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then, the colony has gotten even duller and sadder. A feeling of melancholy describes the sadness of the past, and utter hopelessness evokes real terror - a feeling that numbs your brain and makes you an easy victim.

After we returned, we prepared his corpse for burial. His spacesuit was unsuited, so you had to touch with extreme care - very easily one of us could have become a victim too. This time we decided not to use the so-called space capsules. And, frankly, after so many deaths - they weren't plentiful. He was cremated and his ashes were scattered across the surface of Charon. No, I don't find that romantic. I even find it pathetic!

Had Enroad lived, his words would have sounded like this: - You've lost another worthwhile friend, how long are you going to stay in a place like this? It's been completely dead for a long time. Isn't it time you got off your asses?

The problem was that we didn't have enough resources to get out. But soon I was going to change that situation.

Averia Downs was one of the few who still remembered the former planet of Zegandaria with fondness. She was too saddened by the death of her kin. She was lost in thought, but a manly girl like her couldn't suffer for shit for too long.

We still had to think about the aftermath of the plague and the various plagues that could befall us. The earthlings were still unaware of our presence, or so I hoped. I didn't know the actual ratio of their forces either, but it was more than clear that they were in their favor.

The darkness layered into our souls slowly and inexorably and many questioned why they were still breathing at all. The Invisibles had ceased their attacks, at least for a while.

Gerard Downs may be remembered for an impressive speech that is still etched in my mind - it was read by Averia before we scattered his ashes.

"You who think you are on the right path have long been on a very wrong one, Charon is not a place for death but for reflection and redemption. As much as you may not like it, the Unseen do exist. Whether you die of fear in your bed or keep your dignity is up to you. I don't expect you to understand me. But your bones will lie here somewhere one day. Is this the future you want for yourself. Will this be the end of Zegandaria?"

The tone in which Averia reads it - I just shudder more and her words hit me like hammers and her voice, slightly squeaky and ominous, sounds over the cyclotron synthesizer, letting us know how close we are to learning the truth.

If I had to say two kind words about the late Gerard, they would be "wisdom" and "love." He lived as if every day was his last and was grateful to the Almighty for his birth. I know that may sound old-fashioned to some. But that was him!

After it was all over, Averia came up to me and said:

- He considered you a friend! He left you a little present.

And secretly from the others he thrust something into my hand.

- "No, don't look at him in front of everyone," she told me a little nervously, "he said he would help you and you know what to do."

- "That's all I can do for you," she finished, backing away for fear of being noticed.

A little while later the remnants of Enbright's gang walked past me. Those bastards were going to get it - but not now. I had to put my plan into action first.

- You're a sneaky little bastard, Jervond. But we're gonna make you pay for McDougle's death.

I nearly burst out laughing at the mention of that bastard. Yeah, those fuckers had to get it or my name wouldn't be Jervond Om San! I was used to insolence, but on Charon it could reach enormous proportions.

Later we found Averia dead - she'd strangled herself with zerethium ropes. I think that was the last straw that really broke the cup of my patience.

Rento hadn't shown up in weeks, and I didn't know if the Intergalactic Police had finally caught him. We'd forged his papers, and it was a kind of recognition of his services to my father.

And just when I least expected it, he showed up.

He'd been supplying the colony with supplies since we'd been here almost twenty-five years by Earth reckoning, but Charon's time had flown very differently. For the record, a day on Charon was about six Earth days and nine Earth hours long, which might give you a rough idea of how drawn out everything was.

Rento had a haggard look about him.

- "I almost got caught," he muttered. - "The Intergalactic Police really have it coming," his tone indicated that he had already changed his mind about such an essential institution.

- "Did you bring the supplies?," I asked him rather brutally, "We haven't got too many!"

- "Well, yes, you're right!," he slapped his forehead. "I think I did take a little something."

There was so much stuff in the little transport shuttle. Normally they would have lasted us about a month, but this time Rento had taken triple that.

- "Maybe this is my last run," he spluttered, saliva spattering the glass of his visor. "I believe I owed you a little favour."

- "Even more," I replied, a little grimly.

Apparently my tone startled him somewhat. He looked around a little uneasily. And briefly laid out for me what was to happen.

Apparently Von Blask had gotten loose or something had happened. The computer virus "Hans" had fallen into their hands.

My brain worked quickly, but I still couldn't make the connection.

- "Don't you understand, they sent us here," Rento bellowed, "They did!"

- "Who, exactly?," I looked at him with a vague epiphany that something had slipped my mind.

The Ertol Gis Corporation, which ran Zegandaria. They're the ones who urged us to come here.

- "But that's ridiculous, " I countered, "What's the point? If they actually wanted to, they could harvest the viruses that are sealed under a giant sarcophagus for all time. Or at least that's how it was when we all left."

- "You're a fool," Rento hissed, "You've allowed fear and ignorance to blind your mind. The darkness has possessed you and you have become its servant. The light has long since fled from you. Is this the Jervond whose father I helped in time? Honestly, I can't even recognize you?"

The words stuck in my heart like laser cutters. They were so cruel, yet true. I couldn't help but agree with my friend that he was right. Certainly, the Intergalactic Police had taken pains to properly profile Rento, and in doing so, get a good look at his strengths and weaknesses. That was pretty scary, given that he had nowhere to run.

- "You might mention me in your prayers!," he insisted.

- "They were dying too much. Don't you want to be next? What I see now is just a reflection of the whole situation? Will you give up right now. You can build a new life somewhere else. 'And Von Blask won't be after you," I explained passionately, trying to reason with him and get him to see things through my eyes as well.

- "I don't think you're listening to me very carefully," Rento looked like a mortal, but the look hadn't lost its sternness, "We're running out of time, they want to get their hands on these particular viruses to get a better look at them."

I realized he wasn't joking. He was absolutely right.

- They intend to attack you soon. By the way, the clones that will be coming here at some point don't even realize what they're doing - not because they don't have brains, but just because that's how they were genetically selected. They have to serve. I advise you to flee, and this will be my last delivery. I believe, under the circumstances, I have done enough.

I didn't want to push it. So he did even more than enough. I decided to mentally mention him in my prayers - he had settled his accounts with Von Blask. The conflict was between them.

- "Look, I'm too old now," groaned Rento, who hadn't even turned seventy yet, "You'll have to manage from now on. I don't think the others will help you in your personal battle, but Averia Downs gave you something, didn't she?"

I wondered if I should tell him the truth. Maybe he was testing me. Maybe it was a trap? Rento had always struck me as a double bottom man, so even that was a possibility.

I thought about how well I knew Averia Downs. Well, actually, we'd barely spoken. This was getting awkward enough, and now even food was going to become a problem. Not that I counted on Rento being in this position for long. We'd already realized that we hadn't accomplished much in all the years we'd been here. We were getting more and more bogged down every day. Starvation, disease, harsh climate, the Unseen, death of close friends, or at least people I thought were close friends - the list was practically endless. One couldn't even determine which was the biggest trouble.

- Averia Downs actually gave you the real "Hans" virus. He activated all the others. She had tricked Von Blask, and he had tried to contact the Earth Federation.

- "Like father, like son, or maybe it was the other way around," I muttered under my breath, and Rento continued his last words. "Now this powerful trump card is in your hands. But there's something else. Enbright's gang won't leave you alone if the Unsullied don't finish you off, they certainly will. So try to buy time and everything will be fine, at least for a while. I don't think Cerberus's military commander has any real desire to interfere - one, he's a coward, and two, so he wants to keep the winnings for himself and get the hell out. He knows that after dealing with interlopers like you, his turn isn't too far away," he finished with a grim gesture.

We embraced fraternally. There were tears in our eyes. This man had done more for me than anyone else.

Rento left and I never saw him again. He was the kind of man who didn't like to complain. He wanted to indulge his suffering alone, or rather his doomed fate.

THE FORCES OF THE EARTH FEDERATION

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: THE FORCES OF THE EARTH FEDERATION

 

The Earth fleet was a formidable force, consisting of a vast number of cruisers, interceptor ships, battleships, battle speeders, and so on. Its command was entrusted to a young clone named GH306, who had been recently created, but had managed to acquire some sentience to create those risks of which the infamous Doctor Hermonal Bivors spoke. He knew that clones sometimes came to their senses, but he didn't care that much. He'd washed his hands of it and someone else would be targeted. The Doctor knew that all clones had a certain tolerance for life - not from a biological standpoint, but from a purely life standpoint. There had been cases of suicides, but the Doctor viewed them as annoying overkill and

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