The Children of Zegandaria - Atanas Marinov, Atanas Marinov, Atanas Marinov, Atanas Marinov (world best books to read txt) 📗

After a long wander around the strange outskirts of Enzok Ra, Ryan entered a hall and was followed in by Namuro himself.

Inside was impenetrable darkness. They continued for some time.

- "Let me introduce you to our host," Ryan said solemnly, turning on the lights.

In front of them was the Jail Hunter in question, a notorious commando and big gambler who was perpetually in default to his creditors. He owed various individuals and institutions as much as five hundred and forty-three thousand electronic credits, roughly equivalEnt to his full salary for twenty years of service in the Special Forces.

- "If it's such a big deal," stammered Namuro, "why are we his?"

- "There's the job," Ryan addressed him in all seriousness, "Jail will have the refinery plans. Even Ames can't get his hands on them, and we need that."

Namuro agreed.

Jail checked them for listening devices and so on. And then he invited them into the dungeon.

- "We can talk in peace here," he said. "Look, I need to trust you completely and be able to count on you in case we get attacked by security."

The two men answered.

- We need to collect some tanks of interon fuel. And then, we'll push them to one of the Outer Ring planets. It's an old scheme. We need to make sure it works.

Jail Hunter had the charisma of a born crook, which he practically was.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND ONE: THE SAVAGE RYAN

Savage Ryan had grown up in an orphanage and didn't know who his parents were. It hadn't been easy for him, but he'd dealt with life's adversities.

He was definitely a happy-go-lucky kid who loved life and, strange as it was, wanted to not think about tomorrow, which might not come. He lived like it was for the last time, but cherished his friends, or at least tried to.

Ames, the shrink, had given them a guideline to follow, and they were doing their best not to miss it. After they'd been caught at the refinery and slapped with three months in a reform school, Swept Ames showed up this time with Jail Hunter himself.

The boys were recruited to the team, but had to be trained well. Jail promised them that he would personally handle their training. They used the old shed they had equipped as a combat area where they could fire training ammunition for plasma weapons, and he also explained to them the principles of guerrilla warfare.

The training had been fifteen weeks long and super-accelerated, but by the end of it they had learned something.

Savage Ryan smiled. He loved youth and not caring about anything. The world was at his feet because he didn't have a dime in his pocket. He wanted to enjoy the moment and his own idea that he might be able to make the best of what little time he had. Time was passing and so many thoughts were raging through his head.

Ryan wanted to live in the here and now.

Jail was being friendly but strict with them to educate and strengthen them as fighters. He was betting they had nothing to lose and could only win.

Guys, I did that number to test you. Soon you will have to do something serious. That one was just to build up a little biography and nothing more.

- "And what's next?," asked Namuro, who in the meantime had gotten older.

- "We're going on a witch hunt," Jail told them cryptically.

Besides him, there were a few other colleagues who joined later.

Each of them felt the need to save themselves, and this was the only way they could earn their living.

Soon word would get out about their exploits.

- Guys, you grew up on the streets, but I have the full knowledge that I've been through Hell itself and I know what I'm talking about. You're going to have to grow up faster than you'd like. But at least you can leave your name in history, which is no small thing.

- "I don't remember my parents," Ryan said, somewhat sadly. "I grew up with the idea of doing something with my life. That's what sustained me all these years."

They were together again in the shed, where they trained and negotiated different fighting positions. They were almost done by the way, but Ryan wanted to be sure of himself so he decided to take a little more time.

Ryan honestly had no real idea what he was going to do next. But for now, Jail was their new employer and that had to be among his priorities.

Jail wanted to succeed at all costs, there was something strange about this subject that burned all over in a fervor to bring his scheme to fruition.

Namuro knew full well that a lot of things had to happen and that with this stain on their records, they were unlikely to make it in civilian life.

One evening Jail called them in:

- I've done my best to straighten out some messes in your papers.

- "At least temporarily, you need to finish your education," Jail snapped.

- "Why is that necessary?," Namuro had a nervous breakdown. "After three months in that institution, we have practically no chance to socialize again."

- "Savage Ryan will walk in with a fake degree and you'll be helping him. You have two more years until you graduate. And you need to have some shelter during that time. We can't just crash in this hall forever - the upkeep is too salty," he explained to them briefly.

Then they parted and agreed to stick to the established plan. And now, for the time being, to have no communication with each other.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWO: THE MAERX REFINERY

Today was a very hard day for everyone who worked there. The Maerx refinery was just a replica of the original one, which had been almost destroyed in the bombing of the previous war. Harsh measures were put in place to improve the quality of the emissions, and various security measures were put in place to give all three shifts a real chance of being covered. The refinery was rather quaint in its shape and many wondered why they had not rebuilt it to its former size at all. The colours of the many pieces of equipment and installations ranged from gold to pink to metallic silver.

Two huge spheres made of pure kevlarite with a mirrored surface were placed in front, providing an attractive and imposing appearance to this place.

The people working here were not the impoverished sufferers of the past, but the heat was still having its say. It couldn't have been otherwise!

Interon fuel was no longer the fuel of the future at all, because it was slowly being displaced by so-called ensonian fuel, a modification of it with lower viscosity and fewer emissions. There have been too many changes in the last nineteen years.

None of the people working here had the faintest idea of what had happened before.

He had no idea of Mieru's heart flutters, nor of the help given by Andrew Dislan himself. And that story would be buried forever!

Andrew-the lonely Andrew-who wished to atone for his guilt at being what he had been born had "left" a part of his soul here. The energy of saving the little girl could still be felt.

The workers were strictly following the schedule of their established shift, which was definitely heavy enough to fill their head with any other matters beyond those that did not directly concern them.

Om Gur Nal wanted the polis under his possession to be the largest producer of interon fuel in the galaxy, and for once the planets of the so-called Outer Ring into their clutches.

It was a very ambitious plan, one that even the late Governor Gordon Elmbaum himself had not set out to achieve.

The refinery had been expanded, but in an extremely efficient menner, and one of the things that had been observed was the increased rate of production.

Often there were speeders coming here to guard the workers and their new and extravagant developments.

Near the refinery there were beautiful rocks of dark obsidian which gave a certain romance to the whole atmosphere around.

Jail knew full well that he had come to do his work, and the little Pikes he took certain care of were no more than a mere burden to him, but on the other hand they were a necessity of the utmost.

The main unit in the refining process was the so-called „liquid refinery“ where the fuel was purified of any harmful impurities that would be detrimental in a process of flight over intraplanetary distances.

One other fact was not to be overlooked, and that was that Gordon's „ghost“ was still out there somewhere, craving retribution, or at least that was the rumor among the staff - no one had seen anything in particular, but they were still obliged to take that fact into account and pay the bare minimum of respect to the deceased.

The liquid refinery was separating the so-called base fuel from the emplaxy impurities that made it too heavy and unsuitable for the combustion chambers.

It was utterly mystifying to watch the crystal chambers where all this refining was taking place. Equanate hoses were connected to the pumps, which worked tirelessly day and night.

Jail wanted to harvest a large enough quantity of fuel to secure the rest of his life.

Long forgotten by friends and everyone else, he was simply too desperate. He knew his end was coming, but he wanted to do something meaningful to be remembered by.

The workers who watched the beautiful transformations of the interon fuel were so absorbed in their work and were putting in such great diligence that one just had to take note of it.

The refinery director was also too on top of things not to note their tremendous progress.

People were happy that they were getting their salaries and also that everything was happening in such a strange way.

In a moment of enlightenment, someone would stop to say, "May God Erduk bless our labor! We must stay!"

Om Gur Nal treasured this facility because it was the only real way he could legalize his income coming from the outer planets. Yes, he was using a scheme quite similar to the one that had been Gordon Elmbaum's domain in the past. But now things were disguised in a more moral way.

Jail was acquainted with a security man, and thanks to him had gotten his hands on the refinery plans, but the subtle point was the use of the two boys in his perverted plan.

Why they had to study for about a