Trade War
Description:
"...contact with other survivors beyond the recycling planet was lost..."
Chapter 1
By count, we are the sixth planet—and the only one that managed to survive the Trade War between Marva and Duzek, which ended in the mutual destruction of both sides. It once seemed we were lucky...
The war was ignited by interplanetary corporations that controlled commerce throughout the solar system. Only we survived—a planet no one cared about, a junkyard, a repository of secondary resources. Over time, everything dies.
The corporations had access to military technologies and were able to invest enough in a military campaign to improve their market positions. And yet, war is not the domain of merchants or politicians, but of those who spill the blood...
The harmony of life might have endured forever—if not for the "whim" of insatiable capital. Temporary stability led to stagnation, directly impacting the trade in which everyone was involved. The desire to expand spheres of influence led to dissatisfaction from the side that was meant to be sacrificed for that expansion. The explosion that followed was, in essence, inevitable.
The screen of Foreign Minister Sherdan displayed the official Marvan insignia as the image shifted to the face of his secretary:
"Sir, our tanker is down. It managed to transmit an SOS signal. The flight recorder indicates an internal explosion."
"Understood. Connect me with our Duzek liaison."
An hour later, after a series of approvals and delays, an incoming call arrived:
"Regent Morana Binks. I assume you're aware of what's happened?"
"Yes, and we're already preparing a response to your yet-to-be-submitted complaint. But there are some nuances that we should discuss beforehand."
"We've suffered losses, and I don't see what else there is to talk about. We have physical evidence of your guilt, and you will be held accountable."
"It's not quite that simple," the regent replied. "We also have conflicting data, and under the circumstances, we demand a thorough investigation."
"Fine. Send your documentation. Your team will be met at the crash site."
The tanker «Fannika», which had departed from warehouses on friendly Lirden, charted its course through Duzek ports to obtain transit documents—under escort—for its final return to Marva. The ship received not only the paperwork but also a package, after which an explosion occurred on board. The debris rained down onto the surface of the junkyard planet—where it belonged...
Some time later, another signal came through—this one over an encrypted channel. It was sent from a small spacecraft that had escaped the crash zone.
"Everything as agreed?" a woman's voice asked.
"Yes."
"Good. So when will we discuss my interests?"
No answer followed. The minister hastily cut the transmission.
A few days later, an investigative shuttle flew over the wreckage site. In some areas, the spilled fuel was still burning, but the flight recorder had landed several kilometers away. Separated from the doomed ship, it had traveled a long distance and begun transmitting identification signals while still in flight.
"It's somewhere here… in the trash," said the flight engineer.
The ship was searching for a landing spot amid a sea of obsolete and discarded objects—broken parts, useless machinery, and random junk. To avoid cluttering space, this planet had been turned into a dumping ground, gradually emptied of its native population, who had resettled in more hospitable places. Since then, people had started calling the planet by a new name—Klaagia.
A deafening crash rang out.
The investigative shuttle was struck by a missile.
Here, buried beneath the heaps of trash, an entire enemy fleet lay in wait—and was already...
Chapter 2
It was known that tensions between the planets had been rising. At the onset of the War, events unfolded rapidly, and mutual discontent snowballed out of control. It's still unclear who truly initiated the conflict. Records state that it began with a terrorist attack on a heavily trafficked cargo route. Then came the exchange of the first strikes…
A downed shuttle crashed into the heaps of local debris. A squad of Marvan raiders quickly arrived—not so much to rescue as to capture any survivors. Among them was a woman who had once been meant to lead the Investigative Committee. But now, Investigator Doren found herself the one being interrogated.
"Do you know who I am?" asked the officer. "I am Tarncake, Admiral of the Fleet."
"Admiral, you are violating every signed accord by attacking a civilian vessel."
"As did you, when you struck ours. And your excessive curiosity has jeopardized the continued presence of our forces here."
"Which is exactly why suspicions arose about the tanker explosion. Now I see they were entirely justified."
"You do realize all speculation must be discarded? You will sign the correct report on the cause of the crash."
"Yes, Admiral, unfortunately, that is something I am unable to refuse..."
"I'm glad we've come to an understanding. The document bearing your signature will be made widely public. But that is less important than your next obligation—to join us and become part of the invasion plan."
"What more could you possibly want from me?"
"Nothing extraordinary. You'll return home—straight into the hands of the Tribunal. Your mission, however, will be to avoid getting there."
"No! You're joking, aren't you?..."
"Apparently not. I'll leave you now with your new conversation partner. I trust you'll get along."
After the admiral left, indicator lights flickered, signaling the doors had been sealed. Through a special vent in the wall, a green gaseous substance began to seep into the room…
The planet Wurmir was considered a key transit hub in the system. Its settlements were populated primarily by administrative personnel—officials, brokers, and intermediaries who facilitated trade deals and lived off generous commissions paid by merchants on each shipment. A customs station was also located there. Initially, the planet had been deemed unsuitable for colonization, and thus remained neutral to the five neighboring worlds. It had been settled long ago, with towns built under protective domes. The main task of its new inhabitants was to ensure fair and balanced trade within the system. That's why this crucial junction became the first target of a Marvan fleet assault.
Even as Marva was "sinking" on all stock indexes, it was unwilling to share dominance with its neighbors—especially its primary rival, Duzek. Instead, Marva decided to strike first, cleverly masking the attack as a provocation. Wurmir had to be occupied first to secure control over the main supply node and establish strategic superiority. A parallel strike was planned directly against Duzek itself… Such was the plan for launching the military campaign.
However, the Wurmirians were aware—or at least suspicious—of this plan. Loyal to Duzek's suppliers, they had secretly formed a mutual assistance pact with them, to be enacted in case of emergency. They discreetly stationed a small military contingent on the planet, capable of delaying the enemy until reinforcements could arrive.
Chapter 3
Local technologies enabled travel through space and the unification of the entire solar system's inhabitants. Their level far surpassed what we are familiar with, yet compared to the League of 20,000 Planets, they remained in a transitional stage. This allowed for the conquest of space only within a single star system, and only at relatively low speeds.
Contact with the expedition had been lost. However, two weeks later, a damaged and partially repaired shuttle from the Investigative Commission signaled for landing coordinates at the port of Winxfall. Aboard it was the very same investigator who had recently been released from captivity. When questioned about the reasons for her early return, she gave evasive answers. Perhaps it was the result of shock from the projectile strike—or the aftermath of psychological conditioning—or maybe the effects of some chemical agent... Any of these theories might hold a grain of truth, if not for one crucial detail (to be revealed later). What stood out was her arrival at a port far from her original departure point. This could have been explained by the urgency of the situation and a desperate escape attempt—if not for another, more compelling explanation…
It was here, in the dawn sky, that the local moon—of a violet hue—was clearly visible. At this time of day, it was the only celestial body distinguishable in the heavens. Yet this "moon" was no satellite, but the hostile planet Marva—suddenly coming alive as tiny lights detached from it and scattered in all directions. Growing rapidly in size, they reached their targets in mere seconds, crashing into the local infrastructure. The peaceful slumber of the settlement's residents was shattered by thunderous blasts—the deafening sound of an invasion begun...
Command Bunker, Group XXII. Pre-launch briefing for interceptor squadron. Rear Admiral Furzol speaking.
"...As you all know, the treacherous Marvans have finally launched their invasion. It began with an artillery barrage on our port. Orbital shelling continues even now..."
His words were accompanied by a tangible trembling of the concrete walls and the dull rumble echoing from the surface. The bunker lay underground and was capable of withstanding multiple direct hits.
"...But it won't last much longer," the officer continued. "Their fleet is heading straight for us—it has already swept aside our defensive positions..."
One of the pilots spoke up, adjusting his reddish beard:
"We should prep the interceptor squadron for battle. And preferably meet them mid-approach."
"Officer Kraven, I have entirely different orders," Furzol responded. "Our scouts have warned of a secondary offensive wave heading toward our Vurmiran allies. We cannot afford to lose them. This unit has been specifically chosen to intercept that advance. Your objective is more important than even the defense of the homeland!"
"When will we receive our navigation documents?" one of the attendees asked.
"You depart in just a few hours. The carrier block transports are already warming up their engines. You have time to say goodbye to your families and loved ones. And don't forget to take your insurance certificates. I won't explain what happens in battle without them—you don't want to find out."
The transport catalogs, coordinated with external contractors, included standards regulating not only the terms of expeditionary contracts, but also the operations of security services escorting cargo. A pilot who paid insurance premiums had the right to be prioritized for exchange if captured while guarding assets. According to judicial precedent, war was officially classified as a legitimate insurance event.
One month remained before the ships would reach the site of the impending armed conflict.
Chapter 4
"— I hope you're aware of the risks we're being forced to take?"
"And what else did you expect?" the Regent replied to her companion — a leading supplier of hygrophorin, now on the brink of restructuring. "Governments will no longer honor their debts. They'll confiscate half your business. Soon you'll be left with no alternatives. But you're not insignificant to us. I'm offering you the courtesy of choosing the right side—while you still can."
"Yes, we could repurpose the business and even double profits by signing additional military contracts. But, Lady Morana, what I don't understand is your role in all this. You ask for no dividends, no privileges. So what's in it for you, exactly?"
Regent Morana Binks had no answer to give him. Why were the future devastations—soon to sweep through the solar system—necessary? It was her very nature that demanded it, a truth few suspected and fewer still could understand, let alone take seriously.
"I'd rather not say. You should focus on your own concerns," she answered.
The main thing was that everyone stood to gain something. Bloodshed promised profit and the salvation of failing enterprises for some, and for the aggressors, it would be a way to uphold their reputation and avoid falling under alien influence. All that was needed was to "nudge" the process—kickstart the mechanism of mutual destruction. Once in motion, it would devour everything in its path, gaining momentum on its own.
For now, that mechanism was just beginning its bloody work, carried out by the boots of Marvan shock troops. With plasma carbines at the ready, they advanced toward the landing pads of the Winxfall spaceport to clear the way for more powerful strike forces. Awaiting them was the plasma fire of the port's stationary turrets.
A month aboard the blockade transport had passed in a familiar barracks routine for pilot Kraiven. He came from noble stock and was entitled to a private sleeping pod. Lacking wealth, he had chosen to dedicate himself to the noble profession of arms, which in peacetime consisted mostly of escort duty for civilian ships. But now, his homeland had called upon him to perform his true duty—on the battlefield, among the stars.
And soon, in this counterattack maneuver, they would strike the enemy with a blow both unexpected and crushing.
Kraven was grooming himself—combing and trimming his beard. He wanted to look the part, like the proud pilot of a government squadron. Especially now, with his first combat sortie scheduled to take place in about eighteen hours. Sleep wouldn't come, so he decided to tend to his appearance, which had suffered during the long journey.
"Attention, all flight personnel!" the voice of the announcer echoed through the corridors. "Immediately report to your combat modules! Twenty minutes until contact with the enemy! I repeat — twenty minutes until contact!"
Kraven burst out of his cell and grabbed the shoulder of a soldier running past.
"What's going on?" he asked.
"We've been located — they've dispatched interceptors."
"...The sooner the better..." Kraven thought. "...Let's get this over with."
This would be his first combat flight, but the training he had received was kicking in, amplified by adrenaline now flooding his system. He followed procedure to the letter — quickly suited up, double-checked the contents of his pockets. Everything was in place: documentation, a medkit, focus-enhancing pills issued under signature. He reached his combat module via a lift.
The transport block was composed of propulsion, living, and technical sections — but its main bulk consisted of combat modules, functioning as fighters. Technological practicality had shaped this form of construction.
One by one, he flipped the activation levers. The flight laptop blinked to life — the setup grid faded into an image of the Armed Forces emblem: two sabers entwined with ribbons. Then came a countdown timer, and after a minute, the flight roster check-in began.
"Defenders!" the face of a familiar officer appeared on-screen. "This is Rear Admiral Furzol speaking. You've been scrambled because, as you may know, the enemy has deciphered our maneuver and prepared a strike. But we're ready — and we will repel the attack!"
With these words, the transport blocks, still maintaining their flight velocity, began shifting into defensive formation.
"...Command functions now transferred to the tech division. Wishing you all a safe return!"
The transports initiated deceleration. Power clamps creaked — combat modules began detaching from the motherships and accelerating toward the expected point of engagement.
On the opposing side, a similar scene was unfolding. The machines — little more than primitive rockets — were designed for vacuum travel, operating like launched projectiles. In the absence of atmosphere, maneuverability was severely limited — unlike atmospheric aircraft. Forward motion was the only option, with the pilot able to make slight adjustments to the trajectory. But during that time, he could still destroy an incoming enemy.
That was the nature of battle here. No exceptions.
"I see targets — acquiring lock," announced a pilot from a nearby module.
"Another group coming in starboard," the dispatcher responded. "They're not a threat — reserve shuttles will handle them."
"Understood," Kraven replied, flipping the acceleration switch. The whole squad faced miles of silent anticipation — fifteen minutes of tense flight toward their targets. Now, the first lights came into view — Marvanian modules. If only they could break through to their carriers from behind...
"Good luck, boys! Go get 'em!" came a voice from the laptop.
"One minute to contact..." the dispatcher updated.
Kraven began executing his maneuver. His module rolled on its axis, slowly veering off the preset course. He was trying to anticipate enemy moves and take up a better position — avoiding direct fire and slipping into their rear lines.
The machines fired their first volleys — the radar lit up with multiple incoming targets: enemy projectiles. Kraven didn't waste his ammunition. Instead, he had the computer calculate the optimal flight path. The math held up. His ship nearly exited the main battle zone, tracing a broad arc alongside the combat field.
Now came the final step: wait for the inertial dampeners to slow him, then plot a new course straight toward the enemy blocks...
The inertia had run its course, and Krayven accelerated again, steering his ship toward the presumed point of contact. Off the starboard side, a small group of enemy modules came into view, one by one diving into the thick of the battle. They'd spotted him too, but were heading in the opposite direction and were now too far along to alter their trajectory.
"Should've thought of that earlier…" Krayven smirked at his own combat luck. He had feared patrol shuttles, but it seemed the enemy had committed all their reserves, leaving their carriers completely undefended. It was finally time to use the carefully conserved ammunition.
Locking onto his targets, the pilot programmed a launch timer. The projectiles would hit with precision, each at its designated moment as he passed by at a tangent. That would allow him to activate the inertia dampener and return safely to his mothership.
Plasma cannons on the enemy shuttles lit up, firing volleys in his direction, but he was still far enough away to avoid being hit. Meanwhile, Krayven's missiles were already streaking toward the three Marvan block-transports—unstoppable.
He switched on the radio intercept:
"Port side, incoming objects—those are missiles!..." came the voice of a Marvan controller.
"...Contact in ten seconds. Seven... five... four…"
A burst of static cut through the speaker. Then the voice again:
"Vessel 2, minor hull damage. Vessels 1 and 3, report status!... I can't hear you—please respond," the controller repeated, several times. No wonder—those two ships had taken the brunt of the assault.
"I have a visual on a hostile combat module," the controller continued. "...Open fire!"
The dampener indicated 68% inertia suppression. Estimated time to full absorption: several more minutes. But plasma from the second Marvan ship was exploding dangerously close.
In the next instant, sparks flew from Krayven's control panel, and the lights flickered off for a moment. Then the rotors kicked in, and the lighting returned. His laptop displayed an incoming signal—it was a surrender code transmitted by the Marvan ship.
According to protocol, this meant he was to shut down all main engines and lock the dampener until the craft came to a full stop. He could ignore the signal—but the lights of enemy modules returning from the front now shone ahead. Escaping this trap alive was no longer an option.
However, judging by the debris of what used to be transports 1 and 3 now scattered in all directions, his actions had been highly effective.
So Krayven powered down the engine, prepared his prisoner-of-war insurance certificate, and accepted the surrender terms. After all, Marvan pilots might also be taken captive on the other side—and that could mean a chance at a prisoner exchange.
Hygrophorin – a combustible biological component essential for the synthesis of nutrient elements in plasma turbines. It is a natural alternative to the synthetic variant. Previously produced on Lirden. A terrorist attack on a transport vessel carrying it caused reputational damage to one of the suppliers
Chapter 5
Winxfall fell under the onslaught of the Marvan invaders. The commander of a platoon that had survived the plasma fire sent a report up the chain confirming the capture of the port. For the defenders of Duzek, this meant that the enemy would likely launch a ground operation from this location. Overall, the situation remained under control, and the enemy foothold could eventually be reclaimed. Especially encouraging was a report of successful defensive efforts on the Vurmiran frontier. The enemy's push had been halted, suffering losses significant enough to disrupt their initial momentum. This completely altered their strategy and nullified the advantage of surprise.
The commander of the landing force surveyed a group of prisoners gathered in the spaceport terminal. The sudden battle had caught them off guard, leaving no time to evacuate. Among them was Doren — an investigator who had recently arrived.
"Do you like me?" she suddenly asked one of the soldiers who approached her. Slowly turning around, she gave him a sidelong glance. He lowered his plasma weapon...
President Rutanka was the sole ruler of the planet Duzek. Following a military briefing on the inability to reestablish contact with the Marvan side, she summoned Regent Morana to discuss current developments. The president valued Morana's recommendations — after all, she had been instrumental during their joint election campaign. Morana's authority was also bolstered by her close ties to transplanetary business circles and her unrestricted access to those spheres. There was a knock at the door.
"Greetings, Madam President. It's all been building to this, hasn't it?"
"Did you know we lost one of our spaceports an hour ago?" Rutanka cut straight to the point. "The enemy struck a devastating blow, and our defenses failed to hold..."
"Only one port?" Morana mused. "We still have the advantage — this is our home turf."
"Perhaps you're right. But they managed to carry out an impressive propaganda campaign, accusing us of terrorism and provocation. They even presented the public with the investigation report we signed on the tanker crash. Officially, we're deemed responsible for its deliberate destruction and for hostile acts — something that could hurt Duzek's standing in the future."
"It was a setup," Morana commented. "We shouldn't dwell on that episode any longer. What's done is done — we can't change or prove anything now. What matters is focusing on the war effort. That's what our allies expect of us. They're suffering too."
"I understand perfectly — the cause doesn't lie with us," the President replied. "Others know that as well, despite the accusations, which will soon be forgotten. Looking deeper, we see that Marva had no right to impose a collective embargo on metal exports or tolerate increased tariffs at the Vurmiran customs."
"Of course, it was all orchestrated by the business sector — especially those with branches on Marva. There was little we could do…" Morana sighed in resignation.
"Or maybe, just maybe, we could have done something…" the President replied, narrowing her eyes.
Many were entangled in this web of corruption. Transplanetary corporations had extensive dealings with various parties. Private negotiations were conducted — including with the regent, who handled external relations for the planet. The foreign minister of Marva was also involved. Yet in the end, it was Morana pulling the strings, orchestrating all negotiations, driven by a personal motive that transcended matters of resource allocation.
She had just sent an electronic dispatch to Minister Sherdan. At that point, this remained the only functional communication channel between the two planets. It could easily be classified as collusion, although even earlier they had coordinated joint actions with future beneficiaries in mind.
Port Winxfall. Several days had passed. The landing unit received a signal from the fleet.
"Commander, report! "
"Can you send reinforcements?.. We need fresh troops... "
"What do you mean?.. Is everything alright? "
"No!.. I mean, yes. Everything's perfectly fine. The enemy has been pushed beyond the perimeter of the occupied zone. We're ready to receive you! "
" Good... "
Switching off the comm, the officer let out a short chuckle. But when his eyes met Doren's, he quickly fell silent. She patted him on the shoulder.
"Everything alright? I hope they arrive on time... "
"They will! the officer nodded approvingly. The next stage of the invasion is the large nearby city – Crickslip. Once the first ships begin unloading equipment, the soldiers will start setting up camp. "
"But first, a few of your guys will head there. For now, there aren't many of us... "
" As you say, Doren! the commander replied and called over a few subordinates who were laughing nearby. "
Chapter 6
Kraven was taken into custody. Before he even had a chance to show his insurance policy, he was smashed in the face with the butt of a blaster. But once his interplanetary insurance number was entered into the system, he received an apology and was escorted to an evacuation vessel headed for Marva. Soon, he would find himself in a POW camp, where temporary accommodation would be offered according to the amount of his insurance coverage.
Despite the ongoing war, insurance services were still being provided by the Interplanetary Courier Service, which maintained a neutral stance toward all parties in the conflict.
Just over a month of travel, and he arrived at a spaceport, from where he was taken by cargo transport to the prisoner-of-war camp near the city of Enkenrilf.
There, given the class of his insurance claim, he was allowed to visit the city – but without carrying any weapons. A personal account was opened in his name to cover food and lodging in designated facilities.
Entering public buildings, government offices, or engaging in any form of reconnaissance was strictly forbidden. At specific times each day, he had to check in and pass through a control point.
Failure to do so would result in a search being declared, and if caught, his status and privileges could be severely downgraded. Additionally, the control point was where prisoner exchanges were announced, based on existing agreements – so there was no benefit in skipping check-ins.
After settling in for a few days, he decided to explore the city. The buildings were hardly different from those on Duzek, and their layout gave the disorienting feeling that he was still on his home planet.
There weren't many fundamental differences in the lifestyle here either, so the familiarity wasn't all that surprising.
His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp, whistling noise coming from the next block. Shouts and clamor rang out – someone was clearly being chased.
A woman darted out of an alley, and behind her came whistling streaks of greenish plasma, hissing through the air. One bolt burned a hole right through a roadside sign, at head level.
The woman disappeared through an open doorway. A second later, local security officers emerged from the same alley in pursuit.
"Where did she go?" one of the staff asked Kraven.
Without blinking, he pointed in the wrong direction, and the pursuers rushed off that way.
"Why didn't you turn me in?" the woman asked as she stepped out of the shadows. "There's a reward for that."
"Is there? Too bad I didn't know," he chuckled. "Just kidding. The enemy of my enemy is my friend."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm not from around here."
"Oh, a convict? I see. You must have red clearance if you're strolling around this place..."
"I destroyed several of your ships. When they exchange me back home, I'll be a hero."
"Well, good for you..." the woman replied with a sour smile. "My name's Guiana," she said, extending her hand.
"Kraven," he introduced himself, kissing her slender fingers, which she quickly pulled away with a dry grunt.
"Listen, I've got something important..." She pulled a small capsule from her pocket. Inside was a microfilm.
"I probably won't make it to the spaceport. There's a bounty on me. But you... you look like a brave guy. Long story short, these images must reach the scientists on Duzek!"
"What's on them?"
"A weapon. Top secret. Unprecedented power. They're still testing it, but it's a threat to everyone."
"And who are you?"
"I was a double agent. Worked for whoever paid more. I'm the one who tipped you off about the attack on Vurmire."
"That's when I got captured..."
"Right," she went on. "The ministry didn't pay me..."
"For what?" he cut her off.
"Let's just say... something. Doesn't matter." She briefly thought of the tanker but kept silent. "So I decided to use my contacts to steal some data. But what I found is a danger to all of us. You'll understand once you see it. For now, I have to go. Take it. Pass it along when you get home. Preferably to Morana Binks—I work for her."
"Only her?"
"Not only. I just really want balance in the world. That way, this weapon won't be used."
She vanished into an alley, and Kraven headed back to camp to study the contents of the microfilm.
Chapter 7
The planets Lirden and Zokra were outraged by Marva's aggressive actions. Indirectly, the occupation of Vurmire was affecting their foreign trade. They decided not to join the conflict directly but supported the Vurmireans with supplies and weapons.
With timely reinforcements from Duzek, the Vurmirean forces inflicted serious damage on Marva's fleet, forcing them to reconsider their occupation plans—especially since Marva's forces had already been stretched thin during the first wave of the assault.
The bombardment of Vurmiran settlements hidden beneath protective domes brought little success. Breaches in the artificial skies were quickly patched. Soon, self-defense squads, backed by interceptors, managed to push back the Marvan ships, forcing them out of the vicinity of the defended planet. It became clear that the operation to seize Vurmire would have to be abandoned. Refusing to accept defeat, the Marvans arranged for the delivery of their experimental biological weapon to the region. However, this was not its first deployment...
Planet Duzek, city of Кricksleep. Noon.
Loudspeakers blared warnings of an impending biological threat:
"Attention! Immediate evacuation! They're already here!"
People fled in panic, desperate to escape the city. Coming toward them were others—who reached out, embracing the fleeing civilians tightly, preventing escape… and kissed them.
Afterwards, the victims convulsed violently, but soon regained their composure—and no longer ran.
Some infected acted with greater subtlety, blending seamlessly into the fleeing crowd, quietly continuing their mission...
At that very moment on Marva, in his private quarters, Minister Sherdan was taking private lessons in fencing with traditional cold steel.
Despite the widespread use of portable blasters, archaic weapons like broadswords, rapiers, and sabers were still in use across various armies. The minister was currently mastering one of these with the help of a seasoned military instructor.
Their movements were fluid, resembling the flow of waves. This technique, when executed with skill, allowed one to deflect an enemy's blade using only their own body—without injury. At higher levels of mastery, even non-contact parrying was possible.
The training session was interrupted by a call from the Chief of Police.
"We've captured the agent. No materials were found on her. It's likely a hand-off has already occurred."
"Bring her directly to me," the minister ordered.
An hour later, a vehicle arrived at the gate, carrying the prisoner. Two soldiers in dark uniforms escorted the woman, seating her in a chair and cuffing her hands to the backrest.
"That's unnecessary," Sherdan said with feigned politeness. "But I suppose it won't interfere with our conversation."
"Ah, your trademark hospitality," she replied with irony. "Have you already transferred the payment for the tanker sabotage?"
The minister cast a meaningful glance at the guards, who shifted uncomfortably.
"Leave us. This conversation will take some time."
The officers exited, closing the door behind them.
"Let's get to the point." He placed the sword on the table. "I assume you either destroyed the materials—which would be irrational, given the effort—or…"
"You guessed it. I passed them on—to trustworthy hands," the prisoner replied, opting to save time.
"That's a lie. Your entire network is under surveillance. None of your contacts made a move."
"Then I suppose there's no one left to trust…" she said quietly, with a touch of sorrow.
"In this situation, I'm the only one you can trust. Which is why you're going to tell me everything. Why did you steal the classified materials?"
"And what do I gain by telling you?"
Sherdan glanced at the saber resting on the table and let the silence linger.
"Look," he finally said, pointing to a monitor. "I've transferred the payment I owed you for the last operation. I expect a long-term and productive partnership."
"And what if I want more? "
" You'll have enough. Plus, a guarantee of freedom. I'll issue an order granting you temporary permission to move freely across the entire planet."
"Excellent! But I saw that person for the first time today."
"Really? Then we'll create a description and put them on the wanted list."
After examining the microfilms through a pocket lens, Kraven saw the blueprints of a station composed of several blocks of directed elementary particle accelerators. The calculations assumed that their combined power would be sufficient to launch a powerful energy beam beyond the planet — toward any celestial body in this solar system. The activation of the weapon would determine the victor in the war initiated by Marva. That could not be allowed. Only balance could be permitted. The force of mutual deterrence had the potential to end the war entirely. The fear of mutual destruction was supposed to bring the conflicting parties to the negotiating table.
Kraven felt hopeful about his imminent return home. But for some reason, the ship's flight was canceled. Security officers approached him, presenting a portrait of a wanted man…
Duzek. Krikslip.
Yellowish smoke billowed from the shattered windows of the abandoned factory. A column of people emerged from the gates with uneven steps. Hanging from the sides of their necks were snake-like companions, now sated with flesh.
Some of these serpentine creatures were crawling toward the Winxfall port — the site of the invasion — where the camp had long since lost all contact.
The port facilities were also deserted. All Marva's soldiers had vanished, and a low hum echoed from the missile silos. If one listened closely, distinct phrases could be made out:
"Bring more food for your queen!... More nourishing forms!..."
Slippery worms, their bellies swollen with harvested greenish substance, were crawling in unison into the silos.
The streets were empty. In some alleyways, one could hear hurried footsteps and strange scuffling sounds. In various corners of the city, inside abandoned buildings, new inhabitants were boiling something. Into these same rooms, servants controlled by the parasites were herding freshly captured civilians.
"Reporting, President Rutanka!" the speaker declared.
"The enemy appears to be dormant. According to intelligence, there have been no further signs of their activity. It feels like they've completely evacuated the planet. Outbreaks of madness have been reported in surrounding towns and settlements. We managed to capture a few of the infected and extracted… this."
Rutanqa examined the photographs of strange, serpentine creatures.
"They are extremely cunning, elusive, and capable of excellent camouflage. We've identified individuals among the infected who aren't human at all, though they've assumed a human form. This sheds some light on how they manage to infiltrate us."
"Go on."
"The bad news is the scale of the epidemic. Few uninfected remain in the cities. Attempts to remove the parasites often result in the host's death. The carriers are hard to deal with. There are so many of them that using blasters to eliminate them is pointless. And our soldiers are also at risk of infection."
After a moment of thought, the President made her decision:
"We must quarantine the infected zones. Are there still chemical protection units nearby? We'll have to make sacrifices. We can't save everyone..."
Having fully satiated herself, Queen Doren finally chose to step into the open.
Though she possessed a human form, her size nearly matched the depth of the rocket shaft at Winksfold. After ravaging the port's engineering structures, she rose to her full height and headed toward the nearest city. She had the power to spread her satellite-servants limitlessly along her path.
In time, when she reached the capital, she intended to claim the entire continent as her own—then cross the planet's oceans and seize it all.
As specialized vehicles patrolled the city streets, soldiers from the chemical units halted in their tracks, raising their eyes skyward. A giant woman, striding over entire city blocks, was approaching the central square.
Such an enemy required something far more powerful—something far more dangerous.
Soon, a massive explosion of poisonous agents engulfed the entire city center.
The intolerable human casualties helped solve the primary problem. Chemical units were left to comb through every alleyway, ensuring all carriers of infection were eliminated—and, if necessary, to destroy any trace of alien life.
This same strategy was repeated across all worm-infested settlements. Vast territories were lost for a long time. The irreversible population losses and colossal damage to the region's economy would not be easily forgotten.
The inhabitants of Vurmire, as we recall, were also attacked by a similar predator. But the local Queen had a different temperament—she did not inherit the mindset of her fallen sister. After some thought, she decided not to rush. Silently, she brought the local population under her control.
Everyone was too preoccupied with the war, believing Vurmire had been completely freed from the invaders. The enemy was being pushed back toward distant cosmic frontiers. Everyone was so engrossed…
Six months later, not a single "clean" inhabitant remained on the planet.
All had fallen under the Queen's will, who now had no shortage of slaves or food. In her new domain, she even managed to prepare herself for bad news.
Marva had finally succeeded in developing the first beam-based energy weapon in human history. A strike of vengeance was to be dealt to ill-fated Vurmire.
Upon intercepting transmissions and accurately assessing the situation, the Queen hid in an abandoned combat module just in time and fled to one of the neutral, unwanted planets—to seek new fertile feeding grounds.
Sherdan was glaring at Guiana and Kraven from under his brows.
"Given how much you two know, it's best you spend some time in detention. In adjacent cells."
"And what about the promised freedom?" Guiana protested.
"That's for turning me in!" Kraven snapped. "For your information, keeping me here is a blatant violation of the Interplanetary Transport Charter!"
"Paragraph five of that same charter refers us to the Planetary Penal Code," the minister countered. "You were spying! Here's the proof." He spun a capsule containing a microfilm between his fingers. "...This breaches your insurance terms."
"How long are you planning to keep us here?" the agent asked.
"Not long, I assure you. Soon, you'll be free to go wherever you wish—as citizens of Marva."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that the weapon will be deployed in the near future. And once it is, there'll be nowhere left for you to run—except this planet."
"You're seriously going to wipe out millions of people in one strike?!" Kraven exclaimed in disbelief.
"The incident involving you proved that hiding such scientific secrets is ineffective, and it convinced our government to opt for a preemptive strike. Science doesn't stand still. If we've figured it out, so will our 'colleagues'. Fortunately, the information leak was eliminated in time. You'd better start thinking about your future..."
"And peaceful resolution never crossed your mind?"
"Alas! Peace is only possible when our sincere desire to destroy each other is physically restrained. That's not the case for us. Not now. So this... this is a necessary measure—and you are just as responsible for it as I am."
Chapter 8
Meanwhile, the scientists who had created the predator were also dissatisfied with its ineffective deployment. Their newly developed biological program employed an innovative approach: the creation of individually centralized carriers without cumbersome hierarchical control. Anyone infected by such a creature could become a monster themselves. The infected quickly transformed into beast-like beings. Moving on spontaneously grown limbs, they were capable of spreading the parasite to large numbers of people. The world could fall under the pressure of a pandemic a hundred times more devastating than the previous one...
All because of a loosely closed lab door...
A little over a year had passed since the beginning of the War. Marva's fleet had still not managed to launch a full-scale invasion of Duzek. Ironically, their most "successful" attempt was the first one — a failure caused by poorly coordinated tactics. The bioweapon had turned on Marva's own soldiers. Future assaults were no longer a surprise; the enemy could not be caught off guard anymore. The fleet orbiting Duzek suffered from resource shortages due to unreliable communication with Marva, further aggravated by military raids that destroyed supply ships. Marvan strategic thought had reached a dead end.
Minister Sherdan decided to contact his established connection on Duzek one final time:
" Greetings, Regent Morana."
"And to you, Minister Sherdan. I already sense this conversation will not end well."
"Why do you say that?"
"Elementary logic. Vurmire has suddenly vanished from our radars, and now there's nothing but meteorite debris raining where it used to be."
"You sense death too well, Morana."
" Perhaps it's not a sense… but part of my nature. Let me share a little secret: besides humans and the monsters you've created, there are beings in this universe who may look like you, but are governed by laws entirely beyond human comprehension."
"We are about to destroy Duzek using a beam-energy accelerator. And along with it, Lirden and Zokra. You will all share the fate of your ally Wurmire, whom you were so eager to save!" Sherdan's voice grew harsh. " I wanted to say all this as a farewell. None of you will survive. But you've piqued my curiosity with your revelation. Why not share more before your end?"
"Sherdan, the planets will not be destroyed by your new weapon, but rather by human greed and the insatiable hunger for profit at the expense of others. To truly understand what is happening, it is more important to ask who or what led you to make this decision. In my position, I signed secret deals, held negotiations behind the backs of both allies and enemies. It was the divine nature of those decisions that brought these worlds to their twilight. I will die along with them. But when I return, I will bring a new dawn to other worlds — only for them to fall once more into decline, until life itself fades away*."
"I'm not sure… And yet, I must disappoint you, Morana. We, the Marvans, will remain. Because the launch trigger is in our hands."
"You were right earlier when you noted how acutely I sense death. That is a manifestation of my higher nature. But let me assure you—your planet does not have much time left either. Farewell, Sherdan. You were an amusing partner."
"Farewell…"
The intervals between the three blasts were brief. The capacitors recharged within the hour. Three hostile planets were successively reduced to dust by the powerful beam of energy.
Victory, at last! Now Marva would become the sole monopolist in the market. Though, perhaps, the only deliveries would be to Klaagia—and what they'd be transporting there would no longer be goods.
It was time to release the prisoners. Sherdan decided to do it himself, to personally welcome the new citizens of the only habitable planet in the system. With a creak of the key, he flung open the prison doors.
"Has it already happened?" Craven asked.
"Understand, the decision wasn't easy for us. We've discussed this before."
"And yet it was far easier than for those who accepted death…"
Morana (also known as Mara or Marena) is a goddess of winter and death, associated with seasonal rituals of nature's dying and rebirth. Her name is phonetically linked with many ominous words—"plague" (mor), "delusion" (morok), "darkness" (mrak), and even "death" (smert).
Epilogue
The minister's proud train of thought was abruptly interrupted by the cries of the crowd coming from the street. A new enemy had been unleashed—this time taking the form of anyone you met. The infection spread through blood contact, through bites, or through the freshly sprouted claws of victims who had become hunters.
"There should be some carbines around here," said the former pilot to the former minister. "We need to find shelter."
"The closest one is the impulse lab!"
Grabbing a few blasters, the group—three of our familiar characters and several guards—rushed outside to a parked vehicle. Two police officers were immediately pounced upon by hunters and dragged into the darkness of a building. Moments later, they reemerged, now among the ranks of the infected.
"This is what they call a superior design? Genetic garbage!" the minister growled, aiming his carbine. Blowing off the head of one predator, he leapt into the driver's seat and flung open the doors for his companions.
Blasting their way through several city blocks teeming with frenzied creatures, the group finally made it to the superweapon laboratory. There they were met by Sarrek—the only surviving scientist and the very creator of the mutagen.
"There's no contact with the government," he said matter-of-factly. "From what I know, the epidemic has spread to every city on the planet. Containment is no longer an option."
"Is there an antidote?" Guiana asked.
"No. We halted before reaching that stage. Understand, the pandemic is beyond control now. Completing the antidote is too late… and impossible. That's a fact."
Shapeless shadows began darting across the lab walls. In the next instant, clawed limbs seized both Guiana and Sherdan, dragging them into separate adjoining rooms. Craven aimed his blaster first at one door, then the other, unsure where to shoot. Growls echoed from both chambers.
Sarrek hastily tapped commands into the control tablet.
"What are you doing?" Kraven yelled.
"Disabling the lockout and recharging the capacitors. We're doomed too, young man—just like the rest of the planet's population."
He reached for the master switch. Craven didn't resist the inevitable. A deafening roar erupted. One of the creatures suddenly loomed before him. These monsters were far too swift. Staring into its enraged eyes, Craven finally accepted his fate:
"We deserved this..."
All the planets of the solar system—except for Klaagia—managed to destroy one another in record time, all victims of a trade war fueled by greedy interplanetary corporations.
"Maybe things aren't as bad as they seem. The fighting is over, and we face no external threats anymore," the Queen mused. "But there's nowhere left to go from this junkyard of a planet. Maybe we were lucky to survive... But were we, really?"
~ THE END ~
