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

- 'I'm sending the bomb squad to the dungeons immediately,' Isongdar trumpeted.

- 'The speeders also need to be in readiness to withdraw and leave Imgradon,' added Emlbaum.

- 'Where are we going?,' the attendees called out.

- 'This is top secret until the last minute! Carry out orders!,' cut in Elmbaum, leaving the room.

^^^

- 'Governor Elmbaum,' whispered Gene Paley's adjutant. 'I have carried out your orders. Soon there will be no trace of this city-state.'

- 'You still owe me some things, Isongdar,' Elmbaum replied, a little wistfully. 'Remember that you are dependent on me to a degree from which there is no moving.'

- 'I know, but Gene Paley is probably the one person I can't take any step forward without. That's what really bothers me. It's going to be hard to fool him. He already suspects me,' the adjutant tried to shush.

- 'The Admiral won't be coming into our plans very soon,' Elmbaum replied calmly, 'My job is to get him out of the way. Wherever we go, his voice will no longer be heard.'

- 'I will continue to play my part well. By the way, your idea of going to this particular place is almost ingEnnious,' the adjutant continued.

- Don't flatter me, please. I'm just doing what should have been done long ago. Now leave me alone. By the way, there's one more thing. I have a strong suspicion we're missing something somewhere. Try to figure out what. As soon as possible. Let the others think we're dragging our feet on the final preparations. Only the two of us will know the truth.

- 'In the meantime, shall I send an order to close Labor Colony 206?,' he asked somewhat cautiously.

- Naturally, only not immediately. Chris Zontretis will be an important part of our plan. We must tread carefully. Gene Paley's already pretty vulnerable without a lot of his people, who we sent for green spawn anyway. This war as a whole is a complete farce. But our personal survival is not. We missed the student movements, though. Contact the border posts and tell them to shoot anything that moves and prepares to leave town, even if it's in uniform. We'll leave them like pigs to the slaughter.

Isondar nodded silently. Morality was a rather stretched concept. But he was a smart man.

- 'And lastly,' the Governor added, 'get the captured archaneans. Capture them with zerith nets or whatever you find, but take them.'

The Governor's riches would be dutifully loaded onto a special space-carrier platform that would depart separately from the shuttles. It sounded mind-boggling that such vast wealth would be flying around without live supervision, and its only security would be the Liorian Algorithm Guides who would activate the platform's security system. But the Governor was counting on the sheer chaos all around. Still, Isongdar could have betrayed him as well, as he had his previous employer.

- 'That's why politics is a dirty business!,' he whispered, somewhat indefinitely.

Special nanorobots were loading the various valuables into compartments on the transport platform's fuselage. There could be seen all sorts of jewels, such as feathers from Archanaeans, rare elurian skins stolen from Guarron chieftains and even kings, a vast amount of galactic credits, and last but not least enough zegandarian crystals. There were also some strange things that could not be called jewels, but were placed in absolute secrecy and sealed away separately. No one but Gordon knew exactly what they were.

- 'We must hurry,' the robots were saying among themselves, 'the Governor hates any delay.'

To be precise, they possessed no emotions, yet they only shook as if trembling with terror lest they should violate his orders. The Liorian guide-algorithms had an important other function. Instant short-circuiting would be the punishment for any of them if the algorithm was not executed precisely to the smallest detail. The creation of artificial intelligence mimicking feelings was long ago invented. But real human emotions could not be copied completely. It was simply unthinkable.

Chris Zonrethis was also preparing for this journey into the unknown. As a hereditary congressman, he knew that wherever they went, whatever they took now would represent his entire fortune in the future. No positions or titles would apply in their new home.

He was tall and too sophisticated. Perhaps the most sophisticated non-aristocrat residing on the polis. He wasn't as rich as the governor, but his riches were inherited, not stolen. At least from his point of view, that was a significant difference.

Of the three, only Gene Pailey had smirked hard enough, but he was trying his best to hold his ground. He was under no illusion that they were trying to isolate him, but with the psyche of an ex-military man, he hoped he could cope one way or another. Everything was going to work out somehow. He had no right to slack off. He couldn't keep Isongdar on a leash like a dog. He was a senior military administrative assistant who was becoming more important as the situation changed. But one thing burned his brain, and that was where they were going. It certainly wasn't to Labor Colony 206, nor to some backwater part of this planet, as they would be leaving soon, but what were the options then. One of them flashed through his mind. Perhaps the Governor was playing a triple game. On the one hand he had created the conflict, though not entirely intentionally as there were other extraneous factors. On the other hand, somewhere in there had appeared not-so-obvious signs of his intentions. What if he just wanted something else. Maybe his wealth wasn't the only thing he was interested in?

CHAPTER NINETEEN: THE CRAZIES

'When a madman cannot be understood by other madmen, he simply remains a misunderstood madman.'

Bukowski

Getting to the clinic didn't seem so simple. They had to watch out for sentries, rampaging civilians, and last but not least, ghost warriors - marauders - roaming the city. The Governor had given them carte blanche to do anything but contain the situation.

The irony was that these were Elohyn captured soldiers, pardoned and recruited to his cause. Anything was to be expected after such a dubious 'amnesty'. The megalopolis looked like an ash heap, and up until a few hours ago it had been a relatively pleasant place to live despite its grandiose atmosphere and hypocritical morality under which only certain people thrived. In that short span of time, they only managed to pass a few shortcuts. Yet they were finally back in front of the hospital in question. Strangely enough, it stood almost intact, save for the slightly warped surface of one of the synth hatches. The shockwave of the microcellular esonium bombs did not forgive even madness!

- 'Don't you think the mad would be delighted to have us as dear guests?,' ventured Hissou.

- 'Go on, until the sentry has passed and shot us on the spot like dogs,' added Meior tensely. 'We haven't a second to lose!'

The hydron door was of course firmly bolted and no matter how hard they knocked no one opened it. The imitation rain continued to pour down over their heads. Who knows why the artificial eerie atmosphere made no impression on them. They had seen much more frightening and even grotesque pictures a little earlier. They had witnessed a complete lack of morality and responsibility towards the civilian population of this polis on the part of its own soldiers who were supposed to protect it from the enemy. Moreover, who had sworn to do so! What else was there to see?

- 'Hey, you, show your electronic identification cards! Or at least the Narenzie chips on civilians! And no unnecessary movements!,' they suddenly heard a gruff voice behind them.

Hisu started to turn around cautiously, but even that slight movement seemed too abrupt for the gruff voice. By the time he came to, he had fallen subdued by several plasma blasts. His naive childish face had lost its natural flesh color. His eyes were quickly extinguished, but he remained lying there, like a restless child curled up in a ball like a kitten, who would jump up at any moment and run off in some direction to do pranks. It all happened so quickly! The little body thumped in the mud almost noiselessly, and seemed to blend instantly with the surrounding greyish and sombre tone. It just became almost imperceptible, but if one were to look into the extinguished eye sockets, which were simply frightening, one would read some good-natured reproach.

The others jumped into different corners and scrambled, trying to protect themselves, with a primal animal instinct for survival, like wounded animals facing slaughter.

- 'Why are you making this so difficult?,' a strange voice slipped into the darkness, filled with mild annoyance. Its owner's face, however, could not be seen.

The splinters had managed to wound one or two of the students, but not too seriously. But this time they had added poisonous ambran gas to the plasma, which could kill you instantly. Of course the soldiers had deliberately diluted it and it was now causing them frantic agony, despite the superficial injuries to their limbs.

- 'What cause are you fighting for?,' the voice tossed in with a subtle sneer. 'If I were you, I would step aside and try to beg for mercy...'

Suddenly a noise interrupted these reflections. An empty beer can thumped against the legs in the direction of the voice. A little later an old sofa caused a sort of commotion among the almost invisible warriors. They hadn't practiced being pelted with couches. In fact, none of them had even seen a real one in their lives.

Suddenly a noise interrupted these reflections. An empty beer can thumped against the legs in the direction of the voice. A little later an old sofa caused a sort of commotion among the almost invisible warriors. They hadn't practiced being pelted with couches. In fact, none of them had even seen a real one in their lives.

Suddenly, the bolted hydron door barely creaked open, and Becky and Meior, who had been crouching, saw it unequivocally as salvation. They jumped! Immediately! But Becky was faster and Meior was carried away by her momentum. The Ghost Warriors managed to fire, and one splinter licked his leg. The searing pain reached his skull, and he felt a strange lightness and weightlessness.

The door closed. Rather, it slammed too sharply. As soon as they turned around they noticed that the same old woman who had given her the peculiar 'interview' earlier the day before was watching them.

- 'Didn't I tell you earlier today darling, that sooner or later everyone ends up on the second floor of St. Joseph's Clinic?,' she had loomed over them rather anxiously, ‘But sometimes it's the only way to get your sanity back.

Meior, who wasn't feeling well, just fainted. Though he was a born fighter, the pain in his wounded leg, the killing fatigue and overexertion came to him in spades.

^^^

- 'I don't like you, Meior,' Sasia admitted to him honestly. 'You're not my type. I'm in love with Rodrigo. He knows well what he's doing. But he may never come back from the front.'

- 'I didn't make you love me, Becky,' the young man stammered in a