The Wars of Zegandaria by Atanas Marinov, Atanas Marinov, Atanas Marinov, Atanas Marinov (find a book to read .txt) 📕

This super-developed city-state was, as the Military Tribunal of Imgradon liked to point out, ‘made to last.’ And nothing was able to undermine its greatness, strength, and most importantly, its future prospects of development.

But there was something else special about its atmosphere, which filled the chest with a youthful casualness, if somewhat subdued by all the snobbery and ill-disguised military aggression. It was ‘the feeling of a blue spring.’ Of limitless possibilities for the youth who wanted to develop. Or at least they thought they could. The central government was giving out rather large, if not particularly selfless, grants for all sorts of projects. Thanks to them, the Maerx Street refineries were built. A significant part of the population of the polis worked there. The Urus Onx spaceport was another similar example. Both projects were the work of young and enterprising people with a strong desire to change this part of the planet. But it was only clever manipulation that stimulated their genius. Later, everything was taken from them in the most ruthless way, to become the property of the city's sole ruler, Gordon Elmbaum.

Leadership skills were highly valued and tolerated by the middle class of the polis. They were another of several possible paths for advancement. Albeit a false one. It simply created obedient pawns in the hands of the Governor of Imgradon. Pawns ruling other pawns. In their own madness for supremacy and prosperity.

But there existed a category of citizens who were outside its bounds and were downright despicable. No one spoke for them. And even pretended not to notice them. These were the madmen confined to St. Joseph's Clinic.

Young Lions of Imgradon Cadet School

Time: unknown

Location: unknown

Status: Top Secret

^^^

- 'You need to hit the enemy harder,' Ensign Pierce shouted to the youths, forcing with all their might the training beanbags filled with quizon and kevlarite and mimicking the human body. - Even my grandmother has more strength than you, and she's definitely getting on in years.

- 'We're giving it our all, sir,' one of them barely dared to mutter.

- 'Moooo?!,' roared the ensign. 'Well apparently not enough! Try harder,' he added clumsily.

- No more of the group called her. The silence was downright murderous and did not bode well.

- 'Besides, here you have a sack of everything against you, and dozens and even hundreds of opponents await you on the battlefield. No one is going to attack you single-handedly, so get off your asses! And that's an order!,’ he finished his ominous tirade, turning his back on them.

As the training was taking place in a well-isolated hall, which prying eyes could not reach, all this was being done with the utmost expediency, for after the general physical training, there were later to be classes in special marksmanship, laser-cutter combat, and also some diversionary activities.

- 'As long as you are here, I want you to give one hundred and ten percent. And no thought of women, fun or drinking,' his voice boomed again from the other end of the hall as he had moved away to observe the other group's training.

The eyes of two of the trainers were watching him very seriously and responsibly, and when the distance was safe they struck up a subtle conversation.

- 'This one's taking himself far too seriously,' Duolors muttered devilishly. As he said this, he kept pounding the sack as if his life depended on it. Just to make you feel expensive!

- 'Make sure he doesn't hear you, or you'll have a fit,' Rodrigo muttered from under his nose.

- 'Shall we drop in to our place to-night?' tossed Duallers.

- 'Not tonight, I have a meeting with Becky, I'm busy,' Rodrigo muttered breathlessly, 'Find someone else to come with you. There are so many other guys here. I'm sure someone would still agree to have a drink.

- 'Yeah, but they're not fun like you. I'm definitely going to be bored,' Duolors tossed in.

- 'Some other time indeed,' Rodrigo replied seriously.

They were about to wrap up general physical fitness training and move on to more specialised marksmanship and diversionary exercises. Certainly none of those willing were willing to waste any time, because the sooner they finished, the sooner they could get down to the city as civilians and relax for a while. Most likely it might have been for the last time, as they were nearing the end of their six-month intensive training period in which they would be put under the most extreme conditions possible before entering actual combat. Their training schedule had become rather more chaotic, but no less effective. Unconventional fighters could not be created with conventional and half-hearted training methods. And even a junior instructor knew that.

- 'Recruits, we're raising the pigeons,' laughed Ensign Pearce after a moment, coming around the corner, 'I hope your spirits haven't got too high. Because it's in danger of becoming even more so...'

- 'And where are we going now, Comrade Ephraimite?,' someone from the group turned around.

- 'Boys,' he made a meaningful face, 'and let me tell you, you won't understand me, because you've never, ever been there.'

- 'Right, so true, sir,' the cadets shouted in chorus.

No one else guffawed and asked absolutely no questions. On one side of the hall around the syncranial hatches, which had an additional and reinforced commonality, was waiting for them a special ziruarx (an asymmetrically shaped armored personnel carrier with a shifted center of gravity made of special composites used only by the military).

- 'There won't be room for everyone in it,' added ensign Pierce. 'My work is done. But what you need to know right now is that you are being given the chance to choose which of these ziruarxs you will go with. There will be forty in all.'

The boys were frozen in their posture peacefully, listening most attentively. This turn of events was rather unexpected, for their training was practically over, and it did not bode well.

- 'Your choice of generalities would not be very great, as it was a matter of a time difference of an hour or hour and a half until the others arrived.,' he continued with a little boredom.

- 'So who will be first?,' his voice trailed off slightly.

From the group, Rodrigo, Duolors and a few other guys raised their hands. Not too vigorously and not too languidly, completely in the spirit of military tradition.

- 'Well, that settled then, I hand you over to my colleague for further instructions.,' as if taking a load off his shoulders he uttered and turned his back on them, leaving the hall through one of the synth hatches.

- 'I don't think you'll have time to see Becky,' Duolors pronounced thoughtfully.

The sergeant who emerged from the ziruarx was only slightly shorter than the battered but nonetheless tall body of the ensign. Maybe by about two inches. He had a rather undefined face, as if he had been moulded on a mould, and generally inspired a good deal of respect. His gaze was slightly aloof, and if one were to look at him closely, one would outright scream, so glassy were his eyes. And yet the weariness didn't seem to show. He nimbly leapt from the opening Ozari hatch, crouched, and deftly stood to pay his respects.

- 'Hello cadets, I'm Sergeant Zorin, who are with me?,' he stepped to the point.

Rodrigo, Duolors and the others approached him. From now on he was the man who had their destiny. At least for the next twelve months.

- You could say you hit the jackpot. Let's go, we have no time to waste. I'm glad we're going to be together.

Instantly everyone crammed into the 'rump' of the ziruarx and off it went. Since its engine was powered by interron fuel and not anti-gravity like that of the nirangaiters, its speed of travel was definitely lower, but its maneuverability and ability to find fire from a variety of angles was proverbial. And the infantry troops definitely benefited from this fact to the greatest extent. It was because of this that these formidable fighting machines were the backbone of firepower. Each was capable of carrying up to eight men at a time and had oxygen autonomy for up to six days without refueling. The armor was constructed of a special composite of Kevlarite, nano-based carbon filaments, and also Silicon Aronault that only the military had access to. However, the inside of the war machine wasn't entirely uncomfortable, and it was still kind of annoying if one was used to that legendary spinning like in a centrifuge.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: BECKY

Becky Morningale was crossing the central square of the polis, which was remarkable in itself, at a fast pace. A dozen featherless archons, for instance, soared high above the buildings. They were drugged and their legs were bound with special zerethium threads, thin as silk and stronger than titanium, lest they accidentally attack passersby. This peculiar and, to say the least, eccentric contrivance was, of course, a figment of the sick fantasies of Governor Gordon Elmbaum, who was now in his fifth term of governing the entire conurbation, and whose main idea was to showcase Imgradon's dominance as the number one superpower on the entire planet!

The girl was dressed in a light and loose jacket and a thin sheer dress, perfectly appropriate for the season, but somehow contrasting brightly with the all-over grey background. She was clutching tightly under her arm her personal Data Assist, which had long been considered something extremely old-fashioned because each used neo-radio quantum chips combined with intelligent plasma glass embedded in the retina of the eye. But she was a traditionalist and did not give in to outside interference on what to use and what not to use. Even inwardly she secretly scoffed at those who were too slavish to new technology and didn't try to use at least a little of their grey brain matter.

Her trip to the university was boring, as it didn't last more than a quarter of an hour, so she didn't have too much time to be preoccupied with thoughts of herself. In any case, this day was going to pass like any other. After all, so what! Her mood today was normal and even good. She was definitely in a hurry for an important student event, as she was the president of a student club and as its leader, there was no way she wouldn't attend. At first she couldn't stand most people, for the simple reason that she thought they were wasting their time on nonsense instead of doing worthwhile and interesting things. Some even thought she was too narrow-minded and even lazy. But that simply wasn't true, she liked to get a lot done with minimal effort, and another name for that was intellect. That was why her circle of friends was very limited. She wasn't the kind of person who would