This is a fan translation of Line of Dreams (Линия грёз) by the Russian science fiction and fantasy author Sergei Lukyanenko. The novel can be considered a fan fiction of the original Master of Orion game.
Chapter 10
Whatever opinion Curtis held about what had happened, he never mentioned it again. Two doctors, young, judging by their appearance, but working far too well together, glued Kay's wound together and injected him with several ampoules of unfamiliar medications. A thin layer of aerosol completed the task.
"Will it last two days?" Kay inquired.
"Try two years," one of the doctors shrugged. The nonchalance of his tone only strengthened Kay's opinion that these "young men" had recently gone through aTan.
Kay was now resting in his room. Night was falling outside the window, the rhythm of life was tied to the time of day in the tower.
The Silicoid had appeared, as Kay was starting to nod off.
"When fighting organic lifeforms, Bulrathi sometimes used poisoned claws," it said in lieu of a greeting.
"He didn't have time to apply poison, and the docs gave me a shot of some antitoxin. But thanks anyway."
"May I?" The Silicoid floated over to the couch and, much to Kay's surprise, bent its entire body and sat next to him. Kay shifted away slightly, since there was heat emanating from the stone body. "Let us have a moment of silence for the departed life," the Silicoid said solemnly.
Kay remained quiet for two minutes. Then he asked, "Is it difficult for you to set up a screen?"
"It's easy at a close distance. Unfortunately, you are unable to get closer… It's done. We are safe from any monitoring."
"Even Arthur Curtis's?"
"Yes."
"You're that certain that I have words for you?"
"I am. Speak."
"The Bulrathi have found your weak spot, rocky. Those structures that generate your force field are unstable. A little ironic for a race obsessed with stability and the balance of forces, isn't it? A sound of a certain frequency and intensity resonates with them, and then even a weak push is enough to turn you into a motionless, helpless, although still-thinking rock."
"What is that sound?"
"I can't produce it. It needs Bulrathi vocal cords."
"You could be lying."
"I could be."
"Then why have you revealed this secret to me?"
"Humans haven't fought your people much. You live on planets where we don't go, if we can help it. The Human Empire has its interests, and the Silicoid Foundation has its own. They don't intersect. And if there is a war, we're not going to rush you with a bunch of castrated singers. A laser pistol will equalize our odds, while a fusion blaster will give me a much greater advantage. You have to be a strength-obsessed Bulrathi to look for an advantage in close combat with the Silicoids."
"This weighed us down, Kay," the Silicoid half-whispered and half-hissed. "We do not like unclear situations."
"That's what I figured. So what will you tell me, Silicoid?"
"Curtis van Curtis purchased a prototype aTan from the Psilons for two and a half thousand creds."
"Well, in those days, that price–"
"Was also incredibly small. Six months later, the Psilons encapsulated their region of space. That is all. I have said what I could. My debt to Curtis will continue for a long time."
The air shook when the protective screen vanished. The Silicoid soared into the air. The couch smelled a little like burnt leather.
"We have given the tribute of silence to the departed. As pure a silence as he deserved. But now, Kay, Arthur van Curtis awaits you. You need to get to work."
Upon entering Arthur's rooms, Kay remembered his orphanage. Unit G with its multi-tiered dormitory, the learning and recreational modules would have fit entirely in any one of Curtis Jr.'s rooms. In this oval hall, for example, draped in tapestries, painted with dark colors. Kay wasn't bothered by this; Altos had given him the only thing it could – life. He was simply remembering his childhood.
"Hi, Dad," Arthur said. He was sitting on the floor in the lotus position, his eyes closed and his hands on his knees.
"You're mistaken, it's me," Kay said, sitting down next to him.
"I know it's you. But we're supposed to get used to our cover story, right?"
"Right. Hey, sonny."
Arthur grimaced without opening his eyes, "I don't think you're calling me 'sonny'. More like 'kid'."
"No way."
"All right, let's think about this… You're tiresome and boring, very pleased with yourself, frugal with every cred, trying to raise me as a good merchant. You call me 'son'. Or by my name."
"All right, son. Does your name shorten in any way?"
"What?" Arthur opened an eye.
"When we come back to life, I have to show a lot of emotion. According to our cover story, this will be our first aTan. No matter how miserly I might be, I can't just say 'Arthur, my son'. How did your father call you, when you, well…"
"Son." Arthur smiled and closed his eyes again.
"Oh. Fine, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Where do we live?"
"Endoria. We have a home on the ocean coast…"
"…two stories, a vineyard, a flyer landing pad…"
"…you keep your ship in the state-owned port, it's farther than Endoria Plus but a lot cheaper…"
"…you went through the mandatory learning course at an average private school, after which I decided to tackle your education myself…"
"…my mother handles the finances of the Ovald and Son Company, never flies with us. Sometimes, you cheat on her, and you have a steady mistress on Rukh. I pretend I don't know that."
"That'll work." Kay nodded. "We know the official portion. Let's talk about what's not in the instructions."
"You're overcautious," Arthur noted with clear pleasure.
"Of course. I have to be. What's your favorite food?"
"Tasian jelly."
"A small-time merchant's son couldn't have possibly tasted it."
"Why not? We once transported a shipment of jelly from Tasia to Terra. For Curtis van Curtis himself. And ate the two percent that get written off as transportation losses."
"Okay. What don't you like to eat?"
"Cheese sandwiches."
"Why not?" Kay was puzzled.
"Because I really don't like them!"
Kay nodded. He rose, straightening his stiff legs with some difficulty. Arthur continued to sit, as if he had been turned to stone.
"A couple of non-cover questions. What is this room?"
"Meditation hall. Why do you want to know?"
"No reason. Do you have any brothers?"
"Not as far as I know."
"Have you ever left Terra?"
"That's a third question."
"Fine, we'll keep going."
Kay circled Arthur, "Are you afraid of the dark?"
"No."
"Heights?"
"No."
"Death?"
Arthur turned his head. Their eyes met.
"Of course not, Dad," the boy said in an icy voice.
"Are you afraid of me?"
"Only when you smoke trab."
"Never tried it."
"All merchants smoke trab. There's a bag in an ivory box behind the curtain. Take it."
There were many interesting things behind the curtain. The box with some trab, a dozen other boxes, an open but inactive communication console, an active guard robot, whose camera lenses kept a close eye on Kay. Kay placed the bag stuffed with the drug into his pocket and went back to Arthur.
"Do I smoke it often?"
"Only when business is bad. So rarely."
"Do I love lecturing?"
"Of course."
"Have I told you about the birds and the bees yet?"
Arthur smiled, "Yes, when I turned ten, you called me into your office… onto the bridge and said, 'Arthur, you're growing up and should know about certain aspects of adult lives. When a man and a woman love one another and want a little baby, they do different things…'"
"Do I really have to be such an idiot?" Kay asked.
"Yes. Always and in every respect. Don't you want me to behave naturally?"
"Fine. Now you."
"Do you shave?"
"Every day. Except for the days when I smoke trab."
"Do you snore?"
"Sometimes."
"Are you unkempt when you think no one's looking?"
"Of course."
Arthur tumbled backwards, then straightened out easily.
"You're all right, Kay. Want some juice? Or wine?"
"A glass of yellow Mrrshan."
"A glass of yellow Mrrshan and a glass of orange juice," Arthur repeated into the air. "Damn, it'd be nice to have more time. We'd work well together."
"We will. We don't have a choice. Let's keep going…"