This is a fan translation of Emperors of Illusions (Императоры иллюзий) by the Russian science fiction and fantasy author Sergei Lukyanenko. The novel is a sequel to Lukyanenko's Line of Dreams (Линия грёз) novel and can be considered a fan fiction of the original Master of Orion game.

Chapter 9

His dream was a nightmare, but Kay forgot all about it as soon as the door squeaked, causing him to wake up. Before the entered Tommy even had a chance to turn on the light, the targeting beam had already touched his chest with its gentle orange spot.

They spent the next second staring at one another: Dutch in his bed, and Tommy at the threshold. Then Kay put the blaster back under the pillow. It wasn't a Hornet, which wouldn't let even a thick-skinned Bulrathi fall asleep, but an ordinary Bumblebee, the favored weapon of a professional.

"Have you decided to become a sleepwalker or saw a Psilon in a dream?" Dutch asked, fuming. "I don't miss the same person twice…"

"You were screaming."

"What?"

"Screaming. You were the one seeing something in your sleep," Tommy shrugged and turned to leave.

"Hold on," Kay sat up. Adrenalin was still boiling in his blood, but he was starting to remember. "What exactly was I screaming?"

Tommy hesitated. Then, as if mocking Kay's voice, he said, "Don't look at me… Don't look!"

Kay remembered.

"I'm going to go."

Dutch glanced at the clock. It was four, according to the standard cycle. Jienakh had short days and nights… it was light out behind the thick curtains.

"Sit, Tommy."

The boy sat on the bed. The bedroom was small, just like everything else in this cheap apartment. Dutch dug around in his nightstand. He grabbed a bottle of brandy and took a gulp. Then he asked, "Do you want some?"

"But I'm not old enough," Tommy replied with a charming smile.

"Quit clowning around."

"No. I don't want any."

Kay placed the bottle on the floor but didn't close it.

"Are you going back to sleep?"

"Why?"

"I want to tell you something. You won't be able to sleep after that."

"Go ahead." Tommy yawned. "I'm wide awake after your yelling."

Dutch took another gulp. He seemed more excited than downcast.

"It wasn't me who was screaming."

"Really?"

"I mean back then. On Haaran."

"Where they called you Measles?"

"Exactly. Do you know why?"

"I looked it up in the medical reference," there was curiosity in Tommy's voice. "Nothing special… but there was a pandemic thirty-six years ago. Many kids died."

Their eyes met, and Dutch nodded.

"Good job. But we had a week then… two at most. And a secret order to leave no survivors. The colony had to be exterminated to the last, so that no other world in the Empire dared to defect to the aliens. To the last, understand? A week's time, and no heavy weapons."

He reached for the bottle but stopped his hand.

"A dozen bombers would've done it in a day. But then… twenty thousand volunteers sent to a planet with a population of half a million. True, we had heavy tanks… they were the ones that plowed over their army. It was just as hastily assembled as ours. All the adult men of Haaran… with shitty weapons in their hands. That left four hundred thousand. Women and children."

Tommy twitched his shoulders.

"That son of a bitch… that renowned henchman of Lemak himself… Colonel Štaf…" Dutch voice quivered. "He drove all the civilians into camps… improvised ones. A stadium full of women and babies, an empty lot surrounded by an electrified fence and full of children… They went like lambs to the slaughter. They were awaiting sorting and exile. He gathered them together, Tommy! Do you understand? It would've been easier to do it house-by-house… one at a time. But some of them would've figured it out and escaped. Only one continent was inhabited, a naked steppe, can't hide there… but some of them would've fled.

"Drink," the boy said quietly.

"We delayed for three days. Waited for the warships… the terror groups with their gasses and viruses, or just bombers. Then Štaf gathered the officers… I had the rank of an Acting Lieutenant. He said that we'd have to do it ourselves."

"Drink, Dutch."

Kay took a gulp.

"Many refused. Most did. Flatly. They were loaded into transports and sent back. All of them made it. Then they were given medals… that fucking Blade of Fire, Second Order. It was all honest. Less than half remained. Those who knew that it had to be done. Nine thousand. We did some calculations: it was forty-three targets per person. And four tenths."

He chuckled in an awkward, drunken laugh.

"Everyone was prepared to kill youngsters of your age. Strangely enough, women too. It was a lot more difficult with children. I was the first to say that I could. I also added that the measles virus had killed ten times more kids than we'd be able to the previous year. And so I got my… nickname. There were no names in the papers, thank the censors. But the words of the lieutenant 'who became measles' were in the articles for a while. I have no idea how the Alkari found out the name and why he remembered it."

"Was it necessary, Kay? To kill everyone?"

"From a strategic viewpoint, not anymore. We had already ruined the planet's infrastructure and grinded all the able-bodied men with armor. Those crazed women and screaming children wouldn't have helped the Alkari in any way. As for the political viewpoint… I don't know. Do you want to keep listening?"

Tommy hesitated just a little, "I do… I think."

"There were nine soldiers in my group. We got a school, where five hundred students were being held. Ages six to sixteen. They'd spent three days in the gym, slept where they stood, ate who knows what… an unending line into the only bathroom, which stunk up the whole gym. The first day, as their guards said, they kept singing songs, school anthems… then they stopped. We came in, and I told them that they were being sent home. They were to come out one at a time, sign their names in the logbook, and remember the Emperor's wrath until the end of their days. They immediately came alive and started shouting. I was standing in the schoolyard with an Old Bob laser rifle… I've hated that model ever since. It was a gloomy evening. Kids were coming out, and I was shooting them from behind. No sound, no blood… just the hair on the back of their heads smoking. Two other soldiers were dragging the bodies into an empty lot, out of sight. Thirty seconds later, another would come out. I shot three… Then I asked to be replaced… and those fellas, those former farmers, who believed in their duty but had treated it as their own execution, suddenly agreed with ease. I spent five minutes throwing up in the teachers' lounge, then washed up and went to drag the bodies away. Do you know what I saw? Those two idiots, who had carried the first kid away as if he was their own sleeping son, were now busy spelling out 'GRAY' with the bodies on the concrete. I punched them a few times, figuring they'd taken some drugs out of fright. It seemed to help. Then I went into the gym, where there were six more privates. I felt really horrible there. No, they weren't beating up the kids, or frightening them, or raping the older girls. It's just that those martyred volunteers were suddenly full of happy enthusiasm. 'Little boy, let the girl go first! Be polite!', 'Kid, can you get home by yourself? Really? Fine, go…' All of them seemed stoned, all of them. A fat red-haired guy, who'd been crying during the flight, saying that he had two kids of his own, that he was a college student and shouldn't have agreed, that he'd spent half the day stuck on the toilet because of the stress. All of them were drunk. From the blood, the death, the power. The fact that it was power over kids drove them crazy even more. It was then that I realized that the feeling was all the sweeter because of the defenseless victims. I realized it by watching them. After all, I'd started killing when I was still snot-nosed myself…"

"Kay, don't," Tommy touched his shoulder. "Stop telling me. It's hurting you."

Dutch spent a long time staring at the hand in surprise. Then he shook his head.

"I'll finish. Once again, I went to the exit… grabbed the rifle and started waiting. A boy about eight years of age came out… and turned around. As if he'd sensed something. He looked at me and said, 'Don't!'"

"So you shouted 'Don't look' at him?"

"I wanted to… But the guy, a college student, who'd led him down the hallway, grabbed him by the shoulders and shouted, 'Shoot the little bastard!'"

"And you…"

"I fired," Kay said dryly.

"You really are a piece of shit."

"That's pretty much what they told me at the HQ. But it was about something else, after I reported that, after completing their mission, the entire group had been killed in an ambush. There was no time to check it out. They didn't believe me but weren't about to find out the truth."

"Was there an ambush?"

"There was one ambusher. Now go, let me deal with this bottle in peace."

Tommy shrugged and left the room.