The Wars of Zegandaria by Atanas Marinov, Atanas Marinov, Atanas Marinov, Atanas Marinov (best thriller books to read .txt) 📖

easily fall into what was called a latency hole. According to superluminal propulsion principles, a so-called bubble of special space was used, which did not move, but simply moved at the expense of distorting space. But what could happen if the bubble burst, or to put it another way its integrity was violated?

Auslander's goal was to create conditions that would disrupt proper entry into the time tunnel. Would anyone have felt? Naturally, yes, but in practice, he would have ‘wiggled’ out of the instructions at the last minute. He might have perished, but wouldn't history remember his deeds! Or so he hoped!

Before boarding the Enzoria, he had studied all possible evacuation plans for the crew all too thoroughly. Everything involved in the careful execution of his plan had been taken into consideration. He was all too aware that the cyclical distortions involved would push the ship forward. He had only to upset the correct balance between matter and energy. Nothing more!

Auslander was well aware that in order to create the so-called contraction at the front of the bladder, the gravitational field generated by the object had to be strong enough. On the other hand, the expansion of the space behind the object required another prerequisite, which was related to so-called negative matter. He simply considered to break the synchronicity between matter and antimatter in creating the bubble. And he managed to do it.

When the ship began to concentrate energy around itself, as the first line operator in making the hyperspace jump, he decided to change some of the instructions for the tachyon accelerator and set the third stage tachyon engine to operate as a second stage one. He wasn't sure if that would have upset the balance at all, since he'd never done it. It might have been the stupidest thing he'd ever done. Still, the change in acceleration jolted the ship in a way that couldn't help but be felt.

The crew, led by Doug Enlow was giving it their best shot, but no one noticed the small change in instructions. According to her, the switch to second stage would only be for a short time until the matter and antimatter levels were close to each other. At the last moment, it would switch to third degree, just before entering the collapsar tunnel. However, that never happened. There was immense confusion on board and everyone was wondering what was really going on. But only one person knew the answer for sure! And that man was Hans Auslander! The rookie who had everyone in the palm of his hand. That included Hilda Ehrengeils. Now his moment had come!

Hilda was on the bridge giving her orders. She was now in her element and wanted to use this one opportunity to shine and impress the whole crew. Perhaps sooner or later she would rise to the rank of First Adjutant to the Rear Admiral. That was what she wanted with all her heart. She prayed to some unknown higher power that she would have at least a little luck. All this could tip the scales in her direction.

The command room was divided into three main compartments - command and control, weapons and radar. Now coordination between them was more important than anything. Where with difficulty, where with luck, they had to overcome the time-space distortion.

Hilda came down the bridge and gave further orders to Doug Enlow:

- There are no quasars around, nor any other objects such as asteroids to pull us toward them and off course. Be careful with any other information you get from the outside. I want you to look to me for confirmation.

- 'So true,' Doug bellowed as if he were on a Fitzgerald.

- We have to be very careful with the tachyon engine stages. 'They can sucker us,' he retorted immediately.

Hilda knew he was right. But who knew the most about the matter in that respect. It could only and only be Hans Auslander. But where had he gone?

Hilda fixed her gaze on a small figure who was talking intently to some of the crew, but seemed to be moving farther and farther away and somehow heading for the command room door.

- Why isn't he in the operator's cabin, she wondered. A moment later she realized what was happening. 'Traitor!' she roared at the top of her lungs. 'Vile scoundrel!'

Hans Auslander started to run, conscious of his almost futile attempts to slip away. They were going to catch him. Then everything shuddered, turned white and disappeared. The ship was lost forever. The moment Kenji left the compartments and flew out into open space with the shuttle was a lifesaver for him, but how had he actually slipped away? Simply, on Auslander's first attempt, which was unsuccessful, he was already down the central corridor, which was located just past mid-ship. The crew at the front of the ship, specifically the command room, had been sucked into the time-space tunnel and disappeared without a trace. Auslander was also no longer on board, as he too was in the same command room. When Kenji had returned with the burner, the simple change of engine stage had caused something like a temporary 'knockback'. Kenji was lucky he hadn't been stuck in the command room for too long while conducting his impromptu investigation.

A moment later, the Rear Admiral distinctly felt the ship shudder. But the ship was not yet completely sucked in. The time-space tunnel had already begun to close when the level of gravity suddenly generated by the ship's quantilion reactor reached the minimum required limit. In that time of almost fifteen minutes, Kenji had managed to make it to the escape pod. To his very great good fortune! And we know the rest of the story!

VICTORY

 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: VICTORY

 

Zarag Tu, the most bloodthirsty of the Guarron chieftains, entered the Diomedes base in the Learnia district with the self-confidence of a conqueror and conqueror, which in fact he was. His dignified bearing suggested from afar his royal origins. His heavy forged armor of zegandarian kevlarite gleamed dazzlingly under the scorching rays of the sun, and his cape sputtered under the force of the wind. Even the way he held the reins of his Groandus betrayed a threat, to anyone who dared to rebel against his authority.

According to the ancient traditions of this race, no one had the right to challenge his conquests. It was difficult for the people to realize the principles of hierarchy among the guarrons, for they measured and judged them according to their own understanding, and failed to see through the eyes of the enemy. They would have doubted even if a guarron himself had told them that the single most valuable quality for them was not valor or strength, or even wisdom, but a sense of utter indifference and callousness before the enemy's copiously spilled blood. Only individuals capable of feeling no mercy were elevated to the throne of Ugrok Son. Even the slightest sign of softness on the part of the leader was bound to lead to a coup that cost the offender his life and power.

However, these creatures were not primitive, and they too had customs similar to those of humans, except that the principle of equality was considerably more pronounced - no one stronger would bind himself to someone weaker and carry him on his back. It was for this reason that the wounded in battle were killed by their battle companions, whose lives they had not infrequently saved earlier.

The foreman was greeted solemnly with shouts:

- Ughorna Legol!

The guarrons were as if intoxicated by the extraordinary victory achieved. The demolished base would represent a valuable source of Kevlarite, from which their sages cast armor and weapons, like the medieval masters of the human race, whose existence they had not even suspected in the past.

The High Chieftain dismounted from his heavily armoured, naturally spiked Groandus, crossing his arms in front of his powerful chest.

- 'Onguro Zenal,' he growled. (Translated: 'Victory is ours, it belongs to all.')

A mighty wave of approving roars followed that statement. To the unaccustomed human ear, they could have been likened to some infernal cacophony of unintelligible sounds, but in fact they were full of amusement, pride, and elation.

- 'Kezano Ardom,' Zarag Tu began again after all that chorus had died down, 'Disana Ar Du Toh. (Translated: ‘The loot belongs to the most ruthless.’)

- 'Nibono Ri Imbero Zachi,' he continued, though subtle signs of impatience were beginning to show in the crowd. (Translated: 'A traitor brought it to us.')

Even the simple rank-and-file soldiers sensed that today's victory was pivotal and won with a tremendous amount of blood, Guarani and foreign. That is why they were silent and listened to the last words of their Great Leader.

- 'Emsho Zhi Li Omo Dazo' (translated: 'We hate traitors, but there are no rules in war.') He waved his huge green paw to indicate that any further talk was unnecessary.

The brutal creatures didn't wait long to be pleaded with, but pounced mercilessly on what was left. Each was free to take what they deemed worthy for themselves. The simpler soldiers even dragged away the bodies of the slain human soldiers to feed to their own groands. The guarrons themselves, who had developed a strong personal bond with the animals entrusted to them, felt anxiety when they had to feed them. And they certainly had reason to - casualties were not rare, as the monstrous creatures were highly unpredictable, even to their own riders. However, the symbiosis built between them was so ancient that no one among the most prominent Guarron chroniclers dared to state with precision when the monstrous creatures were tamed by members of their race.

So great was the confusion around that it resembled a building site of the distant past, when human workers, using only their bare hands, erected astonishing and spectacular buildings - works of art. Only now it was the opposite - instead of creation, destruction reigned all around.

Prince Nundrag - the son of Zarag Tu - oversaw all the looting most carefully, as someone could still steal something unbecoming of his rank, thus harming the royal family of Ugrok Sin.

Everyone expected the prince to succeed his father on the throne, but he showed no signs of weakness or insecurity despite his venerable age of 165 zegandarian years. His youngest son, Nundrag, was his only favorite, and it was for this reason that he was chosen to participate in his father's campaign.

The prince was quite different from his peers, grounded only in the beliefs of Guarron folklore. It was in these that contained the reasonable explanation for the Guarron hatred of members of the human race. According to legend, the two races had common origins and roots. The mother goddess Marak Tulba had given life to two great sons, Gimlin Orn (the progenitor of the guarrons) and Midriel (the progenitor of the human race). However, the difference in their appearance became apparent as soon as they were born. Nowhere in the legend, however, was it stated for what reasons her younger son Midriel had become her favorite. When she had to bequeath her secret powers to them she chose him. This unexpected twist angered Gimlin greatly and forced him to declare a duel on his brother. The two met on