The 13th Star: An Action Adventure Sci-F Apocalyptic Novel (20 page)

The quartet split up in the lobby: Rettoul and Zoi remained at the computer screen, and not far away, Berez and Thor acted
as if they were conversing. They all looked at the ground, ready to attack—or be attacked—if identified. Berez’ legs froze
and his face paled. Rettoul’s measured breathing was clearly heard. Zoi’s hands, which usually seemed to be fearless, trembled
deep in the pockets of his pants.

“I don’t understand why I should deal with such nonsense!” Coldor roared. “Where does he live? I want to see him now! I’m
not ready to ignore this!”

One of his guards approached Zoi and Rettoul, asked for their forgiveness, and reached past them to the computer screen. He
hit the some keys and said to Coldor importantly, “Apartment 707, fourth floor.”

“We’re going there now!” Coldor announced, leaving the palace with his entourage.

The four breathed in relief. In a barely audible voice, Rettoul said, “That was so dangerous, I couldn’t see the next minute.”

“Yes, it was dangerous,” agreed Berez, his eyes still reflecting his great fear lest Coldor or any of his men returned with
only a slight suspicion.

“Let’s go on now,” said Rettoul. The four descended in a big, slow freight elevator to the fourth floor. They knew a guard
would be there, but when the door opened, there were three guards who seemed to have been chosen carefully. Berez surprised
the one on the right. The others managed to overcome the remaining two quickly, and within seconds the three guards lay unconscious
to the right of the elevator.

Zoi blinked, trying to accustom himself to the strange hallway light. Opposite the elevator was a series of heavy doors. Rettoul
advanced and tried to guess which was the right one. The doors were identical and the men had no telepathic or other ability
to help them choose the correct one.

Berez stroked the doors one by one. At the last one, he turned to Rettoul said, “The third from the beginning.”

“How do you know?”

“I could boast of a feeling, but none of you would believe me. I know it’s the third, unless it’s been replaced, and I don’t
believe it has. Behind the others are solid walls, and I don’t think their location has been changed.”

Rettoul looked at him for a long silence. “You know what will happen if we’re wrong?”

“It doesn’t matter what you’re trying to say,” said Thor. “In any case, if we’re wrong, the place will explode in seconds.
We’d better rely on what Berez says, even if our feelings about it are ambiguous—unless someone can point out another door
and give it a chance.”

No one said a word.

“Okay,” said Rettoul, “we’ll take the door you say. But how exactly do we open it? One mistake and—”

“—we’ll all be flying very high,” continued Thor.

“I’ll handle breaking down the door,” said Zoi, moving closer and muttering, “It’s a good thing I haven’t known you all my
life, otherwise I probably wouldn’t have all kinds of good skills.” He winked at Rettoul’s look of deep concernrettoul.

It didn’t take Zoi more than five minutes of work and the black iron door opened silently. They entered a long corridor that
led them straight into Zoron’s living room. The smell of cooking and the candles scattered around the home mingled. Suddenly,
a beautiful young woman entered. She wore a nightdress and her hair wet, and she froze in panic.

“You shouldn’t do anything because you know who we are,” said Zoi. “We don’t want you, nor do we want to scare you. We’re
looking for Zoron.”

“H-h-he’s in the shower,” she stammered, pointing to their right,berez hold laura and tie her body and mouth.

Seconds later, a naked Zoron lay unconscious at their feet. “Bring the guards in and close the door,” ordered Rettoul.

Coldor stared at the computer screens in the control room. “What’s going on?” he demanded. The air-traffic controllers, disturbed
by his presence, said nothing. “How can the skies be so empty?” he murmured, half to himself, half to them.

He walked around the control room like a trapped hungry lion. “I want Mattoui here,” he commanded. His men were quick to please
him rather than have him explode.

“I want all the guard positions staffed!” he ordered, sitting down in front of one of the screens and trying to view the films
captured by the satellites in the last few minutes.

“To hell with this fog!” he shouted, even angrier.

“Sir,” tried one of the traffic controllers, “this fog will keep them far away. Only an idiot would fly in this weather.”

“Only an idiot like you,” Coldor roared, “would belittle the most important things!” He muttered to himself defiantly, “Here,
too, I have a bunch of idiots.”

The control personnel swallowed nervously. They didn’t like the situation and hoped something would put an end to it.

***

“It’s time,” declared Rettoul. “I hope we all see Mattoui and live many more years in health and with the quality of life
we want.”

“I hope you fill your heart’s desire,” said Berez.

“My heart’s desire is to see us all return home safely.”

“No, I mean your real wishes.”

They went on their way toward the
landing strip
in silence, knowing they’d find Coldor and his men there.

They had Zoron and Rettoul had inserted the lukrasses, the death pins, under his skin like leeches. They were made of elephant
ivory and full of venom, and each pin was controlled by an external remote. Only the remote control could trigger the pins
to break down in the body. Only a small fragment was sufficient to poison a person, who would die in agony within minutes.

Rettoul had shown Zoron the five
lukrasses before inserting them
. “We both know it doesn’t hurt to insert them, nor to remove them. The real pain will come as soon as my hand touches the
remote control. You’ve known me for a while, Zoron. I don’t enjoy harming anyone, but war is war—everyone might die. So, Zoron,
you’ll do exactly what I tell you. I give you my word that if you comply, you’ll return home safely along with us. If you
decide to make yourself a victim of your father’s war, no one will be able to save you. Don’t count on my mercy because I
can’t afford to feel sorry for anyone but myself, and Mattoui is myself, like everyone else in the gang.”

Zoron didn’t say a word.

“I hope you understand what I mean,” Rettoul had said.

“I understand, and I really don’t want to die now. I’ll do whatever you say.”

“We’ll see.”

They walked in silence. No one stopped them and Rettoul didn’t know if it was good luck or bad luck. Someone must see us now
and report
it
, he thought. The whole area can’t be completely abandoned, especially with Coldor so nervous and tense. It can’t be that
no one is at
their
post. The quiet weighed on him even more than the fear of what might happen. He tried to deflect all thoughts of Mattoui because
he didn’t want to be distracted. It was enough that Mattoui was carved into his soul, but he was now going to save him. He
didn’t want to face a picture of a tortured Mattoui—only justice in bringing Mattoui home safely, and perhaps completing something
else on his way to achieving his purpose.

Zoi felt a sharp, intense pain in his stomach as if someone had shoved a spike into his lower abdomen. He’d never felt such
pain. His steps were rhythmic and nothing in his movements betrayed the fact that he could barely stand. He didn’t know where
they were heading; Rettoul’s actions were, as usual, hidden from him, but as always he obeyed. Mattoui was as important to
him as his brother, his flesh and blood, and he knew there was no other way but to confront Coldor in person.

Although their numbers were fewer than Coldor and his guards, their value was much higher, and not just because they had Zoron.
Zoi knew no one could stand up to Coldor, but they—individually, and especially together—had been able to wreak havoc with
him. They’d scrambled all his cards,
even the most secret. Coldor probably hated them most of all, Zoi knew. Their power overcame the significance of the strength
he
tried to demonstrate. The five of them were succeeding where huge armies, many generals, and an entire galaxy had failed.

His abdominal pain eased for a moment. Zoi realized it was fear talking. He hastened to eradicate it in the taste of expected
victory.

Berez wanted to rest. He’d wanted to speak to Rettoul and Mattoui a few weeks previously—grab both of them for a talk between
friends and then, after receiving their blessing, also inform Zoi and Thor that he was leaving. Maybe he’d buy a piece of
land and work it; perhaps study art, a field he loved; perhaps even realize his dream of becoming afarmer.

In recent years, he’d traveled all over the galaxy and visited urban areas. Each time, the first thing that caught his eye
was the structure. He didn’t care how many snipers aimed their weapons at him, he didn’t fear that someone was lurking around
the corner, hiding. He was interested in the structure: how it was built, how it was divided inside, whether the galaxy directions
had been taken into consideration, or whether the structure had been built without much thought and intention. Had they made
sure to maintain the quality of life of the occupants of the building? Or did they perhaps destroy the occupants’ legitimate
rights to sunlight, moonlight, and the stars? Was one glass ceiling left in every building to heal defects, as recommended
repeatedly in both health magazines and construction magazines?

Berez knew his dream might come true, but in their defiant walk
toward
Coldor, everything could dissipate, even the dream.
His
knees were
very sore. He’d been suffering recently, and this morning the situation worsened. He couldn’t manage to complete a step without
pain piercing his whole body. Damn it, he thought, my knees will finally
make me
surrender
, not Coldor. I can deal with him, even with his army—but my knees…my knees.

Berez recalled something Mattoui told him many years ago: “The legs take you where your heart takes them.” He suddenly realized
that his legs were going to Mattoui, to his and Mattoui’s freedom—to the life he’d chosen very long ago, but which he’d lacked
the courage to demand.

Now his knees were remarkably nimble and didn’t bother him
.

The fog was very heavy. Coldor and his men wandered
around the room, everyone careful not to run into him face to face.
His nervous tension grew by the minute.

“Bring the big Wind Mixer!” he shouted.

Everyone swallowed silently. The tremendously powerful instrument attempted to divert the planets from their courses as a
weapon. Its intensity couldn’t be predicted since, on the few occasions used, it’d been aided by the winds of the heavens
themselves, each time with different strength. The results had been disastrous.

“Maybe we should settle for the small one,” the control room manager tried to say, but Coldor’s icy gaze convinced him the
remark was out of place.

“According to the forecast of the chief meteorologist, the fog will dissipate in the next two hours,” said another man, risking
his life.

Coldor slammed his hand on the table and two computer screens wobbled and fell to the floor, their fragments scattering. But
even this didn’t stop Coldor’s roar. “What did I say? What’s not clear? Bring the big Wind Mixer!”

Everyone was staring at Coldor when the alarm alerting them to suspicious movement caused them to switch to the computer screens,
which showed five people moving confidently toward them.

There was no doubt that this was the familiar quintet—but who had taken Mattoui’s place?

Coldor rubbed his hands in pleasure. For a moment he didn’t notice the presence of the fifth man who caused the others to
wonder. Rettoul led, followed by the others in a line. Rettoul was unmasked and carrying his cloak. The other four were wearing
cloaks, and it was difficult to tell who was who, although one could guess that Berez was the second from the right because
his cloak fit tightly over his muscular body. Zoi was probably far right, tall and fairly thin. The one on the extreme left
was Thor, broad-shouldered and built like a wall, and Mattoui was between Thor and Berez.

Wait! But Mattoui was their captive, so this couldn’t be him, although his build was very much like Mattoui’s—neither tall
nor short, neither fat nor thin. Broad, but less so than Thor.

They’re trying to confuse me, thought Coldor, and then he smiled. Oh, and I thought they were a lot smarter. Well, that’s
what happens when you’re too good. He congratulated himself.

“So, Rettoul,” he said arrogantly into the microphone in the control room. “Do you think your friends know that you dragged
them here on a one-way trip?”

His voice echoed around the landing strip. Rettoul and his friends didn’t move.

“I’m a bit angry at myself with regard to you,” he said, adding, “I overestimated you.”

Rettoul didn’t answer.

Coldor smiled with delight. “I think we should probably get closer to each other,” he said, trying to undermine the confidence
of the quintet, who didn’t budge and, from afar, looked like five black
statues
.

Coldor descended in a glass elevator straight to the landing strip and walked confidently toward them. When he was 30 feet
away, three of the quintet pointed their weapons at “Mattoui”…

…whose head was exposed. Coldor froze. It was his own son.

“You’d better not come any closer,” Rettoul said with apparent calm, although raging inside. It was the first time he’d spoken
to Rod Coldor as an opponent, not as a commander. “Although perhaps it should be phrased differently: Before you come any
closer, you’d better bring Mattoui. If we’re doing a package deal, everyone should be present.”

“I’m not making a package deal with anyone,” declared Coldor furiously. “Put down your weapons. You don’t realize that you’re
surrounded. Should a hair fall from my son’s head, you will beg me to kill you!”

“I believe you,” said Rettoul, continuing with apparent calm and ignoring the pounding of his heart, which threatened to burst.
“I believe you,” he said again, “and for that very reason I didn’t take a risk. You have a chance to talk to Zoron for a moment.
Ask him, from a distance, if he thinks you have a chance of winning and keeping him alive. I think you’ll be surprised by
the answer.”

His words confused Coldor. The situation was strange. Dozens, if not hundreds, of military personnel surrounded them and could
easily have shot their heads, especially now that they were exposed. His son would surely get out of this mess. But he knew
they weren’t stupid—they must have planned everything carefully, just as they always did. He swallowed and said nothing at
first. Eventually he spoke.

“Zoron, what’s up?”

Zoron was silent, his face as white as a sheet.

“What are you afraid of?” Coldor tried to belittle their abilities in front of him.

“Dad,” whined Zoron, “they inserted lukrasses in me.”

A heavy silence fell. They all knew the meaning of lukrasses and Coldor hadn’t expected such a surprise. His heart sank silently.

“Okay. Now that you know this will probably be the last time you see Zoron whole, not divided into thousands of particles,
you’d better bring Mattoui here. Fast.” Rettoul was frightened by the intensity of his own words.

Zoi didn’t believe Rettoul would maintain a firm, clear tone, but Berez was proud and a satisfied smile replaced his solemn
expression. Thor was the only one who watched from a distance, still on guard
.

“I’ll bring Mattoui, but not because of the pressure you’re trying to place on me. I think you should you see for yourselves
what you’re going to lose,” replied Coldor, stunned. He added in a deafening shout, “Bring Mattoui here!”

Long minutes of fear followed. The quartet knew Coldor wouldn’t order an attack on them now, but if one of his guards lost
his patience or, worse, if one wanted to curry favor with his master, a firefight would ignite. From here there was no going
back.

Coldor had difficulty standing. His age was apparent and his strength decreased when seeing his son’s terrified eyes.