The 13th Star: An Action Adventure Sci-F Apocalyptic Novel (11 page)

But on the day we realized Sarah was
carrying a child, we understood that Adam’s story was our story.
He’d prepared me to be the parent of a special child—the most
special child—and not in the sense of a child being special to his
parents. This encompasses the spiritual and broadest practical
sense one can imagine. Rettoul, you’re our child. And you’re the
leader.”

The silence deepened in the room. Even Sarah’s crying wasn’t heard anymore. Rettoul barely breathed. He’d heard so many things
and didn’t know how to digest them.

Long minutes passed, as if letting everyone become accustomed to the news. Sarah hadn’t believed she’d see this day. Twenty-seven
years after the day her son was born until now. Although she knew he’d come home one day, she’d found it hard to trust she’d
ever see him, touch his face, or win a smile from his eyes. She looked at the impressive man. Is this my child?

David smiled wearily. Their path was at an end and Rettoul’s path was just starting. His only son, whom he hadn’t seen for
even one day until now. And here he was in front of him, shocked and surprised. He and Sarah had waited years for this moment
and imagined the magic with which David would inspire him, but no description could be compared to the reality.
There was
fear and respect between the two men more than any other emotion. The long wait—by all three of them—exhausted them and they
couldn’t fully enjoy the moment.

“I want to tell you about the sons of Levi,” said David. Rettoul nodded, trying to understand.

David recounted the history of the galaxy from the first year of choice until the meeting of the warlords. He spoke of the
War of Domination and the scrolls hidden in the heart of Brisker. About the role of galactic commanders in the future. Rettoul
sat, hearing every word, every pause in his breathing—listening and slowly absorbing things. In between, he asked questions
to understand better and clarify matters. David replied patiently, wanting to leave no unraveled
ends
so that everything would be understood correctly.

Morning broke and David was still relaying the galactic story in every detail for the benefit of Rettoul’s overall understanding.
Sarah put a plate of cookies and a hot drink in front of him.

“Eat, my child, eat. You have to get stronger, now more than ever.” She wanted to touch his forehead, to kiss him, but settled
for stroking his head lightly. Rettoul smiled in his heart at the gesture that was Benaya’s.

David and Sarah had to go to work. Even their child’s visit didn’t allow them to be absent. The law enforcement personnel,
and those of the
planet’s
government,
didn’t know the couple’s story and wouldn’t be able to
connect
the celebrated captain to the nice, quiet couple they’d known for years.

Rettoul was very tired and went to bed in their home. His sleep was heavy and dreamless, and when he awoke, he didn’t know
how long he’d slept. Getting up, though, he saw the sun had long since passed its zenith. A large parcel sat on the dining
table. Opening it, he found breakfast that had obviously been prepared with great love. A handwritten note in round familiar
script said, “Bon appetit, my child.”

He had no desire to leave his parents’ home. On the contrary, he wanted to examine the house he missed growing up in. Although
Benaya’s house was his home, his parents lived here. Parents, he thought. I never had parents. It had always been just Benaya.
Surprisingly, their home was similar to Benaya’s. The division of the rooms was the same, and the room he slept in on Levi
was very much like his Falconite childhood room he’d left years ago.

The Road Star was still waiting for him, but he wanted to walk around before using it. He wandered through the narrow, colorless
streets. Everything looked the same. His parents’ home was two blocks from the long field of grain.

Suddenly, screams shattered the silence. Following them, Rettoul saw an elderly couple being beaten by a group of gleeful
law enforcers. The woman tried unsuccessfully to protect her husband, both being brutally assaulted by four amused young men
in uniform.

He rushed toward them and, without a word, threw up his clenched fists and struck one of the attackers, who fell stunned.
With an equally surprising kick, Rettoul shoved another young man, pushing his elbow quickly into the face of a third and
kicking him to the ground, too.

Rettoul drew his Roll and almost cut the throat of the fourth. He paused, waiting for the man to stand, and looked at his
frightened face. “Instead of slicing you in two unequal pieces, I want you to call Fidelio. Right now.”

The three law enforcement offers who’d been knocked to the ground were stunned. The fourth nodded and quickly ran for help—and
to tell Fidelio that there was a crazy person disturbing their work.

Rettoul silently helped the battered elderly couple to their feet. They looked at him in disbelief and found it difficult
to decide whether this was good luck or bad. Maybe it was better to accept the edict of the law enforcement people rather
than bring more law enforcement officers on themselves.

Within moments, Fidelio appeared, red-faced with anger, his short legs almost running. “Who do you think you are? What right
do you have to interfere with people who are doing their job?”

Rettoul looked at him and smiled grimly. “They’re not doing their job. They’re behaving like animals.”

Fidelio looked at him with eyes flashing fire. “Sir, you’re not needed here.”

Rettoul ignored his remark and removed his shirt.

Fidelio took two steps back when he noticed the tattoo on Rettoul’s shoulder. “M-m-maybe I exaggerated a bit in my response,”
he stammered.

“No, Fidelio, you didn’t exaggerate at all,” Rettoul said calmly. “Now I’d like you to bring me thick ropes.”

“Thick ropes?” Fidelio didn’t understand.

“Yes, thick ropes,” he said quietly.

Fidelio asked his assistant to bring the requested ropes as quickly as possible.

Rettoul strolled over to a parked vehicle, a large piece of farm equipment, assessing its height. “You can do this while at
war and you will lose, and you can just do it without too much trouble.” He climbed into the cab and, after examining the
controls, pushed a few buttons that extended a crane arm.

“Do what?” Fidelio didn’t understand.

Satisfied, Rettoul exited the cab and approached the fat man. “I’m going to hang four members of the law. Would you like to
propose three of them?”

Fidelio turned white and the faces of his men fell. The assistant returned with the requested ropes.

“What are you going to do?” he asked, hoping he’d heard wrong.

Rettoul prepare
d
the ropes skillfully and quickly. “It’s very simple,” he said. “I’m going to hang four members of your law enforcement force.
Who of your team here should be hanged?”

He asked as if it were a simple question rather than
a question of life or death.

Fidelio didn’t react.

“No problem,” said Rettoul. He turned and grabbed one of the law enforcers who’d beaten the couple so severely. “I think you’re
the first. There’s no reason to hit anyone, and certainly not for such a stupid reason as lack of productivity…” He struck
the man in the neck. “…and certainly not someone smaller and weaker than you,” he continued as he put the noose around the
man’s neck.

Rettoul kept moving and no one tried to stop him. They were overwhelmed by what was happening. He hung the first man up, ignoring
his cries, and declared, “Everyone now understands that Levites will no longer be beaten.”

Then he turned to Fidelio. “Who do you suggest for the second man? Because if you don’t say, they’ll all be hanged.”

Fidelio pointed a trembling finger at one of the law enforcers. “I think this one’s response was a bit exaggerated.”

“No, Fidelio,” Rettoul said. “No reaction is compatible with what I saw here,” he continued as he prepared the noose.

The cries of the first law enforcement officer had already faded away. As he hung the second man, the remaining men began
to run away.

“Order them to stay here, or I’ll have to use my Roll,” Rettoul said calmly.

Fidelio screamed in horror, “Nobody move! Here,” he said, petrified, “you, come here. You’re next. You heard what the commander
said!” screamed Fidelio at a subordinate, jerking the man along. He shoved him toward Rettoul.

Rettoul hung the third man in silence. Then he said, “I hope everyone will understand the message.”

“O-o-oh yes, they’ll understand,” stammered Fidelio. “I will make sure that everyone understands.”

“No doubt.” Rettoul smiled and made the last loop calmly, as if he was not involved with death’s work.

Then he turned to the others, who were terrified but looked at their swinging colleagues and at Rettoul alternately. “I expect
you to travel across the entire planet and make sure there are no more Levites beaten, humiliated, or hurt. The days of slavery
are over.”

They all nodded.

“Fidelio, come here.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.”

Fidelio was the last one to be hung. The message was understood.

Rettoul passed the hours of the flight back to Kantara thinking about his parents and his role, but most of all, longings
for Benaya surfaced. She’d prepared him for every future moment of his life.

The sun was about to reach its midpoint and the heat was felt everywhere. Bergin was restless. The events in Levi hadn’t ceased
bothering him, and both the true and imaginary stories surrounding Rettoul’s visit there constantly followed him around, it
seemed. Bergin walked around the big room, one hand clenched in a fist, ready to strike at any moment.

He smashed his fist hard into his other hand, staring at points vanishing in the room. His eyes darted around in their sockets,
his shirt buttons were undone, and he clearly hadn’t changed his clothes for days. His body was tense and his attire hung
on him gracelessly.

“I don’t understand how something like that could happen,” he said to Bar. “How did you let this monster grow to such proportions?
How did you allow yourself to fall asleep on duty?” he shouted.

Bar didn’t respond, not taking his eyes off Bergin, who kept pacing restlessly.

“It was only a total of four people.” Coldor tried to soften the situation, but Bergin didn’t need more encouragement than
that to scream in anger.

“A total of four people! Four people? What are you talking about?! You’re a complete idiot if you think it’s only a total
of four people! I don’t believe what I’m hearing, and from you of all people.”

Coldor withdrew into himself and Bar swallowed his saliva, refusing to respond and defend him.

“What are you talking about, anyway?” continued Bergin. “Only four people were hanged, but the whole planet—the whole galaxy!—was
witness to it. If it was just four people, I’d be sitting on the great ice shores with a drink, watching the sky. What are
you thinking of when you say, ‘only four people’?”

Coldor didn’t answer and Bergin, unable to calm down, continued to rant. “Everyone on Levi saw this hybrid creature disgrace
us—people who keep the law. All of Levi glorifies the name of that scoundrel.”

Coldor broke in calmly. “He’s much more sophisticated than we ever imagined. We won’t get rid of him so easily. He’s not the
type who can—”

“You apparently don’t understand me!” roared
Bergin. “I’m not interested
in his ease or abilities. Rettoul—or whatever you call him—will not live more than a few hours from the time you leave here.
Is that clear, or do I need to clarify it further?”

“I promise you that we’ll catch him soon.” Bar tried his luck at placating Bergin.

“ ‘Promise’ is not the word,” Bergin said. “You have to catch him, and as quickly as possible. Otherwise you won’t know where
to put yourself.”

Bergin stopped in the middle of the room and his usual voice returned. “Listen to me carefully, both of you. This scoundrel
will not make a fool of me, and I
will not turn the galaxy upside down
because he wants to. The story will die away within twenty-four hours. We have too many important things to deal with without
this little incident. You say it’s only a total of four people,” he said to Coldor. “I will try—although with great difficulty—but
I will try to treat it that way, even though it’s complete nonsense. But so be it. He hurt only four people, so before he
hurts more… As I see it, he doesn’t have very many inhibitions, or fears. What’s more frightening is his ability to kill,
which is greater than that of most people. So before he manages to hurt more than ‘only four people,’ I demand he be arrested
immediately. I hope both of you understand what I mean, because it cannot be interpreted any differently.”

Coldor and Bar nodded.
Coldor swallowed and said in a relatively low voice, “I’ll leave for Levi right away. I believe I know what and who he’s looking
for on the planet.”

Bergin answered in an icy tone, “I’m not interested in what he’s looking for. Now we’re looking for him. Get to Levi with
two hundred Buchawan deadly predators. You know what they do”

“Yes, but then, at best, you’ll get him in thousands of pieces in plastic bags,” said Bar.

“I am not the least bit interested in seeing him alive or dead in my hands. I want to finish this story—now,” replied Bergin.
“Besides, the predators will do the job for us.
After what he destroyed on Levi, I don’t believe anyone will want to give him shelter or help
. Get rid of him with
our representatives from Bucha
.”

One evening with clear skies, Rettoul’s Kaiser touched down on the large landing strip on Kantara. No one expected the arrival,
but the powers that be were responsible for all the systems—at the landing strip, too. Dozens of snipers tensed when the Kaiser’s
door opened, gun barrels pointed. The door opened, but no one got out. For a long time there was no movement on the Kaiser
or around it, and the tension level grew.

Rettoul suddenly descended, alone, his back straight and tense. He walked toward the living quarters as if not noticing the
cocked weapons aimed at him.

“You don’t believe it, huh?” said one of the snipers to his friend. “The way he acts, you’d think that none of the bullets
we’ll shoot will hit him. He has divine power,” he said, smiling with obvious admiration.

“Shh… That’s really what we need right now,” his friend shushed him, “for you not to believe in the objective.”

“That’s not the point. It’s just that he really is larger than life.”

“Stop where you are!” pierced the air.

Rettoul obeyed and turned toward the speaker. His eyes met those of a lieutenant whose rank was lower than his. It was evident
to the snipers that their lieutenant was nervous about the situation.

“I’m going to jail of my own free will,” Rettoul said softly in a voice audible to only the two of them. “You have the choice
to shoot me in the back, or lead me straight to jail.” The lieutenant swallowed and Rettoul continued. “I believe your rank
will rise if you hand me over to Bar alive. Otherwise, you might not see tomorrow.”

The lieutenant didn’t take his eyes off Rettoul. “Keep going. I am behind you and dozens of
rifles
are pointed at you. One unnecessary move and Bar will understand you couldn’t be treated differently.”

Rettoul continued toward the prison, just as he’d planned earlier.

The sun hadn’t yet risen one morning and the sky displayed thin blue-black stripes. It wasn’t silent outside, but it was evident
that only wild animals were fighting each other, with not a soul in the Kantaran streets. The sudden squeak of a door opening
startled Rettoul. He tensed and looked at the door of his cell, trying to make out any movements or light that would perhaps
infiltrate his dark cell. The sound of keys jangling sharpened his senses and he waited for the cell door to be opened.

The head of the wardensmiled as he peered into the cell, trying to get used to the darkness and locate Rettoul there. “No
more than twenty minutes,” declared the warden and moved away from the door. Mattoui didn’t wait and stormed in as if it were
not a prison cell, but his own home.

“Good to see you,” Rettoul said to Mattoui, not surprised to see him, and got straight down to business as if he’d called
for the meeting rather than Mattoui, who’d
been forced to bribe some prison guards and officials in order to reach the cell. “Do you remember the battle in which your
Jorash died?”

“Yes,” replied Mattoui, startled by his friend’s sharpness and directness. He stood tense before him. “What’s the connection?”
He tried to link their current reality to what happened 5 years ago.

“That battle is no way equal to what we’re facing, and more than that,” continued Rettoul. “It seems it will get a lot worse
from now on. Perhaps only afterward will we be able to see some of the good.”

“What?” Mattoui didn’t understand. Rettoul seemed to be talking to him in slogans.

Mattoui knew his friend well and recognized he’d allowed himself into be imprisoned intentionally. Before he arrived, he knew
he wouldn’t find Rettoul humbled, but in a militant attitude, and he knew Rettoul usually shared the details with him if Mattoui
was the one who would bear the brunt of battle. But now Rettoul was talking to him in slogans. Where he was going with this?

“What?” he asked again.

“There’s not much here, Mattoui. It’s very simple. It will be a lot worse before it’s better,” Rettoul repeated.

Mattoui narrowed his eyes and watched as he removed something from the bottom of his shoe and gave it to him. “You know what
this is?”

Mattoui was holding the piece of scroll. He
nodded.

“Because of this, I need to get out of here. Fast.”

Mattoui twisted his face up in confusion. “What’s the connection? You need to get out of here without any connection.”

“No!” flared Rettoul. “This is the reason I need to get out of here. I have nothing to do out there—you’ll manage fine. The
future of the galaxy has no importance without the scrolls. It’s just for that reason that I need to get out of here. It’s
not only me who should understand things.”

Mattoui tensed. Rettoul had rarely raised his voice or spoken to him so vehemently. Either the last hours had left their mark
on him, or Mattoui didn’t really understand the importance of the scrolls. He preferred to think it was the second—that he
didn’t fully appreciate the true importance of the journey.

“What do you need me to do?”

“I can’t be here Bar arrives, which should be early in the morning. Fortunately, Bar likes his sleep. We both know he won’t
trouble himself, not even for me.”

Mattoui nodded.

“You haven’t got much time to get me out,” Rettoul continued, “and I’m here so you can do whatever’s necessary outside.”

“Okay,” said Mattoui. “What do you want me to do?”

“Whatever is necessary so that I’m out in the next hour.”

Mattoui instinctively knew his time was up—there was no need for a guard to tell him to leave. He hurried out, bypassing the
surprised warden, who ran to the cell only to find Rettoul trying to continue his night’s sleep.

The cell door swung shut heavily, leaving Rettoul on the concrete bunk.

Bar’s Kaiser touched down silently on the landing strip. No guard received him—just the warden and Kantara’s deputy commander,
who enjoyed Bar’s visits and didn’t care about the reason for them—it wasn’t important to him. He had few opportunities to
promote Kantara or escort one of the galaxy’s leaders, and Bar was considered one of the most senior generals and commanders
in the galaxy. Kantara’s deputy commander welcomed his good fortune despite the early hour. Any other hour would have required
endless preparations and increasing tension that would certainly have kept not only him, but everyone on the entire planet,
awake. The fear and desire to please Bar would have taken over everything, and at this time of the day Bar wouldn’t really
pay attention to the overall cleanliness, the condition of the paths, or even the soldiers’ uniforms. Bar was only interested
in the fugitive, the greatest fighter of all times—Rettoul—who was imprisoned on the planet. There was no greater privilege
than that.

Kantara’s deputy commander had ordered some 50 snipers to be positioned to protect Bar. With all respect, this Rettoul did
belong to a gang of criminals whose power
was no less than the best forces in the galaxy. It would be a disaster if a hair from Bar’s beard were to fall during a Kantaran
visit.

Besides, as a devoted fan of the detective series in the intra-lunar screening system, Kantara’s deputy commander assumed
his people would succeed in the invisible task, managing to accompany Bar to the jail and back without being noticed, for
Bar had asked that no one to be around except for the prison commander and him. My brother, the warden, the deputy commander
thought as he rubbed his hands, will have something to boast about. Well done, Rettoul, for coming to us and
not
making things too hard…

Bar didn’t waste time with unnecessary questions. It was nearly six o’clock in the morning; the sky was clear, but the sun
hadn’t yet appeared. It was clearly difficult for him to get out of bed so early and that was enough to irritate him. His
face was grim. “He’s here?” Part question, part statement.

Kantara’s deputy commander nodded and couldn’t utter a word.

The prison head added, “I believe we will find the hero unheroic.”

Bar looked at him blankly and the prison head continued. “Although he fought us, there was no problem bringing him here. Our
good people simply made him walk into the prison. He realized the game was up.”

“No one messes with me,” flared Bar. Everyone fell silent and walked in oppressive silence toward the prison.

At Bar’s request, no one was waiting for them at the prison and, in fact, no one saw them enter. The prison commander disengaged
the laser beam and opened the closed gates and doors. They passed all the doors until they reached Rettoul’s cell.