The 13th Star: An Action Adventure Sci-F Apocalyptic Novel Read Online Free PDF Page A

looked at each other, realizing that one was missing. Bergin
     himself was late—or perhaps he wouldn’t even come.
    With an ultra-thought instrument invented on
     Delta, their thoughts were easily read by each other. It was not
     surprising that the thoughts were alike: Something has really
     happened if Bergin, the strongest person in the galaxy, has allowed
     himself to be late. Being behind time was a phenomenon he
     condemned. Perhaps something terrible had happened to him. Perhaps
     something terrible was about to happen. Perhaps this is a trick to gather all of us and protest our abilities?
    Fear sprouted with each thought. They knew not to say anything when the door did finally open. Hopefully that would bring the solution
     to the mystery. But their fears continued to gnaw away at them .
    Only Pandor, with his stony face decorated by
     straight symmetrical lines and sharp scars from old weapons, smiled
     grimly in resignation. The oldest military leader present, his blue
     eyes had already dulled and his black beard had become shiny white,
     revealing his age. But others weren’t to be misled—the old man was
     not far from his peak ability and was still considered a fearless
     warrior who, despite all his years, maintained an impressive
     physical shape. He was a giant with a nice face, but little
     patience, with a special ability to speak fearlessly—perhaps
     because of his size and strength, or perhaps because of inner
     integrity. The empty conversations conducted nearby were of no
     interest to him. Everything about him said decisiveness and a
     forward view to a horizon no one besides him could see.
     
    The tense meeting’s discomfort was disrupted by
     the sound of quick steps approaching the oak door. All eyes looked
     at the silent door. In the silence of the hall on the other side of
     the door, it was possible to discern that not one, but two pairs of
     feet marched toward it with rhythmic, but not particularly rapid,
     steps.
    Those sitting in the boardroom only watched
     Bergin enter, not each other. An unwritten law stated that only one
     representative from each planet could attend the weekly meeting,
     and it was always the ruler, or someone on his behalf. Bergin wore
     his ceremonial bright green uniform while Coldor wore his usual
     black, from his cloak to his shining boots.
    Bergin didn’t say a word. He just looked at
     those seated, trying to locate the fear, waiting for the first one
     to open his mouth. The silence continued. Those sitting in the
     boardroom managed, in a fraction of a second, to hide their fear
     and wonder—at least from Bergin.
    He blessed those present and passed his regular
     seat, continuing toward the podium, a heavy oak platform at the
     other end of the room. The silence continued, everyone watching
     Bergin. He adjusted his position and stared at them, one by
     one—forcing the others to lower their eyes, his gaze steady. His
     view shifted and he continued on, like a reaper in the wheat
     field—row by row, eye to eye with each. Only old Pandor didn’t
     submit. Bergin looked away and continued.
    In the center of the table were a dozen
     collections, each with 11 small boxes—gifts from the leaders to
     their friends—along with a hologram of the galaxy and the name of
     each planet .
    Bergin held up a dark green envelope. No one
     sitting had noticed it earlier. Now, when he opened it and removed
     the content, the silence was more intense. Everyone looked at him,
     terrified.
    “In the seventh year of the choice, an all-out
     war will start against the planets Delta and Rosten. It will be led
     by the Dolsans and Buchawans. This war will be the last before the
     coming of the thirteenth star,” he said in Cherka, a language not
     understood by all those seated. Dviv, a short man with curly black
     hair and a childlike face—said to be the wisest of men—translated
     his words within seconds into a language that was clear to all.
    Bergin