The 13th Star: An Action Adventure Sci-F Apocalyptic Novel

by Adam Peled

  Tula was silent and tears of longing made tracks on her face. She listened eagerly to every word David said.

  Everyone wanted her to be their friend and Ronnie was happy to be with everyone. So many men wanted to marry her. There were situations both funny and embarrassing, like when a suitor tried to get close to her and she—sociable, pleasant, attentive, and sympathetic to everyone—was mistakenly perceived as being interested in him. But she was so special that the disappointed suitor couldn’t be mad at her…only that luck had disappointed him.

  David continued talking about her mother and Tula occasionally asked questions. Her eyes glistened with tears of excitement as she listened intently to every word, every pause.

  David, for his part, totally forgot his imprisonment and the barrier between him and Tula, sitting on the other side of the iron door while he told her his memories.

  ***

  “I don’t get what’s written here,” Rettoul said, greatly disappointed.

  “What do you mean? What don’t you understand?” Thor asked with a curiosity reserved for those who hadn’t seen the other parts of the scroll and weren’t privy to the great secret—only to the struggle.

  “It looks to me like a poem, but it doesn’t connect to what we already have in hand,” Rettoul said. “Maybe it’s just the drawings, which are very similar. Nevertheless, it seems that there’s a connection. I don’t know. It’s only getting more complicated.” He sat down heavily on the armchair in Berez’ room.

  Mattoui looked at the drawing and said quietly. “You’re correct—it’s a poem. It’s a poem I wrote about Rettoul when I was in prison—a month ago.” Everyone turned to gaze at him.

  “What?” Rettoul was amazed.

  Mattoui pulled a folded sheet of paper out of his shirt pocket and spread it out in front of everyone. The words were identical, except for the last line:

  Joy for one will become joy for many

  Death for one will become a death spree;

  The planet of death will become the planet of life

  And the two little ones will know no more strife.

  ***

  “I don’t understand why you suddenly insist on broadcasting the wedding to the entire galaxy, and a live broadcast at that,” Coldor said, exasperated.

  “Why should it be a problem? I don’t understand,” said Bergin.

  “Technically it’s not a problem, but it’s not necessary. The Temple is huge. All our people will be there, and many others will take part in the event. I don’t think there’s a need to broadcast, especially as not everyone is really interested.”

  “Maybe you’re right.” Bergin tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe the wedding will not be a big deal for everyone. Still, I want to take the opportunity to pardon some of the prisoners.”

  “What?” Coldor cried. “What’s this nonsense? Why pardon them? There’s no reason to pardon anyone!”

  Bergin’s glacial look silenced him. “You call it nonsense? Sometimes I don’t know how I manage to stand you. Your nonsense can end in a disaster for everyone and I put up with you!” he said, raising his voice. “And you dare to say I talk nonsense? Who do you think you are?,zoron is the closest to ason for me”

  Coldor swallowed in silence. “I’m sorry, but I think you have to keep your tough image,” he said quietly.

  “What if I choose to present another side of myself? Not just a man of war, but also a person with feelings? What’s wrong with you? I’m marrying off your son. How can such a person not have feelings?”

  “I think you’re making a mistake,” said Coldor quietly.

  “And I think you’ve made many mistakes—like almost costing us all our lives with the bomb and your bunch of fighters. So let’s conclude you have no right to criticize me.”

  ***

  “Are you sure, Rettoul?” asked Zoi.

  “Absolutely.”

  It was the second day of their long session in Mattoui’s room. They hadn’t left for two whole days and were just preparing for the next round which, as far as they were concerned, was to be the last. They had a clear advantage and all the action revolved around it—the entire galaxy was sure they were dead. It seemed that each of them was fully aware of his role in the operation.

  “Zoi, Thor,” said Rettoul, “you’re the first to go out. We’ll wait until ten tonight to hear from you, otherwise we’ll continue without you.” An uncomfortable silence fell in the room and the two embraced at length with Mattoui and Berez.

  “We didn’t part, even when Thor left for his base. I want to believe that we’ll never separate,” Rettoul murmured.

  Zoi and Thor left the room in silence, their path clear. They would use Bar’s Kaiser to get to Falcon, but before that they had to stop in the mountainous areas of Moran and Brisker.

  ***

  A holiday feeling was felt throughout the galaxy. Everyone was busy with the wedding and shuttles went up and down. It was a mood that hadn’t been felt since the Great War, a sense of happiness and joy in view of the rumor that the great Bergin had been beneficent with many prisoners and pardoned them to life and freedom.

  Around Bergin stood the most highly trained honor guard in the galaxy. A small guard, though, because no one even considered that a rebellion or fight that would threaten Bergin and his family could break out that day. Yet it was only fitting to maintain the remote and powerful image he’d always insisted on.

  ***

  Bar’s Kaiser, moving in quickly to land on Falcon, had been observed by the control tower. “Request permission to land,” said Zoi’s voice in the control tower.

  No one recognized his voice, but his heart threatened to burst.

  “Where are you coming from?” The question was always asked.

  “From the main jet. This is Bar’s vehicle, returning from being fixed,” said Zoi, waiting for something to go wrong.

  “Wait for approval to land,” replied the controller.

  “I hope you know enough prayers,” said Thor on the internal system straight into Zoi’s ear, who indicated to him to wait a moment.

  “There’s no answer at headquarters,” said the controller. “It seems everyone’s at rehearsals. I can allow you to land, but you’ll have to wait for several hours near the landing strip.”

  “I’m at Bar’s personal service. I have no problem waiting at the landing strip, but it will shut down three shuttles departing for Moran at Bar’s request. I’m supposed to release as many people as possible for the wedding ceremony.”

  “I understand,” replied the controller. “How many people do you have on board?”

  “I came alone.” Zoi’s lie was supported by the vehicle’s energy jamming ability, which didn’t allow anyone or anything to see in. As Bar’s vehicle, it had been built in accordance with his stringent privacy requirements.

  “If that’s so, you can land at the royal landing area. But I’d ask you to land in the Crouter area instead.”

  Zoi had intended on arriving there anyway. Crouter was a quiet area, out of sight. It was preferable for the Kaiser not to stand out so no one would identify the vehicle on the landing strip. The royal pad was for vehicles earmarked for the event, and any other vehicle would be noticed in the open area, even Bar’s, if his explicit instruction hadn’t been given.

  “Another thing,” said the controller. “I need the purpose of your landing—only for the records.”

  “Of course.” Zoi smiled. “I’m a vehicle mechanic and I came to prepare several vehicles, like I told you before.”

  “Enjoy your work! I hope you’re done quickly and can watch the wedding.”

  “Thank you,” said Zoi, closing the communication system with the control tower.

  “Who the hell’s interested in this wedding?” Thor said.

  “You, Thor. You, too,” replied Zoi.

  ***

  Next to Moses stood a cleric wearing festive white. Moses didn’t usually encounter clergy members, as there were few on Moran,
but today was a holiday for the whole galaxy. Anything could happen. Moses smiled to himself and stepped away, but the cleric approached him with small, measured steps. Moses thought about how life brought you to places you’d never choose. He and a cleric standing on the same square yard seemed like an event light years away from him. Okay, he thought, apparently everything has a reason, and one shouldn’t fight what life brings, especially if it doesn’t look threatening.

  “I need your help again,” the cleric said softly to Moses, who tensed. The voice was familiar, but he couldn’t see the face out of the corner of his eye. What did he and a cleric have in common?

  Moses didn’t look at him, but took a few steps back and continued his slow meander down the main street, looking for a good seat to watch the main event of the galaxy, although the wedding was not uppermost in his mind. But as Moses already knew, life can bring surprises. Indeed, he’d had a strange feeling this morning: Something has to happen, and it will happen today. And it wasn’t the wedding.

  Again he heard the cleric’s voice. “We know each other, but I won’t remove the cloak from my head.” This time Moses turned in his direction to make sure who was speaking. The cleric nodded his head, silently saying, I’m talking to you.

  “What do you want?”

  “Another Kaiser.”

  A huge smile spread across Moses’ face. “I knew I recognized that voice! I’ve been convinced for a long time that you’re alive and knew you’d appear before me some time. You had a good thing going there with the costume—especially today.” He laughed loudly and some people turned toward him.

  “Let’s go to the den together. It’s not too interesting out here anyway,” said Moses, adjusting his gait to Rettoul’s. “Why should I give you another Kaiser if you lost the previous one?” he asked with a smile.

  “Maybe because you’re a good man.” Rettoul smiled.

  “I—and many who know me—won’t believe that, but continue. I might be persuaded.”

  “Maybe because you know it’s for a good cause.”

  “There are a lot of good causes. And I don’t contribute to any of them.”

  “Perhaps because I’ll pay you for both.”

  “There should be a particularly high and appropriate fee.”

  “You determine the price. I’ll meet it,” promised Rettoul.

  “I’m joking. There’s no price tag on my Kaiser.”

  “Moses, I will pay any price.”

  “You don’t understand,” he said while on the threshold of the den. “My Kaiser was my father’s Kaiser. It’s not a matter of money.”

  Rettoul sighed. “Nevertheless?”

  “Let’s go up to my room.”

  ***

  Moses lit a stick of Sinta and drew on it with great pleasure. “What now, Rettoul? What will be the end of you all…or is it only you who’s left?”

  “No, we’re all alive. But we still have the last fight,” Rettoul replied wearily.

  “Maybe you should give up. Say thank you for being alive, find yourselves a place, and enjoy what you can.”

  “Impossible, Moses. Everything was for this battle. We can’t give up now.”

  “Everything is possible, Rettoul.”

  “No, Moses,” Rettoul said sadly, “not everything is possible. And that’s why we have to try and be done with this story now, because perhaps later nothing will be possible.”

  “What can I say, Rettoul? How can I help you? I see I can’t keep you here with me—alive.”

  Rettoul sighed. “I need a Kaiser to meet my friends, who are already on their way.”

  “Where are they?”

  Rettoul knew there could be no more secrets between them. “On Falcon.”

  “Okay,” said Moses. “I’ll let you fly my father’s Kaiser—which, as I told you, I’m connected to emotionally—but I have unfinished business of my own. Thanks to my Kaiser, I’ll be able to finish it.”

  “Please. Whatever you want,” promised Rettoul.

  “Excellent.” Moses rubbed his hands with delight. “When do you need it?”

  “Tonight at nine.”

  “Great. The Kaiser will be ready at nine, and take into account that I’m giving you a ride.”

  “What?”

  “I told you, I won’t leave the Kaiser. And in general I always dreamed of being a best man. Who knows? Maybe I’ll realize my dream today.” Moses winked. “Don’t worry. You won’t be an obstacle,” he promised solemnly.

  Rettoul knew the deal was closed, even if it didn’t exactly match his expectations.

  ***

  It was nearly ten p.m. Thor peered out of the Kaiser’s window and saw hundreds of other Kaisers parked on the landing strip in perfect order. He noticed the symbols of galactic nobility and status and smiled to himself. I’m among good friends. A guard stood beside each Kaiser; Thor knew it was usually the Kaiser’s pilot. All the vehicles were empty, as everyone had gone to take their place in the Temple prior to the great event.

  Thor waited for the guard of the Kaiser on his right to take a break. As soon as he circled the Kaiser, Thor would suddenly open his door and hope the guard wasn’t too vigilant and fit—so the takeover would be quick and easy.

  Indeed, the guard was not quick enough; the door of Bar’s Kaiser hit his head and he fell down. Thor picked him up, brought him into the Kaiser, and exchanged clothes with him while he was completely unconscious. Then he opened a small Rodem capsule, one drop of which was enough to put anyone who inhaled it to sleep for several hours.

  Thor didn’t stop with one drop, but made sure the capsule was completely empty. He’ll sleep for maybe day and a half, he thought as he quickly left for the control tower.

  A sleepy and tired officer answered Thor’s internal intercom call. “I just need to wash my hands,” said Thor, bending over like someone tying his shoelaces. The officer in the control tower didn’t see his face.

  “Come on up,” he said, opening the inner door.

  Entering the control room, Thor realized his work would be easier than expected. Except for the officer who opened the door, there was no one in the room. Usually three officers and a junior were on duty each shift. Thor, prepared for four people, faced only the one officer who could barely keep his eyes open, sitting with his bleary eyes watching the various control screens.

  “So, has anything interesting happened today?” asked Thor.

  “It’s been a nightmare…and it’s still not over. A huge nightmare.”

  The officer didn’t turn his face away from the screens. “If you need the toilet, it’s to the right, with the orange door. Tell me, is anything interesting at least happening out there?”

  “No, nothing’s going on,” said Thor as he approached the officer’s back, “but something interesting will happen here soon.”

  “What do you mean?” asked the officer. Before he could turn around, Thor shoved a Rodem-soaked handkerchief into his face. The officer collapsed almost instantly. Thor moved away, trying not to inhale the Rodem. He knew it would spread quickly through the air, but it would also dissipate within eight minutes. The strongest concentration was on the handkerchief, which Thor left next to the officer. The man would sleep well. Maybe that’s the sleep he hoped for, thought Thor.

  ***

  “What are you doing here?” asked a member of the royal guard dressed in holiday attire. Zoi, the alleged mechanic, stood before him.

  “Oh, I’m so glad to see you here.” Zoi ignored the guard’s tone. “I need help. You see this?” He patted his heavy bag. “Fireworks,” he stated with great importance. “It’s all fireworks and I have to lay them throughout the Temple.”

  “What?” The guard was surprised.

  “Don’t ask! And I have to finish quickly, as I was told everything must be in place by ten thirty. And I so wanted to stay home and watch the wedding, you know?” He winked at the guard. “There isn’t a celebration like this every day.”

  The guard was not very pati
ent. No one had mentioned this person coming to set up fireworks—who’d suddenly appeared in front of him out of nowhere. “Well, show me your bag for a moment. Open it.”

  “Certainly,” said Zoi, opening the bag.

  “I don’t know what you were told exactly, but watch out not to disturb the snipers. And you should keep an eye on the time and leave as soon as possible.”

  “Don’t worry,” called Zoi as he entered quickly. “I’ll be done sooner than you think. I told you, I don’t want to miss anything.”

  ***

  There was a galaxy-wide order on the day of the wedding to wear white clothing. Galactic residents knew no one would enforce the order, but they were very happy to comply. So the entire galaxy, except the royal guard, wore white. Falconite trees had been painted white, and vehicles were also painted white with a silver stripe. Huge speakers positioned in major intersections played a recording of “The Celestial Creation,” a famous sonata that no musician except one could play properly—Matison, a pianist with short arms. He was brought to the Temple specifically to play during the arrival and departure of the new couple.

  Wedding planners knew that the participation of Short-Armed Matison would be grounds enough to watch the whole ceremony. Beyond the high esteem for his extraordinary talent, his appearance was particularly intriguing. Indeed, a large crowd waited for the camera to focus on Short-Armed Matison, if only to measure the distance between his shoulders and his knuckles. No one understood how the man played with so prominent a lack of proportion in his limbs. Still, no one could argue about the quality of his playing. Some defined it as divine.