The Silence of Zegandaria by Atanas Marinov, Atanas Marinov, Atanas Marinov, Atanas Marinov (best e reader for manga .txt) 📖

"Ya, look at you, look who we've caught," marvelled a third.

The crew of the Echnaton was super-disciplined and convinced that this was the right course of action in these parts of the solar system. It was getting grim and the opportunities for good profit were diminishing. Soon there would be no one left to deal with this problem.

It was unlikely that any of these heroes believed in religion or the afterlife, but they felt some respect for the military, as quite a few of the old fired members of the available Navy personnel had come over to the other side and clearly realized that this was their chance to make a living.

The smuggling laws were getting more and more brutal and there was no room for doubt - not everyone could cope with such a situation. The more they tried, they felt that their attempts to fit into normal society were practically useless.

The eleven members of the ship's staff that ran the Ekhenaton were impressed by the young clone's physique - it was obvious that he was a high-ranking commander.

At first they thought of handing him over for a huge ransom, but once they learned his story they gave up and thought they might as well give him a chance to be their second in command.

This decision was not an easy one. There were few who had entered into this game without getting their hands dirty. Usually most were even shot before they reached the clutches of the Chief Executioner, who was generally in charge of some more special subjects.

It would be fair to say that the professional distortion of reality was the thing to take into account - not everyone could be a good criminal, and in that line of thought GH306 himself wondered how well he would actually do in his new role.

His secret wish was to go to Haumea, and no one had gotten there yet, so there was a reason.

The Ervanans had been quietly picking up some random stray ships, and during this their civilization was quietly developing on Proxima Centauri B.

How long would it take for the Earth Federation to come to its senses in its attempts to regain control of these regions?

GH306 was quick to make it clear that he was actually capable of getting into his stride quickly and not putting off proving himself as a valuable and serious cadre.

Out of a sense of solidarity, they didn't question him about his past, but they did learn that he had escaped certain death, which had been heralded to him by the Executioner-in-Chief himself - this elevated him in their eyes and definitely helped him on.

There was a particular and specific type of morale on each smuggler ship - they didn't care too much who you were or where you were from - as long as you were able to prove your loyalty to the command itself and save your shipmates from trouble.

And the Intergalactic Police had been shuffling around the system so often that Rento, playing solo, had only been able to elude them because of his exceptional qualities.

Time passed, and with it the achievements of their new protégé - they soon made a big hit on a huge transfer from the Ents of one of the ships entering neutral territory.

This was welcome news to GH306 himself, who longed to have the opportunity to go to Haumea - so constant was his desire that Commander Esborn once asked him:

I notice you are thoughtful. What torments you?

Without revealing himself unnecessarily, with some circumlocution, he explained his intentions.

Soon, he received a serious explanation from his mentor on how he could get his own ship and carry out this activity on his own.

- "I may agree," Esborn replied, "but you will have to account to me for part of the profit. And not only that. You have knowledge of how the various Starfleet units operate, and that, under certain circumstances, could prove useful."

GH306 looked at his offer quite seriously. Without the protection of a serious player like Esborn, it couldn't get too far.

There was something else here, though - when the first smuggling syndicates were being formed way back when, there were those who were unhappy with the whole organisation, and whatever happened had to be coordinated with the most important body for the management of smuggling activities, the Space Smugglers Syndicate.

It was usually held in neutral territories, where they were away from prying eyes, and could in peace of mind learn some details of the coming strikes. That is to say, although the two main forces in this profession were rivals, they showed surprising professionalism in their attempts to avoid being caught by the Intergalactic Police.

To imagine the entire brutal organization of the smugglers, it was lined with sweat and much, much blood.

Sometimes they hid their loot on one of the many asteroids and then, by broadcasting radio signals on certain frequencies, got their hands on the hidden riches. But never did the ships cruise the vast expanse of space on their own, unaware of where they would later dispose of their loot.

The main customers of these gentlemen were the Cerberus Outpost and even, in some cases, the Lunar Mines on Mars, as convicts and soldiers always suffered for rations and some valuables to use as barter to obtain other benefits.

Even Commander Brutus himself was up to his ears in brutal and insanely large scale corruption.

Brutus was well aware that he could soon be the next one to have his head on the chopping block - which was why he was cooperating with the smugglers, albeit secretly. "Man's will to immortality[1] is a natural extension of the will to live."

 

[1] Turchin V. F., Phenomenon of Science. A Cybernetic Approach to Evolution, Second ed. M., 2000, p.357

COMMANDER BRUTUS

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE: COMMANDER BRUTUS

 

Commander Brutus was a brutal type, eager to show his independence until the moment when he could extricate himself from his colony.

A commander had to set an example and be flexible enough to take bribes to survive. That was the meaning of life according to Brutus. He was a true example of serious corruption and brutal abuse of power.

There were the following rumors among his subordinates in the colony that he was the son of a demon that came to the small companion Cerberus, as he could thrive absolutely nowhere else. And this was not too far from the truth. Brutus had passed the meter many times - sometimes on the verge of being captured, he'd collected huge sums of money by giving false information to the right people.

He was the same one Rento had gotten away thanks to and had managed to die on Haumea.

Of course, the smuggler had parted with a huge chunk of his loot, which was actually quite valuable.

Brutus received, besides vast sums of money, some valuable finds and possessions. For instance, drawings for a heomone pump, which he found rather interesting. As time passed, all sorts of legends and superstitions began to circulate about its origins.

Some even swore that they had seen his red demonic eyes in a dream. And soon after, they died in a cruel way.

Brutus had put on special bionic lenses that changed the color of his eyes and gave him certain advantages. The technology for these lenses was stolen from the cunning and resourceful Brutus.

The commander was also hiding the losses in the colony like a true con man and a charlatan.

He had no scruples about getting his own way with dissenters.

"Brutus - an angel of death," as he liked to say.

However, when the Earth Federation finally decided to check up on him, he clearly realized that he had to take urgent measures.

Everything in the colony stank of rotten - the robberies of dying patients like Von Blask.

There were also human rights violations and numerous abuses in the colony's budget.

Commander Brutus realized that colonizing Haumea would only make him less important. That is to say, more inconspicuous.

Somewhere out there, politics was slowly, very slowly, changing his own position.

Brutus was enjoying his immense, downright scary popularity among the others. Things in the colony were going to get out of hand at some point, and he honestly had no intention of standing around waiting for that moment to come.

When Rento offered him the heomone pump, he clearly realized that he had a lot of interesting things yet to accomplish, and he needed to act at all costs and do it as noiselessly as possible.

The colony might have caught him unawares, and he might have been the victim of a coup d'état which would have been the cause of his sad and inglorious end.

Brutus had never worked in anything but the military - he had military and medical training and understood human anatomy.

His brutal nature was the reason things were brought to this point.

Most of the soldiers were kept on the existential mime, and it was Brutus' strategy to survive - he knew well in his heart they were ready to escape, but that was their job - the Earth Federation would not look kindly on their defection. And after that, they were likely to face court martial and execution.

There was a semblance of discipline in the colony as Brutus tried to carry out some grand plans of his own. Cerberus's outpost had been greatly expanded, and besides, many things had been changed. The fortifications were put on a higher level with an idea given that the Ervanans could pose a serious threat. Especially if they had hidden ships in the area as Brutus himself suspected.

He hadn't shared his reasoning with anyone because he felt it might only call into question his qualities as a leader.

Many would have loved to see his head on the chopping block - suffering and dying, as his red demon eyes had given many a heart attack.

- "Do you know where his soul will go?," the soldiers talked secretly among themselves.

- "That devil cunningly hid among us!," one of the recruits replied. - Who knows where he came from. Nowhere could I find any facts about his past. It's as if he came out of nowhere. "But sooner or later I'll expose him," the cadet called angrily.

But he had spies everywhere, and he knew that sooner or later someone was going to blow the whistle and the conspiracy against him would unravel.

The moral in the commander's eyes was - whose side would the strong cards be on and who would sort the deck. And as long as he ruled the colony, he wouldn't surrender that right to anyone. How many times had Earth Federation informers and secret agents stuck their noses right where he didn't want anyone to be aware of what was going on.

How many times had they longed to be able to pierce, one way or another, his inimitable smile and the confidence of an adventurer who had skillfully learned to walk the razor's edge.

But their efforts were fruitless - so many tears were cried for the sake of the Earth Federation's illusory right to succeed in overcoming some of its own instabilities, which were generally unavoidable given its vast and even slightly unrealistic plans.

There were too few left with honour and dignity in this place - and how