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 4

"Endure it," Kay told the girl. Her head was on his knees, while Henrietta was pulling off her clothes and applying bandages to her wounds. The sofa, they had placed the girl on was now covered in brown spots.

"That animal, alien animal…" Henrietta muttered. "Tore the child… don't be shy, little one. And don't be afraid. The Bulrathi has croaked, definitely croaked. Uncle Kay killed him, that's all."

"Auntie has been busy too," Kay noted, looking at the charred doorjamb. They'd dragged the body outside and dumped it into a compost pit, but the stench was still present.

"That's all right," Henrietta continued to coo. "The wounds are shallow, no matter that they look bad. We'll get them scabbed over and then start on dissolving the scars. Auntie Fiscalocci knows how to heal, you'll be a beauty, like before."

"Is that necessary?" Kay asked. "The baby talk? I've noticed you using different vocabulary before."

"Uncle Kay is rude," Henrietta stated. "Rude, even if nice. Our planet is a quiet one, we're frightened by people like that. We're peaceful here… old folks, kids…"

"Yeah, because the youth typically serves in the Imperial Forces," Kay pointed out. He gave the girl a wink, who was patiently enduring both the bandaging and the old woman's chattering. She winked in return, freely enough. She was coming back from the stun.

"And here's the last bandage…" Henrietta sighed. "Some medicinal herbs would be nice, but it won't do a damn thing with wounds like that."

Kay could only shake his head. He asked the girl, "Have you tried speaking?"

She licked her lips and whispered, "Rachelle."

"What?"

"Rachelle. That's my name."

"I'm Kay. Thanks for the 'leash'."

"Are you going to rescue Arthur?.. Ow!"

Henrietta jerked her hand back guiltily. She shook her head, "That rib is broken. Are you bearing it?"

"I am," Rachelle admitted. "Don't hurry with the doctors if you need us to play for time. I understand."

Kay and Fiscalocci exchanged glances.

"That's the kind of kids our women bore between raids," Henrietta said. "Because the Empire needed soldiers. And then they dove into firefights."

Those little bitches keep getting under the engines…

Kay Dutch shook his head, as if trying to shake off the memory. He said, "I have to go. And you have to call the doctors."

Henrietta hesitated, "Rachelle, my girl, can you handle fifteen minutes?"

"I can do an hour."

"Fifteen minutes is enough. Kay, you need a cup of coffee."

"Well, if I need to." Kay lowered the girl's head on the pillow and said, "I'll rescue Arthur. You can be sure of that."

"There's a woman there… with a silver face."

"I'll make some earrings out of it and send them to you."

"A ring would be better," the girl replied after a pause. "Mom won't let me pierce my ears. Plus… it's more fun this way. Are you going to come here again?"

"Of course. To lick my wounds. Or to recruit cutthroats for a small war."

"I'll be the first," Rachelle said without a trace of irony.


The coffee was in accordance with the local traditions: ice-cold cream, ice cubes, and very little sugar. Henrietta had added generous splashes of some strongly smelling liquor into the cups; Kay hadn't encountered such frivolities before, but he decided not to argue.

To tell the truth, he wouldn't have said no to a shot of cognac. But Fiscalocci wasn't offering, even though the bar in her room was fully stocked. The room would probably be more suitable for a terrorist mercenary than an old gardener.

"Remembering a difficult childbirth?" Kay nodded at the weapons hanging on the walls. There was even an Ultimatum there, and Dutch smiled at it, like at an old friend.

"No need to be glib." Henrietta set her cup aside. She stroked the black cat nestling on her lap. "I was also a midwife in the marines."

"So you've dealt both death and life?"

"Plenty of time for that. The war went on for seventy years, if you recall."

"I haven't been born yet then."

"Really? You hit the sigmoid so easily…"

"I had a good teacher."

"Why had?"

"He died. And I didn't cut off his ears either."

"Kay, Kay." Fiscalocci shook her head. "Such a naughty boy."

"Why did you help me?" Kay asked point blank.

"I was an ISS terror group colonel. My home is untouchable to Imperial Security. This is a privilege given to me by the Emperor himself, and no rejuvenated little bitch has a right to violate it."

Kay knew the name of the only female colonel in the brief but grim history of the terror units. But he preferred to keep that knowledge to himself. The woman, who had sent a hundred and fifty thousand aliens and a few hundred humans into the afterlife, had earned the right to live under whichever name she preferred.

Moreover, she wouldn't have lived long under her own name. When signing the Trinary Alliance, the Meklar and the Bulrathi had made special provisions for a list of humans with whom they were still at war. The old woman currently calling herself Fiscalocci was on that list.

What she had told him was a sign of great trust… or a serving of poison in his coffee.

"When someone hunts humans alongside aliens, I don't like it," the old woman continued imperturbably. "Besides, I've grown fond of you and the boy you call your son."

"I have to go," Kay said.

Lowering the cat to the floor, Henrietta nodded, "Yes, unfortunately… I wouldn't have minded chatting with you for a few more evenings, but… Kay, remember what I'm about to tell you…"

He listened to her for seven minutes. She gave him brief, extremely scrutinized characteristics of each raider who had entered the Fiscalocci residence. …Sticky, straightforward, can squeeze everything out of a standard situation, but she only wanted the boy, when he was taken… a latest modification Meklar, he would've ground you into dust, but his limbs move asynchronously in his marching transformation. An obvious sign of an incomplete melding of organic and mechanical parts; it's up to you to decide how this can be helpful… If you ignore physical strength, then she's more dangerous than the Meklar. She's got ambition…

"Do you want me to repeat?" Henrietta asked.

"I have perfect recall."

"Got it. As far as their direction, I'm certain they went southeast, you can figure out the distance yourself. Your Bumblebee is on the forget-me-not bed, grab it. Let's see what else, this old head of mine… Heavy weapons?"

Kay indicated the wall with his eyes.

"Everything is charged and in working condition. But they're all old models. Nostalgia."

"The Argument ended up not being particularly convincing," Kay noted, examining the weapons.

"An Excalibur would be nice. Too bad I don't have one… My armor won't help you either, you're too big in the shoulders. Don't take the Ultimatum! Even you'll wear yourself out with it!"

"I'll take the Chance," Kay decided, unclipping the mounting.

Henrietta nodded peaceably and said, "It's nice that not all young people have gone senile. Take it. It's a good Chance."

"Yes, it is," Kay agreed. "One in a hundred."