The 13th Star: An Action Adventure Sci-F Apocalyptic Novel (2 page)

This was the seventh year of choice. A year of
choice covered 50 years, according to the known method of counting.
This was the year in which God afforded the right of choice to the
12 tribes: the right to discern and to choose between good and
evil, between what there is and what there is not, between darkness
and light. The tribes had been tested during the six long years of
choice. Their deeds were carefully examined and each tribe selected
its steps, its path, and its objective. The individual tribes were
tested for their ability to preserve the good, the quiet, and the
tranquility, and their abilities to maintain peace in its area over
the years and to reflect its peace to the other tribes was also
tested—how each of them lived in harmony with the other; how,
despite the diverse winds, they all played the eternal
melodies.

God frequently intervened in each tribe; he
never restrained himself. He always pointed out their mistake. The
greatest fear was that they wouldn’t meet the rebirth of the
13
th
planet bravely, which would do
everything to destroy them totally and proclaim itself over the
extinct world instead.

God also knew this would be his toughest day.
The 13
th
planet would rise. The only
question was, how strong would the previous 12 be against it They’d
never work with it, always against it, because it would challenge
them.

Falcon—the largest planet in the galaxy. Total
darkness prevailed. All the means of lighting, even those developed
and tested on the planet and those unfamiliar, were useless in the
great darkness. The darkness didn’t recognize the known laws of
universe. Half the day lit, half dark. No dusk, no sunrise. Falcon
was ruled by the old warrior, Bergin, whose name was known around
the galaxy, and some say even beyond—if there was a world beyond.
Falcon’s enormous population lived in the center of the planet,
where the only spot of light was. No one had managed to crack its
structure, and therefore was not able to replicate beyond the fixed
area.

Falconites’ skin color was absolute black—just
a row of white teeth, the white of the eyeball, and the yellow
pupil cried out from the black—and they all wore yellow robes, with
a black line from head to toe along their spines. Their threatening
appearance was impossible not to notice. Their glistening white
teeth weren’t usually visible since they hardly spoke or smiled.
But their eyes communicated more than any other galactic language.
The Falconites were further known for their quickness to pull out a
Jorash. Their well-practiced, smooth, flexible movements simulated
hovering, as if their feet don’t touch the ground when they walked
or fought.

In the days of Bergin, one could hear singing
throughout the planet. Happiness and laughter were seen on the
faces of the men and the women who had crossed the barrier of
frozen faces. The Falconites’ hovering was peaceful, as if they
were born to it, like a butterfly whose flight scares no one.
During the days of Bergin’s father, Micha—a short, perpetually
angry man who tried several times to conquer other planets, but
whose attempts were repulsed by God—there was vigilance in the air.
Tremendous fear accompanied everyone at that time. It was even
recognizable in their walk—like a dog using invisible wings in
order to advance.

Bergin, who lived in the shadow of Micha, knew
why his father had died. Bergin was intensely frightened of finding
himself confronting God. But at the same time, he wanted to speak
his mind
and protect his father, the instigator of discord. Throughout his rule, he tested God, withdrawing time after time out of
fear…

***

Levi, the smallest planet in the galaxy, existed without a ruler, being run by a democracy comprised almost entirely of men
of religion and mystery. As equals, no one imposed tasks on others and no one ordered another about. This remarkable harmony
had lasted
for centuries,
without a declared leader, according to the one path known to
them—and only to the Levites.

Legend said there were still people living on Levi who could speak Cherka, the language of God, and everyone who could bought
his world not only in this life, but also in the next. Evidence of this was that some Levites were more than 200 years old,
who’d lived through at least four years of choice. There was nothing similar anywhere else the galaxy. Hence the planet was
respected and often considered to be beyond the rules of the games for control. No leader was prepared to confront those who
spoke the language of God.

Levites
wore long white
robes and a white conical hat with a thin black line descending
from its edge. Some said it was a miter of power. No Levite had
ever been seen without it, not even when asleep. Actually, no one
had ever seen a Levite asleep, as they seemed to be always fully
awake, smiling as if holding a secret, their eyes shining, like
a mysterious ray of light was trapped in their heads and bursting out of
their eye sockets. Their cheeks were pink and all the men—young and old—had a long, pointed white beard. Levites used a Jorash
to immunize their children when they reached the age of three. Every child who survived the first three years was entitled
to be immunized by a Jorash, which strengthened their body and afforded them a talisman for health and a long life. The other
galactic citizens were jealous.

On Levi, the Jorash was also used to reap their harvests. The Levites didn’t eat animal products because, according to their
beliefs, a living thing cannot cross the lips of another living thing. They wanted no technology—although it offered considerable
assistance—as they felt its use was an opportunity for evil to invade the planet. Nevertheless, the Levites were aware of
the advantages of the technology that dominated the galaxy. They were familiar with and knew the secrets of the latest software
and machines existing in the various galactic laboratory dungeons, even though no one had revealed it to them
.

David, a short, smiling Levite, had represented
the planet for almost five years of choice. Some compared him to a
friendly grandfather who always had candy in his pocket for a small
child. David truly contributed good things for every event and at
any moment, always smiling, always ready with a joke or a pleasant
word, and carrying with him an aura of peace.

The Levites had given themselves the job of
creating peace and calm on all the different planets.
They had no desire to convert them to their religion and beliefs, but wanted to render assistance in helping others work things
out and bring harmony to all.
Their advantage lay in seeing things that were concealed, and they knew how to build a bridge between what was actually said
and what was stored in someone’s heart.

Moran had previously been a penal settlement
for criminals who no longer had a place in healthy society. During
the first year of choice, the planet experienced many murders and
atrocities, until the other planets stopped sending their criminals
there. The Moranians were forced to learn how to get along with
each other and manage a normal life.

In the third year of choice, just when normal
life had been established on Moran—without murders or a sense of
chaos—the rulers of other planets once again began transferring
their most hardened criminals there. For two years the Moranians
suffered from increasing chaos until the Moranian council closed
its gates and ceased accepting new residents in the middle of the
fifth year of counting. In doing so, the administrative
organization created a situation in which the residents “sold”
their best wares—crimes—to other planets. Suddenly, Moran became a
planet of mercenaries.

From time to time, Moranians were seen engaging
in criminal activities on other planets. Admittedly, they tried to
blend in on whatever planet they came to, but their hairy arms and
shaven heads with a long braid hanging down on the right side
betrayed their origin—sometimes even more than the crime itself,
which was always accompanied by the cruelty typical of
Moranians.

Coldor was the undisputed Moranian ruler. He’d
proclaimed, years earlier, that women couldn’t leave home, and any
who went out would be put to death that same day. A few women
tried, but didn’t manage to survive the day—as he promised. Most
acquiesced, although it caused ongoing resentment among the males
as well, who found themselves solely bearing the weighty
responsibility of too many tasks to carry out.

Residents of Moran received a Jorash from
Coldor. A few Moranians had their own Jorash, but the women didn’t
have one at all. The lucky men who carried a Jorash permanently
held positions in Coldor’s court. They were forced to perform a
series of tasks, some awful, in order to hold the position and a
Jorash. Some performed their tasks easily, which amazed even the
other hardened residents of the planet.

Brisker—the blue ice planet. Some said the
sun’s light, fracturing on the ice plains, was responsible for the
permanent celestial rainbow. Everyone arriving on Brisker sensed
the tremendous intensity of those ice fields—not tall glaciers, but
a vast expanse, stretching from horizon to horizon, of bright blue
ice. The Briskerians were very friendly people with slanting eyes
that perpetually shone. No one knew what they ate; there was no
vegetation on the planet, and grass- or fruit-eating animals
obviously couldn’t survive there, and thus there were no wild
animals. In the many springs there was only clear blue,
vanilla-scented water.

The residents of Brisker vowed many years ago
that they wouldn’t damage the ice, believing that they were its
preservationists. Therefore they never scraped it, didn’t make
holes in it to fish for living things that might exist under the
blue ice cover, and certainly didn’t carve houses out of it. For
all this, Briskerians remarkably didn’t die of hunger; on the
contrary, they were robust beings, always full of joy and endless
vitality.

Some say that God, seeing their honest hearted
belief, provided them with the two things necessary to sustain
them—food, which, like the manna in the desert in another story,
appeared daily, and the protection of the scrolls stored at
Brisker’s core. The scrolls told the story of creation, which
occurred before the first year.

In addition to the tale of creation, the
scrolls contained another secret—how to acquire mastery of the
world. Many rulers wanted the scrolls to learn this secret, the
secret from which even God must be unaware.

Pandor, the eldest of the warlords, ruled
Brisker. He was a pleasant person, with great respect for all those
around him, and enjoyed tremendous inner quiet, as if the
tranquility of the ice plains had adhered to him. Pandor’s arrival
at any location, especially at the temples outside Brisker,
resulted in a quiet whistle of the wind being felt. The breeze
didn’t arouse fear, but immediately created absolute calm. Like a
red carpet spread before others, so was the wind for him. The
enormous man with a kind, smiling face always seemed somewhat
embarrassed by the silence that accompanied his arrival. His
appearance apparently contributed to his dramatic entry.

Rosten was the fifth planet, known as the red
planet. A red sun permanently illuminated it, but with purple
light, which injured the eye if looked at directly. Purple light
burned everything, like a laser point that focuses and scorches
without true fire.

Lunia, the legendary ruler of Rosten, is a man
of technology, innovation and weapons. Of average height nothing in
his appearance reveals the depths of his constantly burning mind
inventing and acquiring new weapons, even if they are unnecessary;
to develop computerized systems that precede their time, solve
problems before they arise. Deep furrows decorated Lunia’s forehead
above the large and kind eyes, the wrinkles being the sole
indicator of the many thoughts running around in his brain. His
hands were similar to a farmer who toiled in the fields—rough, big,
suntanned. If someone encountered him by chance, he was
unrecognizable as the unquestioned ruler of Rosten, the planet of
science and knowledge.

Rosten’s population was known for its wisdom.
Young boys were often sent to other planets as instructors to
eliminate the ignorance existing in many places around the
galaxy.

Lunia stood by one mandate above all his
intellectual goals—although he frequently argued with himself as to
whether the decision was correct—that of not interfering in
galactic wars. His shared Rosten’s considerable knowledge with
anyone who asked for it, believing it didn’t contribute to war, but
only to peace.

Rosteners’ clothing sometimes appeared odd, but
considerable thought and attention had been invested, even in its
smallest details. They typically wore a close-fitting overall with
poppers operated by turning

In addition, a small visible scar decorated
each cheek—a straight, diagonal 30
o
line
from the ear downward toward the corner of the mouth. Rosteners
couldn’t be mistaken for a resident from any other planet.

Tula, Lunia’s only daughter, was the most
beautiful woman on the planet. It was said her father had
researched the wisdom of beauty prior to her birth, and she was the
best result of his developments.