This is a fan translation of Shadows of Dreams (Тени снов) by the Russian science fiction and fantasy author Sergei Lukyanenko. The novella takes place in the same setting as Lukyanenko's Line of Dreams (Линия грёз) and Emperors of Illusions (Императоры иллюзий) novels and can be considered a fan fiction of the original Master of Orion game.
Note: Footnotes can be found at the end of the chapter.
Chapter 1
Couriers and Athletes
When I came out of the forest late at night―tired, hungry, angry, hating the whole world, including myself―I ran straight into an Abori.
The native was sitting on a concrete slab, which was jutting out of the ground. This part of the spaceport had been abandoned long ago, the carefully laid down slabs had crumbled, and the cone-grass was pushing them out one by one. Behind me, the concrete had already turned into rotting crumbs that no longer even looked manmade. Ahead, closer to the town, the slabs were still holding. At first, they lay in waves, as the alien ground was relentlessly rejecting them, and then they attained their former firmness.
The Abori glanced at me, his bulging eyes pulsed, focusing. He pulled up his long thin legs, as if afraid that I would pull him off the slab.
"Peace and love," I grunted, walking around the slab with the ruffled Abori. This native was old, the brown color of his false skin giving away his advanced age. Such old-timers often had fits of coughing, and I really didn't want to wipe acrid slime off my overalls.
"Peace and love," the Abori repeated in a slurred manner. I stopped. The natives could only mimic speech, but the very fact of a reply indicated a wish to communicate.
"Okay, friend, I'm listening," I said, stopping a safe distance away.
The Abori wrinkled its flattened nose and drawled nasally, "Okay… friend…"
I waited. One had to be indulgent of a creature that spoke with its nose simply as a way to get your attention.
The Abori unhooked one hand from the slab and stuck it into the folds of its false skin. I waited patiently for the native to dig through his insides. Maybe his liver was itchy…
The Abori produced a squishing sound and pulled out a tiny orange ball. He handed it to me, rolling it on his hand.
The pearl was a good one!
No, not the Dawn of the Empire or the Plasma Flower. But still a full-sized category one pearl, which equated to five years of comfortable life for me.
Or a ticket to Terra.
I took a step toward the Abori, who immediately hid the pearl back in his body.
"Water?" I asked dully.
"Water," the Abori agreed.
They, the planet's natives, wanted nothing from us. Absolutely nothing. Weapons, equipment, clothing, food ― all of that was worthless in their eyes.
Just water. Not a lot of clean water, about a liter. This price satisfied everyone, and even little kids carried liter flasks on their belt. Everyone knew what to do if an Abori handed them a pearl.
I unstrapped my flask and showed it to the Abori. The flask was light, very light.
"I got lost," I said. "Understand? Got lost in the sands. I have no water."
The Abori sighed and climbed down the slab.
"Wait!" I shouted. "Hold on, just wait! I'll bring some! Just wait an hour! Half an hour!"
I thought that I'd be able to run to the nearest guard post in half an hour. There I'd be able to fill up the flask and take a flyer, the guys would let me, and get back here in a few minutes.
The Abori was leaving.
"Bastard!" I shouted after him.
As usual, sensing a threat, even a weak one, the Abori stopped. He looked at me, and I suddenly felt an icy wind in my head. The shriveled ball of my brains shook in my empty skull.
The threat was frighteningly real. And fully justifiable. The Abori could desiccate my brain in a matter of seconds.
Then again, he knew that an insult was a far cry from a shot in the back. He turned around and resumed his walk to the forest. I just stood there, finally realizing that I was squeezing my head with my hands, either trying to fruitlessly protect myself from the illusion or trying to squeeze my skull to my brain's new size.
That… bastard…
The Abori was leaving. I opened the flask and slowly poured the rest of the water onto the ground. Not enough to interest the native. Funny thing was, it wasn't worth anything. There was plenty of water on the planet, two artesian wells fully supplied the town. There were also rivers, lakes, and swamps.
It was just that, sometimes, the Abori decided to exchange a liter of water for an orange pearl grown inside their bodies.
Those Abori had a good thing going. No one would mess with a being possessing telepathy and the ability to emit microwaves. Besides, it was impossible to forcibly take a hidden pearl, as it would dissolve in a matter of seconds in a dead body. And the other Abori would track down the killer and fry them alive. And if they left the planet, they'd kill the person closest to him. It was unclear how they selected the closest person. But they were never wrong. It happened to the son of Dick Russell, who had stolen the Plasma Flower from an Abori. No one knew why he'd killed the native instead of giving him the flask; it wasn't as if he hadn't had the water. But he'd paid for the pearl with a shot, fled the planet, and that very night, the Abori showed up in the town. They simply burned their way through the barrier; no one bothered to rebuild the high-voltage fence after that. They entered the town, and no one dared trying to stop them. Everyone had thought that they would grab Russell's wife, but they went for his son. Only the priest tried to do something. He ran around with his cross and yelled. But the natives just kept repeating, "Don't do this… innocent… God's wrath…" and dragged the boy to the square.
That was where they'd burned him alive. Instantly, without undue cruelty. In a moment, what had been a person became a dried-out husk.
Several people went for their weapons but quickly realized that the Abori were prepared to do the same to them.
Then two dozen Abori walked up to the humans and handed them orange pearls. No, not as compensation. They were offering a trade. They were reminding them how it was supposed to go.
And next to the mummy of a seventeen-year-old kid, who'd had the misfortune of being Russell's son, people were wordlessly unstrapping their flasks and handing them to the Abori…
…I watched the final drops of water fall from the flask. Then I dropped it and hit it with my heel. The plastic crumpled but held. I trampled the flask until my heels hurt.
The plastic turned out to be tougher than me.
It was already dark, the scarlet sun had hidden beyond the horizon, and the stars appeared. I walked up to the guard post, a dome dug into the ground, studded with small turrets. Regulations required the dome to be covered by a shield, and all entrances were to be sealed, while I, walking straight across the landing field, ought to have been warned three times and vaporized five times.
It was a good thing we didn't live by the regs. It was a good thing we had such a peaceful and calm planet. Even the Abori would never harm a human, except in case of self-defense. They weren't evil. Just very very alien…
At the open door of the dome, Denis Ogarin was sitting on a covered Salieri rocket launcher, the size and shape of which made it look like a schoolbag. Even my mood had improved, just a little. Denis waved at me, then stared at my flask pointedly. Or rather, at the spot where the flask was supposed to be.
"Should I congratulate you, kid?"
Denis was only five years older than me. At twenty years old, I was surprised to realize that I wasn't fond of being addressed as "young man" or "kid". But Denis could call me "kid", "young man", "boy", "child", whatever. Ten years ago, he graduated the academy on Terra. Since then he'd been a space marine. He was already a first lieutenant. He'd seen the entire Empire and even been beyond its borders.
"You should laugh at me," I said gloomily. I sat down; there was plenty of space on the rocket launcher, and I didn't really want to sit on subatomic ammo, since only the marines got free sperm bank access. I quickly told him about what had happened.
"I'm not going to laugh," Denis said. He rifled through his pocket and took out a pipe and tobacco. "It's worth laughing at those who still have some hope. To help them understand. But you're hopeless."
I was silent.
"Alexey, have I told you about the laws of fortune?"
"You have. A hundred times."
"Well then, my young friend," Denis methodically packed down the tobacco, not even looking at me or paying attention to my response. "The primary law is that you have to always be prepared for a stroke of fortune. At any moment. Even if you're sitting on the toilet, that doesn't mean you shouldn't immediately jump to your feet and run after it with your pants around your ankles."
"Denis—"
"What? You don't look that emaciated. You left town yesterday morning. A man can easily survive for three days without water. Why the hell did you open a trade flask?"
"I was thirsty."
"Then stop complaining. You sated your thirst and felt good. But you also wasted your only chance of getting out of this dump. We always have to sacrifice something."
He was right, about everything, and it was pointless to expect condescension.
"Don't tell anyone," I asked.
"Okay. But you'll tell everyone anyway. You won't be able to keep quiet. You'll get drunk tonight and cry about it to your buddies. Going to add another nickname to your list."
I said nothing.
"Alexey, I've known you for five years," Denis held me by the shoulders. "And you know what I've noticed? At first glance, you look like a capable and lucky man. People even envy you, but in a good way. Isn't it true that, when you were ten, you were offered a chance to study at an art school on Terra? At no expense?"
"It is."
"You started crying, refused to go, spent another five years making your figurines, and then quit."
"It's not for me, Denis! I'm no artist, no sculptor. I got lucky, won that stupid exhibition, so what?"
"Idiot. So what if it's not for you?! You had a chance to get out of here. To go to Terra, no less! Get it? Maybe they would've kicked you out in a month for laziness and a lack of talent, the government would still have been responsible for you! It would have been cheaper to raise you on the homeworld than to send you back! And don't tell me you didn't know that! Even as a kid!"
"I did."
"There you go. Then when you were eighteen, right? When they were recruiting into the marines. You would have passed with flying colors, trust me."
"I wanted to!"
"You did. Then you broke your arm right before the medical exam."
"It wasn't my fault."
Denis puffed on his pipe, watching the lights of the town. The brightest ones were coming from the club. He was right, I was going to go there, get drunk, and tell everyone about my shame…
"I'm not saying it was. But there are those who grab fortune by the tail. And there are those who don't notice it pass by. You're one of the latter. Sorry."
"It's just bad luck."
"Yes! Yes, Alexey! Just bad luck. It seems to like you. Just look at yourself… you've lived in this dump for twenty years, on a planet with less than five thousand people. You're doing God knows what! Roaming the forest, hoping that one of the natives gives you a piece of his fecal matter—"
"Pearls aren't fecal matter!"
"Fine. They can be kidney stones, for all I care. Whatever. And to be totally honest… there's nothing valuable about them. It's just a decoration that became fashionable by accident. As soon as the demand for the pearls goes away, no one is going to care about your planet. And you know how that could happen? Some fashionable reporter will write an article about how the orange pearls are obtained from the guts of ugly natives, and they're worth a liter of water. That's it! The rich ladies will dump all their pearls. They'll be worthless."
"Denis—"
"Alexey, I've been stuck here for five years. Maybe we're not close friends anymore, but we're still buddies, right?" Denis chuckled. "Can I tell you the truth? You somehow manage to come out the loser in every favorable situation."
I leapt to my feet. Denis shrugged.
"What are you trying to do?" I asked. "Huh?"
"I just got the paperwork," Denis replied calmly. "I'll be getting a captain's stars. I'm leaving the day after tomorrow."
"Where?" I asked dumbly, as if that mattered.
"For retraining. I'm seriously lagging after five years… but I'll try to catch up. Then I'll be in the regular forces," Denis glanced at me sideways. "Apparently there's some tension at the border. So… you won't have anyone to give you advice, no one's shoulder to cry on."
"I wasn't crying on your shoulder and not going to!" I shouted. "Go ahead, leave! Maybe they'll send someone better!"
"They won't send anyone, Alexey. They're downsizing the garrison again."
"Fewer freeloaders," I snapped back. "Goodbye."
"Bye, Alexey."
I was walking away from the guard post almost at a run, while the newly-minted Captain Denis Ogarin was sitting on the rocket launcher, something he really shouldn't be doing, and smoking a pipe. He had only two days left on my planet, and he was glad.
And I would, most likely, spend the rest of my life here. Another hundred years. But how would they differ from the twenty I'd already lived?
"Do you want a beer, Alexey?"
"No, Uncle Grigory. Cognac."
The innkeeper Grigory was indeed my uncle. Well, actually my second cousin once removed. Ours was a very small colony, and almost everyone was a distant relative. So few people cared about relations, except direct ones, like mother — son, brother — sister…
But Grigory Kononov, a former Imperial soldier, who'd been discharged after being wounded in battle, a former mayor, who'd voluntarily stepped down, a former millionaire, who'd gotten rich on the show Midnight Star but lost most of his fortune in six months, was close to me. For a time, he'd helped us a little, when my father died and my mother was still fighting for her life. It wasn't that I loved him—Uncle really liked his jibes—but I did like him, and the feeling was mutual.
"So what happened?" Grigory poured me a shot of cognac, one more expensive than my pitiful credits deserved. "What sorrows are you drowning?"
I silently downed the cognac, while watching the inn out of the corner of my eye. Not many people yet. Some were playing lapta [Footnote 1] and gorodki [Footnote 2] at the gym, others were swimming at the pool; all that could be seen through the inn's two glass walls, which led inside the club. The other two doors were made of logs, the way an inn's walls were supposed to be.
"What, you got offered a first-rate pearl and didn't have any water?" Uncle Grigory suggested. I looked at him in confusion. "Wait, that's what happened?"
The people sitting nearby me looked at me curiously. Their expectations proved correct. Ten minutes later, confirming Ogarin's prediction, I told them the whole story.
Kononov whistled and poured me a full glass of a more expensive and higher-quality cognac.
"On the house. You're going to get drunk anyway, so allow me to make your hangover a little less unpleasant. It's all right, Alexey, these things happen."
I nodded. I was already being sympathetically patted on my shoulders, told that anything could happen and that fortune would strike again. They started recalling stories about a prospector who had refused a small pearl and soon after bought a big one, how the Abori kept coming to the same man day after day, bringing ever larger pearls… There was normal, calming chatter, when alongside genuine sympathy (we all knew one another, and everyone was, more or less, decent) one could also get a sense of mocking relief. It was easy to see it in their faces: "It wasn't me! I wasn't the one to do something so stupid!"
I drank a lot but didn't seem to be getting drunk, probably out of grief. Or maybe it was the expensive cognacs that only brought warmth but didn't affect one's thoughts. Only after I'd gotten up from the round barstool and my legs had started to slide apart did I realize how wasted I was.
"Oh, you've gotten heavy, Alexey," Roman Choi said. He was the same age as me, thin but wiry, which was fitting given his Korean ancestry. "Drunkard…"
He hadn't said that out of anger. And no one would have noticed the word if not for my recent tale…
"Alexey the Drunkard," someone sighed. They didn't mean the drinking but the shameful story with the flask.
While coming out of the bar with Roman, I realized that the nickname would stick. Along with "the Sculptor", "the Deserter", "the Guide", and other mocking epithets, each of which was based on a different shame.
Captain Ogarin had turned out to be right once again. About everything.
"Roman, why am I… why am I like this?" I asked with a tongue that refused to obey me.
"Hold on, get a breath of fresh air, and it'll pass," Roman said peaceably.
I wanted to laugh.
"No… stupid Korean… that's not what I mean…"
Roman just huffed, dragging me out of the club. The kids at the pool were laughing. Father Vitaly, our new recently-ordained priest, frowned disapprovingly. But he held his tongue politely, took out a marijuana cigarette, and pretended to be looking for a lighter.
I realized suddenly how often people seemed to be looking away after meeting me lately.
"There, you'll sober up quick," Roman said, dumping me on the bench by the entrance. At least there wasn't anyone on the street: people were either at the club or at home. Most were at the club, of course… "Don't worry, Alexey, cheer up…"
"I'm not sad!"
Roman sighed and sat down next to me. He said good-naturedly, "That's good. No need to feel sad. It can happen to anyone. Have you thought about getting married?"
"What?" I asked, confused about the segue.
"You know, a clever wife…" he broke off, realizing he'd said too much. But it was too late.
"Is that a common opinion?" I asked. Roman looked at me in surprise, apparently realizing that I was more sober than I looked.
"Yeah. It is. Don't be offended, but it really is time for you to settle down."
He'd been married for four years, had two little boys, and the older one was proudly carrying a flask on his belt. Roman was respected in town.
"Try to understand, Alexey," Roman looked at me with slight embarrassment. "We all love you. Where does our Christian strength come from? Love, unity! You can't just be a good person, you also have to be a good member of the community. Trust me, everyone wishes you well. When you do something stupid yet again, maybe someone laughs at you just for show, but inside our hearts go out to you! When a person is alone, they're…" Roman spat on the ground and rubbed it with his foot, "worthless! A burden to themselves and to the community. Maybe it would be good for you to have someone, to turn your string of bad luck."
"Any who does the community want me to marry?" I asked.
Roman looked embarrassed. But he was already too deep to dig his way out.
"Olga Nonova."
For a moment, I was shocked, "Ms. Nonova? Roman… we were all in love with the teacher in first grade! But she's in her forties now! Well in her forties!"
Thank God he didn't say something stupid like "forty is the new twenty." He was just silent, looking away. I was digesting what I'd heard. So, the townsfolk were considering me such an incorrigible slacker that no one but a middle-aged teacher, prim and self-absorbed, old enough to be my mother, was capable of taking care of me.
The idea that I was capable of taking care of someone wasn't even on the table.
"I'm going to leave, Roman," I said. "Somewhere. Even to the fringe, to the mining planets. I can't live like this anymore. Roam around, wait for the Abori to offer me a piece of fecal matter―"
"Pearls aren't fecal matter!" Roman was offended. He was a tireless prospector and a fairly lucky one.
"They can be kidney stones, for all I care," I repeated Ogarin's words malevolently. "It's madness! To live in the hope that you get lucky and you'll be given a worthless piece of someone else's flesh! What are you going to remember when it's time to die? How you walked through the jungle with a flask?"
That hit home. We were good friends, but I'd just crossed the line. Roman got up and towered over me.
"I'm not dying anytime soon! Maybe I'll make enough for a rejuvenation! And even if I were to die right now, I've got things to remember: my forty-three pearls, my wife, my boys! What about you, Alexey, what will you remember? Your childish sculptures? And what did you make them out of, by the way, you hypocrite? Just think if those real artists on Terra only knew… they wouldn't have touched them with a ten-foot pole!"
I was silent. Because that was why I'd stopped, there was no point hiding it. As soon as I'd learned what those amber roundels I kept finding in the woods, which were so nice to carve―carve, not mold―beautiful, gleaming figurines… well, then I quit carving.
"You're reckless!" Roman said coldly. "Maybe the whole community should buy you a ticket. You'll never make enough money yourself, we're already supporting you!"
I jumped to my feet―the ground swayed under me, but I managed to stay upright―and started to walk away from the club quickly. The alcohol seemed to no longer be inebriating me, there'd probably been too much adrenalin. Roman, who rarely blew up and quickly cooled down, fell silent and shouted after me uncertainly, "Hey, come on, don't get offended at the truth!"
Without stopping, I kept walking to the edge of the field. Yes, yes, I wanted to get away from here! I'd been dreaming about it all my life! But how could I, just a kid, have left for the fabulous, great, ancient Terra, when my mother was sick! And that damned recruitment… no, I hadn't wanted to break my arm―who would want that?―I was just trying to get some training done, to show the recruiters everything I could do, and then…
And now today. Fortune had been coming toward me, a pearl of great value. I could have handed it over to the agency and gotten my check… and a week later, I would have left for the homeworld on the cruise liner Afanasy Nikitin, which stopped over on our planet every half a year.
Now it was over. The whole community wouldn't get me a ticket, that was for certain. Instead, Father Vitaly would show up, have a drink or smoke some weed with me, or if it was fast, he would look me in the eye reproachfully, start talking about God, about destiny, about how my careless behavior was upsetting the Lord, and that the spiritual consequences for me would be very grievous. And before I knew it, I would be on my way to the altar with the middle-aged, fat, boring Olga Nonova…
I came to my senses at the edge of the landing field. It was dark, stars were flashing, streaking, burning up, and dying in the night sky. Well, not stars… shooting stars. Our planet was surrounded by a dust cloud, which was why we never actually saw real stars. But every moment thousands of micrometeorites were burning up above us. I'd heard that real stars were just like that, except they didn't flicker, they shone evenly and calmly. I'd heard that our starry sky was more beautiful than a regular one. That was why tourists occasionally came here, to spend a night, to dance and have a drink under this flickering pavilion…
I wasn't sure.
I would like to see real stars.
I would like to fly from star to star. To take a walk on the planets of the Periphery, to visit Terra. To be just about anyone there! Even a gilder! But not in our dump! Lord, even if I don't believe in you, I beg you, help me get out of here! To a real, huge world, where I could stand under the sky with real stars instead of interplanetary trash! Where real things are happening!
"Alexey!"
A figure in uniform appeared from out of the dark. I recognized Denis; for some reason, he was in full parade dress, even wearing his three awards. And with a new star on his shoulder marks…
"I knew it was you loitering here…" he said in a quieter voice as he got closer. "This is military territory, buddy!"
I said nothing.
"Or am I no longer one of the people you talk to?" Denis inquired.
"No…" I forced out. "Sorry. You were right… about everything."
"What do you know," Ogarin spread his hands. "You're admitting…" he broke off, came closer, and took me by the hand. "I'm sorry too. Something bad had happened to you, and I just started lecturing. Don't hold it against me."
"Peace and love," I replied. Who knew, apparently I could still make jokes!
"Oh yeah, by the way… peace and love… Do you have any water?"
I unstrapped a new flask from my belt, which I'd automatically grabbed at the inn, and wordlessly handed it to Denis. He took a gulp, removed his cap, and poured the rest on his head. He said thoughtfully, "Beautiful… I guess I'll miss your sky… Here!"
There was a pearl in his hand. A little smaller than the one I'd blown the chance to get earlier. But still, it was big.
"I checked, it should be enough to get you to the homeworld," Denis said. "Take it."
"No."
"What?" Ogarin stared at me in surprise. "Hey, Alexey, hello! It's me! I took a flask of water from you and am giving you this very pearl in exchange. Does it matter if it's a human offering the trade or an Abori?"
"It does. The Abori don't know how much it's worth."
"They don't want to know. And neither do I. I wouldn't have sold it anyway, would've kept it as a souvenir. But I'd much rather help you out. Take it!"
"How did you get it?"
Denis snorted.
"The same way everyone does. I keep watch at the guard post. Chase the natives away if they wander onto the landing field. Sometimes they offer me a pearl. Why offend walking microwave emitters with rejection? That's how I got the pearl. I have more, by the way."
"No."
"Why, for God's sake? Just take what you're being given!"
"Denis, you were right about fate. I don't know how to make good use of its gifts."
"Well, here's a gift for you! Use it!"
"Denis, it's…"
"What?"
We spent the next ten minutes arguing. Denis kept trying to force the pearl into my hand, and I kept rejecting it. I couldn't even come up with a good reason why I shouldn't take the pearl. I didn't know it myself. But I wouldn't take it.
"Alexey," Denis had finally realized that he wouldn't out-argue me. "What's the problem? You said I was right. Well, here it is, your fate!"
"It's not fate."
"Then what is it?"
"Pity."
Ogarin spat on the ground and asked in a perfectly calm voice, "And when fate will appear?"
"I'll recognize it."
"Maybe you're right," he said unexpectedly. "Never trust in fate's gifts. If you don't have to tear them out with your teeth, they don't taste great. Nice going, Alexey… I did teach you something after all…"
Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he was standing in front of me, instantly losing his brave and always confident look. He was staring into the flickering sky, the view was probably unusual for him, since he never missed a chance to enjoy it.
"Beautiful," I noted carefully.
Ogarin shrugged.
"I'm not even looking, really. Trying to find a ship."
"What ship?"
"A Rickshaw-class yacht. An hour ago, it requested permission to land. Why do you think I was looking for you in the field? Go ahead, walk around. But if you end up under an engine's recoil beam, there won't be much left of you."
"A yacht," I repeated. In these parts, it was an even greater rarity than a Terran transport or a cruise liner. An ordinary yacht―if the word "ordinary" even applies to them―required regular and complex maintenance. And it was almost twenty light years to the nearest truly developed world. "What kind of model is this Rickshaw?"
"No idea. There are many of them these days. Maybe a clunker, or maybe a flying palace."
"When is it arriving?"
"In half an hour," Ogarin took out his pipe. "Or a little sooner."
"Probably coming to refuel or for repairs, a tourist would have warned about it ahead of time," I suggested. "Can I see?"
"Go ahead, I don't care…"
We stood there, staring into the meteor-streaked sky. It was nearly impossible to make out a ship in it. And yet there was something entrancing about this crazy attempt to make out a single living star among the thousands that were burning up.
"Do you remember how we met?" Denis asked suddenly. "Just like this. You came to the field to watch a ship."
"I remember. You almost shot me then."
"Yeah. Well, what did you expect, it was my third day on this planet. I wasn't used to your… carelessness yet. On Hanumai I'd have gotten liberty for shooting a violator."
"For shooting a kid."
"Doesn't matter. Spaceport rules are spaceport rules. Forget it, Alexey. Water under the bridge…"
"Uh-huh."
Ogarin patted my shoulder.
"You know, I think I'll miss this place after all. Your crazy sky, these Abori morons. And you too."
"Me the moron…"
The Captain laughed quietly.
"Be angry. Just don't be angry at me, it's pointless. Be angry at yourself. Always and in everything. Whenever you do something wrong, be angry at yourself. Sometimes that helps."
"Ship," I said.
"Where?" Ogarin looked up again.
I lied. Not because I was trying to stop the stream of lecturing. I was used to that, and Denis was usually right.
I just wanted silence.
It was funny, probably. Except Denis was my friend, my true friend. I was just realizing that now. All the others… even those with whom I'd spent a lot more time, were our local folks. I knew them inside and out, and they knew me. It wasn't real friendship when one had no choice. Denis and I became friends after he'd been aiming his weapon at me for ten minutes and I'd cried shamefully. We never saw one another often: as the commanding officer of a twenty-soldier garrison, he was always busy, and I needed to wander the woods and work the Abori…
But he was my friend. And now he wouldn't be here anymore. There'd just be our small town, the garrison, the crumbling landing field, and millions of stars burning up in the sky covering the ground at our feet as ashes. Denis would leave for his new posting, and a month or two later, I'd get into a fight with the community and then go to the lipstick-covered Nonova with a bouquet of red roses…
"Whoa, that is a ship," Denis said with a surprised expression. "How'd you make it out? I don't remember you having such talents before…"
I looked up in surprise. Indeed. There was a red dot, at first glance the same as thousands of others like it, but it had no intention of fading and was moving much slower.
"Flying on plasma, about fifteen to twenty minutes to landing," the Captain shook his head. "Nice going! How did you spot it?"
I felt stupid.
I'd always wanted to hear his praise. Sometimes I would hear words of approval from my parents. Never from him… almost never. There'd never been a reason to. And even now, if I were being honest, there wasn't a reason.
"I didn't," I said. "I didn't see the ship. Just a lucky guess."
Ogarin grunted.
"Maybe that's a good thing."
"What so good about it?"
"Luck… even a tiny bit of luck… You'll waste away here, Alexey."
"This is a nice and peaceful planet. Only scoundrels and loafers waste away here."
"Alexey, there are different ways to waste away. You can be alive and well, with a pretty wife, healthy kids, and a decent-sized bank account. Those aren't the important things for some people."
"Like you?"
"Yep," Denis replied with satisfaction.
"Is that why you joined the marines?"
Ogarin chuckled.
"Yeah… I never told you, did I? I guess now's a good time."
"What, I'm old enough to hear it now?" I asked sarcastically.
"That's not what I mean… Yes. I think you need to hear this. I joined the marines because my sister was an idiot."
"Huh?"
I immediately pictured Denis, angry at his evil older sister, packing up his knapsack, stealing his parents' credit card, and stowing away on a flight to Terra…"
"My sister was an idiot," Denis repeated. "We were twins. I mean… it's pretty clear. Pillow fights, secrets, tattling to parents… But she was also always afraid of being raped. Maybe she secretly wanted it. She could have used a boyfriend, but she was too embarrassed and afraid… I'm from God's Grace, have you heard of it?"
"Yeah…"
I suddenly felt uncomfortable. Denis was clearly about to tell me something in confidence. But I didn't have the strength to refuse to listen.
"Things are… were strict there. A lot stricter than you Orthodox folks. The Emperor had put up with it. But after the fundamentalist rebellion, he sent in the marines…"
His voice was unnaturally even. It would have been far better if he was angry while telling me this, or worried…
"Our family didn't take part in the rebellion. But when three thousand marines fell from the sky onto our capital city, they didn't bother sorting people out. Our entire planetary guard was put down in half an hour. It's a lot easier to light fires in city squares with God's name on your lips than it is to fight. They managed to hurt the marines a little, causing them to go crazy. We were given to the victors, for a day. The unwritten rules of war. I never saw my parents again after the marines landed, they'd been out grocery shopping. What happened to them, a bullet from our boys, a beam from the Imperials, a collapsed wall, a panicked crowd… I don't know. And I never will. My sister and I were sitting alone, we were twelve. We knew that the house would be searched, it was in the town center, next to the St. Denis Cathedral, after whom we'd been named… a rich and luxurious house. Then we saw an armored officer walk through the garden, heard the whimper of Antoine, our mutated guard gorilla… My sister always ordered me around. She told me to hide under the bed. Then she put on her sexiest shorts and blouse, not even being shy about it, even though she hadn't changed in front of me for a year. She told me that she would be raped and the house looted. But we'd survive. She was a pretty girl, physically developed for her age. I also think that she wanted to be a victim. Just like that, young, innocent victim of war… and my savior. I lay under the bed, trying not to breathe, watching her ankles in white pantyhose. I was… a coward. No sense hiding that… You know… I immediately believed her that it would happen exactly like that… and…"
Denis laughed in a very natural manner.
"I got aroused, can you imagine? I was afraid for me, worried about Denise, but deep inside me I wanted to see how it happens. That thing that happens in movies after the kiss… remember that God's Grace was a very puritanical planet back then…"
I felt ill at ease. I didn't know why Ogarin was suddenly baring his soul to me instead of calmly greeting the landing yacht.
"The officer came into her room," Denis said thoughtfully. "Maybe he'd heard something, or maybe he'd had an organic sensor…"
"Did he…" I could stop myself from asking, since the Captain suddenly fell silent.
"No. He didn't rape her. Maybe he no longer had a hard-on after three hours since taking the city. Maybe he'd have preferred to see me in my sister's place. Maybe he didn't want to take the chance of removing his armor. Or maybe the officer was an honest and moral man, who wasn't about to violate a little girl."
"Bastard… why not just say it right away?" I exhaled.
"I couldn't. Anyway, the officer didn't rape Denise. He just shot her in the head, very precisely and humanely, right between the eyes. I saw… a flash, then her feet shuddered and bent in a strange way, and a shoe fell off her foot. Denise fell, her face was right next to mine, her eyes were open and full of surprise―I didn't know at the time that the dead always look surprised―and a tiny black spot on her forehead. A laser beam doesn't leave much of a mark, and you can't always see the boiled brains."
"Why?" I screamed.
"Why what?"
"Why did he do that?"
"To leave no witnesses," Denis replied with a surprised look. "What's so confusing about that? He'd immediately seen that there was something valuable in the mansion. A young witness to the looting didn't fit into his plans. My sister was wearing a necklace, it was our mother's, not even sure when she'd put it on and why. Probably to look more attractive. The officer crouched, ripped the clasp, removed the necklace… but didn't notice me. And I didn't see his face. Just an insignia on his glove, a smiling boyish face with a cap askew. Cadet School. He also grabbed a box with Denise's jewelry from the desk, but it was cheap, nothing valuable… they later found the box in the garden. Everything was probably heavy enough as it was. I lay under the bed until the following evening. Face-to-face with my sister. I was pulled out by the cops of the temporary peacekeeping forces, after the marines had left. I was told that my parents were missing, that my sister had been killed by fundamentalist looters, but that order had been restored. Shrinks spent six months with me. There was still something in the bank accounts, and they tried their best. I told them that it happened exactly as the cops had said. I tried my best too. I explained that I really wanted to join the marines, who have so bravely saved us from the bandits. That I was giving up my inheritance, the mansion, the silver mine in the mountains, the tea plantation… I signed away everything. The administration really liked that. I was given papers, stating that my parents had been killed fighting the rebels and other stuff like that… a letter of recommendation from the transitional government… and sent to Terra. A month later, I went to the Cadet School and now had a stripe on my sleeve, showing a boyish face with a cap askew…"
"You decided to get revenge?" I asked.
"Of course."
"Was it a cadet?"
"No, an adult. One of the officer teachers. The entire school had been sent to crush the rebellion, since they knew that there wouldn't be any serious resistance, and the wolf cubs needed to sharpen their teeth."
"Did you kill him?"
Ogarin stared at me with his usual cheerful and condescending mockery.
"Alexey, the school's staff is made up of three thousand people. Most of them were on God's Grace. I looked. Kept watch. Listened in. But people don't brag about things like that after the war is over. There were bastards at the school, but they hadn't actually been among those sent to the planet. So I decided to blow up the school. All of it. I'd capture the arsenal and… I was young and foolhardy. You know, it probably would have worked. I tried very hard. I remembered my sister's eyes… those surprised eyes. But when I finally had the capability to capture the arsenal, besides a single enemy I also had dozens of friends. Including those who'd trampled over my hometown."
"So you didn't find him?"
"No. But I'm sure saw him. Saluted him. Laughed at his jokes. Pressed myself against his chest when I felt sad and needed comfort… all of them are good psychologists and know that even wolf cubs need tenderness. I saw his eyes but didn't know who he was. So that's how it happened. I left my quiet little world and started traveling the big one."
The ship was very close now. It was landing about a kilometer from us and doing it beautifully, dancing in the air, without that ungainly might inherent in cargo ships and passenger liners. The yacht lived in the sky, it was a part of it, as if one of the shooting stars had suddenly gone against its fate and learned to fly instead of just falling…
"Why did you tell me this story?" I asked. "You kept silent for five years and suddenly…"
"So that you, Alexey, know what that big world you're so desperately trying to get to is like."
"Denis, I already told you I won't take your gift! And the big world isn't likely to happen to me! Except in my sleep. I'm going to marry Olga Nonova and become a respected member of the community!"
"Who?" Ogarin laughed. "Why don't I just shoot you right now?"
"Up to you…" I grunted.
"Let's go… you walking disaster," Denis grabbed me by the shoulders and almost dragged me with him. "Think about my story, okay? Let's go take a look at the yacht…"
"I'm not a kid to hang around tourists…"
"Come on. I'm bored, and I can tell you're curious."
And so it happened that, after listening to Ogarin's story, I obediently followed him to the yacht, which had landed far ahead of us. Denis was walking, casually waving around his phone, as if it was a mighty weapon and he was facing pirates. Actually, I'd assumed this ungainly military communicator was indeed a blaster for almost a year, until the Captain―well, he'd been a lieutenant at the time―received a call in front of me. He liked playing jokes on me, this heroic warrior from the stars, who'd joined the military to kill another hero…
The yacht could already be seen up ahead. Streamlined, teardrop-shaped, kind of like the picture of that whale that had swallowed Jonah…
"Looks like a new model…" Denis grunted. "That's good…"
What did he care if it was new, old, or even made of cardboard?
I was about to note sarcastically, something I rarely dared to do, that he wouldn't get to leave on this beauty. But then the phone in Ogarin's hand screeched.
"Yes…" he answered without stopping. "Then who?.. Uh-huh. I see. Where? How many? Okay… land them. And get everyone out of bed. I don't care… kick them in the shins."
I didn't dare ask. But he told me himself without turning, "Three more yachts on the way. And a courier ship from the Fifth Fleet. Do you know who just landed? The leader of the Grand Galactic Regatta."
"It's not supposed to pass anywhere near here!" was all I could say.
"Exactly. And the courier shouldn't be here either… Come on, quickly."
"Why should I?" I snapped back.
"Consider yourself mobilized during the time of emergency," Denis said without losing his composure. "I have that right."
"What about a conscience? I'm tired!"
"Conscience… conscience," Ogarin shrugged. "I'll have to see if a captain is supposed to have one. Wasn't issued one before."
Footnotes
1) A Russian bat and ball game, played since the 14th century (translator's comment).
2) A Russian folk sport involving throwing a bat and attempting to knock down sticks positioned in specific patterns (translator's comment).