It was a time when the people rose up against an evil dictator and took back their planet from the clutches of tyranny. It was a time when people fought for freedom, for justice, and for the right to choose their own destiny. It was a time when the people were able to rise up against those who would oppress them and take back what had been stolen from them: their freedom!
Fla’mic, Ruler of Anarthia.
The dictator who ruled over this planet had long ago become corrupt and vicious—but he wouldn’t stop until he had conquered everything in sight and destroyed all who opposed him. He was known as Py-Wa Fla’mic, an ochre-skinned humanoid with dark hair whose hatred ran deep into his heart. He ruled over Anarthia with an iron fist; there were no dissenters in his empire, only those who supported his rule and wished to remain under his protection until their dying days on Anarthia, on Earth known as Titan, on of Saturn’s moons. Long time ago, they conquered one of Jupiter’s moons, Himalia, and called it Anarthia Minor. From there they attacked their neighbour, called Ruvalara by its own inhabitants, but known as Amalthea by the people of Earth.
It was a fierce battle. But there were those like the rebel leader Bawyn Wyslaker, who refused to be silent. Who refused to just let it happen. Resistance! Right from the start, the odds were slim for the little Ruvalara folk. But fueled by the courage of desperation, led by their president and the intrepid rebel leader Wyslaker, they not only managed to resist the invaders, but even pushed them back a little. But they knew that in doing so they had provoked the dictator’s wrath.
It was only a matter of time before Anarthia would strike back…
O almirante Manoel Vargas ergueu os olhos de sua mesa. Ao fazê-lo, notou o mostrador do relógio embutido na parede de seu escritório. Oh maldito! Ele quase esqueceu o compromisso. Mas todos os eventos o levaram tanto que ele quase o esqueceu completamente. Ele pulou da cadeira e saiu do escritório.
Lucy Barros, ASTROCOHORS CLUB Brasil
Vargas foi direto para a sala de briefing. Alguém estaria esperando por ele lá. Quando ele entrou na sala, ela já estava lá, uma mulher de quarenta e poucos anos com cabelos escuros e olhos escuros. “Tenente-comandante Luciana Barros?”, perguntou Vargas. “Isso mesmo, senhor”, respondeu a mulher. “Ótimo. Você notou tudo o que aconteceu?” “Só que o sistema solar está isolado do resto da galáxia ou algo assim”, disse Luciana. “Então vou informá-lo”, explicou o almirante. “O sistema solar está isolado do resto da galáxia, isso mesmo. Alguém reativou a antiga esfera de cristal que deveria proteger o sistema solar na Guerra Estelar.” “E protegido!”, objetou Barros. “Sim, claro. A esfera protegeu o sistema. Ela foi desligada, mas como seria muito complicado desmontar o aparelho, ela foi deixada onde estava. Alguém deve ter se aproveitado disso. Na época em que o “Quando a Esfera de Cristal foi ativada, um comboio estava a caminho de PORT MANTEAU através do fluxo do hiperespaço. Pelo menos uma das naves foi lançada de volta ao sistema solar. Não tivemos notícias da nave de sua antecessora, Comandante Beatriz del Almeida estava ligado. Esperamos que eles tenham passado. Veja, você chegou bem na hora. Você está no ASTROCOHORS CLUB há muito tempo?” “De fato, senhor”, respondeu Luciana. “Apesar de não haver um departamento do CLUB no Brasil por muito tempo. Mas os próprios ASTROCOHORS me contataram. Então eu me dei bem no mundo.” “Muito bem. Espero que você tenha mantido esse cosmopolitismo, porque precisaremos dele com urgência. Você notou o estado da terra.” “Eu tenho, senhor.” “É nosso trabalho colocar esse bando de bárbaros que estão prestes a destruir seu próprio planeta de volta ao caminho da ciência, longe da superstição e das crenças conspiratórias cada vez maiores. Alguém costumava chamar isso de ‘imunidade democrática de rebanho’.” Vargas limpou a garganta. “Sou seu superior e, na verdade, devo encorajá-lo”, disse ele. “Mas se você quer minha opinião honesta, podemos deixar isso de lado. Devemos reunir as naves da organização e encontrar uma maneira de escapar da esfera de cristal.” “E deixar a terra entregue ao seu destino?” Barros perguntou horrorizado. “Resposta simples: sim. Os terráqueos estragaram tudo sozinhos. Eles sabem disso há mais de cem anos, e o que eles fizeram? Nada! Por pura ganância por lucro. E porque agora ninguém mais quer mudar seu estilo de vida , são eleitos os políticos tagarelas, que prometem soluções simples e dizem que não precisa mudar nada. Os terráqueos não merecem mais nada!” “Senhor, com todo o respeito, eu também sou terráqueo!” “E em uma posição especial. Você pode escapar deste planeta com ASTROCOHORS.” “Não posso decepcionar meu povo!” “Seu povo escolheu esse destino sozinho. Você é mais razoável. Você merece mais.” “O quê? Como… como você ficou assim?” “Desde que estou trabalhando aqui, os terráqueos sempre me decepcionaram. Eles eram tão promissores. E agora? julgamentos de bruxas, apocalipse e tudo, que faz parte disso. Honestamente, eu invejo o Comandante Del Almeida. Eu deveria ter me encarregado de ser postado em outro lugar. E o bom é que você está aqui agora! Então você pode continuar aqui.” Ele foi até um terminal de computador instalado na parede e o ativou. “Computador”, falou em um pequeno microfone, “aqui é o almirante Vargas.” “Vargas, Manoel, identificador de voz positivo”, respondeu o computador. “Vou tirar uma folga ilimitada do meu trabalho imediatamente”, explicou Vargas. “Entrego todas as procurações necessárias à tenente-comandante Luciana Barros. Ela assume o cargo com efeito imediato.” “Transferência concluída”, informou o computador. “As permissões foram delegadas à tenente-comandante Luciana Barros. O almirante Manoel Vargas está oficialmente aposentado.” Vargas assentiu. “Divirta-se então,” ele disse sarcasticamente e se dirigiu para a porta. Lá ele se virou novamente. “A Terra”, disse ele com desdém, “é um planeta tosco e imundo. Não tenho a menor pena!” Com isso ele saiu, deixando uma Luciana Barros confusa que sabia que tinha muito trabalho a fazer.
Ostap Yefimov, the head of the ASTROCOHORS CLUB, looked concerned. He sat behind his desk and kept looking at the graphics that appeared on the computer monitor in front of him. There was no doubt. Of course it had happened. The enemy had really spoiled the organization’s day. The crystal sphere had been put into operation. Who knew those old devices were still in place, out in the Oort cloud? As a result, the solar system was now finally cut off from the rest of the galaxy. Everything would become more difficult now. As if it wasn’t difficult enough already.
Yefimov called for his assistant. Antonia Bagliarotto came to her superior’s office very quickly. “This is maybe an evening,” said Yefimov. “Did you hear it?” “Who hasn’t noticed?” the young woman replied. “So it’s true?” “We’re completely cut off – forever, if you will.” “And what now?” “I’ve already spoken to Admiral McCloud,” Yefimov explained. “We’ll keep going. Until we run out of ideas. Unfortunately, that will mean you have to work harder than we initially thought.” “What? How so?” “The Crystal Sphere is disrupting our communications. You will have to hand-curate the members of the club. At least until we have a new communications facility installed on VERIS BASTION.” “But… how long will that last?” “Unfortunately nobody can tell you that. I hope not for too long.” “Then I shall have to do it.” Yefimov nodded. “What irony. We wanted to celebrate today. It even had a motto: Tempora muntantur, nos et mutamur in ilis.“ “That… is Latin, isn’t it?” “Yes. Times are changing and we are changing with them. Seems we have to prove how well we can change. How well we adapt to changed conditions.” Antonia shrugged. “Then we will. What alternative is there?” “None, exactly.” Bagliarotto gazed into the distance, out the window of Yefimov’s office, at the vast landscape of Iceland. “I… feel like I’m standing on a beach holding the Book of Sanity while a storm comes over the sea.” “It’s a powerful image,” Yefimov confirmed. “Keep that for motivation. No one knows what will happen next. More trouble spots have opened up. Pestilence, wars and uprisings. We have to keep morale high and carry common sense.” “Yes, sir.”
URGENT ++++ URGENT ++++ POWER GENERATOR 2287 STOPPED WORKING ++++ EMERGENCY FOR ALL DEPARTMENTS OF ASTROCOHORS CLUB ++++ INVESTIGATION STARTED ++++
Professor Ostap Yefimov activated the screen. “What happened?” he wanted to know. “An explosion,” replied the officer who appeared on the screen. “It looks like the power generator has been malfunctioning for at least four days. Now it’s blown up.” “What about the security mechanisms? Didn’t they work?” “No. We suspect sabotage. All departments are dead at the moment. We have no idea when that will change. But we’re working on it.” “Work faster!” “Yes, sir!”
“Believe me, we at Cuyel are your friends!” Professor Yefimov didn’t move. It looked like he had become a statue of himself. The expression on his face was unreadable. But there was a rumbling behind his forehead. What was that stupid sentence he just had to hear? “Friends”? Cuyel, a multi-million dollar corporation, is anyone’s friend? The man who said this sentence sat across from Yefimov. A suit wearer. That was what Yefimov had called him in his mind. His name was… something… The professor hadn’t remembered it. Wasn’t important anyway. All the giant companies had people working, but somehow it was a faceless crowd to him. Nobody who stood out from the crowd. And certainly not the suit who had just said Cuyel was his friend. “Oh yeah?” Yefimov struggled to answer. “Then please explain to me again why our friends are so unfriendly?” “Yeah… uh… you know… the situation… the pandemic… the blockade… the armada out there in space… all that doesn’t make the transport routes easy,” the suit stuttered . “After all, we have to get our money’s worth. And after all, we’re not increasing the rent or anything. We’re just restricting the services a bit.” Yefimov gritted his teeth. “Well, firstly,” he snapped, “the limitation of the data line deprives us of vital information channels. And secondly, I read just about five minutes ago that your company reported 2.5 billion Solari in profits at the end of last year. I don’t believe that you have to starve. And yet you give us these restrictions?” “Well… the pandemic… the blockade… the armada…” “…out there in space,” Yefimov finished the half-hearted explanation of his counterpart. He realized there was no point. Not anyway, since this suit was just a small light in the company. “If that was all…” the professor began. “Oh uh yes!” said the suit. “Then you may go. I understand that our services will be drastically reduced.” The suit murmured some goodbye, then disappeared from the room. Almost like a ghost. Yefimov scratched his chin. And what now? He activated the terminal on his desk. “Computer, contact Commander Jung on BASE ATLANTIS.” Commander Jung’s image appeared on Yefimov’s screen shortly after. “What can I do for you, Professor?” she asked. “Calm my nerves if you can,” Yefimov said. “One of Cuyel’s pencil-wielders, one of those ink-pissers, was visiting here. And he brought a message.” “And it was so bad that you need to calm your nerves?” “Cuyel restricts our data transfers.” You could see how Natascha Jung slid forward in her seat. Her eyes widened. “What?” she blurted out. “You heard me right. Cuyel will throttle the data lines. That’s what we get from being dependent on these stupid ‘private partnerships’. At least they won’t increase the price for the services. But we have to reckon with the fact that the The speed of the data line is reduced by a third.” “But… that’s completely unacceptable! It makes our work immensely difficult!” “I know that,” said Yefimov. “But we have no alternative at the moment.” “What if we take matters into our own hands?” “What do you mean by that?” “It will certainly not be easy, but what if we set up a department. ASTROCOHORS SOLAR is still in the start-up phase anyway. What if we set up our own technical department for this?” Yefimov scratched his chin again. A sign that he was thinking hard. “That sounds tempting. But keep in mind that this means investing a lot of money in the first place. We have to take over Cuyel’s entire infrastructure or rebuild it.” “But then we would be independent.” “Hm. Can that be done?” “I have to ask around. But maybe I can find someone.” “Then give it a try. I have a bad feeling this won’t be the last time we’ll have to accept either restrictions or price increases.” “I’m afraid so too.” The professor thought back to the moment when he was offered the leadership of the ASTROCOHORS CLUB. That had been a beautiful moment. But slowly he felt like he was stuck in the mud and couldn’t make any progress. Maybe it was time to pull yourself out of the swamp by your own hair.
The taxi stopped in front of the building. Jarmo Dorak got out. So that was it … the new place. Although he had never been here before, Jarmo found this place incredibly familiar. He went in …
Palavras. Sempre apenas palavras. Palavras que passaram por sua cabeça. Beatriz del Almeida deitou-se no divã e pensou, como tantas vezes acontecia nos últimos anos. O quarto em que ela estava era escassamente mobiliado. Deve ser também, porque nada deve impedir as pessoas que aqui viveram de refletirem sobre si mesmas. Mas não foi que Beatrice foi forçada a ficar aqui. Não, ela estava aqui voluntariamente.
Ela queria escapar da montanha-russa de emoções a que havia sido exposta há algum tempo. Quando ficou particularmente ruim? Ela não sabia mais exatamente. Primeiro Jarmo Dorak desapareceu em busca do Templo da Harpa do Vento, depois houve uma intriga política em seu país e finalmente a pandemia. Embora … seu supervisor já a tivesse dispensado ao ver que ela não estava bem. A pandemia só piorou as coisas.
Agora ela estava deitada aqui na espreguiçadeira do quarto do mosteiro para o qual ela havia se retirado e estava pensando. Ela tentou associações de palavras. Poucos dias antes, ela recebeu a notícia de que Jarmo Dorak havia reaparecido. Isso agora era … seis? Seis anos desde que ele desapareceu? Foram seis anos? O relato do retorno de Jarmo foi muito breve, compreensivelmente. Afinal, ela ainda estava de licença e o relatório completo não se destinava a estranhos. Na verdade, ela não deveria ter ouvido falar do retorno de Jarmo. Mas um amigo disse isso a ela de qualquer maneira.
Então Jarmo havia encontrado o templo, afinal. E com ele o cubo negro do conhecimento.
Cubos.
Apenas mais uma palavra. Beatrice olhou para o teto. Estava quente na sala, embora a janela estivesse aberta e uma leve brisa entrasse. Solstício de verão no Brasil. Por estar tão quente, ela só usava camiseta e shorts. Suas pernas estavam esticadas, os dedos dos pés brincando com a ponta da cama. Ela sentiu a madeira fria na pele dos dedos dos pés. Ao mesmo tempo, ela percebeu que sua testa estava suando. Ela virou a cabeça e olhou para a janela. Ela podia ver o céu sem nuvens pela abertura redonda. Ela deveria ir à praia. Ir nadar. Mas não era mais tão fácil. Tudo mudou.
A janela redonda tinha uma borda de madeira. A parede foi pintada em torno dele. Com o céu azul, parecia uma moeda brilhante.
Moedas.
Outra palavra. Mas por alguma razão que ela não conseguia entender a si mesma, de repente ela se lembrou de uma música.
“Olhando para o céu eu sou capaz de ver / Tropeçando e levantando sempre com você …”
Ela se sentou. Então ela deixou suas pernas penderem para fora da cama. Ela sentiu o chão de pedra fria sob seus pés. Sim, se você caiu, não teve escolha a não ser se levantar novamente. E ela faria isso agora. Por que não antes? Ela estava aqui há mais de dois anos. Talvez ela precisasse de tempo. Não, ela deve ter tido tempo. Ela precisava encontrar novos pensamentos. Mas por que agora? Ela não sabia. E não importava. Ela iria lá agora. Para o corredor.
Corredor.
Outra palavra. Mas essa palavra tinha um significado especial. O caminho para uma nova fase da vida. Depois de todo esse tempo. Pelo corredor e depois pelo portão.
Portão.
Sim. A porta de entrada para a nova fase da vida. Ela foi até o espelho e olhou dentro. Ela sorriu porque viu determinação em seu próprio reflexo. Agora é tudo, Beatrice! ela disse para si mesma.
Mas o que ela faria primeiro depois de sair para o portão? Ela estava novamente ciente do calor que estava lá fora. Na época em que ela e Jarmo tinham essas aventuras, eles nadavam muito. Ela faria isso agora. Mas não perto do mar. Não na praia. Ela sabia que havia um pequeno rio próximo. Dificilmente haveria pessoas lá. E ela poderia desfrutar da água. É exatamente assim que ela faria! Todo o resto iria aparecer depois. Agora, a primeira coisa que ela queria fazer era sentir a água fria em sua pele.
Água.
Beatriz del Almeida desfruta de um mergulho na piscina.
What was it all about? Jarmo Dorak paced up and down his room again. They had been very kind. They had gradually given him access to the Internet and other information. But not more. He still couldn’t get in touch with the outside world. Yes, he no longer had a family, but there were sure to be friends who were worried about him. He had found it was six years since he disappeared. He had to catch up these six years first. And he couldn’t believe what had happened on earth. One of the biggest countries on the planet on the brink of a civil war that was forced by fanatical gun enthusiasts. The climate change. The pandemic. And it was precisely this moment that the curator had chosen to let Jarmo fall back into this reality from the “between space”.
The people at ASTROCOHORS had said they would need to consult. Then they would make a decision. Oh yes, he had completely forgotten that with the other catastrophes: The blockade of the solar system by an unknown force that called itself the HIGH HAND. The solar system was thus cut off from the rest of the galaxy. And as before, the earth was on its own. With all these crazy people … Jarmo’s mind whirled back and forth again. They wanted to make a decision. But about what? Okay about him. But what exactly should this decision concern? Would you finally let him go? Or should he stay here in the ATLANTIS base, locked up in this room? Just what he’s the last … He counted in his mind. August September October November December. Five months! It’s been five months. He had tried to distract himself like they had said. He had done research about six missed years and penned a few reports, just as he had done in the “between space.” “Computer!” He called into the room. The ATLANTIS base computer was specially configured for him. He couldn’t address the system directly. Everything he asked for was checked beforehand by a monitor program. That’s why he couldn’t address artificial intelligence by its real name – ARNOLD. The computer beeped in response. “Play me a song,” ordered Dorak. “The Song of the Language of Shakespeare …” The computer beeped again and shortly afterwards a strange song could be heard, parts of which Jarmo sang softly along.
Click here to display content from YouTube. Learn more in YouTube’s privacy policy.
“Hello, you bloody anglophonians, from London to L.A…. Among you are very few who speak a foreign language, but we do… The language of Shakespeare you can smoke in the pipe…”
He sat down again. Wasn’t it New Year’s Eve today? Would they at least wish him a happy new year? As far as he understood, the fireworks were off this year anyway. But then he heard a noise. Was there someone coming?
Captain Piquet registered the signal. A simple sound and picture on her screen. In addition there was a writing: “HEXAPHYRON”. She nodded. She knew it had happened and hopefully everything had gone well. It had been planned for a long time. The battle for the sensible people of the earth was not yet lost. It had just really started. And that happened with this action, this operation. HEXAPHYRON …
The captain of the BOURGOGNE and Professor Yefimov stood in one of the conference rooms of the headquarters of ASTROCOHORS CLUB. Both wore the prescribed mouth and nose protection and kept their distance. The mood was a bit depressed. “We have good prospects, I would like to say,” said Yefimov. “But we still have a lot of work to do. What happened to the HIGH HAND 13th Fleet?” “They have retreated to the edge of the solar system,” replied Captain Haddock. “So we are still cut off from the galaxy. I will restructure my team and then we will look for ways to break the blockade.” Yefimov nodded. “I’m sorry to have to decimate your crew, but we also need staff here at headquarters,” he said. “It’s a sad thing,” said Haddock. “But it was only a matter of time. You see, many of the people who work on board the BOURGOGNE were already here under my predecessor. We were actually just waiting for something to change. That seems to have happened now. “ “I hope you don’t hold it against me.” “No, as I said, it was a matter of time. And with special challenges awaiting us, renewal is perhaps more important than ever for the ship’s crews too.” Haddock looked directly at Yefimov. “Take good care of my people,” he said then. “They are good people. They do an excellent job.” “Definitely,” Yefimov confirmed. He raised his hand. “Since we still have to keep our distance due to the pandemic, I do not shake hands,” he added. “But rest assured, it would have been a particularly warm handshake.” “Thank you,” said Haddock. “I appreciate that. Good-bye, maybe we’ll see each other again.” “Good luck for the future.” With that, Haddock left the room. He went to his shuttle that would take him back to the BOURGOGNE. Yefimov stood alone for a while and thought. Then he set to work on the tasks that awaited him and his people.
“Professor! Professor!” Fulmen sounded excited. Not excited about the situation, but because something else, unpleasant, had happened. Professor Yefimov averted his eyes from the screen and turned to his young associate. “What’s going on? Don’t we even have a small ceremony?” “Scurra … his henchmen … it’s not over yet!” Yefimov sighed. That was expectable. Of course, Scurra’s supporters would still cause problems. But actually these problems were now outside the scope of ASTROCOHORS CLUB. “What happened?” The professor wanted to know. “Scurra must …” Fulmen Grancolline stuttered. “He must … he must have owned one of the icosahedra!” “WHAT?” Yefimov turned around. He saw that Fulmen was holding a pad in his hand. He suspected there was a note on it, so he snatched it from his hand. “One of the twenty icosahedra? The artifacts that …” He started to read. Fulmen said: “It’s about Oberon and the battle zone. He had the icosahedron of the Cita Nalur activated. Then the battle zone of Oberon …” “… moved to Earth, of course it did …” Yefimov muttered. “Scurra doesn’t care now. He lost anyway, so he can set the worlds on fire too.” “So we now have a new island in the Pacific,” added Grancolline. “Her name is Cita Nalur and it includes areas A, H and D, as well as PU.” “Can we get to this island?” “Not according to the reports. We know that the icosahedra have great power. Cita Nalur is surrounded by a kind of force field.” “And inside there live people who will henceforth be condemned to wage a kind of eternal fight against the enemy.” “The enemy?” Asked Fulmen. “What kind of opponent?” “It has to do with the history of the icosahedron,” explained Yefimov. “The icosahedron have a personality of their own. If you activate an icosahedron, you release this personality. The way I see it, there are several different zones on this new island.” “Cita Nalur!” “Cita Nalur, exactly. The zones are separated from each other and exist side by side. And something is happening there.” “Is there anything we can do, Professor?” “We can only try to get to Cita Nalur. But I can’t tell you how to do that. Do we know where Scurra got the icosahedron from?” “No, unfortunately not.” “Then maybe that’s the first thing we should find out.”
This is not how Professor Yefimov imagined the new beginning. And for those trapped in Cita Nalur, something new started too.
Actually there are no ages. An “era” is always something someone has come up with. The universe didn’t really care what any individuals thought of the passage of time, especially when those individuals lived on a small, blue-green planet in third orbit around a yellow sun. Moreover, what these individuals called the “era” was no more than the blink of an eye to the universe. It also made no difference whether there were revolutions on this planet, people were killed or oppressed, or whether these people destroyed their own living space in an insane manner. The universe didn’t care. In fact, the universe didn’t give a shit. A scienctist named Murelov once said it and since then this quote was known as “the law of Murelov”.
But the people who inhabited the small, blue-green planet cared about it. At least most of them. Admiral McCloud stood in front of the image of the earth in his office. He liked it. It was a picture taken by NASA to show the beauty of the planet. In the dark hours he stood in front of the picture and looked at it. Because in the dark hours he felt how he didn’t care. The whole lousy filthy planet. And all of damn humanity. Do you want dictatorships? Then erect it and leave me alone! Do you want to destroy the environment out of greed? You don’t care about the climate crisis because climate protection stands in the way of your profit? Then please, go to hell with your fucking planet! Yes, McCloud just wanted to give up in those dark hours. Doesn’t make sense anymore. Doesn’t do anything.
Then he looked at the picture of the small, blue-green planet and thought of all the people who stood up for others. Who oppose the criminals, the gullies, the corrupt and the depraved. Just at the moment when McCloud was standing in front of this picture, children and young people around the world were protesting for better environmental protection. There were people who stood up against dictatorships, even if it meant being arrested, beaten or even killed. If others did that and had little chance of anything changing in the near future, why should he give up?
Yes, that day an era came to an end. The end had been particularly dark again, for the earth and for other planets. But with the death of the night, the day came. And maybe the new sunrise would light the way to a better future. The chances weren’t bad, at least better than in recent years. And McCloud remembered that Seneca saying: Per aspera ad astra. Through trouble to the stars. Didn’t Yefimov say the phrase in a conversation today? Yes, and he got it from his new colleague, Kaluwa Effiong. What a fitting sentence.
Now they were all together at last. At least virtually. Ostap Yefimov was in the headquarters of ASTROCOHORS CLUB, the others all spread across the Earth. But right now, because of the pandemic, it wasn’t a good idea to have too many people in one room anyway. They could all be seen on the big screen in Yefimov’s room. And Yefimov had the satisfaction of addressing them all by name. “Fulmen Grancolline, Zomm Arrghl, Dozon Rasun, Soraya Mahdar, Nat Anders, Victor Araujo Sousa and last but not least Kaluwa Effiong.” Yes, they were all there. “You all have already been informed,” Yefimov continued. “The Admiralty has decided to use the moment to redesign ASTROCOHORS CLUB. I particularly like the ideas that are to be implemented. ASTROCOHORS CLUB will be responsible for the whole Earth and we are the group that the Earthlings to teach the diversity of life. “ “It is a shame,” said Mahdar, “that the Earthlings apparently cannot do this by themselves.” “That is not entirely correct,” contradicted Zomm Arrghl, “there are very many who can very well. But in recent years a certain hostility towards science has gained the upper hand. We have to fight back now. Just think about this terrible thing with the BREXIT. How can you lie to people about the consequences of something that is so grave? “ “Something like that is alien to your species, Zomm,” interjected Fulmen. “That’s exactly why we should work on it.” “BREXIT is a good keyword,” said Yefimov. “We are going to introduce another department, and it may not have been the last department. But strictly speaking, it is not a department. It is more a collection. We are bringing European employees together under one banner. However, they mainly stay in their respective departments Departments. I think we will introduce such a concept for other regions as well. “ “Do you think we should put some experts in a regional collection as well as in the departments?” Asked Kaluwa. “Exactly that,” Yefimov replied. “I have something similar in mind for your African department, but that is going too far. We have enough work to do to bring everything together so far. We are literally at the end of an age and a new one begins. Let’s hope we get out of the darkness come to light.” “Per Aspera Ad Astre,” said Kaluwa. “Yes,” said Yefimov. “That’s a good motto for what we want to start. And then we’ll start right away. Because time is short. As for the European collection, I took the liberty of inviting another expert to join us. At the moment we are talking, Stance Necoora is on his way to Strasbourg to secure our contacts with European politics. And then we have to see what happens next on earth, also with regard to the USA.”
Admiral McCloud wondered if he had ever seen Professor Ostap Yefimov so excited. He thought it was a shame that he couldn’t face the professor right now. But McCloud was in the ASTROCOHORS base ATLANTIS and Yefimov was in the ASTROCOHORS CLUB headquarters. “If I understand you correctly, Admiral,” said Yefimov, “then I should, as it were, lead ASTROCOHORS CLUB into a new era.” “Yes,” replied McCloud. “No more and no less. We are at a crossroads. There is a lot more to do, we can only achieve that together. A lot has been destroyed by despots like Scurra or Pupepa and the eternal taunts of the HIGH HAND. The task of In the future, ASTROCOHORS CLUB will consist of bringing the size and diversity of the universe closer to these primitive Terrans and thus preventing them from killing each other or destroying the planet. All departments of the world can be found under one roof. I’ll assign Sousa and Mahdar to you. We also have to introduce two new departments. “ “Which two departments will that be?” “First of all, Africa. And then we need a European department to sort things out more easily. Actually, it’s less of a department for Europe, more of a sorting, but maybe it will turn into more.” “Do you have any idea who could take over the Africa department?” “Oh yeah,” McCloud confirmed. “And I’ll get in touch with her in a moment. In the meantime, I would like to ask you to look through the documents. Everything is there again in great detail, also with regard to Africa and Europe.” “I will do that,” Yefimov promised. “And I will now contact the expert for Africa.”
“Um, sir, one more question!” “Yes?” “What should the new department for Africa be called?” “We thought about using one of the older names for the continent, KEMET. According to our linguists, this was once the name for the soil in Africa and was adopted as the country name. ‘Home soil’, so to speak.”
Cookies are used on our website to make your use as comfortable as possible. These so-called essential cookies are stored in your browser because they are essential for the basic functions of the website.
We also use third-party cookies for online advertising on our sites. These cookies are only stored in your browser with your consent. By clicking here you agree to the use of these additional cookies or you can reject them:
This website uses cookies to improve your experience while you navigate through the website. Out of these, the cookies that are categorized as necessary are stored on your browser as they are essential for the working of basic functionalities of the website. We also use third-party cookies that help us analyze and understand how you use this website. These cookies will be stored in your browser only with your consent. You also have the option to opt-out of these cookies. But opting out of some of these cookies may affect your browsing experience.
Necessary cookies are absolutely essential for the website to function properly. These cookies ensure basic functionalities and security features of the website, anonymously.
Cookie
Duration
Description
cookielawinfo-checkbox-analytics
11 months
This cookie is set by GDPR Cookie Consent plugin. The cookie is used to store the user consent for the cookies in the category "Analytics".
cookielawinfo-checkbox-functional
11 months
The cookie is set by GDPR cookie consent to record the user consent for the cookies in the category "Functional".
cookielawinfo-checkbox-necessary
11 months
This cookie is set by GDPR Cookie Consent plugin. The cookies is used to store the user consent for the cookies in the category "Necessary".
cookielawinfo-checkbox-others
11 months
This cookie is set by GDPR Cookie Consent plugin. The cookie is used to store the user consent for the cookies in the category "Other.
cookielawinfo-checkbox-performance
11 months
This cookie is set by GDPR Cookie Consent plugin. The cookie is used to store the user consent for the cookies in the category "Performance".
viewed_cookie_policy
11 months
The cookie is set by the GDPR Cookie Consent plugin and is used to store whether or not user has consented to the use of cookies. It does not store any personal data.
Functional cookies help to perform certain functionalities like sharing the content of the website on social media platforms, collect feedbacks, and other third-party features.
Performance cookies are used to understand and analyze the key performance indexes of the website which helps in delivering a better user experience for the visitors.
Analytical cookies are used to understand how visitors interact with the website. These cookies help provide information on metrics the number of visitors, bounce rate, traffic source, etc.
Advertisement cookies are used to provide visitors with relevant ads and marketing campaigns. These cookies track visitors across websites and collect information to provide customized ads.
