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 7

Arthur got worse on the second day after their departure from Ursa. That morning, he had felt himself fine, talked with Tommy, and, asking for his ruepp, spent a long time peering inside the iridescent ball. Kay had to read all the data from the cyberdiagnostician to confirm that there wasn't going to be a miracle. The boy was dying, slowly, since more than half of his blood had been replaced with universal hemoliquos, but inexorably, as the experiments of the military medics had ruined not only his bone marrow but his kidneys as well.

At the very least, Kay had some confidence that they would be able to make it to Grail. He had allowed himself to get enough sleep and spent several calm hours on the bridge, alone with the gray darkness of hyperspace on the screens and the ship's even voice, who was finishing an old book.

Tommy burst onto the bridge, just as the ship, interrupting the reading, informed him, "We have problems, Kay. The boys—"

"Arthur's dying!" Tommy yelled, grabbing Dutch's hand. "Kay, he's really dying!"

"He can't die for real," Kay noted, shrugging off his hand. "Calm down."

But, in a way, the boy was right.

Maybe Andrey, who had been both a doctor and a killer in his long life, could have explained what was happening. But Kay didn't have his experience, while the cyberdiagnostician only presented the symptoms, unwilling to name their causes: a massive decay of red blood cells, as if the remains of Arthur's own blood had rebelled against their proximity with the polymer hemoliquos.

That green paleness of skin, which had shocked Kay so much back on the orbital base, was again present. Arthur wasn't moaning or crying, only gasping for air greedily, rising over the bed, as if reaching for something unseen that was slipping away.

"Hold on, Little King," Kay said, grabbing the boy's hand. "Don't you dare give up, you hear me?"

Anything the computer could recommend was already being done. A pump was wheezing, running Arthur's blood through a maze of filters, cleaning it from the products of decay. At the same time, more and more ampoules of hemoliquos were being injected into the boy, as there was no other choice but to replace the entire volume of blood. The concentration of oxygen in the room went up, as the ship obeyed the recommendations of the medical computer, and Kay started feeling a little dizzy.

"Do you hear me, Artie?"

The boy's lips moved, "Yeah."

"Hold on for one more day, kid. Hold on, I beg you…"

Another movement of the lips and a quiet whisper, "And then?"

"Then everything will be fine. I promise. Remember how you wanted a miracle? A sign that you're worthy of reaching it? It'll be there, this miracle. Just don't die. Artie!"

The boy opened his eyes.

"Don't sleep!"

"Is he going to die?" Tommy asked quietly behind him.

"Get out," Kay told him without turning. "Artie, do you understand what's happening? This isn't a consequence of the radiation, is it? What else can we do?"

Arthur could guess what was happening. The symbiotic bacteria, the invisible internal shield, which had protected him from the drugs, the poisons, and the doom virus, hadn't been killed by the radiation. It had hidden, deep in his tissues, in the strands of the capillaries, in his brain cells. After waiting, it was once again filling his blood vessels, obediently destroying foreign impurities.

And now his own blood was merely an impurity in the hemoliquos solution. The irony was that another dose of bactericidal irradiation would have helped Arthur. But Kay didn't have the necessary equipment, and Arthur didn't have the strength to explain everything.

"Don't sleep," Kay repeated. "You're alive for as long as you fight."

"Dutch, should I increase the speed?" the ship inquired.

"Is that possible?"

"Well, I'll burn out the drive, but I can get another five percent out of it," his ship assured him.

"Ten."

"Five, Kay. I'll do my best."

Kay nodded, not taking his eyes away from Arthur's face. It seemed as if he was now breathing easier, the air in the room was sweet and intoxicating, like strong wine. A day. Just a day or even less, if the ship managed to fulfil her rash promise.

"Artie, do you remember Rachelle?"

Yes, was a reply with just his eyes.

"She wanted me to say hi to you. A nice girl, isn't she? She even helped me… a little."

A weak smile.

"Hey, kid… Don't sleep. If you want, we can take a trip to Tauri, after you're done with your god. If van Curtis lets you go… but we can stop by on the way back."

Arthur shook his head, weakly, doubtfully.

"What, he won't? Or is your task to solemnly sacrifice yourself to the higher power? Keep in mind that I'm don't agree to sending all my work down the drain."

He spent all night talking to the boy; it was an arbitrary shipboard night, which didn't make it any shorter. Kay had his own relationship with that little death called sleep, which liked to turn into the real deal. Dutch kept either shaking the kid or cradling him in his arms, not letting him sleep. And he kept talking and talking and talking…

"You know, at your age, at just over sixteen, I was the biggest glutton on the planet. My body was just beginning to restructure itself, as had been planned by the geneticists, and I turned from a weakling into a musclehead. Whatever money I made, I turned into chocolate and that cheese that you don't like…

…The terror groups burned the city down in three hours. When the Alkari burst into their roost, all they found were ashes and burnt eggs. In the middle of the city was a road sign from Xendalla with "Gideon" written on it. Just so they knew why. The Skylord's clutch had been in the city. By their laws, he couldn't have another for forty years. Half of their officers, who had failed to prevent the penetration, had their wings clipped and thrown off a cliff. The Lord was raging and ruining his own military. That's the old woman for you. And here I was telling her about fish and plankton…

…Interesting armor, but I don't like power systems, but to melt walls with my own head…"

Arthur didn't fall asleep and didn't die. The next morning, Kay allowed him to nod off, turning on one of the most dissonant Mrrshan tunes, just in case. Ten hours, a mere ten hours to Grail… He came out of the bedroom and found Tommy sleeping in the chair, with a bitten apple in his hand. At his appearance, the boy woke up.

"He's holding on," Kay replied to his silent question. "Don't be upset that I sent you out. But death is like a judge, it likes two witnesses. You can call me superstitious."

"Can I go to him?" Tommy asked.

"Go. Talk to him, shake him. Help him if he wants something to eat; then again, his kidneys aren't working anymore."

The boy took a step towards the door.

"Hold on. Tommy, you've grown close so easily, and that's great. Who is Arthur to you?"

Tommy shrugged, "A brother, probably."

"Which brother?"

"Younger," Tommy said in all seriousness.

Entering the bridge, Kay thought that, if Arthur started another journey to Grail, he would never leave this role. A younger brother, a king in search of God…

He was still trying to understand who Arthur was to him. And he couldn't find an answer.