEN BRIGHT CREATURES

And the great dragon was cast down, that ancient serpent that is called the Devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world was cast down to earth and his angels were cast down with him. (Revelation 12:7-9)

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: THE SEVEN BRIGHT CREATURES

 

In very few of the world's religions has there been such agreement as concerning the Seven Luminous Creatures. They were something very special.

Throughout history people had interacted with them and received help from their grace.

The Earth Federation had long since gone down a different path than that of true enlightenment. There was no way out for those who could not find salvation for their soul.

People needed guidance to carry out their mission on earth. But long ago they had turned away from the truth.

Too sick was an Earth society accustomed to plundering the riches of the solar system with no real prospect of restoring balance.

When the clone was sent to the moon, some sighed with relief because it would reduce their political influence, which was already not very great.

When you're in a bind, as was the case on GH306, you tend to lean on other powers, and so did the infamous Richwater - adjutant to Kenji Nolsuro - he had once intertwined his fingers in a prayer that was addressed to the Most High.

The moon mines of Helium-3 were a Hell where few survived.

The moon was characterized by what was called synchronous rotation, which meant that only one part of it was visible from Earth. This feature of hers was used cleverly to keep track of the progress that was being made on the mines.

On the so-called "dark side" of the moon were the laboratories for processing rare earth elements such as scandium and yttrium.

Lunar libration, or also known as lunar wobbling, was another interesting phenomenon associated with this celestial body that could actually cause a change in perspective for the observer.

Clones were known for their high level of intelligence and for this reason GH306 was sent to the dark side of the moon where it could take part in their extraction.

He soon felt the cruel truth - he was no longer needed by the Earth Federation, having done its dirty work and ridding it of the late Senators Bondor and Olroy.

But the truth was, he'd never been too comfortable in human company.

While the distribution process was going on at Port Terra Nova 2, as the new expansion of that connection point was known, he had time to look around at the other prisoners. They were not at all pleasant. Brutal ex-recidivists, there were also aliens.

Starting a new job was a little unusual for him, not for anything else, but because he realized that something terrible was going to happen in the colony in the coming days.

And he wasn't kidding himself. The robot in charge of him was first and foremost the most important allocator, and even for a brief time he felt a peculiar emotion expressed towards the clone:

- Time to feel the other side of the coin, Admiral. People will dump you once you do their dirty work. But that's what we're here for. This will be your new home. And we're gonna take care of you.

GH306 took his words seriously enough - he knew the robots sent a signal back to Earth if they sensed any fluctuations in the prisoners.

Sometimes there was a reverse elimination order.

The truth was that the idea of taking all the dirt to the moon had long been proposed by Earthlings, but no one had been hired to escort the dangerous criminals without the consent of the Galactic Federation, which could also veto the case.

To be precise there were over two hundred thousand colonists on the Moon, who, as worker ants, provided most of the rare elements missing on Earth.

A special space depot had been set up, whose role was to process some of the extracted resources and therefore make them fit for use in the colony.

GH306 was a strange bird - he immediately realized that since the Earth Federation had assigned him to this "hole", as most of the colonists incidentally labeled this satellite, he was entitled to at least use his available forces and survive on his own terms without being governed by its Military Charter any longer.

This change in him did not happen too suddenly - it took him time to realize the definite benefits of killing the two senators, who by the way were members of the upper house, which was, as we already know, entitled to a double vote over the others.

The reduction in its numbers gave some justification for the even easier passage of various bills including that to terraform Haumea, which he himself considered a farce.

But Earth was determined to build an underground base there, and that might cost the Korolan Bru Corporation too much salt.

- So all this time we've been ruled by complete idiots who have deprived us genetically enhanced humans of the right to live.

Ever since his arrival, the other members of the colony had looked at him with suspicion - it was dangerous to get close to him. They knew that a trained veteran like him could be extremely dangerous.

One night, as he slept in his cell, I had a strange dream. Clones didn't dream, but this time it seemed so real - it was just so funny to see himself so small, but surrounded by unearthly powers that wanted to help him.

When he woke he looked around - someone's hand had scratched into the rough rock "Angels travel through the universe by light - keep it in your hearts!"

He wished he could believe it, wish he could feel that divine energy and have it help him, but he wasn't sure if it could. It was entirely possible that even the Most High had forgotten him.

He hadn't received human treatment, as cadets in the army were rude to each other, and even sometimes there were real excesses - unacceptable to the ordinary civilian order. His earthly masters wanted him to be as obedient as a dog. It required iron discipline and tenacity not to perish as a newcomer to the unit.

The next day they were introduced to the agenda they were to adhere to, and that was the beginning of their baptism into the colony.

GH306 had managed to gather a group of the well-prepared and capable around them who were eager to be able to be moved to lighter work on the bright side of the moon.

Extraction of Helium-3 was somewhere preferable to extraction of rare elements, which on top of that were also radioactive.

The doomed colonists were given very rudimentary protection against the radiation - as much to keep them from dying immediately as to be of use to the colony for a while - massive lead plates were placed on their spacesuits that could absorb a certain amount of radiation. But that was just a formality to avoid Earth Federation regulations.

After working on the mines for a while, they realized they were very, very screwed.

- "How long on average do the new recruits last here?," called GH306, "I think we'll last six months at most, if we last that long. That's the maximum period in my opinion."

- "As it stands, we won't even make it to the Helium-3 mining mines," I confirmed. "This is the Earth Federation's way of showing us what our end will be, eh?," another XBL-4 clone, who was very close to GH306 - had even served under his command, grumbled indignantly.

Rare earths are going to be our hell, and mining them seems a bit pointless to me - not because there's no real use for them, but because there's no mention anywhere of how we'll be redistributed after our six-month tour of duty here ends," GH306 added again, "We just dig and dig, and a lot of the probes broke - it's unlikely the Earth Federation will lend us new parts for them. We have to fix ourselves and survive.

- "We could do a little thieving," XBL-4 revealed his idea, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible.

- "What's your plan?," asked GH306 quite seriously, "Where can we get the needed items. 'We need to keep them constantly accounted for," GH306 spoke grimly.

- "We'll steal one of the transport ships," XBL-4 betrayed his reverie, "that'll be our chance to deal with the problem."

It had gotten hellishly quiet around them. Maybe the darkness of the moon would assist them in getting away. And the communal lunar seas, which were basalt plains, would provide them with comfortable enough places to stash some things for their little expedition. The robots' watchful eye had not ceased around the clock, and they had let no one slip from their ferocious hands. Earth engineers had developed special software to mimic emotions associated with directed aggression towards the colonists.

It might have sounded crazy, but even here on the Moon, some of the clones had exhibited what they called social ostracism by expelling a robot assigned by the Earth Federation. After he had resisted, they had eliminated him in the most brutal fashion. The guilty were later shot, and one or two sent to one of the lunar seas where they would starve to death.

Here was the time to report that there were many seas on the moon with most picturesque names, such as the Sea of Cold, the Sea of Tranquility, and the Sea of Rains.

The lunar mining colony was located near the Sea of Rains, which had formed from the flooding of a large crater formed by the fall of a large meteorite or comet nucleus long, long ago.

Thus there was an opportunity for the colony to supply itself with water, which was only to its advantage[1].

GH306 would never forget the frantic face of one of the doomed clones who had been sent there with no possibility of ever returning. To wash their hands, they left him a single serving of high-calorie pilot food and a small ration of water - they had to keep him in good health for the next few hours, and then came the time of slow and painful death.

- "I will die a martyr, a martyr, a martyr," he ordered like a madman, not taking into account that it couldn't help him much anymore - his sentence had long been signed and confirmed by the Earth Federation.

After it was all over, my friend turned to me:

This one was completely unhinged, but don't worry at all, if we stall a little longer we'll go crazy too - even more so.

- "That's why we'll make it before it happens, though," I tried to wit.

 

[1] According to some NASA studies, there are 600 million metric tons of water ice on the Moon.

THE CONDEMNED

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR: THE CONDEMNED

 

The doomed clone had despaired. The Sea of Rains[1] was the saddest and perhaps the worst part of the moon. He knew the meager rations they had left him would soon run out. And then his end would come. He looked around. The sad picture was even sadder. In the distance he could make out receding figures.

The colonists were using ATVs to navigate the lunar surface.

This time GH307, which for some strange reason had ended up here with its illustrious predecessor, had hit bottom. There was nowhere more to go from this.

It was true that the clones had some specifics like greater strength, but they were also human.

The suit had special compartments where small portions of food and water could be stored.

Strider decided to leave his rations for later. He looked around - he was all alone.

He stood for some time, waiting for an agonizing death and wondering what else might happen.

But suddenly he saw the vague outline of something in the distance. He couldn't pinpoint what it was - but he assumed that maybe those people had changed their minds and were just coming to shoot him. He even mentally thanked the Most High. Yes, he'd read the Holy Scriptures, which nowhere spoke of clones, but he'd never thought to give thanks for his own death!

His spacesuit had a built-in bionic that helped him see into the distance - it was placed over both of his eyes.

The Earth Federation was performing the cruel manipulation because good vision was paramount in a place with limited illumination.

The Earth Federation had hesitated many times about bringing up a small artificial satellite to illuminate the colony, but the bionic eye idea was far more acceptable.

If Hermonal were here Beavors would have stated again in his inimitable style that "every annoying mistake must be corrected".

The pain that the clones were experiencing at the respective surgical manipulation was more than inhuman.

Fortunately, GH306, who had been sent here as a prominent political prisoner, had not suffered such an atrocity in his haste.

- "What are you hanging about for?," someone's voice over the radio airwaves urged him quietly but amiably, "So there wasn't much time. Come on, get on!"

GH307 thought he was dreaming - it couldn't be true. These demands were some kind of figment of someone's sick mind. Nima was coming to save his life! But the SUV was inexorably approaching! Soon GH306 and XBL-4 came down from it.

Our friends were trying to steal a communications ship that would easily get them to safety - such a destination was Mars, for example. There they could legitimize themselves and stay completely undisturbed for some time before naturally being discovered. But they could then travel to some planet beyond the Kuiper Belt - where the Earth Federation had little influence and had to comply with so-called Galactic Law.

- "The Earth Federation will no longer dispose of our souls," XBL-4 declared with conviction. "Never again!"

However, in order to succeed in taking a liaison ship to Mars, they needed to break through the Authentication defenses, and the robots were the only ones allowed to approach the ships.

Artificial intelligence, as we well know, was discovered by Earthlings long ago, but artificial "consciousness" was one step above it. Earth scientists still had a number of disputes about this, but they had come to a kind of consensus about the levels of consciousness and had divided them into C0, C1 and C2.

According to Earth science, the unconscious is created from the aggregate of millions of fleeting mental images of the world around us, but the robots couldn't be guided by such technology - they needed something significantly better. They did not function like the human mind, which worked selectively with one of these images and transmitted it to a higher level.

The robots of the future also possessed a specific C3 consciousness that was defined much later. This consciousness was an anticipation of the future and a regression to the past. When such an attitude was realized the robots could sense certain things.

For example, the clones were not just tracked by electronic chips, like the electronic chips used on Zegandaria, they had linked consciousnesses through their common donor. Special software was built into the robots to supplement their artificial consciousness - they could sense any emotional instability in their charges - even from a certain distance. Usually the robot overseers weren't too far from the mines.

To prevent them from sensing their escape, the brilliant GH306, who was not yet Earth classified as extremely intelligent and could easily rival the brilliant Jonathan Sacklin, decided to take advantage and confuse the robots' C3 level of consciousness. Thus, they would make erroneous predictions with definite delays while making regressions to the past with respect to that same future - that is, the present moment.

This was all happening extremely fast because quantum chips were controlling their "brains".

So they gained precious time to take the car. But there was something they missed.

The clones could sometimes express hidden animosity with each other - especially if they were from close series, and this was a little ruse that was caused by the sick brains of the Earth Federation in order to prevent them from working together as a team.

 

[1] It is also known as Mare Imbrium.

FRATRICIDE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: FRATRICIDE

 

The closer the clones were in a series, the greater the likelihood of complications, and this was only too well known. It wasn't unheard of for excesses to occur, which in the past had been quelled with particular ferocity, especially those that occurred in Earth's training corps.

It would not be incorrect to say that the second part of the Clones' tragedy was fratricidal hatred - like Cain and Abel in the Bible.

The fratricidal hatred between them had a deep mystical root. The fratricidal hatred between the clones had a deep biological root. But the end result was the same.

When Hermonal Bivors set out to create his clones, he saw huge potential for it - the solar system needed new manpower, the colonies needed fresh blood, and Earth's population was aging. Things took a drastic turn after the year 2100, and the current year 293545 was definitely extremely interesting. Clone production had reached its apogee.

When they stole the liaison ship, they knew that the Intergalactic Police based on Phobos, one of Mars' moons, might sniff out their desperate escape attempt. This satellite was named after the ancient Greek god of war, Phobos. The interesting thing about Phobos was that it rotated synchronously and always faced the same side towards Mars. Its low albedo[1] also made any forces located on its surface difficult to see.

Something clicked in GH307's head as he stepped out into open space - he couldn't accept that he was going to be rescued just like that without some afterthought by two almost complete strangers.

GH306 was the only one who could expertly fly an aircraft. He had even decided that the flight to Mars was a direct dispatch to the Inquisitor General, who had taken it upon himself to deal with anyone who had allowed a criminal thought.

The clone began to feel mixed feelings - on the one hand he was obliged to express his gratitude to his liberators, and on the other he was perhaps being led to certain doom.

He didn't believe he would be released so easily, given that he had broken the rules of the Lunar Colony, was responsible for stealing its property, and had previously been extradited to the Moon for the murder of his commander, who was also a clone.

There had to be some other way to solve the problem. Maybe somewhere out there awaited them, deliverance or doom.

GH306 could also guess at the thoughts that were going through his mate's head, and he could also foresee how hard it was for him to trust them despite their huge contribution to his rescue.

When they approached Mars, the Intergalactic Police did make a sign to them by emitting a special radio signal that reached them quickly - the point of the radio wave was:

- Show your authentication card or send coordinates to the passengers. For your convenience, you can choose any of these options. Thank you!

After checking in with the stolen data on one of the robots, they were missed and the landing procedure began.

Mars now had a welcoming look that indicated there was some hope after all - albeit a very small one.

There were numerous greenhouses along its surface, housing a variety of plants. The Earth Federation had issued a regulation - as many as ten new greenhouses were to be opened each year, and they were filled with compressed air. Yes, it was still primitive, but these plants thrived wonderfully under Martian conditions.

The soils on Mars were regolithic, which would mean that quite a few of the plots had to be improved to make them suitable for planting the appropriate crops.

The size of an average one was in the order of two hundred square meters and in conditions - close to earthly - could grow a variety of vegetables such as sweet potatoes, carrots, onions, garlic, lettuce and also various herbs such as basil. Overall, the Earth Federation had tried to make conditions as close to home as possible.

The Manorian turbines were meant for something else - they were simply slowly changing the Martian atmosphere and were a kind of helper to the humans in their struggle for survival.

Korolan Bru envisaged some additional terraforming measures at some future stage, such as removing the greenhouse structures and exposing them to environmental conditions. But until then a sustainable layer of atmosphere had to be created, which was lacking for now, and frankly that wasn't going to happen too soon.

In addition, the mines on Mars were producing many rare and valuable metals such as gold, niobium, molybdenum and so on.

- "I've never seen such beauty!," the GH307 clone marveled.

- "Me too," confirmed XBL-4, which was a slightly newer version and not of the same series as the two of them.

Soon after their landing, however, the colony administrators came and decided to send them without any preamble to the Chief Executioner, who happened to be on Mars at the time.

- "You have brought forbidden materials onto the colony's territory, and it would have been easy to register them in the Intergalactic Police's inspection," one of the robots, who seemed less aggressive than the others, spoke in a monotone. "This is a grave misdemeanor, as it undermines the moral foundations of ..."

The moral tirade was endless from then on, but after about a quarter of an hour they realized that their punishment would be death!

The chief executioner had a habit of punishing his victims severely, not just killing them painlessly.

The Earth Federation had given him explicit orders to deal with the smuggler, and after his ostentatious castration, there had been a bit of a lull in this sort of crime.

Korolan Bru wanted to get to Haumea as quickly as possible, and he didn't have quite the nerve to deal with these petty criminals.

After they were properly interrogated by the appropriate persons, they were placed in an isolation capsule and transported by a small rover to the execution building.

They were given special electronic documents to fill out to clarify their motives for being on Mars, which was a mere formality for reporting to Earth authorities.

It was proper to describe the execution building - there were special devices for injecting electricity into the brain, which must have caused immense suffering, devices for tearing off limbs and so on and so forth. The list was endless.

The chief executioner was waiting to execute them.

Here the treacherous GH307 decided to betray his benefactors and give away their plan.

When they had filled out the electronic forms, GH307 had made it clear what he could assist with to get their skins off.

The Chief Executioner had seemingly agreed - after all, he'd received explicit orders from the Holy Cosmic Inquisition that any action to curb crime was welcome, and making false promises and indulgences from the Holy Institution were only part of the way to deal with some of the more hardened subjects.

The room, with its massive composite walls, was the same where they executed the criminal in question by castration and firing squad. It had been carefully prepared for the new martyrs.

The condemned entered one by one - each unsure if they would ever get out.

First was XBL-4 - they put a special high voltage collar on him that would have nearly ripped his neck off. Soon he was a corpse, and his burnt insides were painstakingly described and put away by the brutal torturer.

GH307, who had secretly testified against them, had to come in next, much to his surprise.

They put the device to inject electricity into his brain and soon he felt a slight warming in his head area. The temperature became intolerable and he felt his brain fry in brutal agony.

Finally GH306 himself entered and then, as if by some Higher Providence, his electronic file fell into the hands of the Chief Executioner. He was always meticulously familiar with the deeds of his victims. He considered it a mark of professionalism and respect for the dying!

But he had never had such a convict before him. He became uncomfortable because the human race could be wiped out without the help of this brave man, but he had a job to do, and he was being paid to do it.

What was more, the Holy Cosmic Inquisition had provided certain bounties for every criminal executed, so the Chief Executioner had a vested interest in the number killed.

And then, he saw one of the Light Creatures. It was in his mind.

The Chief Executioner was speechless - he didn't know if he was dreaming. He was a hard man who would stop at nothing to mercilessly end the life of his ward condemned!

"Leave it! He has to live!"

No, the chief executioner was not dreaming - it was true.

He wondered what to do - if he disobeyed, his own head would be on the chopping block, but to go against the Higher Powers was unheard of.

"I'll put a gevondan[2] on him, if he's truly forgiven he won't be affected and he'll save himself. And then I'll see what I'm going to do.," he thought.

The Executioner most diligently set about caressing the device. The clone was clamped tightly into the brutal device with a sadistic purpose. The executioner then set about tightening it more and more. But suddenly the massive pole broke.

The executioner was stunned. But he had been chosen to carry out the will of the Holy Cosmic Inquisition, and he could not give up so easily.

He decided to make one more check. He had a Reondan burner, the technology of which had been stolen from an alien civilization in one of the Earthlings' brutal raids. Its use wasn't very canonical according to the Holy Institution's precepts, but he'd manage to roast the wretch on the spot!

But soon after their ignition, the flames died out without causing him any harm.

Now, there was really no doubt in the Chief Executioner's mind that someone forgiven was standing before him. But he was a clone! It was damn strange. He'd never dealt with clones who'd escaped his clutches, patronized by higher powers.

Medieval thinking seemed about to get the better of him. He wanted to end it. But then a beam of light entered the torture chamber. It came out of nowhere. He looked at it - he had heard that the Light Creatures were coming with him. His eyes opened wide, expressing immense surprise and disbelief.

The brutal bully fell to his knees and began to pray. He was doing it for his own soul. This clone had to survive!

 

[1] The albedo characterizes the reflectivity of the surface of a body.

[2] A device used by the Holy Cosmic Inquisition to punish criminals.

THE CONSCIENCE OF THE TORTURER

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX: THE CONSCIENCE OF THE TORTURER

 

- "Where do you want to go, stranger?," the Executioner turned to him in his gruff voice. "Here on Mars is not your place. Yes, this beautiful space colony looks like the heart of the Earth Federation, but it's so rotten on the inside that you'd be damned. Tell me your wish. I have special privileges and can send you anywhere, and from there on, you're on your own."

GH306 thought about what to answer him. He knew that the Chief Executioner had finished off his associates, but who knew why he felt no particular pity for them - it was as if he didn't know them. The pain they had caused him seemed to have cleansed him mentally.

- "I want to go to Charon," he declared firmly. - "That is my wish."

- "Earthships don't go to that place very often," his saviour replied gravely. "But I'll make a little exception for you and take a capsule. The Intergalactic Police will escort you somewhat, and from there, after a controlled launch, you will cross into the Asteroid Belt."

- "Charon is a cursed place," the Executioner General opined. "But if you are truly a saint, you will survive even there. In any case, it's not a bad decision, since you'll be out of my jurisdiction," he continued to talk to himself, making sure he was making the right decision to take the responsibility off his shoulders.

The deep feeling that he was doing the right thing had not left him.

The Chief Warden remembered a time when he'd walked the outskirts of his hometown-this place was damn beautiful-it was the face of the Earth Federation. There were wonderful places around and the scenery was conducive to solitude.

In the distant future, the futuristic scenery gladdened the heart of anyone who longed to be where the sun shone and its rays fell on the face of the Statue of Harmony - this female statue embodied the harmony of the entire planet Earth, giving anyone who went down the wrong path an opportunity for reflection.

Earth's senators almost never looked her in the face because they had a guilty conscience.

The Chief Executioner remembered the days when he had gone to repent for all the great wrongs that lay on his shoulders.

By chance a little child stood up to him and asked:

- Are you looking for something, sir? Have you lost it? Or perhaps you are checking for someone?

The Chief Executioner's eyes teared up. But no one saw that. But he had a family to feed and had resigned himself to the fate of a bully who had a family to feed. He had two faces, and perhaps even many more. It was so sad that the bread he earned was because his hands were stained with blood.

He remembered that in the past on Earth, such work had only been given to convicted criminals and mainly because there were no willing people to do it, but he had never been convicted and he had taken so many lives.

The Earth Federation wasn't interested in morality, it was a number that had to be met. A certain outcome had to be achieved or crime would take on unspeakable proportions - it was that simple.

The name of the Chief Executioner was Eberald Eziner, and he was a real scourge to his victims.

The child looked at this scary looking man, wiping his eyes and wondered what he had done so wrong. So weren't they all equal in the eyes of God?

The Chief Executioner's circle of communication was also quite limited due to the nature of his profession. At least he was married, which was still something, but due to his frequent business trips around the solar system, he couldn't see his wife or children often.

Now he was asked such a simple question, and he couldn't answer it. What was going on?

He wished inwardly that he could beg mercy from the Statue of Harmony, which was believed to have cleansing powers.

- "Well, I think I've lost myself!," he said, not very confidently at last. "I can't remember how long it's been since I prayed to or trusted in the Higher Powers. - I feel oppressed, but it's the only thing I'm really good at. Pretty corny, isn't it?"

He turned around - the kid was gone. He was left with a gaping mouth.

EXTRADITION

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN: EXTRADITION

 

When they tried to comply with the Chief Executioner's recommendation, the authorities on Mars encountered certain difficulties that could not be so easily overcome. This subject had been convicted of a misdemeanor too serious, such as the murder of a senator, to get away with. But then it was felt that something was not quite right. Letting him into neutral territory without food and water after carrying out the prescription of the person who listened to the commands of the Holy Space Inquisition, which in this case was the Chief Executioner, set an interesting precedent. All the powers that were beyond the Asteroid Belt would be responsible for it, and from there there would be no further return of the ball to their territory. They pulled out a document indicating that they had never been responsible for his whereabouts and that this person had been in transit status, but the liaison ships' courses had been messed up - it was the smartest thing they could come up with.

The space capsule was launched from one of the ports and glided out into infinite space, carrying this intruder away.

The conviction of a prisoner was a most unpleasant thing, but even more unpleasant was the grimace the Warden placed on GH306's electronic file. It read verbatim as follows:

"TOP SECRET! Special and special prisoner. Extremely dangerous. Prone to psychomanipulation. To be executed at the first opportunity beyond the Asteroid Belt. Backed by the full authority of the Holy Institution and the appropriate bodies of the Earth Federation."

Apparently the duplicity of the Executioner General's character had shown itself again, and having reported certain holy sentiments to the institutions, he now practically displayed his bloodthirsty nature.

Instead of going to Haumea, as GH306 had asked, he had ordered that he be sent to Cerberus, where Commander Brutus would tell the game his way.

Few of the humans realized what a sentence it was to be a clone, especially one who had received a first degree conviction in manslaughter.

Strange thoughts circled GH306's head as he was introduced to the space capsule.

He was acutely aware of what lay ahead. The space capsule was made of composite and had a very small diameter of about two and a half meters - just enough to hold him.

After a while, GH306 realized he was never going to go to Haumea. He was no fool, but he was counting on the higher powers to give him some assistance in his attempts to reach safer territory.

Once he reached the Asteroid Belt, the liaison ship sent on the orders of the Executioner-in-Chief simply dropped the capsule and left it drifting among the debris. Nowhere did it say that the order was to be followed explicitly. The chief executioner had washed his hands of the others. The formal order had been fully complied with, but somewhere in there there was something - something special and strange. And that was the feeling of coming face to face with himself - where there was no room for lies and false facts. Where he would receive his sentence!

They hadn't left him food for more than a day, and that was just to follow the proper procedure, which was anyway out of the jurisdiction of the Chief Executioner himself.

The more time passed, the more frightening it became. Ironically, he was brought down in the same place where he had achieved his astonishing military victory. So impressive and unique. Now he was placed in a situation from which there was no escape.

So deeply and clearly did he realize that all that debris could easily breach the capsule and decompression would ensue - and that would lead to a quick death.

Incidentally, it was believed that Jupiter's gravitational pull, had caused its entire formation, and GH306 feared that was where it would end up - at least now there was the small hope of being spotted by an Earth fleet ship, or at least the smugglers would try to retrieve the capsule out of curiosity.

After the Ervanans had been driven out, many and varied brutal smuggling formations had been roaming the area - each of them had at least a dozen ships at their command.

The two main formations were the Akhenaton and the Samael - named after an ancient Egyptian ruler and one of God's angels respectively.

Time passed, but nothing happened, and the most frightening thing was the complete silence. A person who stayed so long under these conditions could easily go mad and even attempt suicide.

GH306 was somewhat protected in this regard, as he was a clone, but when natural biological givens took over, he had to choose between instant death or a cruel and tragic end.

The smuggler ships that roamed these regions could realistically harvest prey of all sorts - often many Earth Federation Ents traveled to some of the more remote locations like Cerberus' outpost. Often, then, smugglers would agree to profit-sharing to avoid bloody wars, of which there was no shortage, by the way.

Somewhere out there, he saw a light - it was coming from nowhere. Someone's presence was trying to protect him. The clone - the one whose existence was against the nature of normal nature.

THE SMUGGLERS

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT: THE SMUGGLERS

 

He'd been picked up by a rather dubious ship, which incidentally was meant to deal with all those things like the Intergalactic Police and Cerberus' outpost. Few would have accounted for anything that might have interfered with his rescue, but he was lucky that there was a duty ship of one of the smuggler formations out there that was awaiting a large and serious money transfer. When they saw the capsule, several crew members rushed down to attempt to retrieve it. After boarding it, they clearly found that it had absolutely no markings or anything of the sort on it.

- "Eberald Eziner is a master of these numbers," they shouted aloud, for there was one member among them who had slipped away from him in time.

- "If I catch him I'll skin him," called another.

- "Ya, look at you, look who we've caught," marvelled a third.

The crew of the Echnaton was super-disciplined and convinced that this was the right course of action in these parts of the solar system. It was getting grim and the opportunities for good profit were diminishing. Soon there would be no one left to deal with this problem.

It was unlikely that any of these heroes believed in religion or the afterlife, but they felt some respect for the military, as quite a few of the old fired members of the available Navy personnel had come over to the other side and clearly realized that this was their chance to make a living.

The smuggling laws were getting more and more brutal and there was no room for doubt - not everyone could cope with such a situation. The more they tried, they felt that their attempts to fit into normal society were practically useless.

The eleven members of the ship's staff that ran the Ekhenaton were impressed by the young clone's physique - it was obvious that he was a high-ranking commander.

At first they thought of handing him over for a huge ransom, but once they learned his story they gave up and thought they might as well give him a chance to be their second in command.

This decision was not an easy one. There were few who had entered into this game without getting their hands dirty. Usually most were even shot before they reached the clutches of the Chief Executioner, who was generally in charge of some more special subjects.

It would be fair to say that the professional distortion of reality was the thing to take into account - not everyone could be a good criminal, and in that line of thought GH306 himself wondered how well he would actually do in his new role.

His secret wish was to go to Haumea, and no one had gotten there yet, so there was a reason.

The Ervanans had been quietly picking up some random stray ships, and during this their civilization was quietly developing on Proxima Centauri B.

How long would it take for the Earth Federation to come to its senses in its attempts to regain control of these regions?

GH306 was quick to make it clear that he was actually capable of getting into his stride quickly and not putting off proving himself as a valuable and serious cadre.

Out of a sense of solidarity, they didn't question him about his past, but they did learn that he had escaped certain death, which had been heralded to him by the Executioner-in-Chief himself - this elevated him in their eyes and definitely helped him on.

There was a particular and specific type of morale on each smuggler ship - they didn't care too much who you were or where you were from - as long as you were able to prove your loyalty to the command itself and save your shipmates from trouble.

And the Intergalactic Police had been shuffling around the system so often that Rento, playing solo, had only been able to elude them because of his exceptional qualities.

Time passed, and with it the achievements of their new protégé - they soon made a big hit on a huge transfer from the Ents of one of the ships entering neutral territory.

This was welcome news to GH306 himself, who longed to have the opportunity to go to Haumea - so constant was his desire that Commander Esborn once asked him:

I notice you are thoughtful. What torments you?

Without revealing himself unnecessarily, with some circumlocution, he explained his intentions.

Soon, he received a serious explanation from his mentor on how he could get his own ship and carry out this activity on his own.

- "I may agree," Esborn replied, "but you will have to account to me for part of the profit. And not only that. You have knowledge of how the various Starfleet units operate, and that, under certain circumstances, could prove useful."

GH306 looked at his offer quite seriously. Without the protection of a serious player like Esborn, it couldn't get too far.

There was something else here, though - when the first smuggling syndicates were being formed way back when, there were those who were unhappy with the whole organisation, and whatever happened had to be coordinated with the most important body for the management of smuggling activities, the Space Smugglers Syndicate.

It was usually held in neutral territories, where they were away from prying eyes, and could in peace of mind learn some details of the coming strikes. That is to say, although the two main forces in this profession were rivals, they showed surprising professionalism in their attempts to avoid being caught by the Intergalactic Police.

To imagine the entire brutal organization of the smugglers, it was lined with sweat and much, much blood.

Sometimes they hid their loot on one of the many asteroids and then, by broadcasting radio signals on certain frequencies, got their hands on the hidden riches. But never did the ships cruise the vast expanse of space on their own, unaware of where they would later dispose of their loot.

The main customers of these gentlemen were the Cerberus Outpost and even, in some cases, the Lunar Mines on Mars, as convicts and soldiers always suffered for rations and some valuables to use as barter to obtain other benefits.

Even Commander Brutus himself was up to his ears in brutal and insanely large scale corruption.

Brutus was well aware that he could soon be the next one to have his head on the chopping block - which was why he was cooperating with the smugglers, albeit secretly. "Man's will to immortality[1] is a natural extension of the will to live."

 

[1] Turchin V. F., Phenomenon of Science. A Cybernetic Approach to Evolution, Second ed. M., 2000, p.357

COMMANDER BRUTUS

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE: COMMANDER BRUTUS

 

Commander Brutus was a brutal type, eager to show his independence until the moment when he could extricate himself from his colony.

A commander had to set an example and be flexible enough to take bribes to survive. That was the meaning of life according to Brutus. He was a true example of serious corruption and brutal abuse of power.

There were the following rumors among his subordinates in the colony that he was the son of a demon that came to the small companion Cerberus, as he could thrive absolutely nowhere else. And this was not too far from the truth. Brutus had passed the meter many times - sometimes on the verge of being captured, he'd collected huge sums of money by giving false information to the right people.

He was the same one Rento had gotten away thanks to and had managed to die on Haumea.

Of course, the smuggler had parted with a huge chunk of his loot, which was actually quite valuable.

Brutus received, besides vast sums of money, some valuable finds and possessions. For instance, drawings for a heomone pump, which he found rather interesting. As time passed, all sorts of legends and superstitions began to circulate about its origins.

Some even swore that they had seen his red demonic eyes in a dream. And soon after, they died in a cruel way.

Brutus had put on special bionic lenses that changed the color of his eyes and gave him certain advantages. The technology for these lenses was stolen from the cunning and resourceful Brutus.

The commander was also hiding the losses in the colony like a true con man and a charlatan.

He had no scruples about getting his own way with dissenters.

"Brutus - an angel of death," as he liked to say.

However, when the Earth Federation finally decided to check up on him, he clearly realized that he had to take urgent measures.

Everything in the colony stank of rotten - the robberies of dying patients like Von Blask.

There were also human rights violations and numerous abuses in the colony's budget.

Commander Brutus realized that colonizing Haumea would only make him less important. That is to say, more inconspicuous.

Somewhere out there, politics was slowly, very slowly, changing his own position.

Brutus was enjoying his immense, downright scary popularity among the others. Things in the colony were going to get out of hand at some point, and he honestly had no intention of standing around waiting for that moment to come.

When Rento offered him the heomone pump, he clearly realized that he had a lot of interesting things yet to accomplish, and he needed to act at all costs and do it as noiselessly as possible.

The colony might have caught him unawares, and he might have been the victim of a coup d'état which would have been the cause of his sad and inglorious end.

Brutus had never worked in anything but the military - he had military and medical training and understood human anatomy.

His brutal nature was the reason things were brought to this point.

Most of the soldiers were kept on the existential mime, and it was Brutus' strategy to survive - he knew well in his heart they were ready to escape, but that was their job - the Earth Federation would not look kindly on their defection. And after that, they were likely to face court martial and execution.

There was a semblance of discipline in the colony as Brutus tried to carry out some grand plans of his own. Cerberus's outpost had been greatly expanded, and besides, many things had been changed. The fortifications were put on a higher level with an idea given that the Ervanans could pose a serious threat. Especially if they had hidden ships in the area as Brutus himself suspected.

He hadn't shared his reasoning with anyone because he felt it might only call into question his qualities as a leader.

Many would have loved to see his head on the chopping block - suffering and dying, as his red demon eyes had given many a heart attack.

- "Do you know where his soul will go?," the soldiers talked secretly among themselves.

- "That devil cunningly hid among us!," one of the recruits replied. - Who knows where he came from. Nowhere could I find any facts about his past. It's as if he came out of nowhere. "But sooner or later I'll expose him," the cadet called angrily.

But he had spies everywhere, and he knew that sooner or later someone was going to blow the whistle and the conspiracy against him would unravel.

The moral in the commander's eyes was - whose side would the strong cards be on and who would sort the deck. And as long as he ruled the colony, he wouldn't surrender that right to anyone. How many times had Earth Federation informers and secret agents stuck their noses right where he didn't want anyone to be aware of what was going on.

How many times had they longed to be able to pierce, one way or another, his inimitable smile and the confidence of an adventurer who had skillfully learned to walk the razor's edge.

But their efforts were fruitless - so many tears were cried for the sake of the Earth Federation's illusory right to succeed in overcoming some of its own instabilities, which were generally unavoidable given its vast and even slightly unrealistic plans.

There were too few left with honour and dignity in this place - and how many times had the shame of defeat, or indeed an eventual dismissal, taken its toll. But it was commonplace!

The commander was still here, giving his orders-convinced that somewhere out there, someone or something was working in his favour, or perhaps he was mistaken.

When he got the heomone pump, his first idea was to just sell it - that wasn't such a bad idea, but then again, you never knew.

A little later, a far more cunning idea occurred to him. He'd been spending his time here on Cerberus in solitude anyway - artificially socialized due to the nature of his duties, trying to find his place among humans.

Deciding to use his ears and eyes, and especially after the incident with Von Blask, which he never found out Rento was the cause of his fatal end, Brutus decided to prepare some of his own things and manage to get himself settled on Haumea - at least for a while. He was aware that sooner or later the Earth Federation was going to catch up with him, and then they were really going to hold him accountable for the backbreaking list of shenanigans he'd committed over the years.

But how many would have guessed that McDougle Enbright had made all those rounds over the years for a purpose. Commander Brutus was, in fact, his own clone - only the cloning was done in a cartoonish manner that could not be detected. Ordinary cloning methods were meticulously described in the Earth Federation's electronic files, but Brutus, or Enbright, or whatever his true identity was, had transplanted his consciousness into Brutus' body. And this knowledge had not come about without the knowledge of Doctor Gad 'D Ann. Just how had the puzzle come together so strangely? The Doctor had long since died. His consciousness had not been preserved nor transplanted. Yes, it was true he had left the planet in a rather unusual manner, but so what?

He had left with the following words:

- Don't rush out of your body shell without time - do it at the right time and in the right way. And in the end the demons will be buried forever. And they will never return. At least not in this lifetime!

That's what he said to himself on his exile to the planet Nanjagar, where his soul was in torment over the wrong decisions he had made.

The medic's suffering was indescribable, but even though he was more evil than the devil, he had taken some measures to deal with the whole mess he had made on his own, but not without Om Gur Nal's tacit consent.

The Doctor had tried to challenge the Almighty with cybernetic immortality, a figment of his scientific thought, and what had happened in the end. If it hadn't been for a few loyal friends and his hidden secret funds on planets like Ufur Gan - yes, that was the secret destination of the transfer, but Om Gur Nal had lived to see it. To find out that Gad ‘Di Enn hadn't been playing the Almighty, because at the time he really had been.

After he went to his distant exile on the planet Nanjagar, he realized very clearly what had just happened. Ertol Gis had gotten her way by staying in the shadows, and none of the populations from the other planets had rebelled against her simply because they had nothing to hold onto.

The power of the Secret Crime Syndicate that operated on Kikluk Sor was perhaps still being used by ERTOL GIS - they were determined to go further than even the Korolan Bru themselves. That was all, and he knew it. It had not been easy to shed his skin, nor to be deprived of the beautiful skies of Zegandaria, though most had long ago said they had had enough of him.

- Only those who had deprived themselves of the light realized what the darkness actually realized, he had hit himself over the head with his hands when it was hardest to deal with his forced self-imposed isolation.

THE PLANET NANJAGAR

CHAPTER FORTY: THE PLANET NANJAGAR

 

The one place Ertol Gis wouldn't look for Doctor Gad ‘Di Enn was Nanjagar, of all places.

This place wasn't a smuggler's planet, or a hangout for mad scientist psychopaths, or bankers, or financiers, and it wasn't a tourist destination like the planet Osonia.

No one had ever made a space colony there, nor had they ever tried to explore it for explainable reasons. It was a dead world - deader than Haumea and Charon combined.

As the Doctor headed there, he realized that this place was worthy of punishment for his transgressions. He was escorted by the forces of Osonia and Sebur Nag, more specifically by associates of the now-departed former Om Gur Nal. Still, the doctor had retained some influence.

Somewhere far ahead, or perhaps not so far away, Doctor Gad ‘Di Enn saw his foretold end. After all, he had done his job, or at least had tried to.

How many times had he wondered where the old days remained, when complete control of the planet Zegandaria, guaranteed some kind of order that was to his liking. An order built by his fingers. Like a well-oiled machine.

The idea of immortality wasn't new, and the Ertol Gis and Korolan Bru companies were trying all sorts of methods to achieve it, Korolan Bru emphasizing advanced cloning methods and Ertol Gis wanting a controlled cybernetic consciousness that could be transplanted onto the appropriate host at an early age.

According to Gad ‘Di Enn, sooner or later they would clash their interests despite the distance of the two planets.

Gad ‘Di Enn knew that his exile would not last forever, but only until he was claimed. And the one who was resourceful enough to carry that out was the infamous Commander Brutus. Of course, he did this on his own head.

But how did Brutus get this information? Well, it was through Von Blask, whom he messed with shortly before he died.

The planet Nanjagar was a peculiar and inhospitable place.

Its whitish-blue surface was covered with various silicate rocks that gave a romantic look to this otherwise dead place, and deep in its bowels were rich deposits of phosphorus[1].

The Earth was increasingly in need of being able to sustainably feed its population - this was one of the main issues at hand. These phosphorus deposits were attractive, but its vast distance from Earth would make it difficult to reach and eventually exploit.

Space crops needed the relevant nutrients to survive and this was more than welcome.

Given that the planet was also of quite similar characteristics to those of their home, that in itself was welcome.

Furthermore, the planet could make an excellent military research testing ground for the entire Earth Federation, its scale even exceeding that of its already existing colonies on the Moon, Mars and Cerberus, even combined for its extensive plans for the subjugation of Haumea to prevent possible attacks from the Ervanans.

Korolan Bru set about harnessing a huge portion of its resources - almost a trillion Earth Ents went to the preparation of the new Earth Hope ship alone, developed using technology provided by the Doctor. However, it was built in a very interesting way.

As they examined the electronic blueprints, the Earth scientists also sensed the fundamental differences between their ships' engines and their alien equivalent.

As we know, Zegandaria's best ship designs were tachyon class three engines. And they could cope with that "inconvenience" that was fraying the nerves of Earth scientists, namely overcoming superluminal velocity.

In general, the energy of tachyons corresponded to the energy of thought, since these immanent particles possessed as a lower limit the speed of light, and as the energy of this particle decreased, its speed increased.

They realized the profound understanding of the Superstring Theory[2] by these people as advanced as we were.

As it was known that growing crops without this mineral miracle was unthinkable. It was for this reason that Doctor Gad 'D Ann suggested to the Earth government that they use some of the ships stationed on Kikluk Sor and the conditions on this planet to develop space farming much further out than the Kuiper Belt.

This proposal was enticing enough to intrigue many.

The eminent scientist had been able to visit Earth only once incognito at the invitation of serious Korolan Bru representatives, and there he had revealed to them some essential secrets about the planet of Nanjagar and its natural resources, and also some secrets about the cybernetic consciousness with which they could better control the clones.

Ertol Gis had managed to stop this unexpected leak of information, however, and the Earthlings had only gotten the exact coordinates of the planet and blueprints for the tachyon engines, which was still plenty.

After showing them the gorgeous mineral deposits and giving them some advanced technology for Zegandarian tachyon engine models, they were ready to go there and carry out their grand plans. But the clones were going to be a problem. Korolan Bru wanted this transition to expanding the frontiers of human civilization to be gradual and careful, and this huge step would upset the balance.

Korolan Bru, lacking any morals, decided to use the doctor's valuable knowledge and skills to his advantage - he was elderly and might die soon. Therefore, the doctor's developments were classified, and no one ever knew that the exchange of experience had been conducted in a particular way.

When he really saw what it was all about, Hermonal Bivors simply exclaimed:

- Really, what's the difference between clones and mind control like this? After all, we work for the good of the entire human population!

Such hypocrisy in his words could not be overlooked, but then it made no impression on the Earth Federation senators, who were certainly no specialists in biochemistry and neuroscience. The quality of subjective reality had to be managed and directed in the interests of Earth's interests, as the clones might be subject to some re-education or their evolution of feelings might take off in an unknown direction. They already had the example of GH306.

 

[1] The element phosphorus occurs in two main forms, and is extremely rare on Earth in its free state.

[2] Superstring theory aims to provide an explanation of all particles and fundamental forces in nature through a theory that models them as the vibrations of microscopic supersymmetric strings. It is considered to be one of the best candidate theories in the field of quantum gravity.

THE DISCOVERY

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE: THE DISCOVERY

 

Having come to the end of our journey, we took stock of human losses. Mordor Macula, with her melancholy nature and appearance, had taken as many as three casualties from the team - they were Jasper Wynne, Edward Reckless, and of course Rothwald Bones. All to a man baked scoundrels and maniacs. Even the late Enbright was watching his back because he could have fallen victim to his own people. Never mind that they were lost without his protection.

Anyway, our entry into the Dead City had been tentative, and the darkness in our souls had layered itself and kept finding its way in, like a cunning and sneaky snake wondering where to slither. I want to share that once a doubt takes root in your mind, you become a completely different person and the world you see is never the same!

The more we got into this scary area that was to be our final destination, the more I felt some things that had been glossed over all this time we were together. We were practically complete strangers!

There was no doubt that Enbright's people perceived me as a leader, even a capable leader, which was no small thing. But over time, I was able to get to know them at least a little. None of them had managed to find their own direction in life, and depended on the others, or more accurately, on the level of general euphoria with which they threw themselves into the pursuit of any prey.

Yes, Enbright could be bloodthirsty and brutal, he could even be almost psychopathic, but he was the link between them in their quest to make a living. He was the nucleus of this entire group, kept alive by his own selfishness and sense of self-preservation.

Now that all the cards were on the table, there was no room for deceit or innuendo.

As for those who saw the whole thing as a mere joke, well, perhaps now was exactly the best time to see the terrible truth in its purest form.

The Dead City, a place that was known only to us and even the Earth Federation was in the dark as to its existence let alone location.

I'd say these losers with inflated self-esteem should have been kissing my feet in an attempt to appease me, but in the end it was unlikely to do just that.

And now they waited like cunning jackals, ready to nibble most of the possible prey, and why not even snatch it all!

I would like to say one more thing - where they lacked mental baggage, they made up for it with hypocritical loyalty and muscle, which was of little use given that there, in that place, quite other things mattered.

I knew that after the death of my friend Jake Enroad, after the inglorious demise of Averia Downs, and also of Magduggle Enbright himself, few would be interested in my humble persona if I were to return.

I have no reason to lie to you. Almost my entire life had passed on that colony, a bleak and impersonal place where so many lives were slowly extinguished.

Because of our shared 'work', Enbright's men and I were now considerably more cohesive, but each of them simply hoped to survive this icy hell and inhumanly impenetrable darkness.

Lozur Ban approached me and whispered into my cyclotron synthesizer:

- Now is the time for real men to be tested. They must stay by your side, for you have endured to the end, to the very finish. Don't regret the past, or the men you left behind. They are just part of a past life -part of another you. I'll help you at least as long as the force holds me.

This somewhat rude show of loyalty from a man like Lozur Ban, though mixed with uncharacteristically philosophical musings for such a tough guy, lifted my spirits - if only a little.

Somewhere in there I began to sense that Rivinus Olk was having some difficulty keeping up the motivation of the others who were eager to escape like a flock of sheep. I had definitely overestimated their courage, which could spell brutal doom for us all.

I had always believed that fear was a product of our own perceptions, but it should not have turned into a terror that would numb the senses and limbs of the rest of my teammates.

- "Before we move on, let us pay our last respects to the dead," I suggested, even though our supplies were almost at an end.

We had planned this and for that reason, we had hidden some food somewhere in the middle of the route, so we hoped to find it on our way back to Semrik Sin.

The others didn't object although I think they considered it a quirk of mine that only made their lives more difficult.

But in the eyes of Lozur Ban and Rivinus Olk I met approval. Those bastards clearly liked me and I was beginning to look at them differently too.

- "Whatever they've done," I began, and everyone could hear my words over the common frequency of the cyclotron synthesizer, "they deserve forgiveness and respect. May they rest in peace. They did their duty."

The entire tribute lasted less than a minute. And now we were really ready to enter the Dead City.

Don't ask me why anyone ever thought to build such a facility, but I think the Ervanans were shrewd and clever to lay the foundation for something more sustainable and stable.

There was also another question that needed to be asked? Would we be able to carry the loot or whatever was in there?

After all the human losses, we were now down to just twelve people, counting myself of course.

THE HIDDEN SHIP

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO: THE HIDDEN SHIP

 

I have to tell you, it wasn't easy getting around in space. That nitrogen ice might have given us some nasty surprises, so I wouldn't push my luck too much. Somehow, I couldn't understand Enbright's hubris. Those bastards!

And I might never be able to do that either.

Let me make myself perfectly clear. The people who were with me wanted the loot without a doubt, but I was almost certain that very few of them had a real plan for what they were going to do with it next - after we parted ways. It wasn't particularly smart to take some of what was due to you and just go back. That would have killed you. Economic conditions in the colony were steadily deteriorating as money wasn't working properly, and there was very rarely any new income from outside.

Let me explain a little bit about autarky - this economic system of self-sufficiency that usually failed in the end - that was proven economically.

In practice we traded only with Cerberus and to some extent with Mars on a limited basis, and then mainly through Rento on his pre-long orbits around the solar system.

It wasn't like providing all your own goods and importing them from outside - the kids knew that.

Paying smugglers was a tricky business, as they could take the money and not deliver the goods - not that it happened too often, but it still wasn't out of the question.

There were some things about the specifics of the cargo - the smugglers, while hungry as wolves, would not pounce on absolutely any prey.

Some of the valuables ransomers were particularly picky in that regard, and would be unlikely to be bound by attempts at persuasion even if the leader of Echnaton himself stood against them.

Esborn was getting old and needed loyal friends he could rely on, at least a little. And at least for a while. He couldn't keep pirate raiding, smuggling, and so on and so forth. He was approaching fifty and dreaming of a real retirement - he would soon have accumulated almost ten million Earth Ents, and maybe more. He figured that would be enough for about thirty years of luxurious living on some of the small asteroids the Earth Federation was going to be cultivating in the near future, and maybe he'd even settle for a small piece of land and residency rights as a neutral citizen of the Earth Federation somewhere beyond the Kuiper Belt. Of course, there was no way he could completely erase his criminal past. Nor his sins!

Hell, if he had to go to jail, he probably wouldn't even last ten lifetimes, but luckily he regularly bribed whoever he had to and so far hadn't been in trouble. Of course, sooner or later, something somewhere in his perfect plan was going to crack, and he didn't want to get to that point. Still, the luck of even the bravest adventurer had a certain limit, and he had to keep some account of that fact.

So whatever we found would not be handed over to either Rento, who had long since been buried beneath the ice of Haumea, or to Esborn himself, but would be transported for ourselves and each member of the team would take his own direction in life. It sounded too good only we hadn't found anything yet and the darkness was growing thicker - that description is even a bit humorous, for the darkness of Charon was permanent - I mean, after all, the night was descending on Charon and it was shaping up to be a hell of a long one, and that made our task all the more difficult.

In addition to the laser cutters, we'd also stocked up on two or three Bonetier rifles that Rento had swiped from somewhere - most likely, perhaps, from some of the old City of Light veterans who'd long since died off, leaving us to fend for ourselves.

The Bonettian rifle operated on kinetic energy and could deflect almost anything in the direction of the shot's trajectory.

I'd also picked up a plasma blaster from somewhere that only I had - it was earth-made, but the quality was satisfactory.

In fact, I forgot to mention that while small, Cerberus's outpost had its own weapons manufacturing, which basically met its needs for dealing with the enemy.

The Earth Federation's idea was to bring some of it to Haumea, which I thought was a good and promising idea overall. But so much for that!

We decided to proceed in an organized, tight formation to deal with any ambushes, which were not out of the question.

The Ervanans were extremely intelligent and a basic principle with them was to press the losses as much as possible.

And then we saw it - deep under the ice there was an Ervanan battle cruiser. We wondered in amazement what we should do so that we could actually make it to the command center of the aircraft. There was no way it was going to happen, and the Bonetie guns would be of no use.

That's when Rivinus Olk came calling as the most experienced and wise of Enbright's men.

Try a reondan torch. It's slow, but we can get there.

The depth wasn't abnormal-maybe two meters-but the nitrogen ice couldn't just melt because there might be an explosion. It was clear as day!

I dismissed Rivinus's suggestion as not very good.

And then something interesting occurred to me. Way too good, and one I wasn't going to miss.

I realized. We could use the probes we used to get water. It was easy, but they had been left at the colony and there was no way we could go back and get them.

But what could replace the probe? I had to find an answer to that question.

Then one suggested the simplest idea - just use a blast.

We had stocked up on a blast that worked in a very interesting way - when it was used, it fused the materials in the environment due to developing a tremendous temperature, and the shock wave over the detonation area was not too strong because it was dispersed sideways.

This blast was used by the earthlings when mining water ice, or more accurately when they needed to break it up to make better boreholes and pump water with the heomone pump technology we stole.

The full size of the craft was not clearly visible - it was probably about a hundred and fifty meters in length, maybe more. The Ervanans adored quality made battle cruisers[1], as far as we had encountered their civilization were space nomads.

I want to make an astonishing point here - the Ervanans were not defeated simply because of the military genius of GH306, but mostly because they had some problems navigating the Asteroid Belt. Their super-manned ships were deployed too densely and were a relatively easy target for the attempted clone.

I was privy to all these details from Rento himself, who shared them with me shortly before he left and subsequently ended his life.

Come to think of it, I get the feeling that this astonishing man - former ghost warrior, adventurer, sidekick detective and smuggler - wanted to wash away all the bloody stains on his conscience with a single gesture, but on the other hand I may be judging him too harshly.

The explosion was a complete success and we achieved what we wanted - the ship wasn't even scratched. But instead a hole opened up big enough for someone to squeeze through - now we had to use the torch, but before that we moved far enough away to avoid being hit by the force of the shockwave.

Lozur Bann set about putting it in, as after me he was probably the man with the most physical strength in the colony. Carefully he approached and lowered it, tied with a special zerethium thread. Then he too hid with us. We all held our breath.

Such a deep blast, as we called it in the jargon, could easily have resulted in the decompression of our spacesuits and our inglorious demise.

To activate the reondan burner, we used a very small explosive called a shigon ru, which in Zegandarian means "little mischief maker." This super strong explosive had a directional action and a small shock wave radius. It wasn't long before the fuel in the reondan burner exploded, and that was basically our little victory. We managed to hide behind one of the nearby craters before activating it.

What happened surpassed my wildest expectations - the fiery element caused by the ignited fuel danced under the icy surface and was soon followed by an explosion so loud, but somewhat muffled, that I was simply speechless.

I had feared that the ship would be affected by the shock wave, but to my amazement the super-massive neominium armour had not been affected in the slightest, but from the loss of solid surface the ship had keeled to one side and plunged deeper into the ice.

Now we had to act in an organised manner and manage to get it out the right way.

I committed myself to lifting the team's spirits and checked on our frequency that everyone was okay:

- "Group 1, 2, 3, 4, give me an answer," I repeated in a monotone over the cyclotron synthesizer, the syllables probably reminding me of the scrape of a laser cutter against metal.

No instant response followed as the various groups had split up in an orderly fashion to carry out my orders. But I repeated anyway. Same again.

For a moment I thought I was irretrievably alone. If that was true, my chances of getting back were almost nil.

 

[1] Cruiser - a generic name for a fictional class of battleship.

THE DEATH OF RIVINUS OLK

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE: THE DEATH OF RIVINUS OLK

 

It turned out that the fall hadn't been that deep. But we decided to secure ourselves before descending into the crater. First we waited for the huge amount of heat being released to dissipate enough to use one of the team to survey the terrain. Just in case!

Rivinus Olk expressed a similar desire, for which I am grateful to this day. It turned out that somewhere in there a small chunk of nitrogen ice had formed some sort of contact with heat left over from the explosion itself, and when Rivinus Olk's foot lodged there, his corpse was torn apart like the Groandus had torn people apart in the last battle for Au Kaktir.

- "You bastard!," cried I, and a tear dropped from my eye, "you saved us all!"

To tell you the truth, Rivinus Olk could have become even a superior officer if only he had fallen under different conditions, but under the present ones that couldn't happen.

We proceeded most carefully, for we were now but a dozen men, and had to be preserved for the future. The rest had cast their eyes full of a terrible indifference - like the scots.

It was hard to manage the psyches of people gone wild with terror, but my voice grated on the cyclotron synthesizer again:

- "If anyone wants to desert, he will be shot as a traitor," I explained to them laconically.

This decision of mine perhaps sobered them and showed them what I was capable of.

We decided to act more boldly and take some risks. I gave each of them a laser cutter, as the weapons were in my and Lozur Ban's possession. Rivinus also had some, but the untimely explosion caused losses in that direction as well - he was carrying one of the Bonetier rifles.

We descended into the crater thus created and tried to find exactly where the ship's hatch was so we could get in and check for any remnants of life.

The Ervanans, as I said, were radiation resistant and this provoked me to check the radiation background around the ship - I was right, the doses were higher than normal but definitely not too much.

After more than two hours, we found traces of some possible passage that could be opened - we didn't have any explosives or other tools to solve the problem - Rivinus was carrying those as well.

When we finally succeeded, we were speechless. Inside were four corpses - all in perfect condition and dressed in the Ervanan uniform, which was reddish-blue, since according to the beliefs of their folklore these colors represented blood and sky, and every Ervanan was obliged to catch a glimpse of it at least once before they died.

I was told this again by Rento in some of the few conversations we had together. It had to be reported that he was always able to sift out the important and essential information and present it in a proper form digestible by the listener.

After all, Rento had graduated with a degree in Quantum Physics and Theoretical Astronomy from one of Zegandaria's most prestigious colleges, but few knew this fact from his biography - more accurately, only I did. Not even the late Detective Boss was aware of this fact.

- "There's no tragedy in a death," he liked to reason, "who knows if the next time the cards are dealt we'll be in the equation. We may live a very different life, or we may as well be gone. Don't you think that's logical?"

I didn't want to argue with him - he was right on every point. The morality of the universe, or what could be called the morality of the universe, was in his reasoning.

How much we enjoyed being children of our native Zegandaria!" he added, his eyes strangely cross. - Those were good years indeed!

I share this precisely because our lives are made up of many meaningful and meaningless moments, and some of them have much more significance than others. But we usually appreciate that much later.

His pale face reminded me quite a bit of the expression on my friend Jake Enroad's face, who departed ingloriously because of Enbright's men. Apparently there was retribution in this particular universe after all! At least for some of them!

To tell you the truth now I was wondering what we were going to do with the four undecomposed corpses of those aliens. We set about pulling them out carefully - it was bloody difficult and dangerous.

I could see Lozur Ban straining his huge muscles, or at least I guessed what the effort was costing him, because his spacesuit hid them to some extent. His face expressed some form of aggression, or at least I perceived it that way.

The Ervanans had left dead guards at the outpost, or perhaps those there were hoping to survive at least a while with the supplies they had left behind.

I decided to take a look at the cockpit anyway - the flying apparatus was constructed of a neon alloy we hadn't heard of.

We also tried to take a look at the communications systems, which to our surprise were working perfectly - apparently the ship had retained a small amount of its power after all.

Propulsion of such a vehicle was not a simple job and it did not use tachyon engines, but a special prototype of an engine operating on the principle of quantum teleportation. I know it sounds surprising - we also found it amazing how advanced they were!

There was the so-called Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle, which said that you just had to use a pair of entangled particles. Let me clarify that this is a pair of light photons organized in such a way that its total spin is zero. However, I should point out that this transfer is not corporeal - that is, it would "copy" the ship itself, but not the pilots inside it. Which was pretty clever! But what finally blew us away was that their ships also relied on another interesting technology that we had never developed let alone used - the speed of darkness.

I know it sounds absurd to you! How fast can it move? But believe me, it wasn't really - the ship was capable of generating an artificial holographic shadow that could fool enemy radars especially in areas of reduced visibility such as the Asteroid Belt and the Kuiper Belt.

However, if they had indeed used these technologies, this ship might not have been real, but merely a relocated state of it.

I wondered about the engineering thought that was capable of accomplishing such a thing for complex objects - it was amazing!

The Ervanans, besides being agile warriors, were big brains.

But then what was their plan?

Those replica ships weren't doing them any good unless...

Unless they were set up as decoys - deep-frozen waiting for the enemy ships to appear. Even in this lethargic mode, they were able to clone the parameters of the aircraft, and in this peculiar way, later be aware of the enemy's strengths and weaknesses.

This was very cleverly contrived.

But again the second question remained, namely why they needed to use these artificial hologram shadows - after some reflection I think I came to a reasonably acceptable conclusion.

There were a lot of smugglers in the Asteroid Belt, and projecting a shadow of an Ervanan ship right in that area would have attracted even the Intergalactic Police, who might have been tempted to use the occasion to skim the laurels while most likely being escorted by warships.

I wasn't under the illusion that we had stumbled upon anything extraordinary, but how to use the technology we had no idea.

The Ervanan dialect was quite peculiar and consisted of too many nasal sounds - something between a mumble and a growl that changed its tonality from overly polite to brutally aggressive.

On the whole, these aliens were an emotional race that, in addition to being excellent warriors, also made excellent party-goers.

Inside the ship, there were too many indications of this:

- "I'm even starting to like these alien bastards," Lozur Ban snapped, "They don't care about anything, but that doesn't seem to stop them from having a code of honor."

I'm thinking how sorry they'd be to see what those we lost have missed.

I fell silent and stared at him intently for a while. This health guy was probably right. And he certainly wasn't stupid at all. No such thing existed on Earth or Charon.

THE HEIR

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR: THE HEIR

 

Old Esborn was already pining for an heir-someone he could trust with his business-but unfortunately he had no children and wasn't about to have any.

Sure, he had the means to clone his own genetic material, but the thought didn't particularly appeal to him.

For one thing, he had a thing about clones, and for another, those records in the Earth Federation's records could be used against him sooner or later, which was still something of a risk.

As much as he struggled to realize some things, his brain remained that of a hardened traditionalist. Esborn had excellent discipline and obliged his crew to follow it as well.

- "Yes, we may be smugglers," he'd say, "but we're human too. The Earth Federation cannot impose its model of life on us. Human beings have the right to be free. That's the way I see things! That's how we all see things! That's why we have been living outside the laws of the Galactic Federation, and Earth's laws in particular, for so many years."

GH306 listened raptly to his incredible pathos and would have believed that this man who had saved him was quite different from the rest. He wanted to know that his pattern of behavior would not upset him, and he would have no hesitations about certain matters relating to establishing his own origins.

It was strange for a clone to think like that! But GH306 wanted to at least find out who the donor was for his series. And where the murderous rage in GH307's eyes had come from, given that clones weren't supposed to feel emotions.

After finishing his speech, Esborn retired for a short break during which he had some rather economic matters to settle.

His quarters weren't too far from the command room, and he headed there at a brisk pace. He hoped to announce his successor today so there would be no more cause for speculation.

The crew was forced to fulfill their daily norm, which consisted mainly of intercepting the foreign ships.

It was proper to say here that in the past there had been skirmishes between members of the Echnaton and the Samael.

The Samael group was engaged in a more peculiar type of smuggling, so-called custom smuggling, and for that reason looked down somewhat on its colleagues. They were hired to supply all sorts of things to select people who were aware of what they wanted out of life.

For example, if Rento were alive, Jervond would have happily provided them with some Ervanan technology they could use at their discretion.

But unfortunately the Samael group was doing everything too incognito even by smuggler standards. So many faces had changed in leadership positions that it was hardly very easy to remember them. So many people came and went - the turnover was enormous. The interesting thing about them was that they had no standards for the appearance of their "employees". Sometimes even homeless people were hired to do relevant things.

Incidentally, one of the qualities that smugglers didn't like at all was pettiness. And they made an excellent distinction between punctuality and pettiness.

After some deliberation, the commander of the Echnaton decided on GH306 to replace it as its successor. The smugglers did not follow any legal procedures, but simply held a general meeting to make the important decisions.

- 'Friends,' Esborn addressed them, 'in the few weeks he has been with us I think ... our new member of the team has been more than useful. And my time to relinquish power has come.

They all listened to him intently, for in the back of their minds they could sense the change. They could not so easily forget the comrade with whom they had shared everything, for better and for worse.

- "From now on he will be your guide," he concluded humbly.

The other smugglers looked on. They knew that the trek across the solar system would soon be over, and in practice even destinations like Proxima B let alone Aldebaran[1] were still beyond the Earth Federation's capabilities.

There had been fierce arguments among the team members as to what exactly their future would be. Frankly, while Esborn had some semblance of sympathy for the young clone, and the others at first shared his enthusiasm the harsh reality remained, and it was more than evident - soon there would be no bread for all.

Even Samael's orders had dropped dramatically, and it was more than clear that they were next in line.

GH306 wasn't grazing grass, but offering them his hidden trump card:

- How about Haumea, or how about Charon?

- "So we've been past them many times," called some of the voices, in an attempt not so much to refute him as to gauge the tone of the general mood.

- "You might have done, but to have missed something that probably lies buried under the ice," he said cryptically. "I'll help you if you'll help me, though. The Earth Federation won't let me live, because I'm obviously a thorn in the side of many of the senators who have indulged in nothing but eating and drinking and have neglected the truly important things. But what lies there may be the key to solving the mystery - the real way to leave the solar system once and for all."

They eyed it with curiosity and dared to question it:

- And then what will happen? We might want something other than just to escape the Galactic Federation and its long arm. Maybe soon Korolan Bru will get it wrong and everything will go to hell.

GH306 waited until the unruly chorus of assorted suggestions had died down and pulled his last trump card:

- And maybe all this time Korolan Bru has been working covertly against you and everyone but its own members. The technological advances she has made cannot be explained otherwise. So did you expect anything different? And where in the whole picture could we, the clones who were used to conquer vital territory, fit in?

No one said a word. They knew of the immense suffering Eberald Eziner had caused him.

 

[1] Aldebaran b -- An exoplanet 65 light years from Earth in the constellation Taurus.

THE SAMAEL GROUP

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE: THE SAMAEL GROUP

 

Everyone wanted to actually live well, but this was strongly true of the earthly senators, who allowed absolute excesses, which, by the way, were completely pointless. Somewhere in there a "golden rule" had been established that luxury was not made for the low in spirit. This elated mood was shared by their fellows who were wallowing in misery because of the huge funding of space weapons development programs as well as those related to genetic engineering.

Few of the senators had actually even left the confines of their well-guarded villas, where in fact they were seeing an entirely different world, having nothing to do with reality on Earth.

There was also a minimum property census that was required for a person to be a senator. He had to own at least ten million ents.

Therefore, Esborn himself wanted to retire and secretly obtain the status of senator, which would grant him certain privileges in his later life.

It was not so easy, however, to bribe the Commission for the Distribution of Titles, since it also checked the pedigree of the candidates themselves.

And Esborn himself didn't have too many opportunities to disguise exactly who he was.

Well, yes, there was the bribery option, but it too had a limit. It wasn't in Esborn's purse to hand out money to every corrupt official.

No matter how the combinations were spun, he felt it was inevitable that they would eventually clash with the interests of the leader of the Samael, Ernest Doom, who believed in the very strange theory that when they were all gone from this world, their deeds would be judged according to their hierarchy here on Earth. He had defended this thesis so strongly that finally on Earth they had wondered if they should put him in the insane asylum, or at least in some sort of correctional facility.

As for the Samael's crew, it numbered thirty people, each of them specializing in a certain activity - one of them stealing rare and expensive items, another one doing numismatic work, and some even hunting down technologies of alien civilizations and selling them at ten-dollar prices, as the market in that respect was quite interesting.

The Samael ship was a benchmark of quality and the motto of its people was that they could find anything for anyone for the right amount.

Few would have asked what was behind it all? The plans of its leader, Ernest Daum, remained shrouded in mystery - a wiry son of a bitch who had emerged as if from the womb of hell.

Among his crew, as we said, there were even bums vying to win his favour. This could be done in several ways.

One was by procuring an overpriced item that brought them foundling status and placed them higher in the hierarchy. The other was if they managed to get their hands on exceptional technology like the Ervanans.

The turnover of this smuggling team was reported to the Upper House of the Senate - and more specifically to the now deceased Senators Bondor and Olroy.

After their ridiculous demise, things began to stall and all trade came to a standstill.

The few remaining members of Samael kept asking for new orders, and there were none.

- "How little does a man need to be happy?," asked Doom rhetorically, "Oh, how I miss you old rascals. It was a golden time for all of us - a lifetime long buried in the past!"

Then his criminal mind got the interesting idea of doing some things for the Cerberus outpost commander. That way the infamous Commander Brutus was always one step ahead of the rest.

THE SECRET OF CERBERUS

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX: THE SECRET OF CERBERUS

 

Of course, Brutus had cremated Von Blask for a number of reasons - some of them, for example, were that his possible identification by third parties would bring him to the attention of the Galactic Federation, which could easily realize what Brutus was up to.

The Commander remembered everything that had happened in all the time he had been in charge of this colony - so much grief and suffering. The buried human soldiers who longed for freedom but would never make it back to their birthplaces on Earth.

Brutus liked to sing an interesting song to himself:

"I see, here and there,

Sin great on every vord[1],

Side by side here we are,

Like boats on some shore!

No noise, no sound!

Who buried these,

I know not, but I know Charon - not far off!

After him, Haumea - a haven for new life!"

The song was nonsensical, but inspiring awe in the others for being so colorful. He who was not acquainted with the strange character of Brutus knew not what might happen!

Soldiers were picked especially when something special had to happen.

To cover up his crime, Brutus prepared something interesting - the Earth Federation was expecting some very specific data about his transgressions.

So much pain had gathered in his eyes, and he remained the same predator. Secretly, he dreamed of getting out and going to Haumea. His desire was stronger than anything he could wish for.

To be among "his own" no longer pleased him. He felt his forehead once - as if someone had written some secret symbol in invisible ink. Someone who knew Brutus better than himself. And that someone knew his hour would strike soon. Darkness had enveloped the commander, and he struggled desperately to avoid the retribution that was coming.

- "Where are my former friends now?," he spoke somewhat strangely. - "Some of them are gone from this world too soon! And they might still have lived!"

The ancient scriptures spoke of death in strange gibberish. According to the Egyptians, there were two kinds of life force - Ka and Ba. One remained in the body at the moment of death, and the other afterwards.

Brutus knew the legends of the Styx River floaters. He was aware that there would be judgment and sentence in the underworld realm. But he feared he was a mere mortal, and as such had the bitter experience of suffering. Surely he would be sent straight to Hell!

In his colony death was ubiquitous. Too many people had died, and some of them were just doing their daily duties - as helpless as cattle hired to do a job without pay.

Women in Cerberus' outpost were scarce and even downright lacking, and it was something that could be felt in the lack of affection and the haggard faces of the soldiers populating the colony.

- "I am a happy slave to power," Brutus spoke to himself, "In all the years I have been here I have seen the face of death in its purest form. No one was forgiven nor mourned. Every one of those recruits was infamously forgotten! Forever!"

Brutus then set about sorting out his thoughts - what would be the eventual course of events with Von Blask?

Yes, he still didn't know about his mysterious killer, which worried him. He had learned though that Von Blask was an impressive fighter who had never lost a fight. But there were all sorts of rumors floating around the colony. And that meant that hidden forces had begun to hover around the commander.

Brutus went to inspect the cremation ward, where there must have been some ashes left of the sufferer.

Building a crematorium in open space was no easy task and Commander Brutus was proud of his accomplishment.

The body was undergoing a special treatment designed to erase all possible traces of its demise.

After Von Blask's remains were launched into open space, the commander breathed a small sigh of relief. But that feeling was fleeting. He had the feeling that someone was watching him and soon he would be next.

Erdemon Bonks was the second man after Brutus who was in a position to impose his will in his absence. Sometimes the commander had a habit of disappearing off somewhere, and he was only preparing his march to Haumea. Not that he intended to stay there forever, but this place was convenient for another reason. There were interesting places beyond the Kuiper Belt where a sustainable settlement could be established that would fit.

His deputy tried to make his boss shine every time and in the best way to hide some of his vices, and that was more than impressive.

Such a well-baked sycophant should have advanced up the hierarchy quickly enough, and that was exactly what happened - Erdemon Bonks managed to achieve it at the cost of some effort.

The art of being a baked sycophant brought advantage, but it also earned enemies among those soldiers who tried to write letters of complaint to the Earth Federation. Bonks' job was to disorient, fix and crush them and thus keep his boss in power long enough!

 

[1] A futuristic recruit of the Earth Federation.

THE COMMANDER'S ESCAPE

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN: THE COMMANDER'S ESCAPE

 

Commander Brutus kept one more secret. Besides the fact that the Ervanans had hidden ten whole ships under the ice of Charon, they had built a small underground city on Haumea. But this important detail was known only to him.

The underground facilities were at least a hundred earth meters deep, and there were tons of solid rock above them. Yes, the Ervanans had built this Knowledge Center, which was supposed to help them learn more about human civilization.

Soon Brutus became very valuable to them, and they gave him enormous power. Every thing that came into the colony in arms, or every valuable find of the smuggling syndicates, was telepathically described by Brutus, and sometimes he had to travel to Haumea to bring them some valuable exhibits. It wasn't that they couldn't use quantum teleportation, which was the ideal solution for transporting disembodied objects through space, but they wanted to test his loyalty. And Brutus didn't fail once. He was giving his all, but also getting excellent things in return. At first, they revealed to him some of the details they had learned about the human race. Brutus was aware of some of Korolan Bru's plans before any more high-ranking associates were instructed to implement them.

One of those plans was precisely the exploration of Proxima B, where the Ervanans were hiding!

The Ervanans communicated through telepathy, but this communication was not as rudimentary as transmitting information from point A to point B. A parapsychic phenomenon such as it could of course be augmented by appropriate training, and Brutus regularly practiced his skill.

Telepathy could also be developed when two or more people coexisted. It was for this reason that Brutus had spent some time on Haumea in the Undercity of the Ervanans. In this way the Ervanans could communicate with Brutus and the information transmitted was independent of so-called space-time.

Many would question how big this city was and how they had built it, but that was a bit of a peculiar question. Let's clarify that the Ervanan battlecruisers had special probes that could do this job and quite a few other things.

There wasn't much room to build on Haumea, so underground facilities were preferable to the alien space race.

The foundations that were laid on the rocks were of neon alloy.

After building what they called kuvuneri[1], where a certain number of Ervanans could be housed, they proceeded to the next stage of building the structure that would envelop and insulate them from the cold. They used a Zemonari lining, which, when placed over the neon alloy, did not give off heat to the environment and thus protected them from the cold.

The Ervanans had promised to house their secret agent Brutus for a while, and he would provide them with some interesting benefits. For instance, the heomon pump for water extraction, which was a marvel of engineering thought.

The Ervanans had built a settlement that could hold approximately three hundred soldiers to survive the conditions of this harsh world.

On one of his last journeys, one of the enemy's old warriors who had stayed with his fellows told him through telepathy, as Brutus did not understand their language. It was not that he did not know a single word, but in general he found it difficult to pronounce some of the squeaky sounds peculiar to their race, though they had a masculine timbre and sometimes resembled guttural human speech.

A warrior is known, not by his race or descent, but by his merits on the field of battle! Morality is the determining factor! You earthlings have a rather hazy idea in this regard! You regard us as a cosmic scourge, but it may turn out after a while that the monsters you imagine us to be turn out to be yourselves!

Brutus pretended not to hear this remark, which he could hardly tell from its tone whether it was malicious or neutral. There, somewhere in the back of these creatures' minds, lurked an insurmountable barrier that he would likely never, ever unravel.

An Ervanan could live an average of about three hundred years, if not more, which was three whole human lifetimes. Their height was slightly above average for humans, and they were physically comparable - perhaps even with a slight edge for Earth humanoids.

After that night, upon Cerberus' return, he began to consider how to finally escape

One night, Brutus simply ran away. He had staged everything in a way that would draw everyone's attention to Von Blask's mysterious killer.

He knew that a scoundrel of the rank of Erdemon Bonks would do his best to take his place, given that the Earth Federation had promised - albeit implicitly - to eliminate Brutus at the first opportunity and he would follow the fate of Venrol Zeke, who had headed Cerberus' outpost before him.

- "So my escape will speed things up and I'll hit two birds with one stone," he said to himself. "I, Brutus Einhard, declare that from this day forward I refuse to obey the laws of the Earth Federation and be the commander of this colony."

Cerberus's darkness was so great that it was relatively easy for him to take one of the transport ships and make off with false authentication.

He'd left a special cryptogram in a place that wasn't too conspicuous to make Bonks "appear" as the discoverer.

The hidden trick was that doing so would send the Earth Federation for green caviar - yes, they didn't like Brutus, but professioNaly they were obliged to protect their honor and at least formally embark on the hunt for the now long dead Rento.

Brutus had shown himself to be a despicable, ambitious and arrogant bastard, which in fact he was! But, little did he know that a surprise awaited him this time on Haumea!

When his transport ship landed on the surface of Haumea, he noticed that someone's speeder had left tracks - different from his own and decided to descend into the Undercity of the Ervanans.

The guards greeted him somewhat neutrally. Brutus was dressed in a special Ervanan spacesuit with the distinctive two colors of blue and red, which must have meant a lot to them.

Unexpectedly, they spoke in their unintelligible language. Then Brutus understood - something had robbed him of his telepathic abilities and he could not communicate with his 'mentors'. He looked at their faces differently now - so frightening, yet radiating such calm. It was as if the sleepy expression on their faces - he couldn't utter a word because he had been castrated by a laser cutter that had pulverized his scrotum in the most brutal way. The well-insulated Ervanan suit was not enough to protect him from the insidious Zeranian blade. Another treacherous blow pierced his armor from behind, and he felt his warm blood trickle slowly and fill his insides. Due to the extremely cold temperatures and the decompression of his suit, the leaking blood froze violently, causing him further injuries. Brutus suffered a third blow, which proved fatal. The rigid commander collapsed to the surface and ice began to envelop him.

The world of Haumea resembled some barbaric silent feast, for somewhere there Brutus found his end. The inglorious end of a doomed soul!

They carried his corpse to the old warrior who was the head of this corps of Ervanans, but he did not recognize it either - despite their great intelligence, Ervanans were known for their rather short memories. Their thinking was guided by momentary images which, through complex overlay in the memory of the medium, led to the corresponding emotional state. They were driven forward in their evolution solely by their curiosity and their inexhaustible sense of progress.

He looked at the body of the dead Brutus and said:

Now we know why the Earth Federation had so much trouble getting beyond the confines of its own solar system.

 

[1] Kuvuneri in Ervanian means cage or chamber.

THE ERVANAN CIVILIZATION

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT: THE ERVANAN CIVILIZATION

 

Om Suv Res knew two and two hundred, and as an experienced military man he set about exploring the mineral deposits in the area. Proxima B had a relatively high radiation background compared to Earth, but the bodies of the Ervanans could handle the higher radiation levels much better than those of humans.

Proxima Centauri was home to a wide variety of resources, which was welcome to the experienced Ervanan colonizers. This alien race had a somewhat nomadic nature, and predatorily exploited the various planets, making the most of each one they came across. Humans, even in the advanced future, had rather vague and hazy ideas about the surface of the planet Proxima B, and its natural riches were steeped in deep mystery.

Om Suv Res assessed the situation correctly. As long as the earthlings could not conquer a celestial body at a distance of a modest 4.2 light years from their own planet, they were clearly lagging behind. This exoplanet was also slightly older than Earth.

But he knew that humans possessed other hidden qualities that were not to be underestimated. How only they had repelled them!

He still couldn't explain how it was that the Earthlings had won a situation that, in theory and practice, was entirely in their favor.

Then they wanted to build their settlement on Deimos, from where they could covertly watch the progress of their opponents.

But the valiant clone GH306 prevented them.

Om Suv Res wondered why Earthlings bothered with cloning at all, which he thought was a bit pointless.

They would hardly exceed the qualities of the original by too much. 'They're playing artists,' he mused. - Try as they might, they would remain confined around the confines of their own Sun, doomed to perish in their low morality.

The morality of the Ervanans, who held themselves up as the standard of cosmic reason, was quite different from its earthly equivalent. The Ervanans did not raise a hand to obliterate life, unlike their earthly counterparts. And fighting them was a natural level of defense that only proved the Earthlings' aggressiveness.

Om Suv Res viewed the situation with the eyes of a true Ervanite who had watched the star of his home planet long enough to realize the tragic nature of higher cosmic morality.

- This civilization was doomed to perish, he shared his views with some of his most trusted associates.

The aliens had developed their psi genes[1] to unsuspected heights - they used telekinesis to move objects, and without much difficulty.

The Ervanans were acutely aware that the presence of psychotronic generators could amplify the effects of various paranormal forces, and this had been exploited on the Cerberus satellite in particular, where they had installed a small model of such a device through their former "slave" Commander Brutus.

That's why he had to disappear.

Om Suv Res was in contact with the forces from the underground city of Haumea, but had been unable to make contact with the dead pilots of the ships sunk deep in the ice of Charon.

The Ervanans viewed development as an endless spiral, unencumbered by temporary lows or highs that could sometimes prove disastrous - like some sudden outbreak of nuclear war, for example.

The home planet of the Ervanans was called Sorimo, and it was several million light-years away from Earth's sun.

The Ervanans were persuaded that harmonious development was the most important thing, and that the home planet was only a temporary refuge, which sooner or later had to be replaced by another, better one.

But Om Suv Res knew that there was no better than home. Therefore Proxima B seemed to him a reasonably good substitute for his beloved Sorimo.

Sorimo was about four times the size of Earth and had some radiation background, which incidentally was more or less comparable to that of Proxima B.

The Ervanans set about establishing their future positions. They were in no hurry, but they didn't linger either, as they knew that once defeated, they might soon fall easy prey to someone else.

When Om Suv Res saw the ordoson[2] rising on a rocky hillside, he felt an inner tremor that filled his whole being. The Ervanans had a saying that the first hundred years were youth, and the next two hundred were the realization of the accumulated sorrow of the years - and they were quite right.

The only reason for this nomadic race to communicate was their common interests in survival, including waging military campaigns against other space-faring civilizations.

Warfare marked various stages in the history of these space nomads, as they forged short-lived friendships, created children, and last but not least, gained knowledge of the surrounding nearby universe while at war.

- "Praise be to Shakdumon," Om Suv Res expressed his adoration for the cosmic god of the Ervanans, "We will survive by succeeding in cultivating this planet, and that will be the last thing I do before I close my eyes to my eternal sleep in the fields of Azun."[3]

In the imaginations of the Ervanans, the various merits of their warriors assigned them different places in the netherworld, which they called Shadduck or Hell.

Om Suv Res feared that he might have gone there, for he almost allowed his own race to be obliterated for nothing and for no reason.

But his loyal warriors did not abandon him at this difficult time - before he came here with the surviving remnants of the Ervanan fleet, he was summoned to a personal audience with King Zonkurvan, who would be his judge of the conduct of the military campaign.

Under other circumstances he would have liquidated him without a thought, but now he realized how weakened their race was after the successful stand her people had denied her. It was not so easy to take his life.

- "I will spare you," he told him solemnly, "but you will live with this nightmare for the rest of your life. I forbid you to commit hepundo, which according to our traditions will wash the shame from your face. Instead, you must find a new planet for us to settle, as many of my subjects have perished from starvation, and from the cursed space plague from which there seems to be no escape."

As an Ervanan who knew what the word honour meant, he took his sovereign's words very much to heart, and vowed inwardly not to shame him in this latest ordeal he was offering.

The sovereign, however, assured him that if he really wished to commit ritual suicide, he was at liberty to do so after doing his duty.

Before he left this distressing audience, the monarch stopped him by saying:

- And remember, my dear Om Suv Res, we were all stardust billions of years ago. All races have an equal right to live in this universe. Don't hate others - no matter how superior or inferior they are. Because in the end, our souls will probably go to the same place as theirs. And we will all see another truth of a higher order.

Om Suv Res hadn't expected a monarch to speak like that - let alone a pure-blooded heir to the throne. But he, too, inwardly sensed the change. The whole universe wanted new life, and many old races were dying off or being modified.

- "And what is beyond, Your Grace?," the Admiral dared to ask.

The monarch paused and scratched the back of his head, a highly uncharacteristic gesture for a royal representative.

- "Look, my friend," the monarch broke the formal tone, "as advanced as we are compared to many other civilisations, we remain children of nature. Our race has always wanted to see things "beyond". But the question is, what comes next?"

Om Suv Res pondered, but did not answer. He vaguely felt it.

- "As for my life," the Admiral replied, "I have no regrets. I was trying to carry out your will and discover new and new territories. We have conquered so many planets. We developed quantum teleportation and transported non-corporeal objects with which we defeated our enemies even before we had arrived at the scene of battle."

- "That is not development, my dear," the sovereign refuted him. "The double helix is such because it has not been affected by ups and downs. And it has remained untangled!"

- "So people do evolve," asked the military man, puzzled.

- "I will tell you a short story," spoke the sovereign gravely, "as I hope it will be of real use to you in cultivating our new home. The Galactic Signature has encrypted secret information into the human genome, and it is the carrier of the Supreme Intelligence, or at least its original design. This hidden message has been so persistent that it makes me think that it is only our choices and moral selves that have brought us to our various stages of development."

- "So you want me to create something sustainable?," the Admiral tried to elicit confirmation.

- "Exactly, but one that will bring us closer to the Supreme Intelligence that has built everything around us," the monarch calmly replied.

- "But I don't have superpowers," his subordinate replied simply.

- "You don't have to," the overlord interjected, "humans had much weaker technology than ours, too. They had no idea how our ships functioned, yet they broke our battle formation. We could have lured them into the Asteroid Belt, but something happened. The question was what?"

 

[1] Genes that are linked and regulate so-called remote viewing.

[2] Ordoson - represents the futuristic headquarters of the supreme leader of the Ervanans.

[3] Azun is the Ervanian god of death who guides their souls across the cosmic expanse until they find rest.

THE MAGIC OF SLEEP

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE: THE MAGIC OF SLEEP

 

I left some of the team outside-just in case. Maybe some of Enbright's men wouldn't have taken the sight of the dead Ervanans. Not that it was anything special, and they hadn't seen blood with all the violence they'd used, but the feeling when you happened to set eyes on those lifeless bulges in a place like this could make your skin crawl and terror overwhelm you. And that only increased the risk of accidents!

"They must have come from a different galaxy where there was a lack of happiness! And they wanted to secure additional territory for their population! They wanted to evolve!" thought I, but I didn't give the others a chance to hear my thoughts.

Enbright's men began to carefully loot what little was inside anyway - and it wasn't all that little. Even though the ship was over a hundred and fifty meters long, we weren't able to squeeze into the compartments behind the cockpit, and there was a definite reason for that - the Ervanans used special encrypted passwords in their own language that resembled something between a mumble and a growl.

Charon's icy silence could drive any sane person of sound mind mad, who could clearly see what a hell we were inhabiting.

Eventually, after the brief search, we all crammed inside the ship, except for Beria Klist, who was a bit of a dick - he offered to stand and scald us for a bit while we found a way to make use of our loot.

Aside from the dead pilots we took the uniforms of, there were some complicated gadgets we couldn't use at all.

Klyst was a strange bird - a true adventurer, and I honestly didn't know exactly what motives had gotten a guy like him involved with Enbright's group - maybe there was just no other way to survive on Charon, because that was the only possible explanation. He was too intelligent for the job.

The cosmic winds might blow harder during the long night of Charon, he voiced his concerns.  - And who knows what might come upon us then.

I agreed with his reasoning. But I gave him Emborio Sikur to give him some support in case of surprise. Yes, Charon looked dead, but my feeling was that the death clock was ticking for us as well.

- "We are in the Abyss after all," Sikur added himself. "It is said that there were traces of volcanic activity right here in this area - I mean, it's just a giant crater," he summarized.

This was the second individual on Enbright's own former team who had had the opportunity to replace Zerilia Cox. Incidentally, perhaps, they were both now clearly aware that money was hardly the most valuable booty in circumstances such as these, but of course it was never superfluous - even to Charon.

We left them their weapons - one Bonetier rifle was for Beria, who was obviously excellent with it, and the laser cutter was for Sikur himself.

Naturally we couldn't stay here too long, as our oxygen supply was running low. But I had devised a little stratagem in that regard. I checked and saw that the oxygen bottles of the dead pilots were intact. Apparently these aliens had a similar biological makeup to ours after all! The problem was, how do we connect their oxygen source to our own spacesuits? I wasn't sure if it was going to be a problem, but we had to try because our lives depended on it.

To that end, we set about building a pressurized cockpit by soldering the pilothouse breaches.

In order that he might remain on post for the night, or rather for some of the time it would take us to pressurize the cockpit again, we helped him into one of the Ervanan uniforms - it was obvious that they were warm.

Under the spacesuits we wore special isenium suits that protected us from the space radiation and the cold. He slipped the uniform right over them. We built a pressurized cabin of neon panels soldered together for this purpose, and then inserted one of the oxygen ermonadium hoses to provide him with oxygen while he performed the shift thus indicated. After he changed, we unsealed the brazed panels.

Klyst struggled to hold the heavy Bonettian rifle - especially as his spacesuit had no special insulation like ours, and the nights were murderously raw and freezing. There was something that might be of use to us, and then we found an excellent exoskeleton , made of a first-rate neon alloy that was stronger than our Kevlarite by more than three times. We decided to help him put it on and thus increase his physical strength tenfold! Too bad there wasn't a second one, but in a place like this we were also supposed to use the low visibility condition. We had no idea if the Ervanans themselves would ever return to collect the ships and pilots. But from a super evolved race like theirs, that was to be expected!

He had come in to us hoping to be useful, but he stayed long enough and managed to get his bearings on the situation around him.

He didn't care that the uniform had been standing around the body of a dead man a little earlier. This bastard was starting to like me! He was so brutal and cooperative!

Once he was out again, we re-pressurized the cabin and put Sikur inside for safety. He would be needed if someone did attack us and overpowered the outpost. The 231two of them would use the frequencies of our cyclotron synthesizers, which were the most reliable means of communication we had now-for now.

We decided to find out what was in the rear of the ship, which was under the ice at a depth of more than ten meters.

Here I think it is worth noting the tremendous strain we were under, which inevitably affected us. We had replenished ourselves with oxygen for a few more hours, but expected to find more in the interior.

THE ROAD TO NOWHERE

CHAPTER FIFTY: THE ROAD TO NOWHERE

 

It was clear we couldn't mimic Ervanan speech, but there was special software that modified our voices into sounds that resembled theirs. I'd gotten it again from Rento for a small favor to settle one of the many probations he'd had. The problem was that smugglers of undetermined origin, who didn't officially play for any of the major groups, were being placed in what was known as a quarantine period where they couldn't practice. It usually lasted about two Earth weeks, but sentences were rarely carried out on Earth. Rento was thus caught with a huge amount of ents, which were mainly intended for bribes. Since it was never found out who it was that had given it to him, and no one had the courage to claim it officially for perfectly understandable reasons, the money was returned to him, but the Intergalactic Police had already started tracking him down.

Later, I realized that Rento would not have been able to carry out his activities without the support of one of Earth's senators to provide him with a political umbrella.

And I came out right! In fact, I hated it when that happened! But if it actually did, it meant I knew him a lot less than I thought.

I couldn't help but marvel at the ship's beautiful interiors - everything was clean with maximum functionality.

Deep down I expected the Ervanans to have set some traps, or at least for the ship to have some protection against unwanted visitors like us, and maybe I was right, but so far we hadn't encountered anything troublesome.

No matter how hard we tried, we couldn't get past the neon door that separated us from the ship's secrets. That barrier seemed insurmountable for now.

It was not right to give up just like that, because in my opinion it would have been a total failure of the whole expedition.

We continued with the attempts, hoping to finally have success.

By the way, I wouldn't say I'm claustrophobic or anything, but in practice, being too stuck in one place boded absolutely no good.

I had a feeling this place was going to "take us over". It was damn cool.

So who cared! Sikur was supposed to have our backs, or so I hoped. I had serious concerns that Beria Clistehimself might freeze to death despite the extra precautions we took.

Another unpleasant detail was that we couldn't use explosives in a place like this for obvious reasons.

I felt like my brain was looping, and I didn't like that at all!

Damn why did this have to happen to us since we barely managed to get to that damn place.

Mordor Macula was truly a "dark spot"! But the Ervanan ship was an even scarier thing!

I didn't pretend to know the various alien races, but by the time we got there too much had happened. I have no explanation for how I was left among the few survivors. I didn't worship the god Erduk, nor did I have a head-on encounter with the Invisibles, though the deception was revealed. So I was actually working with them at the time! Of course, I pretended to be punched and didn't bring up the issue of punished debtors because there was a cardinal rule in dealing with people - never ask unnecessary questions!

It was too tempting to tell them the game and get away with the loot myself, but that wasn't going to save anyone. Who was I fooling - I had to try to open that door or we were badly written up!

Sometimes before we set off on this overlong expedition I wondered what my next target would be? That was too important! A destiny like that of Rento himself was perhaps in store for me! I wanted to prove myself and cheat the evil fate! No, don't get me wrong - I didn't see myself as some tragic hero, as that thought was too ridiculous, but that deceptive sense of calm could be like the last time we'd ever have one.

In the end, the solution came on its own! And we found the courage to try it!

By the way, I remembered an interesting quote that had been going around in my head for a long time, that we were only "temporary guests" and now, at this moment, I realized with bitter sadness all its truth.

We were temporary guests of our new life that had brought us together because of sheer unwillingness.

I didn't want to be dramatic, so I looked around and found that they were using an exavan torch that was one idea stronger than its earthly equivalent.

However, the door turned out to be stiff and started to give very slowly. After a while it became apparent through all the slag what secrets the ship was hiding! And my hair literally stood on end with horror.

Every ship had a command room and cargo quarters like our Zegandaria ships, but this ship didn't obey any such rules. It followed some logic of its own - as if it had a mind of its own.

But was it possible that such a thing could happen? That seemed ridiculous to me. We'd deconspired the Invisibles, so what was left for some Ervanans who'd abandoned their dead comrades in the middle of nowhere.

But what was the point of a place having a mind of its own that could change according to the situation?

We didn't doubt the immense intellectual power of our enemies, or indeed prey - look at it however you wish, but still.

And then I began to see some of my worst nightmares.

It took us a while to realize that this place was just materializing our memories against us. I had heard of such a thing, but had absolutely never witnessed it.

Our nightmares, however, were connected to the past - they revolved around the last moments of Von Blask himself, some moments of my taking over the leadership of the colony, and also my future role in this whole story. I was able to see that Rivinus Olk did not die by accident.

And this cosmic mind knew we were coming! And Enbright definitely had a hand in it.

The nightmare visions didn't have a completely precise shape, but I still managed to remember the most important things.

Then suddenly the door opened and we just entered another world.

There was a huge room in which they were assembling - yes, that's the right word, assembling, or at least the Ervanans had done it in the past.

- "What on earth is this?," I dared to ask.

- "This looks to me a lot like we're fighting some robots, not creatures made of biological tissue," called Lozur Ban, who could be a bully, but had helped out a lot in the colony infirmary in the early days of our arrival here.

- "So Rivinus Olk has seen something this cosmic mind didn't want him to, or maybe he was just bothered by it himself," I muttered under my breath.

- "He died, killed by the explosion," huffed Lozur Ban, who seemed to refuse to believe that his comrade had died so ridiculously to get rid of us.

I decided not to argue openly with one of my few remaining true allies. Now the entire team rested on my shoulders and those of Lozur Ban. And the situation could get worse. We decided to see what the Ervanans had come up with.

I made it clear to myself, however, that things could only get worse and that Rivinus possessed qualities that we obviously did not.

- "How little we actually knew each other," I concluded.

Entering the Ervanan ship's secret laboratory, we discovered that the body parts were deep frozen, but not because of Charon - the ship had special insulation against the very cold temperatures, as the neommonium alloy was coated with polymers of unknown origin, which we, try as we might, could not identify. I knew, however, that they were vastly superior to equivalents such as tantalum carbide and hafnium carbide that the earthlings had. However, they had to cope with high temperatures on the order of three to four thousand degrees Celsius. We were dealing with extremely low temperatures, and the calculus didn't add up - the best I could come up with was carbon steel, which could withstand down to minus a hundred degrees Celsius. How had the Ervanans achieved such preservation and why had they abandoned everything? Maybe something had gone wrong and we were going to find it!

THE BIONIC HANDS

FIFTY-ONE: THE BIONIC HANDS

 

Lozur Bann busied himself examining the remains with an attention that would have been the envy of any medical professional who would have given dearly to be here at this moment. Unfortunately, there wasn't one.

Let me describe to you a big, strong, powerful man like Lozur Ban who knew exactly what he wanted out of this life. So many had failed, but he held on in anticipation of some new beginning and had not lost his proverbial optimism.

I wondered what kept such a man in our situation? What gave him strength? I didn't have much time to think, but soon I had to focus on what my own eyes were seeing. Many arms and legs, wiggling, were immersed in some semblance of saline solution, and beanium fibers protruded from their ends. It was a little scary. And exciting! Now I understood why the Ervanans fought with such zest. They had enough spare parts to patch up their defeats and continue the war. It was simply unthinkable!

While the Earthlings considered printing a three-dimensional heart to be a sort of pinnacle in that regard, the Ervanans could quite easily even assemble a whole new Ervanan from the spare parts available.

But what literally amazed me was something completely different. The Earthlings had bred at least half a million clones with the clear idea that they would be undone in combat because they didn't want to give real human casualties. But there was definitely something wrong with their plan, and too much of it! The clones were dying too young and nothing could be done! They were also incapable of leaving offspring of their own. How many curses had the Earth engineers uttered in their attempts to solve the problem? It wasn't that Earthlings didn't have certain methods to sew limbs together or even to fit artificial prostheses, but the Ervanans had brought this technology to perfection - any part could be fitted and through a series of complicated procedures it could start functioning in a matter of minutes - it was downright admirable! It was damn strange how they had lost the war when they could have won it!

Then I wondered how much I actually knew of Earthlings myself - yes, Rento had told me quite a bit about them. And those stories of his had left deep marks in my mind. But this was about something radically different.

I remembered that he had told me interesting things about the human mind. The sense of reality was perhaps the result of a specific balance between neurons within the brain itself.

In a race like the Ervanans, brain activity was of a very different nature - they had two whole brains - each with specific functions, and this in turn gave rise to what is called dual consciousness. Apart from that, the calibration of Earth consciousness could also encounter some limitations, unlike the Ervanans who could reach much higher levels in this respect. Humans vibrated at levels where fear could overwhelm them, whereas the Ervanans were not capable of this - there was an innate empathy between members, like a giant swarm of ants.

Ervanans also didn't rely on collective action alone, as they could also act completely independently and even carry out serious missions without needing all their body parts, as was usually the case with humans and also their clones.

The problem was that when Earth scientists had tried to clone certain Earth donors, not all of them had good enough performance and despite some adjustments made, there were again some residual defects that caused a certain amount of worry, such as residual memories for example. Sometimes the clones couldn't cope with them and simply killed themselves as that of course didn't solve the problem in that regard.

We decided to take a look at their bionic arm prototypes - they were extremely interesting and the beonium fibres had the ability to fuse with the tissue and at a slightly later stage become an integral part of it. There was only one limitation - the limbs could not be changed indefinitely. Usually the maximum number of times allowed fluctuated around two or three changes otherwise there was a danger that the beonium fibres would not perform their function quite properly and the grafted limb would be of limited usability.

I was struck dumb and turned to Lozur Ban:

- What would you do if someone endowed you with such arms - so perfect and so strong?

- "I am satisfied with mine, too," he answered shortly. "It is human nature to want more and more. But we must live through this ordeal!" he finished thoughtfully."

As we continued to examine the ship, we found that Enbright may have been chipped by Commander Brutus himself, and there was probably a good reason for that. The Ervanans had wanted further assurance of contact with this superintelligence that was hidden somewhere around the ship.

We continued circling, but noticed nothing amiss - except for those brief flashes of nightmares that were already fading in my mind. Or maybe that's how it had seemed to me?

THE ERVANAN SHIP

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO: THE ERVANAN SHIP

 

The deeper we went inside the ship, the clearer it became that we knew extraordinarily little about the development of other alien civilizations. And the Korolan Bru Corporation had to include the Ervanans in their calculations, with their subterfuge based on tremendous foresight.

Not that the corporation hadn't reached enormous levels of development, quite the contrary. By the way, I think it's time to clarify some details about the contact between the alien civilizations. Or rather aliens as we used to call them. Earthlings used their own terminology to refer to any higher intelligence outside their planet - something that I think only emphasized their narrow-mindedness, or more accurately, their unwillingness to convincingly transcend themselves. It wasn't that Korolan Bru only copied foreign achievements of more advanced civilizations - the corporation had a huge amount of its own developments, but the spirit of discovery that was willing to really go to that far beyond was in my opinion with them a bit "artificially imported or cultivated". But not to digress. The ships of the Ervanans would no doubt have revealed more secrets to us if we had been willing to plunge deeper into that world of stubbornness.

Few would appreciate the mortal peril of losing consciousness in a place like this - and I don't mean the terror that had gripped us, but the secret feeling that crept in that no matter what move we made we would still be screwed.

I had no friends at the colony except Jake, but here I really felt alone.

"What the hell is the point of your fucked up life when you have no long-term goal? Where are you going, loser?", I was trying to find an answer for myself.

These and similar questions were going around in my head, giving me no peace. I was clearly aware that maybe this was the end of the road, or at least the beginning of the end, but just in my mind I was trying to imagine it as a kind of adventure that I, as the leader, had to lead until the end.

In order not to waste your time with idle talk, I would like to say one last thing. If you ever want to end up in a really creepy place, just get on an Ervanan ship!

After the cryptovonium chambers, which stored all the bionic parts for partial or near-complete regeneration, to be assembled and bonded with wounded bodies, we decided to open the next compartment, which was also sealed - and most carefully at that. It was obvious that the level of security was at a higher level than I had ever expected.

Lozur Ban was so strong that if the door had been made of any other material than neon alloy, he probably would have wrenched it open with ease and without much explanation.

I would like to bring to your attention an interesting paradox - just as a part of life. If you existed just fine in the previous reality, are you sure you will exist just as well in the new one, or if you will exist at all?

For me the world was an illusion at least as far as the perceptions of others were concerned - I saw everything as if in a dream. And I was counting corpses. It left me in a sad place like Charon.

We finally managed to open the second door, which led to a well-insulated eborian chamber, which was obviously hiding something interesting.

After the bionic arms - much more advanced than their Earth equivalents - I expected to see everything.

Lozur Bann set about opening it, but I made a special sign to him. He was smart enough to know something was up.

The other members of the team had fallen into a strange state. The mental thought activity of those who had survived was beginning to worry us. Perhaps this universe resembled the white light that could reflect the other colors and their hues. And I had tuned my own consciousness to a certain frequency.

We found some of their weapons in the chamber - apparently they had hidden them in a more secluded location out of concern for their sanctity.

The Ervanans used advanced Femovian weapons that could alter reality in ways that even we pureblooded Zegandarians were incapable of. The basic idea was that if this universe was one giant hologram, that is, every part of it contained the information of the whole, it changed things too much. The Ervanans had the ability to isolate that particular particle and make it so that in the next time slice that object or person simply did not exist for that reality! Sounds a bit crazy, doesn't it?

By the way, even the earthlings were very familiar with the concept of a holographic universe. It wasn't anything really new or all that original. But in this case it was about recoding the existing reality.

Lozur Bann rolled his eyes and began to realize the thing that was bothering me as well. We might never be able to leave this ship!

We decided to go back, but there was simply no one to replace Emborio Sikur. We decided to look through the well-insulated cockpit compartments - at least that much we could do without risk of re-pressurization. Yes, Charon's surface was as calm and dead - as usual. Nothing distinguished it from what it had been, say, an hour or two before. The others near the eborian chamber really weren't themselves.

- "Had they caught some strange new space sickness?," she turned questioningly to Lozur Ban himself, "And where the hell had Sikur gone? He's barely breached the ship's neomanium walls and gone for a free ride around Mordor Macula!"

Perhaps you haven't forgotten that the only woman we took was Jessica Edwater - apparently out of consideration for how useful she could be to us.

Jessica was perhaps more intelligent than Lozur Ban, who I thought was the benchmark of innate intelligence - he may have looked like a giant rock or a barbarian, but his deductive abilities were legendary. But he, who knows why, was in no hurry to jump to conclusions!

- "Jessica," I decided to assert my authority, "when we were attacked by the Invisibles I managed to get a grip on myself, when I had to organise the space smuggling to feed the colony for a few months - also when we had to cross almost half of Charon we lost a lot of people, but now it doesn't even feel like time travel. What the hell is going on?"

- Have you heard of the so-called quantum family tree vision," she asked slowly, obviously expecting some sort of response from me.

I stand and watch her. Of course I was aware of such situations in psychology!

- 'You need to stop seeing yourself as a victim,' she told me, 'You need to investigate the source!

- The source!", I screamed amidst the murderous silence of this alien ship.

- 'Yes,' was her curt reply, 'that is the best solution, and I think you are very close to reaching it and seeing the truth you are trying so hard to escape!

I looked around. Lozur Ban seemed to be frozen. His muscles would have stood like chiseled if it weren't for the supermassive spacesuit that covered his body.

I was immersed in an endless repetitive cycle.

I knew that if I died, the transmigration of souls would be a kind of continuation of my current life. But those who had lost their reason were hanging around. I wondered if the Ervanan ship was affecting them that way or if there was a much deeper reason!

EMBORIO SIKUR

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE: EMBORIO SIKUR

 

It was then that I realized why Sikur had wished to stay inside-not out of fear or any apprehension, but out of sheer pragmatism. Beria Clistewas a roasted scoundrel and a brutal savage, capable of destroying anything in his path, and Sikur had had a make-out session with him in the not-too-distant past, when the two had tried to build their criminal empire on the backs of the late Enbright and his sidekick, Zerilia Cox. They felt that Enbright was playing retail like a real fool who was too short-sighted about the huge profits that lay on his own nose.

The two had strong connections where the phosphorus of Nanjagar was mined. How had this come about? Brutus had been informed by his masters, the Ervanans, by purely telepathic means, that the phosphorus deposits would soon be discovered by an expedition of the Earth Federation, which had set out on routes far divergent from the usual ones, in a ship they had taken from the Ervanans! Brutus was amazed! It had happened relatively soon before he had died, or rather fallen victim to his arrogant attitude and traitorous nature himself.

His relationship with Sikur and the very brutality among brutes as Beria Clistewas called was based on pure suffering. Our freedom of choice is determinative of taking on the masses of suffering that would elevate us. It sounded a bit ridiculous, but the late Brutus wanted to receive a kind of absolution by the way as there was a Last Judgement waiting for him somewhere. Such a brutal situation that could not be avoided.

Sikur was a lanky young man who wanted to prove himself because his youth had passed on Charon's colony and he didn't harbor much hope for some super glamorous future. He accepted the foolish offer of the demon commander Brutus himself on the assumption that he would be able to make it and somehow secure his so-called extra karma. It sounded rather strange, but Brutus wanted to pour this suffering on himself so he could succeed in becoming a martyr after the fact. Except that Light creatures didn't act that way.

Emborio Sikur would have easily been broken and crushed brutally in his desire to blackmail Brutus.

When Brutus himself had once taken him secretly with him on Haumea to his cruel patrons, Sikur had told him in no uncertain terms:

I appreciate all you have done for me, my lord! You are a man of God!

Brutus had the urge to even scream at the mention of such words, but he had been instructed by the High Priest of Haumea, since by the way the Ervanans also had religious leaders, that the only way to clear his cosmic karma was suffering.

So he was killed, but Sikur was returned to Charon in a special capsule prepared by his guardian. Yes, Brutus knew about Charon's colony, but he pretended not to see or hear because that was how he got away with it. The Ervanans didn't want to be tracked by a technologically much more advanced civilization, which we actually were.

Sikur had become a mute witness to the communication between Brutus and the other Ervanans, who whispered secrets and mystical words to him, trying to lure him further and learn the secrets of the human psyche.

But why didn't Sikur remember anything about that meeting? Very simply - his mind had been brainwashed!

Brutus was a sneaky bastard who wanted to make sure he experienced the suffering he needed before he died. Soul transgression wasn't such a simple matter!

Sikur returned without showing any signs that anything significant had happened.

Brutus had properly stopped him and hoped his plan would work, but there were others who thought otherwise!

All sorts of images could hover in the psyche of a bully like Brutus, and that was normal. In his eyes!

He had functioned on a survival level for far too long. He knew that humans were really bad and even disgusting creatures, but so what?

He had often tortured the soldiers with a caesarian ray that could burn through their groins and render them completely impotent. Not that it mattered, given that there were no women on Cerberus. But Brutus was long dead!

The psyche of a bully had provided him with Sikur, who would be his eyes and ears in the colony, a world Brutus did not rule because there were still valiant men like Jervond Om San.

Brutus's methodology was abhorrent, but before he died he had spent a full six months training Sikur in this and that against Earth Federation rules.

He had no remorse because Sikur would be his secret weapon to solve his problems if he accidentally fell into the grave.

Incidentally, Brutus himself had planned this on his own accord, as death had long been stalking him in various forms.

From a purely psychological point of view, our brain was playing pranks, refusing to accept and acknowledge death as something real, but the late Brutus' thoughts had often revolved around this "guest"!

After his return to Charon, Sikur was another, but in the bustle of survival of all those who had gathered to work in the greenhouses, he unnoticed joined in and got to work.

According to Brutus' instructions, he was not to give up his participation in Enbright's own band, for so there was a pretext for visits to Cerberus when the two of them were laundering his filthy earthen ents.

Yes, the late Enbright's plan was to settle on Earth! It sounded trite, but he was a traditionalist and had figured out that free-wheeling in Open Space and various colonies was time enough, and he didn't want his life to be at the whims and fancies of the new governor who succeeded Von Blask-whoever he was!

The land attracted him with its magnetism and its simplicity-a place for a new life! Enbright dreamed of light and of living space - he was sick of blackmailing all the workers of Charon through his perverted game, and smuggling was taking his strength! He believed that there lay the key to his future prosperity!

There was a song that was sung about this planet, and Enbright had heard it from the soldiers of Cerberus' outpost, where he had stayed for a time when he was under the tutelage of the infamous Brutus.

"There is hope lurking on Earth,

Korolan Bru on a new path leads us,

Someone may stay forever away from home,

But Earth we carry it with us in mind!"

The life of the scoundrel Enbright! But he was punished by his own people, who were called the Invisibles! The idea for this savagery was again Brutus', who wanted to keep his protégé Enbright in check, and Sikur would be his successor of sorts. But how had the two of them never run into each other on their trips to Cerberus?

Very simple - they were living in two different realities, or more accurately entering their bodies in different ways.

Enbright was heir to an old practice where the soul was inserted directly into the body, but in this in-between life on his journey between life and death, he had lost himself. Yes, that was the right word!

The Unseen had orchestrated his death in a very subtle way and he would never return to his current body. Thus, and only thus, could they accomplish what was really Brutus' idea, dictated to him by his masters, the Ervanans. Every life was a session subject to correction. And Enbright's had expired!

How had that happened?

The Ervanans had hacked into one of the programming stations and many of their signals were being intercepted by the hidden ships. Yes, that's right! These hidden ships acted as a special kind of hacking stations and that was why they were left where they were.

It sounded pretty stupid, but it was exactly right!

THE BERIA CLISTE

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR: THE BERIA CLISTE

 

When you get into the Hell of your own mind, you can see absolutely anything. It is not easy to fight your inner demons that are trying to destroy you. Beria Cliste stayed outside in the cold night of Charon - he felt alone, but he also felt a surge of energy like he had never felt before, as if an invisible hand was giving him the strength to guard this place!

- "Am I guarding a shrine! Cursed be I!," he growled, barely audibly, "Even though we're on this dead asteroid planet, who knows what might befall us - and right here in Mordor Macula! I must try not to fall asleep, for the nitrogen ice beneath my feet will see the bill if I so much as take a false step!"

Doubt seemed to creep slowly behind him. What was he looking for here? For whose interest was he fighting at all? Wasn't it rather strange that time seemed to be passing peculiarly-as if it had stopped altogether!

Beria Clistewas a very brutal son of a bitch, who would stop at nothing and no one, but suddenly doubts began to overwhelm him - they slowly crept up his back, like the subtle touch of the Imperceptibles!

- "But weren't we the Invisibles?," he asked, somewhat naively, "Weren't we doing the bidding of that psychopath Enbright, who had no scruples about indiscriminately destroying everything in his path, weren't we playing the part of Providence!"

Then he clearly felt that something seemed to crawl up his back.

- "Damn it!," he roared again. "And I thought the spacesuits were perfectly insulated, and on top of that I've got on an Ijen suit and an Ervanan uniform!"

The strange creeping seemed to have stopped!

Beria began to reason in his own way whether he was fooling himself and what he had to do to protect himself.

The isenium suit's setup was very specific, and it had to be noted that Charon's radiation background wasn't just caused by the so-called solar wind, but also by gas coming from Pluto, and trapped in Charon's cool north pole zone.

Beria had been standing here too long and it was stretching his nerves to the limit. He had no idea exactly what was going on inside the ship, and he hadn't picked up any signals from Sikur on the frequencies of his cyclotron synthesizer in a long time.

Beria Klyst couldn't deny that the beauty of the satellite was truly raw, but he couldn't even imagine the practically backwards path they'd take back to Semric Syn.

- "What if they've just decided to get rid of me!," a strange paranoia unexpectedly came over him.

Paranoid personality disorder was common and Beria was making no exception. Many had blown their brains out due to the complete impenetrable darkness and hellish cold of this Hell, and his psyche was simply more resilient, which was why Enbright had trusted him when he gathered the members of his gang.

Cleist respected Jervond's leadership, clearly seeing his qualities as an accomplished fighter and visionary in terms of where he wanted them to go, but that didn't mean he trusted him much. The primal instinct of adoration for a leader could easily be melted by some random event!

And then blood flowed from his mouth! It seemed to him that he was dreaming!

He checked his electronic pressure equalization valve - honestly, it was just fine and there was nothing suspicious about it. Even for a moment it seemed to him that he was about to fall into a dangerous slumber, which could have had a lethal end.

It wasn't long before he clearly felt the second drop of blood from his nose. Soon more and more began to drip from his mouth as well.

He tried to open his mouth, but began to drown, and then he realized that this was the end.

The Ervanan uniform was to blame - it was of biological origin and was designed to end the life of any wearer who was not of the biological species intended to wear it.

Beria slowly began to lose consciousness, but still managed to compose himself a little and make it seem like the last time. He knew that when Earth astronauts' space suits decompressed, if there was any oxygen left in their lungs, they could rupture, but in this case, the Ervanan uniform was designed to cause decompression of the alien spacesuit through its contact with the isenium matter, which in turn would then make contact and chemically react with the Hermosol spacesuits used on Charon.

Before the spacesuit was finally breached, Beria attempted to send a coded message over the internal frequency of his cyclotron synthesizer. The message, which he struggled to compose because one of his arms was brutally immobilized from the severe pain, read, in top or bottom, as follows.

"Eyes are blind, ears are deaf, and pulse is out of the norm. I'm dying... Beware the Ervanan plague like a cosmic plague. And don't wear their damn ..."

He couldn't finish the message, as his lungs simply burst due to the pressure differential, and the biological tissue of the uniform had long since done irreparable damage to the victim's head and face.

His lifeless body thudded against the nitrogen ice on Charon's surface, causing a small explosion in the contact zone. Still, the warm blood combined with the heated biomatter had had its say. The powerful shockwave nearly hermetically sealed the cockpit, and the others inside Lozur Ban, Jervond Om San and company felt it clearly.

Had this ship been constructed of any alloy other than neomon, which was extremely durable, they would likely have been dead, or at best inevitably buried under the wreckage of the ship. A huge space tomb in the middle of the lifeless territory of Mordor Macula!

THE OTHER FACE OF THE ENEMY

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE: THE OTHER FACE OF THE ENEMY

 

We didn't know it then, but the true Invisibles were the Ervanans. Sikur had long been their man in the colony, and Clyst had to be killed lest he be an inconvenient witness. Unfortunately, Emborio had received the signal sent over the internal frequency, and our synthesizers were apparently jammed somehow.

He had been given the special skill of becoming invisible by the Ervanans. It was so strange that in the midst of this mortuary, the real carnage was just beginning!

I, Jervond Om San, was familiar with some of the Earthlings' hidden technologies, such as the so-called invisibility cloaks, which were mostly made of special metamaterials like ceramics and metals - where the light simply bounced off them and they acted like a mirror.

But even then, hidden objects were barely visible. It was damn weird in those cases.

Apart from me and Lozur Ban, there was hardly anyone else who could offer any real resistance to the hidden enemy that Sikur had become. I don't want to be judgmental, but somewhere along the way of learning the fighting skill of the late Vice Admiral Kenji Nolsuro, we learned that we had to be ready to fight any opponent. Kenji was a representative of the free space fighting school, and Von Blask had introduced us to his techniques, and I had also learned the basics of "evoro" from Rento. So Sikur or whoever was lurking in the shadows hadn't guessed! He would have felt real resistance from a strong opponent, which I, Jervond Om San, thought myself to be!

Time in a confined space flowed decidedly differently, or so it seemed to me.

"What does our fear teach us?" this question was running around in my head, making me desperately search for its answer.

- "Come out, Jervond," I heard a quiet whisper, "It's been a long time since there's been anything hidden-a hidden thing."

Maybe it was me, or maybe it really was Sikur' voice approaching me.

- The beast is in you, Gervond. Show this no-good man you trust what you're really capable of. Traitors deserve no mercy!

- "Do you think those around you will serve you faithfully? These scoundrels have come only for prey and ask no particular allegiance to you!," came the same whisper that could have chilled your blood.

Instinctively, I made a movement and the laser cutter flew inches from my face. Perhaps none of you are aware how dangerous this weapon can be in confined spaces. I was relatively close to the eborian chamber and hoped I would be able to use one of the Femovian weapons to fend off this crazed and deranged bastard!

Since the situation was getting tense, I didn't have much time to look around or even think about the best possible self-defense strategy. I tried to pull out one of Femovie's weapons - they had the oddest shape and I had no idea how to really handle them.

The design of these weapons was more than futuristic, and I vowed that I should be able to take down my invisible opponent with my first shot.

Apparently, though, he was moving pretty fast around the relatively narrow interior of the ship. Perhaps I had forgotten to mention the presence of artificial internal gravity, which was being created by a small chevarius generator that was in the adjacent third chamber, which we did not yet have access to.

If I managed to turn it off, the damned thing would still somehow give out and I'd be able to deal with it. I still had my plasma blaster handy, and also a laser cutter.

But the strangely behaving people on Enbright's team didn't inspire confidence in me - maybe something was going on with their minds somewhere in there, and it was going to get worse.

I felt Sikur was influencing them and I didn't like it.

I thought I could just scream in his face to stop with his dastardly numbers, but there was no way that was going to happen because he could be close to me and fatally stab me.

I had to be careful - after all, Sikur had a reputation as a skilled fighter.

I decided to stand in the "bevane" pose, which gave more freedom of movement and, most of all, so as not to hook the eborian camera. My plan was more than simple. Clearly, the generator couldn't be reached that easily, and Lozur Ban stood strangely numb for some unknown reason while the others around drooled brutally.

I dared to fire the Femovian weapon straight at the door, hoping to get it out of the way, while on the other hand I kept the laser cutter at the ready to deflect any sneak attacks. The weapons of the Ervanans were ingeniously constructed, and though usually used with two hands were balanced in weight in such a way that they could be held with one hand.

There was a strange gurgling effect and the door disappeared, leaving a relatively narrow gap where it had stood a moment before.

It was a matter of life and death to manage to get there, and I began a slow retreat in that direction with the clear knowledge that I had to watch my back on two fronts - from my crazed teammates and from my invisible enemy.

It was important to note that this lunatic could come at me from anywhere and I was not burning with desire to be impaled and die among these idiots, imprisoned and alone.

I hoped Sikur' nerves wouldn't hold and he'd make a mistake - though the Ervanans had trained him well enough.

Then one of the burned-out members of Enbright's team tried to touch me on the shoulder. Perhaps Sikur was influencing them through telepathy, or perhaps he knew more than I did about the secret hidden technologies of the Ervanan ship.

Then he appeared and I saw his face change, expressing a look of helplessness and hopelessness. It was not the face of a sufferer, but the face of a true butcher - a psychopath!

- "You should have come here, Jervond!," he shrieked in a voice so grating that a normal person in my place would have fainted. It's time you got your comeuppance!

I realized clearly that he was using telepathy to communicate with me. This ability is innate in all of us, but few of us have the courage to develop it - the late Rento had an excellent command of it, and it had saved him many times when it was really necessary to bribe a customs official or to carry out certain actions not permitted by law.

The speed with which he attacked me was indescribable. His laser cutter sliced through the air so quickly and mercilessly that I didn't have much time to react. It was pointless trying to parry the attacks of an unseen adversary, but by his hissing voice I was able to somewhat orient myself to where he was.

With lightning speed, I raised the laser cutter and delivered the so-called "evae" strike that was supposed to dismember the innards of this nobody!

Clearly he hadn't expected such a rebuff, yet he defended himself admirably and did well for some fearsome hooligan from a small colony where almost no livelihood existed.

But my second shot seemed to hit right on target and hurt him enough to see his blood drain. It wasn't much, but it was enough for me to get my bearings and keep punching him. Merciless! Again and again!

What I didn't count on, though, was that at that exact moment, Lozur Ban was going to charge me in the back and I was going to take an incredible blow to the suit's scab. I managed to keep my balance, but now the balance of power was in their favor.

- "Where are you headed, Jervond?," replied Lozur Ban in a strange voice. "It's thanks to my strength, sharp judgment and skill that I've made it this far. Have you forgotten the death of Rivinus, who saved all our lives?"

I then decided to masterfully direct Sikur' attacks at Lozur Ban and bowed slightly. His blade cut mercilessly into the giant's shoulder, and he looked at him with his clever eyes, which still held a hint of childish naivety.

- Jervond, this time won't even take you to Hell! You're digging your own grave!

I was thrown almost two meters forward as my spacesuit crashed into the invisible body of the villain Sikur!

Apparently I had pinned him somehow, because I could feel he was dying - his blood was slowly draining and he was completely helpless, but Lozur Ban was still behind me. With a lightning feint, I managed to grab the cover of the eborie chamber and send it into the target, and the hydraulics of my suit decimated the force of the impact. The suit's composite seemed to buckle and inflict more damage. Then the noisy decompression that followed caused his death.

- "You are a true animal, Jervond," pronounced the dying Sikur, "But remember, there will be retribution for you in the next world! The path of thy soul shall not be as ours!"

THE MAD REALITY

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX: THE MAD REALITY

 

I resolved to see what lay in the remotest part of the Ervanan ship-perhaps there was the key to all secrets. There were more things to learn, even about myself!

The problem now was that I couldn't count on those spittle-flecked hillbillies, who were apparently soon to prove an insurmountable obstacle in my path to the truth.

I turned to Sikur, who by some miracle was still alive

- "What the hell did you do to them?," I roared at him, filled with despair. "I hadn't counted on them to get this far. I was their leader in this Hell! What did you expect me to do?"

- "You're all alone from now on, Jervond," he sighed, each of his wheezes spewing more and more blood, "and you'll see the world with different eyes. Soon the picture will line up before your eyes, and it might even make you think. The road back home is long - too long. Let's hope you can make it!"

Then he died and one last convulsion convulsed and disfigured his already crippled body. He had accomplished his mission.

After passing through the futuristic looking door, or more accurately the opening left after the use of the femovie weapon, I saw something that was beyond all reasonable explanation.

There were corpses from the colony - in perfectly preserved condition. Yes, they were disfigured, for they had been killed with Ufurgan poison, the same poison we used to try to rid ourselves of the hideous Anzarani buffoon, and we seemed to have succeeded in destroying it for good - at least on Charon. But they were there!

The corpses of Zerilia Cox and Enbright lay close together. Yeah, fuck him! Who had we cremated then? I can feel no sympathy for such scoundrels, who surely were of no use to anyone in their lifetime except their band of misfits who had worked for them and who also inwardly loathed them to death. But the question was, what next?

I decided to take a walk around the futuristic hall and then noticed that my oxygen level was critically low. I went back to use Sikur's oxygen. Yes, I, Jervond Om San, was going to breathe through my enemy! How touching! That same air I had taken from him would enter my lungs with its intoxicating effect for freedom! I wondered if I was becoming the same thing Enbright himself had become in his desire to survive. A filthy beast - a bully who could only exist alone with his sick imagination!

After replenishing some of my dwindling supplies, I found that my oxygen would only last another two or three hours and I would suffocate painfully! I decided to take a chance and reveal things fully, so I stepped forward. Then I realized clearly that, in addition to hacking the programming stations, the Ervanans had used these ships to study us - us Zegandarians - a civilization so advanced that its decline had been brought about by problems with the insatiable greed and low morale of its rulers!

Then I heard a voice in my head:

- Jervond, you go forward solely at your own peril, and it's up to you to see what happens and whether you save yourself!

Then I understood the idea of the Ervanans. It was extremely simple. So simple that Earthlings wouldn't even consider it frivolous. The Ervanans just wanted to lure the Korolan Bru out of the confines of the solar system so they could deal with them once and for all. But that could be done if the secret communication between them and ERTOL GIS was broken. To put it another way, Cerberus' outpost would have been the main hotbed of disinformation, and once the Earthlings vacated their territories, transferring significant portions to Nanjagar, the hidden Ervanan threat would have been unleashed to its full potential - apart from Haumea and Charon, it would apparently not have been much of a problem to effect a quantum teleport from their headquarters on the planet Proxima B.

Brutus was already the first casualty, and he had buried the secret of Von Blask with him, as well as the secret of his patrons, and his venal sidekick Erdemon Bonx to play the dislocated Cerberus soldiers long enough.

Well, it was unlikely he'd be so far gone that he'd be able to attempt to slip away like his corrupt commander, but still! The plot was quite dastardly, and so effective that it would have achieved astonishing results if the Earth Federation hadn't sensed which way the wind was blowing. I examined the suits of the dead - I wasn't really fooling around, but then I noticed a small chip that the Ervanans had apparently missed. I decided to take a look at it and use my suit's built-in quantum microcomputer to analyze it.

After carefully decrypting it, the message read, at the top or bottom, as follows:

"The great wealth I have accumulated from illegal activity is hidden nowhere else but on Earth. And there, I, McDougle Enbright, longed to begin a new life. Alas, apparently my hopes were in vain! But the mystery will be solved sooner or later."

I tucked the chip away and looked around. Dead Seacourt's guess was pretty accurate as a hit. And how could I possibly come back? I was trapped in my own rage. I had no time for explicit reasoning, but prepared to start back. And then an even more frightening thought struck me! What if there was no one waiting for me in Semrik Sin for a long time! If I had been the last living soul left in this cursed place!

I gritted my teeth in frustration! I had paid too high a price for my knowledge!

I had heard that the path of awareness can lead you to self-destruction. And that's exactly what I was doing right now. I had lost teammates I didn't particularly trust - all those who had died along the way. Yes, you could say I was alive because of them, but we had also each put on such a successful mask and used it to fool those around us, a special form of mimicry that helped us survive difficult situations.

Don't get me wrong, if Rivinus Olk hadn't stepped foot in that place, we'd probably all be dead and we'd never have made it to the inside of that alien ultramodern ship, where we could glimpse one part of a rather grand design that, as a whole, could have ended up as a giant tower doomed to collapse.

I needed to rid myself of the curses that someone might be pouring on me from beyond the grave, or simply, in one form or another, return back home - to the Semrik Sin colony, which, incidentally, might well prove to be my last refuge!

On my way back from the third chamber, which I would persoNaly classify as a warehouse for humanoid biomaterials of particular importance to our enemy, I again looked into the hysterical faces of my frenzied companions, and was horrified to find that they were dead. In the middle of it, of course, was the aforementioned artificial gravity generator inside the ship - it was now completely unnecessary. And perhaps if I had reached it earlier? All those casualties could have been avoided! The Ervanans had simply used Sikur for their fatal purpose - these space nomads had a very cunning design, namely that when one of their wards died or was put in a stressful situation, he could inflict a similar thing on those around him by suggesting that they end their lives.

But how could psychokinesis[1] kill? He had activated certain centers in their subconscious that would cause their brains to distort and activate their suicidal instincts - one had opened a huge hole in his skull with the laser cutter of Sikur himself! When you were part of a criminal gang operating within the confines of a small colony located on a moon like Charon, whose economy was based on the principles of near-total autarky, the risk of having a distorted view of reality was enormous, and Emborio had taken advantage of a given and subsequently developed ability in a very nefarious way!

It also had to be said that Charon's right to free choice had been taken away from us. Come to think of it, I did not inherit Von Blask of my own free will, but out of necessity, or rather, almost by force! We had to survive, and no one anywhere wanted us, and on top of that we were hiding from the Earth Federation and the Intergalactic Police themselves, who could easily have stopped us if we weren't cautious enough.

What they did was they got our other companions like Ezerea Kio, Brendan Sonks and even Jessica Edwater to ...! Where was she?

I looked around but didn't see her - she was definitely not one of the drooling, eye-rolling dead creatures.

- "I must look for her," I spoke to myself, almost oblivious to the real danger the lack of oxygen could cause me.

Then I headed back to the most dangerous part of the ship, and now the darkest. One of Sikur's bonetie rifle shots during our skirmish was someone powering the eblonodium lighting units along the second hall, and I had to navigate in almost impenetrable darkness, but fortunately my spacesuit had some illumination, and when I returned to the cockpit I saw something startlingly nasty - Beria Klist was dead, and all that was left of him was a small piece of exoskeleton that had lodged itself in the hull. I looked at it more closely - it was actually his leg, or rather pieces of the exoskeleton! That damn thing had fallen victim without even managing to resist them!

But again, I couldn't see where Jessica could be? This cutie had as much brains as Lake Kio and Brendan Sonks himself combined, and I had to find her at all costs, as well as extra oxygen supplies.

Then someone behind me perked up - it was her. By some miracle she had managed to survive and was looking at me with the eyes of an innocent child, but the toughness of a true warrior! So her mother, Miss Edwater, was a true legend who was even recorded in the annals of Zegandaria!

- "I was able to read their minds," she told me quietly, "These creatures control their charges, as they put it, through telepathy and psychokinesis, which generally serves as punishment as well, as you saw for yourself, by the way. It's a pity we lost Brendan Sonks - he could have been a great help with his ship piloting skills."

I gritted my teeth and remained silent - she really was right, and the situation was getting more and more confusing.

- But how did you manage to slip away in the first place? Everyone else fell easy prey, including Beria Clistehimself.

There was sadness in her eyes. She looked at me. And froze - she was as if speechless. Behind my back was Cleist! He wasn't dead! But how was it possible! How the hell had he got in? That bastard!

With lightning speed, he grabbed my plasma blaster and pointed it at me!

- "You wanted to kill me," he roared, his disfigured face showing through the suit.

I looked down at him - part of his body was missing, and he had patched up his missing leg with a special heroin prosthetic, the kind we carried with us in case of emergency. These prostheses - a marvel of engineering - were developed and used in the colony, especially by those who worked in the greenhouses where accidents could easily happen. The area was instantly patched by the prosthetic's special nanoprobe and the limb became usable - well, it wasn't quite on the level of the Ervanans' bionic limbs, but it was far better than nothing. Especially when you're mortal!

Shortly before he'd fallen onto the nitrogen ice, Beria had somehow managed to roll to the side and land in relative safety like the ship's neon hull, which had saved him.

But he hadn't noticed Jessica, who also had a weapon! The distance between them was a few paces at most - no more.

With one accurate shot into his viewfinder, she finished him off completely! The helmet of his spacesuit burst open and chunks of it stuck out to the side, revealing his head blown off by the powerful shot and now there was just a giant hole gaping!

 

[1] Psychokinesis is the ability to deliver an energetic blow to the victim's mind.

THE MISSION OF SIKUR

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN: THE MISSION OF SIKUR

 

After we came to our senses, Jessica and I both decided to move out of that damned place an hour sooner, but she suggested we explore some more. Maybe the Ervanans had left a coded message that we could decipher one way or another. Frankly, I didn't like their language, with its staggering complexity and intricacy that made our task all the more difficult.

We went to inspect the wreckage of Clyst and were horrified to find that it was not him at all, but one of the Ervanan pilots. Apparently, these creatures could also use living biological matter to transfer their own minds onto it, something I couldn't even imagine. The Ervanans had fallen into lethargy, but maybe they weren't completely dead. I mean, we'd seen... It was starting to get shitty! I didn't even know if I could trust my own senses or if the demonic atmosphere of the ship was just playing some kind of bad joke on us. Soon all of this could lead to fatal consequences!

Jessica and I both turned our gazes towards them:

- "How do you think they managed to do that to the Klyst?," I asked her, filled with lively curiosity, "I've never seen anything like that before."

We approached to look at it and found the real reason. Yes, it was not Cleist, but his double! Or rather, a poor copy of him - the Ervanans were transferring their preserved minds, as we were able to read from some of the electronic documents left in the on-board computer of random biomatter with similar characteristics - that is to say, one of the dead pilots had undergone a metamorphosis, taking the form of Cleist in a very short time. However, this effect was fleeting, and even if we hadn't shot him, the fake Cleist wouldn't have lived too long. The Ervanans called this technology "revival after death".

After gathering the necessary information, we decided to pick our pears before we really fell victim to the alien intruders. Apparently they could kill even if they were completely dead.

We found out that the ship had special hidden compartments where the Ervanans kept a huge amount of oxygen bottles they had stolen from our own colony, or maybe the late Sikur had brought them to them with the help of his also dead patron Brutus.

I was certainly acutely aware that curiosity was the guiding force of these space nomads, who found it all too difficult to fit into the picture of the general existence of the other alien races.

- "They were playing with our subconscious minds," Jessica told me with conviction, 'they wanted to confront us with our greatest fears, but they fell into their own trap! As soon as I sensed Sikur' telepathic waves, I immediately hid in a small weapons bay, and that actually saved me.

- "I'm glad I'll have a companion to accompany me on my way back home," I added cheerfully, "It's worth being near you!"

Our eyes met. Jessica was a little shy, but she had more courage than Enbright's people. Her eyes looked at me as if we'd met in another lifetime - quite different from this one.

The way back to the surface wasn't easy, and we wondered what we were going to eat, since we'd long since wolfed down that small portion of high-calorie pilot food I told you about.

I don't believe in superstitions, but we had a story worth sharing on Charon.

- "I don't believe this propaganda," Jessica turned to me fiercely, "We are slaves to our own minds, and the decision to be here was made by higher powers. They are keeping us imprisoned because we may be hindering their own plans!

I decided to quarrel with my angry but otherwise quite composed companion.

In the past, humanity has used a gauntlet of wires or a polemic boom arm to interact with virtual reality. Our ancestors on Zegandaria have been captive to the perverse experiments of Doctor Gad ‘Di Enn...

- "Will you shut up and listen to me?," she interrupted heatedly, "All that is far in the past, and we live right here!" she stuck a finger in my suit's viewfinder.

- "Apparently the Earth Federation is pretending not to notice us," I joked, although I was fully aware that my joke was inappropriate to say the least, and even somewhat cruel.

- "It's not that," she looked at me with a completely serious expression, "I wonder how you haven't seen the truth yet!"

It took me some time to assimilate her words. Apparently, our ideas of reality and space-time differed substantially. And right now, that didn't have to be the case because we both depended on each other!

- "Remember the simple concept of the holographic universe," she tried to remind me of her idea, "But this is about something much deeper. Imagine that the choices we make create realities in which we ourselves begin our new lives!"

- "That sounds a bit abstract to me," I added after some thought. "You mean we are in another reality right now?"

- "No, my thought is that somewhere out there on our way to our destination we made a huge mistake," she looked at me with a dejected expression.

- "Maybe Rivinus Olk shouldn't have died," I shouted out of nerves, "Maybe it wasn't right for me to leave Semric Syn where it was my destiny to defend these people that Von Blask entrusted to me."

Jessica's expression turned icy.

- "Why are you trying to deny the obvious truth, which by the way is almost under your nose?," she stated, trying to maintain decorum and good manners like a true Edwater.

- "Our world was just branching off, and I'm not talking about the quantum family tree, I'm talking about the morality of the Ervanans," she spat out the pebble.

- "You mean they were trying to give us a chance for free choice?," I asked timidly.

- "I almost guessed!," she looked at me sternly. "There was a way to avoid many casualties on the way up. I'm not saying that you, Jervond Om San, should be held responsible for the actions of absolutely everyone for the simple reason that they also made certain wrong decisions, but..."

I fell silent, waiting to hear the terrible sentence Jessica was hesitant to utter. This aristocratic woman probably knew me more than anyone and was trying to help me, and maybe she knew something else. Something so deeply intimate that I dared not even speak aloud.

- "Didn't you understand, Jervond? Your time is long over!," said Jessica to me triumphantly. "I have your life because I saved you. As leader of the colony, you know that rule no worse than I do!"

She was damn right, and I hated it when someone twisted my arms! On the other hand, there was hardly anyone around to confirm her right to impose her claims.

- "Look here's the thing, Jessie," I addressed her a little more facetiously, "we're both firmly stuck in this. I've got oxygen for nearly two more hours, and the oxygen bottles we found are still intact, as the Ervanans apparently didn't take them more than three or four months ago, indicating that they're still perfectly serviceable."

- "What do you suggest?," she asked, not very confidently, "It's crazy to go back the other way. What if they've already sniffed out exactly what's going on. The Earth Federation might even have occupied Charon's colony. They'll capture us and torture us."

I hated any kind of playing on people's fears, but honestly, Jessica was totally right! That girl was damn smart! If my ribs didn't hurt so much, I probably would have laughed at my own wit. But we were running out of time.

After searching some more, we headed out of the ship, but first we had to unsolder the soldered panels, and then I wondered where the hell Beria Clistehad come in from.

We soon came to the conclusion that his consciousness had simply passed through solid matter, visualizing itself before us through the body of the dead Ervanan pilot.

So we had to reopen this isolated slit. The mess we saw outside was indescribable, but the blood had flowed and frozen instantly - what's more, it had even been partially vaporized by the powerful explosion. Everything else was quickly covered by the numbing ice of the satellite.

According to popular opinion, when the body temperature dropped to as low as twenty-two degrees, an agonizing death occurred - well, the severity of the trauma itself also played a role here. OccasioNaly, a paradoxical undressing occurred - in Beria's case, such a thing had simply not happened due to sheer lack of time. I can imagine the suffering of that poor fellow! He clearly had the brutal hellish desire to tear off his own skin just to get rid of it! The corneas of his eyes had become covered with ice and he had apparently gone blind for a moment, which had further contributed to the accident.

You know full well that everyone is generally, consciously or unconsciously, a champion of some cause, even Beria had moved with Enbright's men to have a real chance of surviving Charon's dire conditions. When you think about how little morality is actually worth! This brutal criminal had sold himself relatively cheaply, but he clearly had an expectation of finding untold treasures on this ship - well, he was bound to be disappointed!

We continued up through the ice and after a while we had reached the surface. Charon still looked as dead and lifeless as before. After a quick reckoning, Jessica and I both decided it would be far safer to return to the ship after all.

Of course, if we had still opted for the option of re-crossing Oz Terra, we could have fallen victim to the distinct signs of tectonic activity on Charon's terrain that had also led to Rivinus Olk's demise!

THE RESCUE OF JESSICA

"In hell, death is the least of dangers."

Richard Mathieson

 

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT: THE RESCUE OF JESSICA

 

Don't get me wrong, but Jessica's idea of taking this old trough for a spin grabbed me, so we both set about exploring the technical possibilities of this ship. It turned out that the alien craft were powered by a special kind of engine that we weren't fully familiar with yet. Yes, I was getting used to the strange alien speech of these creatures and had to give them credit for definitely understanding spacecraft engineering.

But to get back to engines, humans in the very distant past had used all sorts of engines - chemical rockets and solar sails were later replaced by ion and plasma engines, and much later by some distant semblance of tachyon models. Not to go into too much technical detail, it is necessary to tell you that we had long outgrown the stage when some small technical discovery drove us to a state of frenzy.

The Ervanans were using a radically different technology to power their ships that was worth describing. The ship was equipped with two different types of engines, which amazed me - in addition to a quantum teleportation engine, they also had an antimatter-based engine. I wondered why they needed exactly two, when obviously the first one was doing a great job!

And then the epiphany came to me - these brutal creatures could drop an antimatter bomb right in the center of the solar system and wipe out everything around with ease. What if the ships had been left as hacking stations in addition to secretly hidden bombs that could be detonated remotely. In my opinion, this reasoning was not entirely without merit!

With antimatter drives, one could easily accomplish interstellar travel over relatively shorter distances when ships needed to show more flexibility and get into tighter battle formations.

Jessica and I set about looking at the fine workmanship of this marvel. As you will recall, poor Brendan Sonks had long been in overdrive and there was no way we were going to benefit from his magnificent services as an excellent pilot. And what alternatives were we left with?

Jessica was a vindicated enough lady and didn't give me too long to ponder the matter. Very soon she broke me out of my stupor and set about explaining her point of view.

- "They are not dead," Jessica called back, "but merely deep asleep in the..."

- "Who are they?," I looked at her in bewilderment, trying to follow her thoughts.

- The pilots of the ship. I found the technical drawings in a ... according to them, the name of the ship is the Veoargis, whatever that means.

- "How can we drive it?," I asked, "It seems to me that we are not the best people for this, but we have no other choice."

We both strained all our strength and tried to assess the situation. We had oxygen for a total of-at least-ten days, which wasn't that much. Would it have been enough? Honestly, I hoped so hard!

Jessica and I would have made a great team. She tried to connect the generator the right way, as she thought the anti-gravity generator could be useful to us for other purposes. After a while we were both floating freely through the air, but our grav boots quickly pinned us to the floor. Jessica gave me a hand and gently pulled me up until I felt solid ground beneath my feet.

Now all we had to do was break the ice above us. There was over three hundred thousand cubic feet of ice -and that was a hell of a lot.

We had to come up with a solution to this serious problem and do it as soon as possible. But one thing really gave me no peace. Namely the feeling of annoying and deceptive calm! Something was perhaps not right.

I shared my feelings of impending danger with Jessica. At first she reacted seriously enough, but then she laughed a little and said she doubted anything bad would happen. And for the moment, she turned out to be right. But I kept my eyes on the co-pilot's corpse, getting the feeling that he was going to stand up and grab us by our arms.

The appearance of the Ervanans was quite interesting and worthy of some description - for instance, they were about six feet tall, rather thin, and with very pale skin, which seemed to me to be much thicker than ours, but nevertheless by no means coarse. Their heads, too, had proportionate proportions to ours, but were just a little narrower.

Cryogenic sleep looked like hibernation, but in practice it lasted for years. The special chambers in the cockpit in which their bodies stood were adapted for just that purpose.

- "I think we've succeeded," Jessica finally said, the only one besides the late Averia Downs who had attended school on Zegandaria, and subsequently graduated in quantum physics and particle mechanics from the Nal Rhys Moon Academy.

Jessica settled herself confidently into the pilot's seat, what we called the herodania, which the aliens used for seating.

The ship could have slid through the nitrogen ice and caused an unprecedented explosion that could have cost us our lives. So, Jessica decided to use the quantum teleportation engine.

- "We just need to set the coordinates very carefully," she told me very seriously, 'otherwise it could get really bad.

The problem stemmed from the following important detail - no living matter could be moved in space. So we decided to teleport the ship with the parameters set to vaporize the nitrogen ice above us. This was not such a simple task. The perfect duplicate of this aircraft would have to perform other tasks that were to be of prime necessity in the realization of our further plan.

Jessica sweated quite a bit while she tackled this serious problem, but in the end everything was done right.

The ship was also fitted with an emosan "periscope" through which very interesting things could be observed. We knew that the phenomenon of quantum teleportation was realized with extremely high accuracy, but we still had to check, because we hardly had the luxury of making a mistake.

Jessica's calculations turned out to be completely correct, and overall the ship was "duplicated" right above us. Then, using the parameters Jessica had set, the ship began to cut out and very carefully vaporize small enough doses of ice that would not cause too loud an explosion in case of some mistake.

After a few hours we were free. Believe it if you want, but if I wasn't wearing a spacesuit I would have kissed Jessica and thanked her from the bottom of my heart for a job well done, but she was also a graduate of the Military Branch of the Nal Rhys Moon Academy and didn't tolerate any displays of intimacy. Still, she encouraged me with her light and pleasant smile - as if she wanted to say "I told you I would succeed." There was a special magnetism in the look of this woman who was determined to succeed at any cost to survive. I thanked the Almighty whether it was the god Erduk or some wild and ruthless cosmic deity that she was working on our side and fighting tooth and nail.

- 'The ship must be properly erected,' she interrupted my thoughts, 'otherwise the first successful part may be a fleeting triumph before a spectacular fiasco.

Jessica set about activating the antimatter engine with a precision that could truly earn the highest praise. For those who wondered where exactly we were going to go, now that we had freed the ship from the enormous ice burden that had encumbered it until recently - well, in all honesty, the concept of antimatter propulsion involved what was called specific energy, which was billions of times greater than that given off by chemical fuels. Not that earthlings used chemical rockets. They were prehistoric, but here we had to consider that the collision between hydrogen and antihydrogen[1] could generate thrust, and that was the thing we needed. This shower of pions[2] and muons[3] could generate directed motion strong enough to take us to anywhere in the solar system with ease, and even much farther.

When we lifted off, we turned off the secondary vertical stabilizers. I was amazed at the foresight of the Ervanans and their desire to build such a perfect battleship, which could have been a true specimen of the highest order in its own right.

Then I clearly heard Jessica's voice:

- "Now, my dear Jervond, comes the most difficult and specific part, and you are really expected to help me," she looked at me with feverish anticipation.

- "What exactly do you expect me to do?," I asked her frankly, 'I believe I could run this ship and overrule you if necessary.

- "That's not necessary for now," she replied through a laugh, "just keep an eye on that pilot. Who knows, maybe the cryogenic chamber he's in will open and he'll attack us out of nowhere. I know it's highly unlikely, but still."

- "You're right," I shared my concerns with her, "We have to be really careful or we might fall victim like all the other people on Enbright."

Gradually the ship made altitude and the antimatter thrusters were activated. Then Jessica asked me a rather interesting question:

- Are we ever going back to Semrik Sin? We might be ambushed there, leading to a brutal clash with Earth Federation forces. Your decision could prove fateful, so think it over. We can of course try to rescue the others, but I'm not aware of the ship's combat capabilities, particularly the geovenium cannons, which possessed astonishing power.

Jessica's idea was to launch a small spy probe to test her theory of Earth Federation subterfuge.

- "Haven't you ever dreamed of going to a real place where you could feel truly free?," she asked openly.

I didn't know what to answer her. This impressive woman was charged with a special magnetism. Don't get me wrong, there was an inexplicable fatality about her and a slightly gloomy air. Jessica always tended to look on the worst side of things, and was beginning to convince me to believe her that somewhere out there we really were facing a serious threat.

When I looked at her, I saw her as she was, confident, with blonde hair that looked almost white against the ebony lighting of the ship, with some hint of tragicism and a post-apocalyptic feel. She was wearing the same spacesuit that every member of the team wore, a special enzanium composite alloy mixed with nanopolymer and covered with Kevlarite tiles, but there was something special about her - she kept telling me something extra special, that I had come to Charon on a mission and that I was destined to go all the way, for better or worse. She was so young - she was hardly more than thirty in fact - but there was a strange sense of doom in her smile.

- "Some would say you're something of a guardian angel to me," I smiled sourly.

- "Worse I am your mentor on the path of the Light," she answered me gravely.

- "Are you one of the Light creatures?," I looked at her in disbelief and a frank dose of doubt.

I had a feeling I was going to start completely unplugging.

- And you can't change it in any way, but you can accept it with philosophical humility and dignity, which is, I think, the wisest possible decision.I stood spellbound at her strange words, but she had saved my life and could say whatever she wanted!

 

[1] Antihydrogen - the antimatter analogue of hydrogen.

[2] Pion - collective name of three types of elementary particles.

[3]  Muon - a type of elementary particle.

THE SINS OF GERVOND

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE: THE SINS OF GERVOND

 

I, Gervond Om San, am ready to confess to all my sins committed in the name of preserving my own life, as well as the life of Jessica Edwater herself. Her suggestion that we wait a while for the hidden spy nanoprobe to bring us the appropriate signals proved correct - the Semrik Sin colony had indeed been wantonly destroyed. It was with difficulty that I held back my tears when I saw what atrocities the Earthlings, who liked to tout their culture as "civilized" and consider the Ervanans "space nomads" and "savages," were capable of. I don't think I particularly need to remind you that everything that happened on their ship was caused primarily by the very natural course of events, namely the built-in self-defense system had activated and we barely managed to survive under these brutal conditions.

The remnants of the Semrik Sin colony were not just destroyed, but flattened to the surface of Charon, and from the holographic projection that was before our eyes, it was clear to us that this work was most likely motivated by people like Hermonal Bivors and his nonsensical theory of debugging. This brilliantly mad scientist was definitely surrounded by a dark aura. We even heard one of the clone troopers recite a little passage from his harebrained idea, which went something like this - "An annoying mistake, but also a dangerous one, where will it get us - apparently it wasn't enough to just deal with the problems at the level of genetics and improving our clones, but to raise our sights to the Universal level as well!"

To carry out their audacious scheme, the Earthlings had atomic bombs which they had aimed in the right direction - it seemed primitive, but what they had caused was sickening. It wasn't clear from the spy probe records whether they had taken anyone with them before carrying out their intrusion. But one could expect absolutely anything from Hermonal Bivors and company!

In fact, after some interruption, we noticed that Eberald Eziner was on one of the ships, and he was supposed to be torturing the surviving Zegandarians as only he knew how!

No matter how much I knew Jessica, or knew her, I knew I could trust her. She was serving a cause or had a different view of the world that she probably just wanted to get me on board with. She also reminded me of the Light Beings, the ones I had hoped for in my prayers.

Jessica had beautiful hair, and as I looked at her, I came to the conclusion that she could indeed be one of the Light Creatures to save my tortured soul of cosmic infidelity.

Still, I felt like I was missing something - maybe the truth was quite different and had no connection between reality and my own perceptions of it.

Once fully convinced, we could only get ourselves into trouble and encounter Earth Federation forces that could be a deadly threat to ourselves.

The combined Earth Federation forces were aware of our existence because of the sneaky data leak and because of Von Blask's Narenzian chip. Yes, it was too dangerous to toy with a situation that was highly unlikely to be resolved in our favor, but still.

The antimatter engine was truly impressive, and while it couldn't compare to our tachyon engines, which developed immensely higher speeds, combined with the quantum teleportation engine it would give us a huge advantage in our fight for survival.

- "And yet you didn't tell me exactly where you wanted us to go?," inquired Jessica in a tone that showed the importance of her question.

- "Well, frankly, I want to be free, really free," I replied, "On Charon our eyes saw only darkness - nothing else. I think it's time to turn to the light."

For a moment, Jessica seemed somewhat surprised by my answer, yet for some form of propriety or for a reason I was not yet aware of, she remained silent.

- "Remember, Jervond, that this was your choice, and also that whatever your fate may be from now on, you have walked this path alone," she said quietly, addressing me.

Her words sounded neutral enough to raise more doubts in my mind about certain matters, but for now I really preferred to keep my mouth shut.

- Then let's head straight for Proxima B!

ENEMIES BECOME FRIENDS

CHAPTER SIXTY: ENEMIES BECOME FRIENDS

 

Even with antimatter propulsion, the distances in the universe are truly vast - even excessive. So after a while Jessica suggested we go into quantum teleportation mode for the second and final time. I hoped everything would go according to plan, but there were always some risks!

Proxima B was a place I knew relatively little about, but Rento had naturally spoken to me about it as well. Not that he'd ever really been there, but he hoped to visit it as a free man someday, since he assumed the Earth Federation wouldn't colonize it for at least the next thirty years. Well, sometimes fate really did play bad jokes on us that could cost us a salty price!

The distance between Charon and Proxima B was about four light years, but with the antimatter engine it would take us a long time to get there, and I didn't particularly like the quantum teleportation mode. It was too risky to try again given that the ship hadn't been used for too long.

I wondered what was going to happen, but kept my mouth shut anyway, following Jessica's strict orders to put the 'sleeping' Ervanan to sleep.

He of course showed no signs of life, which was perhaps just a confirmation of sorts of the deep cryogenic sleep he had fallen into.

I didn't want to interfere with Jessica on how she was steering the ship, as she pointed out an idea of hers that we could do an intermediate descent and use some warping in space.

- "I knew that warp engines were capable of that, but ours didn't seem to be of that sort. The antimatter thrusters need to be shut down immediately," I addressed Jessica in all seriousness.

She understood me. We were passing through the Kuiper Belt, and there we could be attacked by some alien civilization that was in danger of destroying the ship.

We didn't know if the Ervanans had hidden their ships on other planets. And that could have been our real end!

One of the main problems Earthlings faced about space travel was the build-up of cosmic radiation, which was badly tolerated by their bodies, and since our Zegandarian bodies - in general - had a lot in common with human ones this concerned us as well. But some of the problems that had remained with humans, for example, were muted in us.

It would have been useful to say how cosmic radiation could be harmful, and this concerned the alteration or even complete destruction of DNA molecules, which in turn could cause central nervous system damage and even death. Furthermore, the sources of radiation in space were too numerous to be ignored. Some of them were galactic cosmic rays, particles emitted from solar flares, and so on.

There were some really amazing places in this region. The huge ring perhaps twenty times as wide as the Asteroid Belt was the dividing line of a new world. Some of the objects in it, like Arocoth, looked almost like works of art.

Jessica was steering the ship too carefully, and that's when I really noticed that something wasn't right around me at all.

I remembered her strange ramblings about the path I had chosen to walk. I didn't deny that she was probably right about a lot of things.

I didn't have any real friends in the colony besides Jake. Well, maybe I respected the late Averia Downs and I-but it was all down to that.

We weren't expecting any amazing miracles during our trip, but it was clearly noticeable that as the mood and situation changed, different pictures were unfolding before my eyes.

- "Have you noticed how alone you are, Jervond?," said Jessica, somewhat impassively, "You have no definite purpose in life except to leave Charon and go wherever the solar wind takes you. Maybe you weren't made for this kind of life, or maybe you just weren't meant to be born."

Her words definitely had a sobering effect on me! I didn't want to contradict her because I had a real desire to hear what else she had to say!

- "You were inconspicuous to the others, Jervond," she went on rather calmly, in a tone that definitely knew well what she wanted to tell me, "But they accepted you for the sake of your common goals. You were a sort of experimental mouse for them!"

Then suddenly I felt a peculiar sense of lightness and humility. It was as if morning dew had caressed my forehead. I tried to move my hands, but nothing worked - it was as if I were intangible. I woke up and realized quite clearly. There was no Jessica, or anyone else - the ship was just moving on its own. It was so disconnected and inexplicable that I couldn't even hide my amazement.

I shuffled into the cockpit and saw a small well-insulated box of that same Narenzian chip Von Blask had given Brutus, and apparently Sikur had stolen. It was super weird. Why Sikur had taken it back with him. Then the idea clearly hit me! They wanted to find the hidden demon computer viruses!

Then...

I decided to wander around the ship and check to see if I was hallucinating, since that was now entirely possible and I wasn't going to let any ominous visions fail me.

The Ervanan ship was cigar shaped and long enough that I couldn't just walk around it.

What if Jessica was hiding somewhere in the darkness, plotting to get rid of even me!

What if Jessica was hiding somewhere in the dark and plotting to get rid of even me!

Maybe that was part of her game - pretending to be a Light Spirit guiding me on the path to salvation. Inwardly, however, I knew I was doomed. Too many sins lay on my shoulders - it was downright unbearable. To think that most of my acquaintances died in utterly ridiculous accidents, and I somehow managed to walk dry between the drops! I couldn't find the reason for it and be completely sure that I would be able to get out of this vicious circle!

Having failed to find Jessica absolutely anywhere, I began to realise that in fact the key to solving the mystery might lie in that same Narenzian chip, which by some chance (although I didn't believe in coincidences!) had ended up in my hand!

It seems to me that in nature one must distinguish between necessity and chance!

I had died a thousand times in my journey to Mordor Macula to find the Ervanan aerial vehicle, and now I could clearly see that I was faced with solving a much more serious mystery.

Jessica coughed. Clearly she was here after all, and wanted to shake off the demonic influence of the ship.

- "What the hell is going on?," I puzzled, turning my head in my spacesuit like a madman, "This is a real Hell. Why is this even happening!"

Jessica stood up with anguish, and it was obvious that she had received some minor bruising from her fall to the floor of the space vessel. Strange why, but there was a strange uncertainty in her gaze, and her eyes were like glass. Her hair was down a little carelessly, but couldn't be seen too clearly due to the spacesuit covering her head.

- "What does Veoargis mean in the Ervanan language?," she asked me, as if expecting me to be versed in all matters pertaining to this mysterious alien race.

- "Does that look familiar?," I asked her instead of giving her the expected answer, "This little chip here may contain the hidden answers we so badly need."

- "Where did you get it?," she crescendoed with an anger that greatly puzzled me and I even wondered if I should have kept the laser cutter at the ready just in case.

Gradually she calmed down and I began to clearly realize exactly what was coming.

- She dared not look at me, and I was expecting a terrible catastrophe.

- "Do you actually know what's going on?," she asked me gently, avoiding voicing my greatest fear aloud.

- "Maybe death has been after me since the beginning," I called back cautiously, "Maybe I've just never seen anything but the colony, and this thing has been after me ever since. Maybe the Invisibles ..."

- "Cut that crap," she scolded me as if she was about to kill me, "You've seen your ghost double, and what you've probably noticed is that certain events and circumstances in your life repeat themselves in a certain form. Let me put it to you this way," she paused briefly, "Haven't you ever wondered how we manage this old trough," apparently referring to the Voargis ship, "after all the rest of your companions have succumbed to the brain control of the rabid dog Sikur," she finished her tirade, or at least I wish I had, "How have you managed to get through all the obstacles so far alive and well - without so much as a scratch?

I felt in my soul that she was right, and events had clearly arranged themselves in a way that only testified to that.

- "You mean?," I turned to her again, but she had disappeared again.

I was beginning to have the real feeling that I had been the victim of some kind of hoax, which by the way was perhaps becoming more and more obvious.

Then the real reason for everything hit me. I clutched the Narenzian chip again. I closed my eyes. And Jessica appeared.

- I think you're beginning to get the hang of what's going on!" she spoke, but in a slightly softer tone. Our only chance of survival is to get to Proxima B first, or even Nanjagar!

- "I'm not sure I'll be able to steer the ship as I should," I replied, wondering if I'd just ruin everything.

- "With my help, you'll be fine," she encouraged me, "Just keep a tight grip on the Narenzian chip that makes a connection to the Emovade coupler in your gauntlet, otherwise I can't exist in this reality!"

- "So you're long dead too!," I voiced my concerns, struggling to stop my tears, "But how did that happen?"

- "We don't have time now. Set the same coordinates to the ship," she began to instruct me carefully.

- "But you've already set them," I persisted.

- "He won't listen to you believe me," she informed me. "The Ervanan ships can be said to be as alive as they are. How else do you explain their survival?"

- "I mean, Sikur' Narenzian chip saved me," I spat out the pebble, "But where did he get it?"

- "Exactly," was her curt reply, "He's the only reason we're talking. Apparently Brutus was mostly valuable with the betrayal of our technology to the Ervanans, who seem to be no less technologically advanced than us."

When you're on an icy world on the edge of the Solar system, you'd clearly realize that there might be enough dangers lurking here, like various asteroid debris or secretly stationed Earth Federation forces, but right now my mind was on something completely different.

What was Jessica really trying to tell me?

- "And where is your physical body?," I asked, clearly aware of the naivety of my question.

- "Actually, it's quite close behind you," she answered me calmly, but somewhat regretfully.

I looked behind me - she was indeed right. I was terribly sad that I was left completely alone, but Jessica's soul was encoded inside the Narenzian chip.

- "How does this technology actually work?," I wondered.

The Ervanans had too carefully selected those among us who could use telepathy and psychokinesis.

- "Then it appears that Earth's developments are nothing more than," I tried to order my thoughts.

- Yes, Korolan Bru had obtained and prototyped the chip, and Brutus thought he was the only one who had it, which of course he didn't.

- "Then that means you've been working for Korolan Bru all along," I marvelled, "But you've never left the surface of Charon, or at least the outline of the colony."

- "That's not exactly right," she said, somewhat strangely. "You're right to an extent, of course, but you're missing Sikur. He had the right to go out through Brutus, but he didn't know that I was also proficient in parakinesis."

- "So you killed him," I groaned, "But didn't he shoot, or at least he was going to try. The plasma blaster..."

- Nothing of the sort, my dear Jervond - it was a clever way of getting you to join in. The Ervanans want you, not me, and on the other hand we shouldn't miss another important point at all - Sikur died because of the redirected trajectory of his own shot, which was altered by me through the use of telekinesis and parakinesis at the same time.

- "Sounds very complicated," I barely opened my mouth, 'What makes me so important to Ervanan civilization.

- Actually, I saw, or rather read Sikur' mind, and believe me, he just wasn't cut out for the job for one simple reason - he could never act on his own and take responsibility. He needed a brutal type like Brutus himself, who was soon executed on Haumea on one of his visits.

The puzzle was beginning to line up in my head. She had planned this from the beginning. But why had she sacrificed herself?

REVEALING THE CARDS

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE: REVEALING THE CARDS

 

- "Jervond, every civilisation has to reach a certain level of development before the others have any real interest in interacting with it," Jessica added quietly.

- "So, pure and simple, the reality that is being drawn before our eyes is a projection of our own consciousness," I tried to clarify her position.

- "Not completely," she corrected me again. "Look around carefully and clear your mind of any prejudices. Why exactly did you stay alive at all?"

- "Perhaps I would be useful enough to the Ervanans," I again became entangled in the peculiar logic she was using, "I don't think getting to the demonic computer viruses would change the course of their entire civilization," I added, "That seems excessive."

- "Maybe you're right," she seemed to retreat, "But the Ervanans are nomads who need to manage their desire to seek out new places to inhabit, and the demon computer viruses would provide an excellent opportunity for..."

She failed to finish and the chip in my hand burst. I watched in pain as this only advisor of mine amidst the infinite darkness of space melted away and disappeared into nothingness - it was too sad.

Now I was truly all alone. Jessica's dead body was so unremarkable now - as if with her soul gone, it was only a pale memory of that Jessica who had encouraged us all the way here. That Jessica who saved me from the clutches of death in the person of the late Sikur, and last but not least, the person who revealed to me the monstrous design of the three civilizations - to get to the hidden viruses first.

Any pathologist will tell you that if you take the temperature of a dead body carefully, you will establish the time of death.

But we were in space and just decided to check by using the so-called Rigor Mortis[1] method. Using this method had another advantage - this way I would find out if in fact the corpse was local after death. Yes, that's right. Maybe there was someone else on board besides us. And that someone had well concocted the whole hoax, causing me all those hallucinations that were plaguing my mind.

Rigor Mortis had four main stages, namely autolysis, swelling, active decay and skeletonization.

According to some of the researchers it was difficult to explain the state of consciousness at the moment of death, but we on Zegandaria were quite advanced in this respect. It was all too clear to me that something had happened to Jessica. And then I looked at the cryogenic cockpit - it was empty.

That probably simplified the situation considerably - except that if that son of a bitch was anywhere nearby, I was bound to see him sooner or later.

It had been too long during which I'd been trying to come to grips with my confused thoughts.

Judging by what my eyes could see and what my modest knowledge of medicine accounted for, Jessica's body was long dead.

Her dead eyes looked at me in a way that seemed to say:

- Did you see that, Jervond? I told you everything already!

I had to close her eyes. I felt a lump in my throat. Why did everyone around me have to die.

I heard a noise behind me. Maybe it was the Ervanan...

I turned around there was absolutely no one there again.

- "I need to check the coordinates!," I said to myself.

I went and set the same according to Miss Edwater's instructions.

As soon as I left Kuiper's belt, the antimatter engine was turned off - it was unnecessary to take any more unnecessary risks, and without Jessica on board with me.

Most objects in this third and outermost part of the solar system were composed of ice, light hydrocarbons, and some organic impurities. There were also many comets and asteroids flying by, as already noted, but the bottom line was that all the objects in this region were very, very cold.

The soul passed through different levels on its path of development, and each one was marked by soul energy - I had experienced shame, guilt, apathy, grief, fear, desire, anger, pride, courage, neutrality and acceptance, but my consciousness was still at too low a stage in its development to embrace or even encompass all truth. Only something in my tortured consciousness deeply whispered to me that I would soon face it.

It is said that the soul's path to realization was a particularly difficult one, and only a few managed to save themselves. If that was true, in my case mine was downright thorny.

I couldn't rely on the Narenzian chip anymore, and on the other hand, I couldn't even go back to Charon, or for that matter, Haumea. As a matter of fact, the spy probe in its endless flight hadn't picked up any alarming signals from that area, but still.

At that moment it grew dark before my eyes. I could see clearly in my mind's eye that the blasted Ervanan bastard was strangling me, and since my spacesuit was in the way, I couldn't catch his invisible hands, if any. The pressure on my throat was increasing and I could feel the oxygen flow gradually weakening and I could quite possibly stay here forever - lifelessly frozen next to my faithful Jessica, who had not left me even in her own death.

For a moment it occurred to me to simply release the eborad linings and the non-indium hermetic mechanism, to grab it by the invisible 'arms' - come what may, but despite the artificial gravity created by the generator, decompression could have occurred, finishing me instantly.

But, of course, that's where the answer actually was! So obvious!

I activated the suit's hydraulics in autonomous mode, and with that peculiar simulation of motion, I "walked" towards the generator. Obviously, the grip of the invisible enemy was not loosening and it would be too difficult for me to fight it off with my own strength alone, but I hoped there was still some hope. I wished that the Light creatures would be on my side and protect me!

I pulled the semoran's electronic lever and turned off thirty percent of the power - then the grip seemed to loosen. I tried to harness all my strength and achieve balance, but stumbled and nearly fell. I could feel a strong resistance - as if the invisible creature was fighting with all its might to establish and maintain its control over the situation.

I thought I was falling, but then I recited the verses of Light:

"For light I thirst,

But in utter darkness I live,

The false ones will be revealed.

And then truth will reign!

When you reach the end,

there will be no one waiting for you."

As soon as he heard these words silently repeated in his mind by me, the creature seemed to hesitate. Its grip loosened a little more, but not completely. And then I pulled the electronic lever sharply. The world spun before me and my helmet nearly hit the ceiling. Gravitational forces could play some not very pleasant games sometimes, but in practice my graviton boots saved me at the last moment.

I pushed off with one foot and quickly shifted the center of gravity to my other free leg. And that finally freed me from the invisible creature's brutal grip.

It was too cumbersome - and though I considered myself a victor, I couldn't really call myself one.

In front of me, the indicators on the control panel began to go crazy - the hologram infograms and other gauges simply went off due to some mysterious interference. And then the whole ship sank into darkness! Dark and impenetrable!

The unknown Ervanian hissed in my ear:

- "You thought you would slip away, but deep down you feel that this is your end. You have no one left. But I'm offering you a very lucrative and interesting bargain - if you want to accept, if you don't - your choice. Soon this ship won't have enough power to take you where you really want to go! By your reckless actions, you have trapped yourself. Don't you understand, Earthman, the universe is indifferent to our own survival and would hardly be moved if one of our civilizations disappeared!"

For the initiated, I'll just say that telepathic communication requires a special level of soul energy that is very specific.

- I'm not an Earthling, you fool! I am a descendant of Seraija Gul San himself, the greatest warrior of Zegandaria! And we have never stood in the way of your own survival for the simple reason that we had no make-giving among ourselves!

I knew that experiments had been done in the past to navigate a labyrinth, using the most precise kind of telepathy to do so. And it had all gone completely successfully.

"I have not heard that name! Seraija Gul San! Sounds quite manly and valiant! In my opinion, that name cannot be the name of a scoundrel! But sometimes anyone can lie! So you're not an Earthling!"

The voice was now openly hesitant, obviously weighing how to deal with me, and he wasn't sure what exactly would happen to him if he trusted me. There was a brutally long silence that was so long it could have deafened you!

"Look, your girlfriend had to die because you killed one of ours. And that moral choice makes me hesitate. After all, I took a life, which makes me think I may have violated my moral principles. But on the other hand, there is something that seriously bothers me. How you managed to get rid of our telepathic influence and how you dealt with Sikur, who is a very, very tough fighter!"

I didn't know if that sounded like praise or if it heralded a calm before the storm, but somewhere in there I sensed that the stranger was about to tell me some special and perhaps somewhat sad secret.

- "Look, stranger," he turned to me, "there are the widest variety of cosmic energies and degrees of consciousness development in the universe..."

- "Don't tell me something I don't know!", I snapped at him, "Let me ask you something directly, too - what is your ultimate goal of development, or more precisely, what exactly do you want from us, or from earthlings. Perhaps you would have gotten a lot more if you had just tried to understand, destroy or conquer them!"

A murderous laugh rang out then - I hadn't even heard the like. It was neither frightening nor sinister, neither hilarious nor cheerful! But it filled every fiber of my body with chills and doubt, telling me that I didn't really know what it meant to live!

- "Let me ask you something too, young man!" the voice began unintentioNaly, in the most impassioned tone, "You have experienced so many emotions in your journey thus far, survived against all and everything, and yet you have not found an answer to the most important question of all - to what is your own survival due! And perhaps you expect me to give it to you! ... No, I'm not reading your mind, if you have such a feeling, I'm just reporting the obvious..."

I thought seriously. And if any vague semblance of anger had tried to work its way into my chest, it died instantly and unquestioningly. The statement was so absurdly simple that there was nothing to answer it. I felt bloody stupid. But then ... the answer flashed before my eyes in a much clearer way, crystallizing as if out of nowhere.

- "You want me to help you get to Nanjagar before the humans, don't you?", I thought.

- "That's right, Earthman!," the voice replied to me with a little annoyance, but in all seriousness.

I felt disgusted that he kept calling me the same thing, but I decided to try to win his favour. This creature could be of use to me.

I wasn't entirely sure exactly how advanced the earthlings were, but the disdain with which he treated them spoke volumes. Ah, perhaps in the vast expanse of space not much distinction was made and any foreign civilization was declared barbaric.

I glanced around through the chevron portholes of the impressive Voargis ship - we were just leaving the confines of the Kuiper Belt and the bleak outer reaches of the solar system.

I watched the universe with the eyes of a cosmic child who seemed to be just being born. The hibernation into which we had been brought on Charon only confirmed my fears. We hadn't seen anything and to us Charon was the whole world - so in a generation or two the memory of the buried computer demon viruses would be gone from our minds and no one would go looking for them.

 

[1] Rigor Mortis - a method that consists in tightening or contraction of body muscles due to chemical changes in their myofibers.

THE ERVANAN

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO: THE ERVANAN

 

The Ervanan clearly needed a real host body for the simple reason that it took a tremendous amount of energy to communicate with me. This was obviously draining him considerably especially now that the lack of external gravity was changing the whole situation and making me rather unpredictable.

The Ervanan was assessing exactly how much he could trust me as it was a matter of life and death for him and I wasn't about to lose that trump card against a serious opponent!

We were now entering the Cloud of Oort where it was going to get fun. In this dangerous icy world, I began to feel an unsuspected emptiness that had apparently been building up in me all these years.

I had too much to learn from life - after all, I was only thirty-five.

Then, among the asteroids and the endless amount of flying icy debris, we spotted an Earth Federation ship - it wasn't common for Earthmen battleships to hang around here.

"They're headed for Nanjagar, Earthman," the voice continued, with its annoying error. - "And you have to stop them because..."

I didn't know what to reply...

"I'll help you, but stop calling me...," I stammered.

"Okay, the two of us as a team can accomplish more. My body is severely damaged because you compromised the integrity of the cryogenic chamber, and that could be a problem in the future. So do you mind if I possess Jessica Edwater's body for just a little while!"

I got chills from this weird guy - so eager to do what he wanted to do. After a moment, Jessica's hand seemed to move and make a specific symbol that I had to interpret as going to a side compartment. There I found an electronic key for deciphering and deciphering the arcane symbols of the Ervanan script. Now I could go it alone.

Jessica's hand fell numb. Apparently, even the Ervanans couldn't maintain this state of "obsession" for obvious reasons.

- "What do you know about time, Earthlings?," his voice came rather harshly in my mind, "We come from another universe where our existence was utterly impossible. Why don't you grasp that the transcendental continuum itself does not tolerate the unfit! And it's not about hate or anything else!"

The Voargis ship also had huge weapons, such as photon cannons and Visorian nanotubes. This technology might give you an idea of how easily an Ervanan ship could board an alien.

By the way, let me not digress, but pick up where I left off. There were some things to be made clear. Such as how I would maintain communication with the dead Ervanan.

- "My friend," he addressed me in pure Zegandarian, "if you get the ship back to the planet Nanjagar unharmed, you can repay my help! I am perishing - sustaining so much mental energy requires tremendous concentration, and soon my spirit will dissolve into nothingness from whence I shall never return. No, forget that Voruk Abl Ziarn, was your teacher, and transport the weapons in the service of the Earth Federation. They are not to blame for defending themselves!"

Then there was a soft crackle - like a disturbance on a radio frequency. And I never heard another word from my invisible ally.

Sometimes one could get much more serious and great support from one's bitterest enemies. But such is life!

In the secret compartment, besides the futuristic electronic translator switch, I found something that outright shocked me.

I discovered how I could preserve my own consciousness and preserve it in case of my eventual death. This shocked me. But I decided to take advantage of my discovery.

THE SHIP VOARGIS

SIXTY-THREE: THE SHIP VOARGIS

 

The claim that ships in the future would change the balance of power was not necessarily true for the simple reason that I was the only survivor left on board. I had long since left the outermost reaches of the solar system and was on my way to Proxima B, which was in the constellation Centaurus. According to the instructions given to me by Jessica and Voruk Abl Ziarn himself, I was to use the ship's hidden resources to be able to generate power for another quantum teleportation.

Proxima B was generally located at a distance on the order of more than two hundred and sixty-five thousand astronomical units from Earth, which was essentially a hell of a lot by Earth standards. But I was traveling in an Ervanan ship, and I had traveled at least a quarter of that distance, and perhaps even more.

Earth civilization had long since evolved into a type three civilization[1] and was capable of quite a lot, but the Ervanans were far more advanced than that. From what I saw of their ship, it was clear that they possessed the hallmarks of a Type Five civilization, one that was capable of time travel and teleportation, and also of leaving the confines of the known universe.

But the Earthlings did have some of Ertol Gis's developments at their disposal, and there was no telling what they had learned in those years. Yes, the transition to a higher level of development required an awful lot of time, but still.

I had access to some of the knowledge of Voruk Abl Ziarn himself, which was only to my benefit.

I understood the real reason for the attack by the Ervanans. They wanted to harvest the precious euphophate kaori for their sustenance, which were actually supposed to provide them with a peaceful existence - they were a special kind of mushroom that thrived under space conditions, but they were also used by the devoranants - sort of giant space birds that couldn't fly, but which the Ervanans fed on.

I was amazed at how such an advanced race fed in such a comparatively primitive way, but later realized that the reason for this went much deeper. The Ervanans had to raise such birds because of their religiosity, which placed the Great Cosmic Bird, the Bansontuk, at its center.

It was believed that these birds, whose direct descendants were the Devoranants, would have provided them with immortality, since they lived, as we know, for over three hundred years.

I did not have time to delve deeply into the mythology of the Ervanan race, nor to ask myself whether Proxima B would be the best possible place for them to build their space farms for breeding the animals in question.

I activated a special mode on the ship in which it became invisible, as it was enough to even be spotted by some of Proxima B's outposts, and most likely even the ship's energy shields wouldn't have helped me get out alive.

And then Voruk Abl Ziarn's words already made sense in my head. I had never questioned what level of development the Zegandarian civilization belonged to before, for the simple reason that we hadn't had enough contact with it after we were beamed to Charon, but my inner voice told me that it was at a higher level of development than the Ervanan, as I soon learned to handle the ship's technology skillfully, and even learned the basics of their language through a special artificial speech nanosynthesizer.

After some mobilization of the ship's hidden resources, I was able to accomplish another quantum teleportation without problems.

But I was worried whether I would really set the right coordinates, which by the way could easily be confused given that I didn't fully know their ship yet. Apparently, Jessica had been secretly guided by this same mentor of mine, and had therefore done better than myself.

Once I activated the quantum teleportation engine, I could easily target an object in relative proximity to Proxima B.

Voruk Abl Ziarn had advised me to take the ship as a gift for Admiral Or Suv Res, who might possibly spare me for my valuable services and knowledge.

I also found an electronic hologram ring to confirm my good intentions in that same hidden compartment on the right side of the generator room.

And when I turned around the corpse of the Ervanan was gone. That's when I gave up. There was clearly some sort of conspiracy here that needed to be uncovered an hour sooner and I would be aware of what was actually going on.

But I had to get into the cryogenic chamber quickly, as some misfortune might happen to me if the teleportation procedure failed. I crawled in very carefully, given that only my grav boots were holding me to the floor. And then I saw a clear inscription scrawled by who knows who.

"I tricked you into choosing Proxima B, but that's actually where the answer to your question awaits you."

I froze, but quickly came to my senses and managed to slip into the cryogenic chamber shortly before the so-called quantum teleportation took place.

 

[1] According to the scale of the Russian astronomer Kardashev, cosmic civilizations fall into ten categories of development.

THE INSIGHT

CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR: THE INSIGHT

 

Proxima B had been significantly altered according to the Ervanans' understanding, yet they had chosen to build their colonies underground, where they could grow the myriad plantations of euphotic kaori to feed their animals. Of course, they didn't rely on those two things alone for their sustenance, but also fed on lorundi enex, which was absorbed at the cellular level through a complex system of micro-nanoprobes embedded in their spacesuits. This was saving them enormous resources. And the birds were bred mostly for the higher nobility, in particular Admiral Om Suv Res and of course King Zonkurvan! They would accomplish their divine fusion with the Origin and salvation from Shadduck! The underground cities of the Ervanans were super-futuristic and it was expected that they would soon be able to successfully colonize the entire planet, which for certain ideological reasons of the Earthlings had remained uninhabited!

King Zonkurvan had been more than pleased and had ordered the Ervanans to move ahead of the Earthlings and towards Nanjagar, something that would happen very soon.

The further they went the Ervanans clearly realized that they needed a steady development to save their race from extinction.

Or as the spirit of the dead Voruk Abl Ziarn had put it, "Somewhere out there lies the truth, and you will soon know!"

I awoke from my cryogenic sleep, which had apparently lasted indefinitely. But when I opened my eyes I found myself, according to the advanced on-board computers, about one astronomical unit away from Proxima Centauri B - which only testified to the impressive precision of all the Ervanan ship's instrumentation!

I feared I might be easily detected, but the ship's camouflage mode provided some protection for the moment.

After running a thorough scan of the entire surface, I realized that the key to the Ervanans' survival was me. I could give them more than valuable information, but beyond that they might be hoping to get their hands on Zegandaria's notorious demonic computer viruses.

My ship slowly descended, apparently attracted by the external overwhelming forces that had to identify it.

I hoped I might be able to convince their King that I would help them in exchange for my own life. There was little reason to spare me, but still.

The Ervanans sent a special speeder to pick me up from their makeshift spaceport, which by the way was filled with enough ships to take over the entire constellation!

I was confused, but in the commotion I hoped I wouldn't forget the fragmentary parts of the Ervanan speech that had imprinted themselves on my mind!

I was greeted by a whole guard of warriors who made their attitude towards an alien who was piloting their ship on top of everything clear!

One of them was probably going to punch me in the chest and only warrior discipline prevented him from doing so.

I was dragged into the underground city, where I could see the level of organization of these creatures - it surpassed even that of Earth ants. So perfect a construction!

Such huge excavations were made by means of many robot ants, which so-called bionics had brought to a very high level of synchrony in their group behavior. Earthlings also had similar technology, where piezo-ceramic transducers were used to drive them, but the Kelarian nano-core reactors embedded in these bionics allowed the ants to run almost forever.

The Ervanans used them for transport purposes in addition to tunneling.

When I was ushered into King Zonkurvan's throne room, I was able to appreciate his immense power and far-sighted wisdom. Zonkurvan had seized every moment to gain a strategic advantage over the Earthlings. There was also no doubt that somewhere out there lurked Admiral Om Suv Res himself, awaiting his orders for a possible quick march to Nanjagar!

When I was brought before the King, he asked me:

- Who are you, young man?

I didn't know what to answer him, given the fact that I had so much going on in my head, and I had stumbled into enemy territory that could very soon be my last refuge!

- "I am a descendant of Seraija Gul San himself, who was the greatest fighter of Zegandaria!," I uttered proudly.

The King was apparently not particularly impressed by my words.

- Look, boy, the cosmic demon viruses will tilt the outcome of this war in our favour, and it must happen while I, Zonkurvan, am King of this cosmic pack!

Apparently the Ervanans weren't as well-mannered as I thought them to be, but in practice, come to think of it, it was a real miracle they hadn't killed me yet. I guessed the King would want a private audience with me, and he was worried about other things besides that.

He sent away the other warriors, leaving only the King's Guards and Admiral Om Suv Res, who was practically as directly interested as the King himself!

Or Suv Res approached me - he was indeed a worthy warrior who had suffered many battles and seen too much in his life. The King bowed his head barely perceptibly and let the Admiral ask the question for him.

- "How exactly did the Earthmen defeat us, alien?," he asked me with absolutely no prevarication. "You must have an idea, given the fact that you managed to get away not only from them, but from our great warriors aboard the Voargis."

- "You know?," I tried to explain to them, "The universe is against our existence and we can thrive in the only one possible for us."

- "I mean," Or Suv Res was slightly confused.

- "Sometimes we have to accept our extinction with philosophical resignation," I called, "Look at my own civilization on the planet Zegandaria. It was the most advanced in the known universe, and we had even left its borders. And a simple lack of morality has brought us to this point! I lost my friends on Charon! Killed in someone's wish to exist fleetingly and even due to the fact that the situation could not be otherwise!"

- The King did not interrupt me. Under different circumstances he might have taken my head with his own hands, but he seemed to agree with me somewhat. He just didn't want to admit it. I felt his inner need to hear the rest. And so I prolonged my story.

Computer demon viruses can, at best, create an enhanced reality that is well managed by you until the inevitable collapse occurs again. They're only a temporary solution - the product of the sick mind of a mad scientist named Gad ‘Di Enn.

- "So our death is inevitable," the King turned to me, his gaze fixed intently on the man before him, from whose lips he was hearing such a severe sentence.

- "You still have some chance, your Majesty," I turned to him quite unintentioNaly; "but I have one condition, that I shall do anything you ask!"

- "Say it," interposed the Sovereign, "I give you my royal word that if you save my race, I will spare your life!"

- "What else did Voruk Abl Ziarn have to say to me?," I looked him so intently in the eyes that my behaviour might have been considered too bold under other conditions.

- "He was my last advisor," Zonkurvan turned to me sadly, "he shouldered the mission of dealing with all those problems that were preventing us from settling down somewhere permanent. But I see he has perished at your hand."

- I am afraid, Your Majesty, that Voruk Abl Ziarn gave me a secret message which he hoped would be read by yourself.

The King looked at me questioningly, but the likelihood of my lying to him was so small that he decided to trust me, yet his loyal warriors stood unseen in the darkness - ready to put me to death at his will!

Then he looked at me with other eyes and openly asked:

- What exactly do you want besides your freedom, stranger? I sense a special sorrow in you. Thou belongest not to this world, but it seems to me that thou belongest not to the other. Something has happened and you wonder how you survived this far, don't you? Maybe you expect that if I pardon you, you'll get away unscathed and get away with it! I'll give you the answer you've been desperately searching for - it's inside you! You traveled all the distance to hear something you fear and dare not admit - that you should not have been born, Jervond Om San, and been invisible all this time. Now I'll tell you why I want the damned computer demon viruses, too - only they can save things, and through certain situations I can rearrange things so that my race can escape with impunity from this reality that is long dead and will disappear!

- "But this universe will continue to exist!," I persisted.

- "That is so, but it will exist without us and without you," the Lord grunted.

- "And what has caused all this imbalance?," I wondered somewhat deliberately.

The warriors hunted with their yumari spears and sang a sad song:

"When the universe decides,

my death will come,

and I must accept my fate.

And pain, and anger, and joy to embrace,

and my enlightenment shall destroy me!"

The King turned to me expectantly. He wanted to hear if he could count on my help.

- "I accept, but I will keep the demonic computer viruses to myself and destroy them afterwards!," I declared solemnly.

The overlord's impassive face expressed something between benevolence and dislike, which he tried to hide. But they were in my hands and they knew it. It was quite possible they would kill me again-no matter what!

The Overlord promised to give me a small thermo-pressurized suitcase in which to take a small number of the planet's bionic ants to Zegandaria to unearth the sealed sarcophagus! I was also explained that I could maintain telepathic communication with them if I wished, but not to rely on them having consciousness, only that they could obey relatively simple commands.

One of King Zonkurvan's loyal men volunteered to accompany me to Nanjagar, where I explained to them that I had something to check. The Ervanans thought I was a spy, but after I explained my reasoning for being an exile, they took it well, but insisted on having a platoon of warriors aboard in addition to the two pilots - just in case!

I had no choice and resigned myself to their terms. I knew from quantum physics that both matter and energy seemed granular and could only be observed up to a point - so I guessed I shouldn't have persisted with their terms and lost my psychological advantage! That we were living in a simulation was one of the many theories proposed by scientists, but in practice it could lead us to solipsism, for the simple reason that it limited us to believing only in individual consciousness, which could not accommodate a holistic understanding of all creation!

For a civilization of such a high class as the Ervanans, it was quite strange how exactly they were restricted from leaving this universe. But apparently the King wasn't quite telling me everything, which I naturally couldn't blame him for.

Anyway, after a while we left Proxima B, which I would describe as one of the places I would never return to. Yes, humans wanted to colonize it, but if Doctor Gad ‘Di Enn's information was to be believed the planet of Nanjagar was a far better alternative than this planet here - the question was whether humans would be able to reach it in the relatively near future, which I highly doubted, but judging by the King's behavior - there was something that posed a hidden threat.

Before we boarded the ship and turned our eyes to the spectacular view of this planet and its raw beauty, I wondered what was so preventing everyone from coexisting in this endless Cosmos.

- "You're lucky the King needed you," hissed one of the Ervanans accompanying me, 'or nothing would have been saved, Earthman! And very soon, after your game is finally over, those attendants of yours will settle accounts with you once and for all!

I realized that he was warning me.

DREAMS AFTER DEATH

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE: DREAMS AFTER DEATH

 

Jessica Edwater a true lady, but also a fearless warrior who had done her duty - I think I shall remember her as she always was, and my mind would not be deceived, for there were one like her in a million!

Jessica always confessed to me that her dream was to be free, and what she had longed for with all her being was to see what life without darkness and restrictions was like. When the Ervanans gave me permission to depart, they picked up the remains of the corpses of Voruk Abl Ziarn and Jessica herself. I expected that they would throw her away like a rag because she had fought against them and killed their protégé Sikur, but they laid her with the utmost respect on what they called benzonvar, which were special electronic nanoscreening plates. Then they scattered their ashes to infinity. I wasn't sure if they were doing it out of respect or if there was some other ulterior motive, but the fact that they gave her so much attention clearly spoke that they valued true warriors very much no matter what space race they belonged to.

Before we left the planet Proxima B, I was also asked to reveal to them whether the Earth Federation had discovered their hidden ships on Charon, or if it was the underground city of Haumea. I answered in the negative, for I realized that the Earthlings might have proved too sluggish in this peculiar race, which was practically a race of life and death!

After a thorough examination of the ship had been carried out by order of King Zonkurvan, we had permission and protection to depart from their makeshift spaceport.

It is needless to recount the entire procedure of takeoff, but I will say this - the Ervanans showed their admiration for my learning about their culture, yet remained reserved enough in many ways because to them I was the foreigner.

Then I remembered one of my moments with Jessica Edwater - she was so thoughtful as our time in the self-isolated colony of Charon was running out and we needed to get out of there as soon as possible.

When you're probably among the last living survivors of your planet, a person like that couldn't help but make an impression.

Oh, she didn't want much - just her dust to be scattered over a place she really loved, or would have liked.

- "I don't want to die here," she had pouted slightly, and with that she had won my sympathy instantly, "I want to see at least a small part of the vast and immense universe."

- "Let us make a vow that whoever of us two is killed in battle or by some accident, the other will have the care to let his soul rest in peace," I addressed her gravely.

Then she looked at me in surprise, but with a kind of melancholy compassion. It took me half a lifetime of that spent on Charon to fully realize her words, which seemed a little strange at the time. It was as if she had been made for that time and place, which had conveyed a grim solemnity to her and could only exist in that part of space-time.

How glad would she be to learn, after all, that her dream had been realised one way or another - her end was a worthy one after all.

There was only one thing I wished - that I could close her eyes. You know, that crazy boatman used to put a coin in each of them and all that. But I knew I'd never see her again. The stellar wind with its tremendous speed and pressure would have done the rest and scattered her remains.

We had long since taken off when one of the warriors approached me and said:

I am sure you understand that the King could not tell you everything, for he feared betrayal. We are here for that, and we will reveal his will to you little by little until you do his bidding.

We could now head to where my salvation awaited me and the deliverance of Zegandaria.

In our journey to Nanjagar, which was extremely distant from the earth, we had also to pass through the constellation Hydra, in order to proceed to the nebula of the "Spirit of Jupiter," which was about two thousand and six hundred light years distant, and from thence on our journey would be in infinity. According to the rough calculations of the Emmanarian quantum computers, we could directly use quantum teleportation to get there faster.

I must have neglected to mention that, in addition to the repairs to the ship, they had actually made some minor alterations to the cockpit and, in particular, the cryogenic sleep chambers.

The Ervanans had noted with amazement that I had been skillfully utilizing the knowledge provided to me by the late Voruk Abl Ziarn and even giving them some minor guidance, as they had gotten the idea of a link between Korolan Bru and ERTOL GIS after the death of Brutus of Haumea.

That had raised me up in their eyes especially, but it had taken much longer for them to be convinced that I was much more on their side under the new circumstances, given the vicissitudes I had left behind.

Sometimes I could hear their inarticulate growls and try to guess their words, but the main means of communication between us remained mainly telepathy, which sometimes really wore me out.

THE FATE OF CLONE GH306

CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX: THE FATE OF CLONE GH306

 

GH306 very soon took over the real running of the Echnaton's smuggling operations in the solar system, thus becoming a direct competitor to Samael's best smugglers. On his shoulders rested a tremendous responsibility from which he made no attempt to escape. Old Esborn left them comparatively soon, and left him to get on entirely alone, for he was not likely to be able to get out of this dangerous and brutal business so easily any time soon. But he knew that on his protégé's shoulders would rest the enormous responsibility of handling all the brutally difficult tasks of disposing of the ill-gotten artifacts.

- "We are all children of time, and yours has already come," he turned to the clone in farewell, "But know this, we are smugglers in a time of drought, but we stand ready to defend Earth as our native home. Remember that among these seemingly cruel men you may find truer friends and allies than the corrupt nature of Earth's senators was able to offer you!"

GH306 had to make the fateful decision of how to organize their last remaining finances and manage to leave the solar system an hour before they were wiped out in the desperate struggle for power, but first they were going to Charon, where the Earth Federation had already set foot. Incidentally, the Earthlings hadn't had enough time to explore all of Charon, but they had razed the Semrik Sin colony to the ground with thermonuclear bombs. The force of the detonation, however, left the ships hidden beneath the ice unaffected.

The colony was where the last remnants of Zegandaria civilization, or its so-called last generation, were buried. It was located, as we said, in one of Charon's southern reaches, specifically in Nemo Crater, where we were doing just fine - at least until a whole series of calamities befell us and everyone found their deaths in that icy hell.

GH306 possessed enough eloquence to convince the other smugglers that a valuable acquisition awaited them beneath the ice of Charon that would pay for itself many times over - and he wasn't wrong.

The Echnaton ship was fitted with a special camouflage that could give sufficient protection against initial tracking.

The smugglers descended carefully on the planet, taking care to avoid any contact with the radiation background.

And where GH306 had learned of the hidden Ervanan ships was a very interesting question.

In the first place, not everyone could get hold of such information, and Brutus had passed on some of his suspicions over secret radio frequencies - hence GH306, who still kept his contacts in some parts of the military, had not taken too long to come to the conclusion that something serious was afoot, and it was most likely and logical that it should be in relatively close proximity to the Earth Federation outpost.

Later, he secretly acquired a holographic map of Charon's surface and that gave him a huge advantage over the others. With quantum computer analysis, it was easy to make guesses as to which areas the ships were most likely to be hidden in, and after several months of research, he finally located their location to Mordor Macula.

When he presented his suspicions to the others and showed them some of what he had learned, they took his suggestion much more seriously.

The smugglers of the Ehnaton also had a number of smaller artifact-carrying ships that could easily transport whatever hidden riches they hoped to find.

After Commander Brutus' disappearance, his deputy, Erdemon Bonks, announced a crazy reward for whoever could provide accurate information on his whereabouts - this was his way of shining a light on Earth Command and showing his loyalty.

By the way, the whole trade changed and the commander, who was one of their main customers, just messed up their accounts quite a bit. For this reason, they decided that in addition to looking for the ships, they would also claim the prize fund of a whole five hundred thousand ents, which was not to be underestimated at all.

The smugglers' ship slowly descended and left an endless wake on the dead ice surface of the satellite.

GH306 wasn't going to search hastily, but was orienting herself in any way possible to get to the ships.

They knew Erdemon Bonks might be a plant, but the advertised prize money would be paid in any case, and that was the most important thing.

The frightening shadows that enveloped the ship spoke clearly that Mordor Macula was a place of death and fully lived up to its name.

The clone's first mate, Shianzo, addressed him with the words:

- Shall we do a thermal scan of the surface to detect traces of some life?

- "We don't need to," GH306 turned to him, quite calmly, "we don't know exactly what lies beneath the ice. They might have left the ships in hibernation and we'll find absolutely nothing - we need to go down and take a look."

- "We'll have to get weapons, too," his first mate Shianzo interjected, "Mordor Macula is a frightening place.

GH306 mentally recalled his mentor who had retired and given up that lifestyle, but in his case he didn't get to choose what was good and bad.

After a long search through the seemingly endless outlines of Mordor Macula they managed to find the other ships.

Shi'anzo gasped with delight when a special space icebreaker from their fleet managed to get to one of the ships.

- "They really are fantastic. If only we knew how to get them underway," he added, full of enthusiasm.

The Earth Federation had received secret backing to build the largest ship possible, the Ketsandorar, which was fitted with a modern tachyon class three engine - now they had a good enough opportunity to use the stolen knowledge passed on to them by Doctor Gad 'D'en. They would be able to traverse space-time, but some interesting dangers lay ahead.

The smugglers lost almost two weeks to be able to get the Ervanans' spaceships underway, but they were soon convinced the wait had been worth it.

Many well understood that to avoid justice and get out of this declining star system, as they called it among themselves, it was better to buckle down and get hard at work.

Too much effort that was rewarded! Before they left, however, GH306 quickly sensed the whiff of death that seemed to lurk in Mordor Macula. When he shared his feelings with Shianzo, he only shook his head and said:

The ancient Aztecs of Earth believed in the constant struggle between good and evil and knew that the gods needed blood to live. But I think the universe is cyclical and every thing comes to an end, and it is not clear if there is a new beginning by what laws it would take place. According to their beliefs, each of the four major eras ended in a flood.

-"We're lucky Charon's dry," he laughed at his witty joke.

GH306 agreed with his trusty sidekick, but felt he had to be quick.

- "Where do you think the other ship is?," he asked him again.

- "My people pulled nine flying vehicles out of the ice," Shi'anzo cut in firmly, "which, come to think of it, isn't bad at all, and it's a whole fleet - so we should be grateful!"

The remaining smugglers struggled to finish the last preparations and put the ships in position for immediate take-off. Then they tied them down with special Zerethium ropes Brutus had given them, which were Zegandarian technology. The ships were hoisted up, tied down like cargo, and their antimatter engines were subsequently activated in mid-air.

A brave GH306 clone whispered:

- Onward to the planet Nanjagar, where all must end.

THE WAY OF THE SOUL

CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN: THE WAY OF THE SOUL

 

When a soul makes its way between dimensions, it realizes its insignificant condition. Many did not have the courage to admit it, but Enbright had never suffered from astrophobia[1], but his soul had to wander between the two worlds without finding rest. The truth was, it was his soul that had bonded with Jervond Om San, not some fictional Voruk Abl Ziarn. Enbright had occupied an extremely high position in the hierarchy of the Ervanans, and their credit for succeeding in attracting Jervond Om San was again his. But the truth was that his spirit had thus found rest. Try as we might, the Cosmos remained inscrutable.

After they flew away and left Charon, most of the smugglers raised the question of how they would distribute their future shares of Nanjagar's eventual booty.

Assistant Captain Spaixnar called in that they simply had to take into account the merits of the individual members aboard the ship and historically the more prominent should get more. GH306 quickly settled their dispute with the following words:

- In the monotony of space, it doesn't matter to us where we are - as long as we survive! I promise, as captain of the Ekhenaton, that you will get enough land and up to seventy percent of all the resources we find on the planet. According to some information I've gathered, it's also quite rich in rare metals that we can harvest.

Still, some of the crew seemed to back away from their captain after the initial enthusiasm. There was a good chance he was telling the truth - there would be no doubt, but what would they do next!

Assistant Captain Spixnar called in that they simply had to take into account the merits of the individual members aboard the ship and historically the more outstanding should have received more. GH306 quickly settled their dispute with the following words:

- In the monotony of space, it doesn't matter to us where we are - as long as we survive! I promise, as captain of the Ekhenaton, that you will get enough land and up to seventy percent of all the resources we find on the planet. According to some information I've gotten, it's also quite rich in rare metals that we can harvest.

Still, some of the crew seemed to back away from their captain after the initial enthusiasm. There was a good chance he was telling the truth - there would be no doubt, but what would they do next!

Assistant Captain Spikesnar tried to reassure them and was quick to assure them of the rightness of GH306, and also to point out some ideas for a fairer distribution of the shares, which they could easily sell to whichever civilization they wanted within the Galactic Federation.

But these somewhat naïve explanations did little to assuage their Earthly mindset - most of these space wolves hadn't been involved in flights outside the confines of the solar system, and that was now a real concern for them.

One of them named Zanger called:

- We're going to the end of the world, and you're offering us vague promises. There would be no doubt that we were likely to become rich people as well, but most of us had over a hundred thousand pence of pure earnings before we agreed to embark on this journey of unknown end!

- There's your reward for all your efforts!" replied Spixnar very kindly, but beneath that seemingly pleasant exterior lurked a veritable cosmic predator and assassin, "You may consider yourselves no longer as smugglers who were running from the law, but therefore earning comparatively better than the average officer in the United Earth Federation forces, but as investors in an enterprise or venture that could make you immeasurably wealthy. Even stealing artifacts and running dirty errands a hundred thousand ents would get you absolutely nowhere. Remember also that I have paid the bail of many who have been captured and quarantined by our good friends in the Intergalactic Police.

- "Okay," Zanger didn't give up, "specify what sums we could hope for, our previous Captain Esborn retired with over ten million ents and we're poorer than church mice."

- "All in good time," Spikesnar snarled, barely perceptibly, "I'm not sure, but we might each take home at least five times that, if we live, of course. There's a huge chance we'll wind up with exactly nobody on the planet, and we've got a whole small fleet that's quite sufficient to colonize it and seize its considerable riches!"

After these explanations, the small crew of the Echnaton, which had been about a dozen strong but had since been replenished and expanded with some new additions like Zanger Erinus, Mobinus Fuk[2] and some other space flunkies - most of them even literally broken out of prison seemed to have calmed down and returned to watch, to perform their duties conscientiously.

It was explicit to describe the protracted vicissitudes they underwent.

But one thing was absolutely certain - they had mastered the secret of quantum teleportation and managed to reach Nanjagar, where their ships smoothly descended to the surface.

The Earth Federation ship they found there, as modern as it was, was no match for their immense firepower and was soon captured. The smugglers were being smart and didn't want any unnecessary trouble - they could have easily demanded ransom for the captives, and maybe something else - the Earth Senate was unlikely to deny them!

Capturing the Earthlings' ship itself didn't take too long, as they couldn't activate the tachyon engines that quickly - especially while in stationary orbit.

Little by little, it dawned on Hermonal Bivors and Eberald Eziner that GH306 could easily have settled scores with them.

What an incredible coincidence one might say, but the time for reckoning was drawing near.

Once GH306 came face to face with his judges, he humbly asked them:

- How do you feel about switching places, sirs?

The hint of acrimony never left his face, tired from fighting so many battles.

Hermonal Bivors tried to defend his views on the Theory of Evolution and to show his intellectual superiority over his opponent, which was actually his way of hiding his fear, but Eziner's face remained stony.

- "Sometimes the Higher Powers give us signs, but we don't notice them!," he continued implacably to his tormentors. "As they say, we are so insignificant, but we don't realise it!"

- "What exactly are you going to do with us?," the mad genius asked him. "We believed that by using you we would be capable of eternal domination!"

- "Let's cut to the chase," the clone captain cut him off, "We know about the collaboration between Ertol Gis and Korolan Bru. We're just not clear on the final destination of these two corporations."

- "You'll never know it, dear," laughed Hermonal Bivors with an ugly grin. "Be thankful that you somehow contrived to get the Chief Executioner to let you go. Otherwise you could easily have gone into oblivion!"

Amidst the stark beauty of Nanjagar, which glowed with a white-blue light, many were faced with the dilemma of whether to stay here forever or move on.

 

[1] Astrophobia is the fear of space exploration.

[2] A watch is a shift aboard a spacecraft.

THE BATTLE FOR THE PLANET NANJAGAR

CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT: THE BATTLE FOR THE PLANET NANJAGAR

 

Soon after, Jervond Om San and the warriors surrounding him landed on the planet. The majestic warriors were formidable, yet too few in number if they had to wage war against an unknown foe. Their ship only revealed itself once they were sure they could negotiate with the smugglers!

The Space Wolves took kindly to them, and after hearing their story, promised to help!

The encounter between the two civilizations was more than impressive, but the sheer surprise when they saw their own ships that they had left under the ice of Charon was simply indescribable!

GH306 had kept his promises and had not wanted to let King Zonkurvan down - especially as he would never have managed without the use of his flying vehicles, but his intuition had not been fooled into staying and exploiting the planet's resources. They could easily make a temporary colony to ensure their survival.

They decided to simultaneously cultivate the planet and the idea was met with unanimous approval.

Jervond Om San was appointed Assistant Governor to King Zonkurvan, who practically owed the survival of his race and finding a truly suitable place for it to him. But they hadn't discovered the demonic computer viruses yet.

Try as we might, however, Eberald Eziner insisted that he should be executed for his enormous crimes:

They led me to believe I was doing the right thing and to expect a bright future that never came, and inwardly I knew the right answer all along.

His courage impressed Gervond, who decided that he could atone for his transgressions simply by helping the colony in some way - something he fulfilled most conscientiously. He had taken with him his wife and two children, who at that moment heard of some of his brutal crimes.

We decided before we left for Zegandaria to send one of the ships to show the route of the whole Zonkurvan fleet and give it a chance to reinforce our position, as there was no telling if some unexpected visitor would appear from somewhere.

Jervond Om San had become a very different person, who remembered Jessica and her charming smile as well as her words well:

- To get forgiveness, Jervond, you must show leniency first!

It wasn't long before Zonkurvan's fleet showed up and quickly helped us reorganize the planet. His bionic ants quickly dug tunnels beneath the hard surface of Nanjagar and we witnessed the vast deposits of natural resources on it.

Zonkurvan turned to me:

- You, Jervond Om San, have done your duty, but only halfway, we must destroy the demonic computer viruses once and for all, for it was they that caused my ships to suffer and destroyed most of them. My words can be confirmed by Admiral Or Suv Res.

The admiral standing near him nodded silently. He knew now that Jervond was a true fighter and no one called him by the derogatory Earthman.

The bionic ants kept digging huge tunnels under the surface of Nanjagar, and very soon we were able to build a huge underground city to house us all. Yes, the Ervanans were relatively reserved with us, but very soon we learned their language and could communicate through more than telepathy.

- But the main problem remained, what had happened to the two huge corporations? Where were their leaders?

Hermonal Bivors had been tortured quite a bit before he confessed everything, and finally the terrible truth was before our eyes - we were facing the last and most difficult test, namely to stand face to face with the creators of all this Hell.

King Zonkurvan simply stated that his race would help us in the unequal struggle we had to fight to the end and deal with this problem once and for all.

After all, no one knew where Rufus Ebendhaus had taken cover, and by capturing him, we would get at least half of the answers we desperately needed.

Of course, we'd also be using the supermodern Ketsandorar, since aside from its impressive tachyon engines, its weapons far surpassed the armament of an Ervanan ship and required at least half a dozen cruisers of the Earth Federation's Joint Force, to give it a decent fight back - its defenses included not only photon cannons and keranium terranders (this was practically a futuristic kind of antimatter weapon), but plasma lasers powerful enough to vaporize you!

- 'I, Jervond Om San, wish my great parent had been proud of me and the fact that each of us, saint and sinner alike, had lived to assert ourselves,' I cried, but no one heard me - it was as if the darkness around was a mute judge!

Time would heal all wounds and erase Jessica from my memory as the solar wind and harsh weather had erased our traces of Charon. But nothing was going to erase this woman filled with dark tragedy from my thoughts and heart forever. Jessica Edwater was there! On reflection, the lives of some were short, but their mission of existence was to be of service to others. Farewell my love, may I see you in the other world when I close my eyes someday! You were my guardian angel!

RUFUS EBENDHOUSE

CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE: RUFUS EBENDHOUSE

 

The Earth Federation expected some report to arrive from the ship sent to Nanjagar, but none was forthcoming. As one of Korolan Bru's most senior associates, Rufus Ebendhaus realized that something very serious had most likely happened and their plans to subdue Nanjagar would not be successful. Korolan Bru had invested trillions into developing the super-advanced spacecraft and planning to build an entire fleet, even planning to invade Ertol Gis itself, from which it drew its know-how. Yes, the late Doctor Gad ‘Di Enn had created a time bomb that could go off at any moment.

Rufus was a senator like the late Bondor and Olroy. He despised their ultra-expensive residences and their impressive arrogance toward the weak and disadvantaged. It made no sense to believe they would change their value system, but he knew there was some chance of retribution! That is to say, Rufus had a certain amount of humanity in spite of everything.

He knew that the poor weren't particularly welcome on Veoria, where the whole brood of pseudo-aristocrats only wanted power for themselves.

Rufus Ebendhaus came from a poor family that had relied on his genius to rise socially, but he had managed to preserve his soul on the way to the top, or so he thought. Many criticized the pace of development he dictated to Korolan Bru and longed for him to simply pass into oblivion once some of the most pressing reforms were implemented. No matter how much good Rufus had done, a heavy curse weighed heavily on his shoulders.

He had long wondered to those idiots why the farthest point they had taken as the apex of their policies could not even go beyond the Kuiper Belt, where the true cosmic adventures into infinity began - where everything was allowed and imagination knew no bounds.

In constructing the Kensandorar, he had convinced the others that the roughly five trillion Earth Ents required would pay for itself in no time in colonizing a distant planet, and now he wondered what to think.

Rufus had an impressive intellect, which of course might well approach that of the infamous Jonathan Sacklin, but the sprawling and unwieldy views of the Earth Federation were seriously hampering him, and he was unable to reach his full potential.

He was soon summoned before the Earth Senate, which severely reprimanded him and gave him an ultimatum to either find a solution soon or live out the rest of his life as a high-security prisoner in the elite Ebendhaus prison, which was practically named after him.

The indictment against him contained the following:

"For those who look beyond the permissible horizons in their attempts to achieve immortality, but harm the material and public interests of the Corollan Brew Corporation, the sentence should be as severe as possible, and their public image should be erased from the annals of history. Dear Rufus Ebendhaus, you have been sentenced to strict isolation in the elite Ebendhaus Prison Facility, which should serve as an example to those who lightly squander Earth Federation funds and undermine its authority."

The rest of the accusatory speech was more than dull and not even worth mentioning.

The scientist without whom Corollan Brew would never have set foot on Mars went into a tizzy, not so much over the fact that his public life was over, but that it was a clear signal that Corollan Brew was going to put his hand ahead of his other inventions and patents.

- "Honourable jurors, please note that ...," he began quite confidently, but was interrupted by the Earth Federation jury.

- "Enough, accused, your sentence is final and we do hope you will reconsider your sins as you will have too many years to do so," the three magistrates sternly addressed him.

He was taken away and imprisoned and very soon everyone forgot about him. It was as if he had never really existed and absolutely no one had known him.

During the first year of his imprisonment he wondered whether Korolan Bru was not a very hypocritical subject, who would have been able to profit by his skill and his qualities as a scientist and inventor for a long time to come, had he not been shut up between four walls to wreak his fate.

Rufus was no fool. If the law allowed and it wasn't for his extraordinary merits I'm the Earth government would probably have ended him much sooner. But he didn't stop making plans on how to get out. Like a caged tiger! So alone and at the same time, ready to kill! He had been betrayed by his own and was immersed in a grief akin to a hurricane that could submerge any individual with a normal psyche, but he was not of a normal psyche. Rufus had moved human evolution so much, and no one had cared to heal the suffering in his soul.

Darkness loomed in his soul, tormented by the perplexity of what was next - an eternity of utter boredom!

Rufus wanted and longed with all his heart to see that change in human society which would enable human civilization to truly reach a higher level of development without relying on handouts from any of his more advanced fellows.

All sorts of rumours naturally reached him in prison about the peripatetics of GH306, who had shown serious qualities of a leader willing to challenge the status quo. Somewhere in there, Rufus realized that this system was damn rotten, and even the mere assertion of it was too trite.

The other prisoners only felt fierce respect for this exceptional genius, locked away unjustly and a slave to his own inner demons.

But Rufus knew something none of the others had thought to ask him. In the depths of his soul, like the stalk of a young plant, a strange insight was beginning to sprout - the demonic computer viruses had been recoded, and no one was aware of what lay within. They could unlock the virtual reality with which to control the minds of the mass of lumpenized freaks greedy to live in their own twisted reality, but they didn't know that so much suffering had gathered in the madness of Doctor Gad ‘Di Enn himself, that before he died he had shared with his colleague - "I did all this to curb them, but I see I was wrong, they seek their own self-destruction, and that is a choice everyone should make for themselves!"

Rufus pounded his fists on his head, eager to see the light of Veoria again - where there was a chance to make something happen and he could give his intellect a chance to flourish rather than slowly wither away, staring into his own soul.

Suddenly he heard a strange voice:

- Are you the mad genius? That impressive superintellect who wanted us to go out into the real cosmos, not follow some dogmatic settledness in our own solar system?

Rufus was surprised, but fought him back:

- Someday it may become clear whether humanity is not solely to blame for its fate, and frankly I think that day is coming.

- But you haven't told me what you would really want from a Supermind, if it really exists?

- I think, dear, I don't know what to call you, that you are making a serious inconsistency and lack of logic in your reasoning, if we assume that this Overmind exists, then he should ask himself if this is not the possibility of an immoral mistake that might cost him too dearly next time.

- "I don't think I understand you," the man muttered. "And to keep you in the dark, my name is ..."

- "Actually, it doesn't matter in the slightest," Rufus interrupted him somewhat uncharacteristically, "my point is simply that yet another creation of an entire vicious circle of beings harnessed in their imperfect evolutionary processes...would call into question the fact as to whether it can be called a Supermind!"

- "Don't blaspheme, my dears, desperation is a bad counselor!" the unknown man tried to appease him. "Yes, the Earthlings are in a wild frenzy to achieve something extraordinary, but perhaps they will pay for it with their souls. It is inevitable."

- "For the same purpose a photonic quantum computer would probably do a better job, using its superposition[1] principle, you would get the answer you want. Look," Rufus started again, "the whole problem of existence is ..."

Suddenly the wardens came in and told him to get ready, because high-ranking members of the Senate had come to question him about something extremely important!

 

[1] Quantum computers are capable of using so-called qubits, which in turn allow them to perform several operations simultaneously.

THE CHOICE

CHAPTER SEVENTY: THE CHOICE

 

When he saw the senators with his own eyes, Rufus guessed that they had not come for good. They wanted to get something more out of him or they would have liquidated him by now. He struggled to recall their faces and if there was any hope at all that they could get him out of this hell.

Senators Bonhams and Kourmain were so smartly dressed you could just guess. Their black and green robes were too elegant and their black capes added an element of mystery about them. Without almost any preamble, they turned to Rufus:

Sir, not everyone in the Earth Senate is such a moron as not to appreciate the tremendous loss of our ship - what's more, we'll soon be faced with a moral dilemma about our own existence - and that's practically completely unnecessary! In that line of thought, we offer you a not bad deal, which I think is in your best interest to accept.

Rufus eyed these two aristocratic mollusks in a way that simply couldn't be described, but he tried to hide his contempt as he was clearly expecting some sort of offer that would make his exit from here possible.

The senators spent about a quarter of an hour explaining to him how much he would actually gain if he cooperated with them and that he should do so if he wanted to be rehabilitated as the greatest scientist who had ever lived on Earth.

- "Say outright that you want the demonic electronic viruses," Rufus put the question bluntly. "That would fix things too easily and clear things up. Besides, I guess you've realized clearly enough that someone else has already gotten to them, which is why you came here!"

The two men looked at each other in confusion - he had basically outlined the parameters of their offer.

Rufus had undergone a tremendous change in his time in prison, and he realized that somewhere out there, real retribution awaited him, and he wouldn't be able to jump the gangplank.

- "Sir, I think you're missing the point of asking us who we really are," one of the men's voice changed strangely.

Rufus was speechless, and if he had not been chained he would have fallen on his knees and wept and begged for mercy.

- We are the Light Creatures and we have clearly told you the price of your success!

- "And the smugglers?," he spoke in an inhuman voice. "Are they not guilty? All the trade and somewhat lesser discoveries associated with scientific and technological progress revolved around them."

- "Yes, because you made it so, Rufus," one of the strange creatures addressed him in an icy but kind voice. "On the other hand, even they revered us more than yourself, and yes, if judged, they would be entitled to another rebirth, but not you!"

- "Let me ask you one last question," said Rufus, his body trembling like an autumn leaf in fateful anticipation. "And was he one of you?"

- No, my dear senior associate of the almighty Korolan Bru Corporation, it was your ghostly doppelganger, who was only trying to tell you what awaited you beyond. I mean, well, you might actually already know...

- "But you ...," Rufus froze, wondering what to say back.

- "Whatever you do, the inevitable will happen, but as your guardian angel, I assure you that it is better to accept it with dignity and humility than to grumble and complain. Otherwise you will complicate your own situation. Your sentence has been passed in a much higher authority and even we have no right to comment on it," the Light Creature continued implacably.

- "And don't the guards hear us?," the oath-taker tried to buy some more time.

- "If I were you, I would try to settle my affairs on earth," the angel replied. "Who knows what might happen to you! Sometimes strange and inexplicable things happen at night!"

- "Where you lack logic, you must approach with faith," the other angel encouraged him. "The problem with you is that your case is hopeless!"

Rufus rubbed his eyes - they were gone and it was as if they had never been in his cell.

He thought deeply. As a scientist, he had always dismissed the existence of any superpowers and so on, but then he realized that he had actually been talking to ethereal creatures and a mad panic came over him. He felt like a sinner pinned to the ground, realizing that they were just telling him the very truth!

Rufus still had a considerable amount of money, and had bribed some of the jailers to bring him small rations, as there was virtually no sunlight in his cell to remind him of the world of the living!

In the morning, when one of his jailers arrived, he earnestly asked him for a favour:

- Pass this to Vice Admiral Erdemon Bonks, who knows what to use it for, and hand him a small Narenzium chip. Everything is hidden here. I swear to you on all that is holy, the survival of our entire planet depends on it. Now, I'm gonna ask you for something personal. Have you found a zeret rope?

The warden looked at him with great curiosity but said nothing. He just scratched the back of his head. For the sake of all the kindnesses Rufus had done him, he did agree to help him and promised that chip would be delivered where it belonged.

The sufferer calmed down somewhat.

Minutes passed. Hours passed. And still the warden did not come. Rufus began to despair and just didn't know what to think. Who could have guessed that he had hidden the greatest treasure of the entire Earth Federation in certain parts of his body and subsequently the nanoscanner hadn't detected them at all.

The warder proved to be an honest man, and on the evening round opened the semaranium triple-insulated door that separated the convict's cell from the corridor to the general isolation ward.

- What you're doing and making me do is extremely dangerous, but remember, if you get the rope you want and you happen to be alive, I didn't give it to you. I brought you a genanium fiber that will melt after you hang yourself, and it also has the property of not leaving any scars. Here's a liquarian injection you can use to put oxygen in your veins and cause a cardiac embolism. It's too simple. It's also made up of a nanopolymer that after a while will melt and degrade leaving absolutely no residue!

Rufus went speechless and bowed his head. The overseer looked at him sympathetically for a moment, then spoke:

- I have done all I could for you, and now we are quits-you and I. Two lost souls in this hell. And now I really must go.

He turned and the door closed behind him almost silently. The Sufferer was left alone and had to make his choice. He chose the injection first and pumped more than twenty cc's of oxygen into his artery, waited a moment and slipped the rope around his neck and then hung himself.

In the morning they found him fallen on his eyes and registered that he had suffered a cardiac arrest of the myocardium. No one questioned exactly what had happened.

THE OVERSEER

CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE: THE OVERSEER

 

The Overseer knew that it hadn't been easy at all to send that damn chip to Vice Admiral Erdemon Bonks, as the Cerberus colony was in an impressive mess. Everyone knew that Brutus was gone, and the rumors of shadows that had dogged him relentlessly in the past were becoming more and more daring.

At first, Erdemon Bonx was trying to beg a certain indulgence from the Earth Federation, which was not at all keen on dealing with Cerberus' outpost for a number of reasons, and on the other hand, was wondering if Bonx himself had staged a secret coup, thus seizing some of its functions.

In the end, the upper chamber of the Senate decided to leave him in power now-for the time being, replacing Brutus as it could compromise him at some later point.

Erdemon Bonks couldn't recognize the previous soldiers - they had changed so much, wondering what was going on, and there was a specific culprit for everything that the Vice Admiral had unwittingly guessed.

After rummaging through the electronic documents that Brutus hadn't managed to completely delete in his haste, he was able to piece together the puzzle and realize exactly what had happened.

One of the most trusted people he had logically contacted in the past on such occasions was the same Eberald Eziner who had long been on Nanjagar, where he led a relatively respectable and quiet life - as far as a man with his background could do so.

The signals he had received from the Martian broadcasting stations had been more than contradictory, and he realised quite clearly that Brutus had been lost, and for a more terrible reason than that of his half-hearted betrayal of the Earthmen.

Mars had been one of the former Chief Executioner's usual command bases in the past, and he went to Cerberus relatively rarely and only for exceptional occasions.

Erdemon Bonks tried to gather certain information that would help him with unraveling the case, but the soldiers avoided talking and ran from him like the plague.

Making contact with the higher echelon of the United Earth Fleet forces was equally foolhardy, and most unexpectedly he was contacted by a certain superintendent named Munger Kurzaile, who was only too interested to speak with him persoNaly and had flown all the way from the Lunar Spaceport, through the Mars Liaison Station, all the way to Charon.

Erdemon Bonks thought it was some sort of ill-conceived joke, but later took it completely seriously, realizing that if he was lucky enough, this would be his chance to accomplish something extraordinary!

She invited him into a soundproofed office and listened carefully to his speech, as well as his preliminary presentation.

- "I can't believe it!," gasped Bonks. "So the demon computer viruses are on Earth, and he sent those fools for green caviar. But why do you say he hanged himself? He had the resources to live for a while in isolation and then an escape attempt was organised."

- "It's impossible to get out of Ebendhouse, sir," objected the warden, "and no one ever tried!"

Bonks then slammed his hand against the helmet of his spacesuit and nearly sat up in surprise. He realized how brutally honest the mosaic before him had become.

The Ervanans wanted the demonic computer viruses because he himself...

- "But how had he managed to outwit the Light creatures? Did they really exist?," spoke Bonks incredulously, who for all his superiority was a bit superstitious.

- "There must be something else here, sir," said the Warden, humbly handing him the Narenzian chip, which actually contained a hidden map to the location of the sarcophagus.

- "Which would mean?," he scratched the back of Bonks' head.

- Which is to say that by his very secret arrival on Zegandaria, the legendary Doctor Gad ‘Di Enn brought it with him, and in turn shared so much knowledge with the Earthlings that they simply turned their search in another direction. In this way, Korolan Bru received a vast resource in the form of know-how from Erthol Gis, and apparently didn't even fully know why she was receiving it.

- "I mean, no one has found them yet!," the overseer, Erdemon Bonks, turned to her with ominous triumph. "They stand buried in perpetuity under the noses of the handful of fools in the Senate who can only hold their meaningless speeches of prosperity and well-being and sink in wealth! And the Ervanans and their helpers, who apparently call themselves Zegandarians and whose colony on Charon we destroyed, have gone for green caviar. But..." he paused briefly, "on the other hand, it is unknown exactly where they will choose to build their settlement, which is their first priority."

Bonks ordered the superintendent to keep complete secrecy and go away, giving him the hefty sum of fifty thousand ents for the information and covering the cost of the entire interplanetary flight out of his own pocket.

The superintendent hesitated, but Bonks sent him away with a magnanimous gesture, giving him the right to choose whichever speeder he wanted for his flight in the opposite direction.

While the conversation lasted the superintendent did not fail to glance at Bonks's strange expression and his flushed face. He looked like a walking corpse and if it weren't for his spacesuit he would have looked like a skeleton.

But there was something else. The warden was under no illusion that he would be let go just like that. He knew from the start that he was dooming himself to doom, but because he was an honest man he accepted to go willingly to the slaughter.

Bonks didn't pay much attention to his reaction because he was already thinking about how to find the location of the hidden viruses.

- "It's clearly marked here," he scratched at his helmet again. "Apparently they're buried deep near Ensanor, which is one of the main military bases in Veoria, but something doesn't add up. How did Doctor Gad ‘Di Ennmanage to hide them without being noticed by the staff in the first place?"

When he looked up, the superintendent was still standing across from him. He was surprised, and maybe he was going to insult him, but then he remembered something.

- "Don't you understand now, Munger?," he turned to him, "He only knew how to activate them, and the secret was passed to him by the late Doctor Gad 'Di Enn. But just so you know, those will surely return, and the combined forces of the Earth Federation will not stop them."

As if on command, one of his soldiers brought an alarming signal that the Ervanans, led by one of Charon's survivors, were returning to strike and settle scores with the Earthmen.

Bonx started to give the order, but the warden stopped him:

Rufus mentioned that the Ervanans had a force stationed on Haumea as well - most likely hidden cruisers. We can use them and fight off the invaders!

- "Most likely they've blown too," Erdemon would scold him, "And if they've gone to Nanjagar, it'll take them a while to return!

- I don't think so sir, I may be a simple overseer, but if they really are using quantum teleportation they won't be carrying out the pair entanglement in an area where there is military conflict or an increased Intergalactic Police presence.

- "But Charon is a huge distance away," Bonks tried to object.

- "Not exactly," Munger contradicted him. "If their ships are here, we can easily capture them, and the demonic computer viruses must be destroyed. It's the only way all of humanity will get a break."

Suddenly, Erdemon bayoneted him with a single bolt rifle that burst his suit's visor and caused decompression. The unfortunate's head burst open like a ripe watermelon, and he himself didn't even have enough time to feel his eyes pop out of their orbits and thud hilariously into his blood-filled helmet, pieces of his shattered skull now a mere grotesque semblance of a head.

- I hold the trump cards now, fool, if I master the Ervanan ships and get the demonic computer viruses, I'll be able to control everyone through my so-called implanted virtual reality consciousness and they'll be my slaves! I, Erdemon Bonx, will be able to shed my own skin, or sooner or later the Earth Federation leadership will purge me, as they did the late Evason Cawrn, who was my commander before Brutus.

Erdemon Bonks shot the other soldier who had entered by mistake in a flash. The entire isolated office was covered in blood - the blood of two innocents, but the psychopath Bonks knew no measure - he was going to get his and succeed!

When asked what happened within the colony, he replied that it was nothing special and he just had to defend himself since the messenger was a traitor. But the soldiers remained somewhat suspicious and only his high rank stopped them from arresting him, so he saw himself forced to reveal to them about the ships of Haumea.

They decided they didn't have much time and insisted on acting on their own without direct confirmation from High Command.

THE HAUMEA

CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO: THE HAUMEA

 

With the entire force stationed on Cerberus, Erdemon Bonks set out to seek fierce justice, but what was his surprise when he found nothing. Haumea was deader than Charon, too.  Then he saw Jervond Om San behind him. He was laughing at him.

- "Who are you?," asked Brutus. "Don't convince me that you've come this far for nothing, the whole story is getting too messed up, and you, all of you..."

Jervond glared at him, and Bonks tentatively began to step towards him. Suddenly, blood started gushing out of his mouth.

- "Didn't you realise that those demonic computer viruses bugging your brain were destroyed long ago!," he hissed. "Didn't he ask himself about that? We searched the entire surface of Zegandaria but found nothing, we even released King Zonkurvan's bionic ants - all the same. If they still exist, they have surely been moved!"

Erdemon Bonks began to feel his world spinning and would fall. He was not alone. With him were... He looked around - he was completely alone.

- "All my soldiers," he waved his arms desperately. "Where are they? Is this a sham too?"

His eyes were the eyes of a dead man! Of a hopelessly doomed patient! The suffering written on his face was more than obvious.

- They were a holographic copy, or let me put it this way. The same is true of Earth by the way, Earth Senators think they rule over billions of souls, when in fact it's hardly more than a million or two plus the populations of all the displacements built on distant and alien worlds like Mars, Haumea and Cerberus! I've figured out the secret of modified viruses, they are made so that once your consciousness is in the new reality of spacetime, it will never be in the old one again, but in the transition ...

- "So you've done it all!," shouted Bonks outside himself. "But why?"

Of all the possible realities, I had to find one in which I could truly exist. Enbright's soul haunted me, as only he guessed what I was doing. But without a body to connect with, he couldn't be competition, but ...

- "And the Light creatures? Are they fictional too?," roared Bonks. "Did Rufus lie to me too!"

- "What Light creatures?," Jervond wondered. "These creatures are a figment of your sick imagination!"

And then he felt a tap on his shoulder-a subtle sensation. He didn't want to turn around. The pat was more insistent and earnest, but it was so ethereal it was as if it came from some other life, or from a long-gone memory of it.

He turned and saw them - the Bright Creatures were looking at him impassively, and he froze as if spellbound. Now they were facing him in their true ethereal form - different even from what Rufus saw himself.

- "You've come a long way, Jervond," they turned to him. "You fooled almost everyone, but you can't fool the forces of Light. Though radiant, their faces were shrouded in a darkness that seemed to speak of some universal void."

- The spirit of Enbright haunted you, Jervond, but you did not comprehend that nothing ended with that battle aboard the Voargis, so bloody and so ruthless! Nor with the fact that Ervanan King Zonkurvan entrusted you with the command of his ships and elevated you to Lieutenant-Governor, an honor you could not even dream of! By the way, you used cloned copies of demonic computer viruses to rule over everyone else for so long. Almost imperceptibly. You - the child of Hell, created in the sick head of Doctor Gad 'D Ann. You were perfect for it and played your part successfully. Rufus Ebendhaus preserved the originals of the viruses even at the cost of his own life, because he clearly realized how dangerous they were. And let's face it - they've been lying broken for a long time, buried deep in the bowels of the Earth, and nothing can recover them.

- "But how is that possible?," asked Gervond, in a trance of horror. "Am I so great a predator? Am I a demon or some evil spirit?"

- "We wouldn't exactly use those names," called the two Light Creatures, "but you sensed our presence even then, and hid so cleverly that no one suspected, though everyone knew, or at least suspected, what kind of person you really were."

- "You mean to say that because of me the Ervanans cannot exist in the new reality?," tried Jervond to make sense of them.

- And not only them! Your every action was limiting or excluding someone from the list, if we can even call it that, depriving them of the right to exist in the new reality!" they said strangely.

Blood dripped from Erdemon Bonx's mouth and nose, and no damn it, Jervond hadn't lied there was no one else around him. It was the two of them, captives of the demonic illusion of a perfect and ideal world that subsequently degenerated and crumbled with every closer look.

- "You forget about Eberald Eziner, though!," tried Jervond, slyly. "He was the true executioner and the insatiable blood-sucker, eager to cause grief and suffering!"

- At least he had an excuse for doing his job, Gervond, and we gave him a chance to repent. That little girl he saw was us. Is not the soul of a child best suited for that?

- "And Von Blask?," asked Gervond again. "He was killed by Rento."

- Yes, because he wanted to escape and carry Charon's secret, or rather your own riddle, into safe hands.

- "You mean Rento committed suicide because of me?," gasped Gervond, but his eyes were as glazed as a snake's. "Rento couldn't accept that you tricked him into taking a human life!' the ethereal creatures said sternly. - As you can see, things are very easy to connect even though at first glance they seem quite complicated and confused. On your path you sowed only death and destruction."

- "Whose son am I? Could it be that I am Doctor Gad ‘Di Enn's? Or of Jonathan Sacklin himself?," roared Jervond outside of himself, trying to find a foothold to defend himself against the accusations made.

The bright creatures were silent with grim triumph, but not with deliberate malice or any fatality, but with the impartiality of judges who had an important decision to make!

Erdemon Bonx felt that he was dying, and wished he could speak a word of appeal for help from the Bright Creatures, but only inarticulate sounds came from his lips. His powers were leaving him and he heard a song:

"It is dark and sad on Charon,

Under the ice is hidden a terrible truth,

Once it is revealed, it becomes banal,

but our fate is still the same!"

- "Won't you save me, Light creatures?," With his last strength he tried to gather his thoughts into a death-cry, unaware that they were not so much words as his own thoughts.

- "You were a sellout scum and an exploiter who rejoiced in your commander's suffering!," he heard some semblance of a voice that literally made him shudder.

Something made Erdemon Bonks turn, and with his blurred vision it caught sight of his own battle speeder - there was no sign of the Ervanan ships, neither the ones he had hoped to find nor the ones Jervond had supposedly hidden around.

- "Was it all a demonic illusion?," He groaned.

- "We thought the alien ship simulation would be the perfect reason for Jervond to reveal his true self and come out of his shell," their unearthly voices sounded again.

Erdemon Bonks would have dragged himself like a worm because of the unbearable pain, but the hard surface of icy Haumea was no less dangerous than that of the companion Charon! He fell and simply remained lying there until an explosion caused by his warm spacesuit coming into contact with the methane ice beneath his feet finished him off for good.

Jervond was dying, but there was no one to save him.

- "Was it all an illusion?," he glared furiously. "Didn't even Charon's colony ever exist?"

The colony was completely real, and its destruction was the fault of the Earth Federation, which incidentally was also forced indirectly by you and the people you manipulated to defend themselves and fight back with a direct hit on the hidden threat!

Jervond realized that he was hopelessly doomed and could not justify himself to the Light Creatures. He realized clearly that his time had run out.

- "Perhaps the time was coming for the remedial session," he thought.

Jervond looked at the Light Creatures, and their faces were expressionless. They stood staring at him.

Someone stirred behind him. It wasn't Bonks, who had fallen victim to his own decompression.

Jervond realized it was GH306 who had told him:

- "Here we meet, Jervond, I think you'll answer for genocide of my clone mates, among your other crimes - they weren't a holographic projection. And by the way, if you're thinking what you're thinking, cloned versions of demonic computer viruses can be loaded directly into the quantum matrix and interesting things can happen from there.

- "Where is everyone else?," the criminal tried to keep the conversation going.

- "In different places!," replied GH306 seriously, "but I'd say you created your own reality, which on top of that was pretty convincing! You have to give yourself credit for being a natural talent! Well done!"

And GH306 touched his hands in an imitation of applause that could have made your blood run cold.

- "What will become of the Earth?," continued Gervond.    " Did Rufus die in order to stop me?"

- "Well, as a matter of fact, yes and no," GH306 replied calmly, "Rufus was sick of living with that burden on his shoulders. And he didn't see how colonizing new worlds would contribute too much to a civilization that obviously hadn't reached that level of development yet. I think he made the right decision. As for you..."

A strange feeling came over Jervond - he felt so insignificant.

- "Will there be anyone to condemn me for these outrages?," the heir of Seraija Gul San pondered.

- "That's a good question," said GH306, who was genuinely amused, "well, frankly, I think the best possible solution is for you to not exist in the next version of reality. And there's no logical reason for that. You've fulfilled all your "potential". Rufus's words before he perished were more or less "Why do we need superintelligence when we can do the exact same job with a quantum computer?"

- "So we don't own the Earth," Jervond was surprised.

- "Very accurately put, plus we never were. If you looked at it from another angle, why would we?," replied GH306.

The two stood motionless. And neither uttered another word. Jervond Om San understood that this was truly the end and it was pointless to fight and try to avoid the inevitable!

- "And yet there is hope for you," GH306 replied sadly. "Jessica loved you. Selflessly! That will give you the opportunity for your end to be worthy. What more could you ask under the circumstances?"

The bright creatures stood impassively and watched the two men, but apparently had no intention of interfering at all. - Jervond was quicker - he drew his plasma blaster and fired at the now former admiral.

And then he was speechless. Thin streams of ethereal light enveloped him, and he saw himself at the beginning of his journey - as if they had arrived on Charon yesterday. Everything was happening very fast. And then everything sank into darkness.

Some time passed. When he came to, Jervond opened his eyes. GH306 was dead. But not by his hand, but by his own.

The bright creatures watched them impassively. One suddenly whispered:

- And now where will you go, Jervond? You have made your choice. You were adamant and fought for your cause-to save your people, or rather yourself. But such selfishness the universe cannot tolerate. Earth no longer wants you.

Jervond forced himself to speak. But it wasn't working for him. After he blinked, the Light creatures were gone.

EARTH'S NEW HOME

CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE: EARTH'S NEW HOME

 

The Earth Federation was able to get the full details of what had happened in person from the mouth of Jervond Om San. He had been given the opportunity to use the GH306's speeders and the Bonks themselves.

On a sunny morning, his speeder descended upon the Earth's surface. Coincidentally, Gervond landed right at Ensanor Military Base. The base leadership allowed him in due to the fact that he was piloting Bonks' speeder, and the other speeder was following him, controlled by a sophisticated reangan translation system.

Veoria had prepared a large-scale mobilization of its forces and had called on the other two main camps, Kenaran, which covered Eurasia, and Zorunwag, which in turn included the former Africa, Australia and Oceania, to join in response to the alien threat!

The Earth Senate had passed a number of resolutions banning all those who might have communicated with the Rufus Ebendhaus in question, or leaked any high-level classified information. Investigations were going on with full force and without any scruples. But no matter how hard they tried, they seemed to come to a dead end and couldn't prove anything!

The area around Ensanor was more than futuristic - it included a geboran grid that reflected the sun's rays and made the base virtually invisible to the naked eye. Embedded in one of the nearby foliage-covered hills was the Time Disk, a futuristic quantum clock capable of running non-stop for over a hundred thousand years. It was an enormous disk with a flying sphere in the middle, which stood in the air, supported by an anti-gravity cushion, and two veoria nanomagnets provided the necessary force field.

What was their surprise when they realized who was really inside! Jervond came out with his hands held high, expecting to be shot! But instead, when he opened his eyes, the sunlight passed through his eyelids, which he had been clutching tightly for so long...

It was a world of light and a world of beauty. A world of innocence, but also of limitless possibilities!

- "Is this Earth, the home of my ancestors?," he plumed.  " I had lived in darkness for so long that I did not see the beauty around me. Apparently, the Light Creatures were right."

From the ultra-fortified docks of one of the base's auxiliary sub-stations, one of the sergeants named Giles emerged and called out in human Earth-speak:

- Who are you, please identify yourself!

But Jervond didn't understand the human Earth language, as he had communicated with the Light creatures, GH306 and Bonx mainly through telepathy so far.

Instead of humming he nodded and his eyes pointed to the corpses he carried.

The sergeant gasped and ordered several of the soldiers to carry them to safety. They obeyed at once.

They took Gervond to an isolated room and once he was able to explain everything to them through signs and the electronic documents he carried, they grabbed their heads.

- "You saved the whole Earth, sir," the sergeant addressed him in pure protocol, 'but not so much by your actions, but primarily by opening our eyes. The Earth Federation will continue to set its sights on distant worlds, but it will not forget for a long time that our true haven is here. Home!

The soldiers standing around cheering! And shouted "Hurrah!"

Jervond stayed to help the earthlings, and they soon made contact with Endugus Mylrow. The information shared was so valuable, and Jervond's account of the cloned computer viruses so incredible, that Endugus found himself thinking:

- Clearly we had to redirect our cooperation with Earthlings in a completely different direction or we might all be gone altogether in some of the next versions of the universe!

EPILOGUE

EPILOGUE

 

- "You think you got away with it, Jervond! Wait, you haven't seen anything yet! There are Light creatures waiting for you in that world beyond, but you will never be reborn again. Remember, messenger of darkness, that the impressions which the soul receives from the body are too fleeting, and there will be no allotment for you on the path of development! But the lines of fate are inexplicable, and thy path to Charon, where the souls of the dead rule, was too long and strange! Too thorny and denied by many, not least of all!," whispered one of the Light creatures that Jervond had seen on Haumea, "We must turn our eyes back and understand that all the ills we have had can be repaired!"

And somewhere down there on Earth, some new development of souls was beginning that might not be hindered by intergalactic conflicts.

Jervond Om Sam introduced the Earthlings to the Zegandarian way of life, and none of them dared object to his understandings, for the truth had to be acknowledged.

Many of Ertol Gis's advances were mastered and soon Earthlings were able to perform quantum teleportation, travel through space using tachyon engines and explore new worlds!

As for the Ervanans - well, nobody saw them or heard from them again. In this timeline, they no longer existed. But where was the actual breaking point?

One twilight before Jervond's successor Om San closed his eyes, one of the Light Creatures hovered over him and said:

- I come to you, Jervond, your debt must be cleared, you have received too much, and now is the time to pay.

- "Your will be done," said Jervond Om San humbly, "Apparently I am truly at the end of the road and there is nothing more to delay."

Before long his soul flew away. But for him there was no right to a second life.

Eberald Eziner walked with his family - now he would never again take the lives of innocent people who had suffered so much! He had returned to Earth, using the Earth Federation ship Ketsandorar, as the Bright Ones had spared him in the changing timelines of fate!

- "What a beautiful place!," he exclaimed. "I look upon it now with different eyes! Maybe everything that happened to us was just a bad dream!"

The two children and his wife cheerfully embraced him, and the countryside around was full of life!

Impressum

Texte: Atanas Marinov (A.J.Master)
Bildmaterialien: Atanas Marinov (A.J.Master)
Cover: Atanas Marinov (A.J.Master)
Lektorat: Atanas Marinov (A.J.Master)
Korrektorat: Atanas Marinov (A.J.Master)
Übersetzung: Atanas Marinov (A.J.Master)
Satz: Atanas Marinov (A.J.Master)
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 06.12.2021

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Widmung:
The few survivors of the planet Zegandaria embark on a long journey to the cold and bleak satellite Charon, which lies in the solar system. In an attempt to escape the sinister secret of computer demon viruses buried deep beneath the surface of Zegandaria in a special sarcophagus they believe is sealed for all time. On the small space colony of Semrik Sin, which bears the name of one of the veterans of the City of Light, they find peace for a time, but it in turn does not last too long. Mysterious murders committed by the so-called Invisibles mark a dark series of secrets that is marked with more and more blood. After the murder of his best friend Jake, Jervond Om San convinces a small group of adventurers to embark on a sinister expedition to the so-called Dead City, located in the sinister Mordor Macula, where Jervond and his companions' ideas of reality will be upended.