The 13th Star: An Action Adventure Sci-F Apocalyptic Novel (19 page)

Coldor burned with rage at Mattoui’s bold words in front of the security team. He motioned with narrowed eyes and Mattoui
was beaten mercilessly.

“You’re right. I enjoy this way much more,” he said aggressively. “Your friends are on Moran under close supervision, now
with Slaughter. And they might not get out alive, because everyone knows who Slaughter is. And you know what my problem is?
That it won’t be me who kills them—someone else will have the pleasure. That’s the only thing that bothers me, but it’s still
possible. It could be that within a few hours you’ll all sit together and make a roster to decide who sits on whose head to
be saved from a sting or a bite. Just for that I should leave you alive. Because, as you said, I have no greater joy than
seeing someone writhing before his death. I could’ve
perfected my pleasure to see you all—even one by one, but all of you—begging for your lives.”

“Coldor…” Mattoui gathered his strength. “When you see Rettoul, give him my love.”

“Why do you think you’re going to die so soon? Really, you’re not.” Coldor ordered his men to take Mattoui to his cell and
added, while Mattoui was still within hearing, “Send Rettoul a message tomorrow that his friend is alive, that he’s in the
Falconite jail with the other prisoners. Tell him Mattoui sends his love and appreciation. Tell him also that Mattoui knows
Rettoul’s a man of alliances. Long before he takes out his Jorash, he’ll find out if his best friend is alive.”

Zoi and Berez practiced in the early morning, fighting on a mattress in a room with padded walls. They expended a lot of energy
and it was doubtful if they would’ve left the other alive had they not been good friends. They knew exactly which blows would
lead to further battle without substantial harm, with the battle being art in itself. Anyone watching wouldn’t have known
how they survived the wrestling, but in fact neither of them used fatal blows. The idea was to drive the battle on as an opportunity
for further training.

Thor and Rettoul practiced at the shooting range with dozens of types of targets and at varying distances. Both were great
snipers who could’ve easily taught the art to
the best shooting coaches and instructors in the galaxy. Although there was no struggle between them, both were so tense that
their shirts were soaked with sweat. Their hands were light, and yet they felt them; their feet were stable, yet their knees
ached from the great tension and the concentration demanded.

At half past seven they all met in the dining room. Tamar was sitting with the children but left them when the four entered,
fresh and alert after training and showers. They sat at a corner table. All the children and staff sat at other tables, waiting
as usual for Thor. Rettoul saw their eyes reflecting admiration and great love. He knew Thor was doing something very significant—not
only for himself, but for the dozens of children. There was joy in the dining room and Rettoul didn’t know whether it was
because of the children, or because of them. He recognized the joy of childhood and youth—a flavor forgotten from his own.

They began to eat with reverence. None of them had been in such a position before with so much love and benevolence in one
place.

Suddenly, Tamar asked, “What now?” Her question ripped the air.

“There’s not much to do right now,” stated Rettoul. “If things are as I think, we’ll receive a message from Coldor in a few
hours. Thor’s man probably wants to increase his share in the headhunt and has told him that we’re here. If he hasn’t yet
identified who Slaughter is, Coldor doesn’t know whether we’re still alive after arriving here. One thing he knows for certain—the
three of us arrived alive.”

Everyone looked at him in silence and went on eating. Thor left in the wake of one of his guards.

Thor wasn’t surprised by Coldor’s message:

We haven’t met, but I’ve heard about you,
Slaughter. I admire and respect you as I would an honored old
friend. I appeal to you with a special request: You’re holding a
group of war criminals whose names are known throughout the galaxy
and whose pictures adorn all the search columns. These are Rettoul,
Zoi, and Berez from the notorious quintet. I am holding Mattoui,
their friend, while Thor, the fifth member, has disappeared. The
group is very dangerous, capable of bringing another disaster on
the galaxy that barely survived the war.

I want to send you, with your permission,
a Kaiser full of prisoners in exchange for prosecuting the three
men for the war crimes they’re accused of. If they’re dead already,
we’ll collect the bodies for display at the Falconite stadium. I
greatly appreciate your cooperation, and in more peaceful times
would love to sit down together like old friends.

With much appreciation and best
wishes,

Rod Coldor.

Rettoul went over the message again and again, trying to read between the lines. Coldor seemed tired but happy. It was clear
that, with his remaining strength, he aimed to remove the last stumbling block, as far as he was concerned, prior to the next
galactic disaster.

“I need someone who knows the layout of Coldor’s residence,” said Rettoul. “Do you have someone like that here?”

“Yes.”

“Have him join us now!” Rettoul demanded of Thor and assembled them all to prepare for the journey.

The cell was cold and Mattoui couldn’t find himself. He couldn’t stand anymore; his legs ached and he sat where he thought
it was relatively clean, though he knew nothing was clean in the stinking cell into which he’d been thrown. It was quiet,
but in the silence he heard the sounds of rats running around and their nauseating squeaks. The animal claws scraping on the
cell bricks horrified him. The taste of vomit was in his throat as he sighed heavily.

His sigh echoed.

“What’s your name?” he heard suddenly. His body stiffened with panic. He didn’t expect to hear a human voice.

“What?” The sound of his own voice frightened him even more.

“What’s your name?”

“Who’s asking?”

“An old exhausted person who has no more life. Not here, not at all.”

“Like me,” replied Mattoui.

“You sound like a young man.”

“Yes. I’m young, but my body is old. I have no more faith in life. I don’t think I’ll get out of here.”

“Oh, my young friend, faith is important. We mustn’t lose faith. Especially not young people.”

“Faith is the smallest thing I’ve lost. I lost things far greater than faith.”

“My young friend,” continued the voice, “you must be very young if you depend on things other than faith. Tell me what you’ve
lost.”

“Friends, a woman, love, life…”

“You list many things,” the loving, fatherly voice continued. “Such losses are great, especially in that order. Interesting—first
friends, then a woman and love, and finally life. It seems that you’d give up life more easily than friends.”

Mattoui thought for a moment and realized that common
sense spoke out.

“Not everyone has friends like mine, nor a woman like my tamar. Love can be found in many places, as can life, but my friends
and a woman like Tamar can’t be found anywhere in the galaxy, or beyond it.”

“If so, my friend, don’t give up on faith.”

It was quiet in both cells.

Rettoul told Zoi to leave only one bomb in the aircraft. “Leave the other two here.”

“Here?” Zoi cried. “Why here? We need them with us. You never know what will happen.”

“That’s just it, Zoi,” Rettoul replied in his characteristic quiet voice that was even more so before a complex activity.
“Anything significant that we leave behind will be an insurance policy for our lives. Precisely because of this, and because
I don’t know what’s going to happen, we should leave a clear trail. Moreover, whoever planted the bombs knows exactly how
many they left and can assess the power of one compared to the power of three. Don’t worry, Zoi. Although I don’t know what’s
going to happen, I’m trying to think clearly and cover all the possibilities.”

Zoi sighed wearily. “It’s not going to be easy.”

“No doubt, but I think that of all the wars, the battle to return Mattoui home safely will be the most just. You know what,
Zoi? Perhaps even more than my personal war.”

“I don’t think you’re right, but who am I to argue with you?”

“This isn’t a matter of debate, Zoi. It’s only a feeling.” He patted Zoi’s shoulder to encourage him and make him stand up
for their departure. “Just a feeling.”

The flight was conducted in complete silence with their heavy breathing barely audible. Everyone was tense, ready for future
events. They flew through a starry space, the heyday of the star's light. It was clear this wasn’t in their favor, but none
of them could change the galactic conditions.

Rettoul started the internal mixing system that would disrupt the Kaiser’s visibility on radars across the galaxy. The new
system had been installed in only a few vehicles, and there were still radar locations that were totally unaware of its existence
and couldn’t recognize the vehicle.

The landing was quiet. They continued to operate the mixing system after landing to prevent discovery by Bar’s palace radar
system. In uncomfortable silence, they made their way to the palace.

“My name is David,” said the voice on the other side of the wall.

Mattoui smiled. “And I am Mattoui, from Bucha.”

“Welcome, Mattoui,” he said with no cynicism. “I know there’s nothing to bless, and yet I believe everything has a reason.”

“I have no doubt,” he replied softly, partly speaking, partly listening to himself speak.

“So, what are you doing here? Rather, why are you here?”

“It’s complicated. I’m here because I’m stupid, because I’m in love, because I’m a bit of a hostage, because I’m a bit guilty,
a bit not…”

“Another interesting answer.” He could hear David’s smile through the wall. “You’re a hostage for what?” David asked.

“I have four friends—in fact, three are good friends—all wanted by Coldor. We’re all wanted by Coldor, but I don’t really
count by myself. All of us together make a good enough cause for the great Coldor.”

“The great Coldor…” David chuckled. “You still may find that not everything that looks great really is. Coldor’s not so great.
He’s not even a great person.”

“I don’t know…” muttered Mattoui. “Don’t know.”

“Do you believe you’ll get out of here?” asked David, surprised.

“No!” he answered emphatically.

“So tell me why you’re here.”

Mattoui was silent
for
a long time—for hours he sat in silence. His bent legs and his back, which had been subject to the moisture of the walls,
were painful. He couldn’t think, despite many attempts to imagine Tamar’s face, or to consider for a moment how Rettoul would
behave when he heard of his imprisonment. He tried to imagine his friends’ faces, hear their voices, but he couldn’t. There
were tears in his eyes. I probably will really not get out of here, he thought. The idea shook him.

“I want to tell you something.”

David answered quickly, as if he’d waited all these hours for this statement. “I’m listening.”

Mattoui told his life story to this David, the faceless man who sat on the other side of the wall. He told about meeting Rettoul,
the tough training, the creation of the remarkable magnificent group; he spoke about Tamar, about their role in the galaxy,
their relations with Coldor; and finally, he also spoke of the resurrection of the 13
th
planet.

David could scarcely breathe from the first moment he heard Rettoul’s name. My son!
How strange is destiny
,
he thought, to have invited me to hear the story of my son’s life. Maybe that’s the last story I hear. He didn’t stop Mattoui
once—neither with a comment nor with a question.

Mattoui, on his part, didn’t interrupt his flow of speech and continued talking to David’s thirsty ears.

***

The first guard they encountered didn’t manage to let out more than a shout of astonishment at the sight of the four. Berez
was so quick that he even surprised himself, leaving the guard bruised and unconscious. They moved inside with confident steps.
The computer terminal was closer than expected, although they were familiar with the palace and knew they would find Mattoui
within a few minutes. Zoi fiddled with the computer screen until he found what they were seeking. Suddenly, they heard rapid
footsteps approaching. None of them moved. Within seconds, Coldor’s angry voice was added to the sound of the footsteps.