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.
Chapter 3
Psilons and the Empire
It was easy to tell the officer, who'd just come from a large civilized planet, from our servicemen. The uniform seemed to be the same, and Ogarin could demonstrate the same bearing, maybe even a better one. His appearance was ordinary: tall, dark-haired, with high cheekbones, Asian. Half of our community looked like that.
And yet… the air about him was different. Just like Anne Eiko, when I first met her, had been surrounded by a force field, so was the officer surrounded by an aura, the feel of enormous headquarters, full of admirals and adjutants, majestic ships flying through space, barked orders and heroic deeds… Oh, why wasn't I so lucky? Why hadn't I enlisted in the Imperial Forces?
"Good day, citizens," the officer bowed slightly. "Lao Torachi, special assignment officer on Admiral Lemak's staff."
Obviously, his name told us nothing. But his position, a special assignment officer for the illustrious Lemak… Everyone at the inn seemed to forget how to breathe.
"I'll be brief," the officer, noting that he had everyone's attention, didn't even feel it necessary to step away from the door. "By order of the Admiral, in agreement with the Emperor…"
If someone had been planning on taking a breath, they changed their mind.
"The New Kitezh star system has been declared an emergency area. All citizens between the ages of twelve and seventy are hereby drafted and are required to obey Captain Ogarin. They are to gather at the garrison headquarters in an hour. Any questions?"
A hum passed through the inn.
Then Uncle Grigory came out from behind the counter and walked up to the officer. With each step, the way he walked was changing… no, he wasn't marching like on a parade, that would have been ridiculous, but it wasn't an elderly bartender who walked up to the officer, it was an old soldier.
"Staff Sergeant Grigory Kononov of the Imperial Forces. Permission to speak, Lieutenant Torachi."
The officer shifted his eyebrows and nodded, "Go ahead, Sergeant."
"May I ask the reason for the emergency?"
Lao Torachi didn't hesitate.
"You may, Sergeant. In fact, it will be useful for everyone to hear. A Psilon warship has been detected in the New Kitezh System."
"Is it war?" in the dead silence, Father Vitaly's voice rang out like a thunderclap.
…After the Vague War, the Psilons had completely isolated themselves from the other races. It wasn't that they had been defeated. It wasn't that they had lost. No one had ever considered this race to be overly aggressive or violent. And yet… there was a mystery about them that one couldn't find in other civilizations. The fierce Bulrathi, the arrogant Alkari, the crazy and now extinct Sakkra ― all of our galactic neighbors had, one way or another, learned to coexist with humans. Or died out.
The Psilons had remained. In a sealed, enclosed part of space, busy with their strange science experiments, only occasionally offering other races some trade or scientific contacts.
If they had decided to start expanding… no one knew what they would bring into the world. And how the forces of the Trinary Alliance would be able to counter them…
The officer shook his head.
"No. Fortunately not. It's a Vague War-era ship."
"May I ask the type of ship?" came Anne Eiko's thin voice. Lao Torachi looked at her and momentarily lost his composure.
I could understand him. He was looking at a little girl in a robe over her swimsuit. The girl was looking at him with her big curious eyes and asking unnecessary questions.
"You may," his sarcasm was barely noticeable. "The Central HQ classifies it as a KS-3 type."
I did notice Ogarin's smirk, which is why I wasn't surprised by what happened next.
"KS-3," the girl said thoughtfully. "A large assault cruiser. There were a total of eight ships in the class. Five were destroyed during the attack on Terra near the end of the war. Two were vaporized by the Bulrathi during the breakthrough near Ursa… I doubt the Psilons would be building more ships of the old class. Is it the Loredan, Lieutenant? The lost cruiser that disengaged at relativistic speeds?"
Torachi said nothing.
"This is bad," the girl nodded. She wasn't mocking the officer, the news were probably indeed serious enough for Anne to fail correlating her words and appearance. "Four troop carriers, twelve fighters, three heavy bombers, forty marines, and eight crewmembers… That is a lot… They don't understand what's happening, do they?"
The officer nodded. The confusion on his face gave way to an approving smile, "I see that the local population is prepared a lot better than… certain officers. All right then, I will clarify the situation. Yes, it's a Psilon assault ship, which retreated from a battle during the Vague War at near-light speeds. It's currently completing its deceleration. Most likely, their hyperspace communication equipment is damaged, so they're operating autonomously, following the orders they received hundreds of years ago. Only three or four days have passed on board the ship… they are still there, in the war. Our analysts believe that the ship's mission was to capture and hold the backup military spaceport in the Annuin System… now known as New Kitezh. Naturally, this involves the complete elimination of the garrison and the local population.
Grigory's wife, who had been peeking from the kitchen door, whimpered quietly. The far corner of the inn immediately echoed with a thin screech. There, rising over the table, dramatically holding her chest falling down heavily, remembering to make sure she was hitting the bench, was a blonde middle-aged woman of ample proportions. I hadn't even noticed that Olga Nonova was here! Maybe I ought to rush to the aid of my first teacher. It would be a good opportunity to start courting her…
"I don't think I have to explain what forty Psilon marines are capable of," Torachi threw an annoyed glance at Nonova, who was already being helped by one of the other women. "If you recall, during the attack on Terra, it took four marines only three hours to completely level the ancient city of Vilnius and a significant portion of the surrounding territory."
"When will the fleet arrive, Lieutenant," Anne Eiko looked him in the eye demandingly.
"In a day. But… it'll be too late," Torachi replied honestly. "I've been sent to organize a defense, but the other ships are unable to move as fast as a courier clipper."
"Twelve fighters, three bombers…" Kononov shook his head. "They don't even have to land."
"They will. They have to capture the spaceport's infrastructure intact. Besides, there are no bombers on the ship; according to archive data, this deck was completely destroyed by our interceptors… partly as a result of ramming. Junior Lieutenant Daniel Davis couldn't have known that he was giving his life for his great-grandchildren…" the obviously prepared phrase didn't have the desired effect. What did we care about some junior lieutenant's sacrifice? Now, had he blown up the entire cruiser…
"There aren't many fighters either," Ogarin stepped in. "Seven or eight were destroyed while the Loredan was evading pursuit. But this doesn't help us. The fleet we're capable of putting up against them won't be able to survive even against a single Psilon fighter. Even a damaged one. Maybe I'm revealing a secret of some sort… but the garrison only has two small Vague War-era interceptors. And no one really knows how to fly them. We haven't been getting any new equipment…"
"Your system has lost its strategic value long ago!" Torachi snapped back. They'd clearly had a long conversation the previous night.
"It's going to lose all value pretty soon," the Captain replied calmly. "With your permission, I would like to tell the people what we do have."
"As you wish," Torachi took a step to the side.
Denis looked over the inn. Of course, there weren't that many of us here… it would have been better to bring a camera here and broadcast to the entire town… Then again, our community preferred to pass news on face-to-face.
"Citizens! I haven't been here long. And, to be honest, I was planning on leaving soon… as far as possible. It looks like that's not going to happen. And I've grown attached to you," he produced a blinding smile, then got serious again. "Our garrison, including me, the cook, and the medic, is made up of fifteen people. You know this. The community can mobilize about two thousand… right? We can arm everyone, no problems there, the old arsenal is full. We also have three stationary missile and laser sites around the spaceport… I can't tell you where, since it's highly classified…"
At this, many in the room couldn't stop smiling. All of us had climbed all over these "classified sites" and played soldiers as kids. Many even climbed inside, hitting the buttons on the locked-down control panels with delight, spun around in gunner seats, screaming, "Psilons to north by northeast!" Who in the community didn't know that it had been the Psilons trying to capture New Kitezh?
Playtime was over…
"So, we have these sites," Ogarin said thoughtfully. "That's minus six people from the garrison. They'll hold out for maybe two-three minutes. Might even shoot something down. The rest… the rest, Father Vitaly, is your department. Meaning divine providence."
"Wouldn't it be better to take the people into the woods?" the priest asked. "All of them? Let the Psilons have this old spaceport until our forces arrive."
"No," Ogarin stated firmly. "This we cannot do. If the Psilons capture the spaceport, the Loredan will land and unload its stationary firing positions. In three hours, it's going to become a full-fledged fortress. Want to know what will happen them? Half of the fleet would be wiped out during the assault. Except there won't be any assault. Meson bombardment will put an end to the Psilons. And to us. And to the entire planet."
"And if we arm ourselves and fight the enemy?" Father Vitaly continued demandingly. "Is there a chance for victory?"
"No," Ogarin replied just as calmly. "None. There's only the hope that we can delay the Loredan's landing for a significant amount of time, preventing the Psilons from digging in. Then the fleet will destroy the invaders from the past. And some of us might survive. The Psilons have… had their own code of military honor, and worthy resistance from a knowingly weaker opponent may earn respect from them. Some might be taken prisoners and survive that way. That's about all I can and must tell you."
Only twenty minutes ago, the inn had been a lively place, a little simulated and ridiculous, but still… Unusual guests, a chance to have some fun in the middle of a work week… Now the place was silent as the grave. After all, we really were dead now. All of us, or almost all. There was no way we could deal with forty Psilons, no way in hell. We might as well send a mob of savages with clubs against a tank division.
And yet there was no fear. It was probably impossible to process this at once. That the old fears had awakened, that the enemy from the old books was back, that the nightmares had become real.
"In forty minutes," Ogarin said. "By the garrison headquarters. We're waiting for everyone."
"We don't have the ability to force you to take up arms," Torachi added. "But you don't have any other choice. If you do decide to give up… to abandon the town and hide in the woods…"
He produced an unkind smile.
"The system is under a state of emergency. Do I need to explain the punishment for treason against the Empire? I would advise you to send young children and the elderly as far from the town as possible, they are permitted to avoid the fight. Have them leave on foot, the Psilons will detect any vehicles. At least your children and parents will survive."
"There are no cowards here, Lieutenant," Kononov said sharply.
"I believe you, Sergeant. We're waiting for you."
Torachi turned around, and then Anne Eiko, who had been standing absolutely still and quiet for the last several minutes, called out to him.
"What should we do, Lieutenant?"
The courier's expression was full of confusion, "You heard the order."
"We're not citizens of this planet. We're participating in the galactic regatta. We have ships."
"They're unarmed, girl. Thank you, but―"
"Unarmed but fast! We wish to leave the planet."
Anne looked around quickly, as if looking for assistance from the other crews. But it seemed that her fortunes were as poor as mine.
"Kulthos is the world of cowards!" one of the teenage-like off-worlders shouted in a high-pitched voice. "We're staying here to follow the Emperor's orders!"
One after another, they went to the exit, deliberately giving Anne Eiko a wide berth.
I still couldn't place their planet of origin…
The racers in dark clothes were less expressive. They simply got to their feet and left after them.
"I'm ten years old!" the girl exclaimed, as if looking for compassion. "My brother is twelve! You're not forcing your own children to fight!"
My uncle always liked children. Both his own and those of other people. He probably would have been the first I would have expected to feel compassion toward her.
"When you were downing vodka, little girl, you said that you were a full citizen of the Empire," he said with authority. "Isn't that right?"
Anne was staring at us. And I knew what she was seeing in our eyes. Contempt.
"You probably have aTan," Ogarin said. "What are you afraid of? To lose your yacht?"
"They don't give aTan to children," Anne shouted.
"I heard they do sometimes. Do you have aTan?"
"No!"
For some reason, I didn't believe her. And no one else probably did either. Everyone knew that the father of these children had aTan. Everyone knew that their yacht was worth a fortune.
"I can't help you," Ogarin said firmly. "We could use your training. I will state in my report that I am drafting all the racing crews. If you don't participate in the fight, you'll be treated as deserters. That is all. Staff Sergeant Kononov, you're in charge here. Ensure that the draftees show up."
He left, followed by Torachi, who was shaking his head.
Anne Eiko was left alone with us.
No, not quite alone… her brother was standing in the inn's corner. He was also wearing only his swim trunks and a towel thrown over his shoulders. A very strong-looking kid, by the way, probably very athletic… Except he was crying, quietly, without making a sound.
"Disgusting," Kononov said. "We're all going to die here. If your own laws recognize you as adults… then behave yourselves appropriately. Everyone! There's nothing to do here anymore! The inn is closed until the arrival of the Imperial Forces. Anyone who survives can drink for free for a week! Now you have twenty minutes to say goodbye to your families. We're gathering in the square. If anyone has a vehicle, bring it there, since children and the elderly will be leaving on foot anyway. No need to bring any weapons, the Captain will find you something better than our toys. Let's go, move it!"
"With God…" Father Vitaly said gently. "Well, damn it! Get a move on!"
Somehow, it seemed to be that it wasn't my uncle's businesslike tone or Father Vitaly's pastoral farewell that emptied everyone out of the inn in an instant, to the point where there was a traffic jam at the door and lots of swearing… It was embarrassing to see this crying boy, who wasn't that little, since our own boys would have to be forcibly taken into the woods, as all of them would want to fight alongside their fathers; and an utterly crushed, humiliated girl, whom everyone had been afraid of only an hour ago. Yeah right, Daughters of Kali. I had no idea who this Kali had been, but her daughters were nothing but talk!
I was left alone at the counter with my glass. I had no one to say goodbye to. And no one to evacuate either. Uncle and Father Vitaly glanced at me, then the priest said gently, "Let's go… finish your drink and we'll go…"
I nodded. They left too.
Only the off-worlder children and I were left at the inn.
But they didn't seem to be noticing me.
"Again! Again," Artem said suddenly, looking at his sister. "Again!"
The girl turned and walked up to him in a firm unchildlike walk. She embraced him, closing her robe. It looked ridiculous and strange, since she was a head shorter than the boy but was behaving more like his mother…
"Don't worry, I'll get you there," her voice was pouring out like some viscous, enveloping wave. "Don't be afraid… you'll get there… It's going to be fine. Everything will be fine."
Artem sobbed, then lifted his head. He met my gaze, seemingly just now noticing that I was there, but didn't look surprised. Then he said strangely, "Seventh time!"
"Do you really not have aTan?" I asked awkwardly.
The girl threw me a glance over her shoulder and said sharply, "Go! What are we to you? If you really wanted to help us, we would've been far away from here by now! We're nothing to you, and you are nothing to us!"
"I'd like to help you," I replied honestly. "But that's impossible."
"Then go!" the girl bit off. "What else do you want from us?"
"It's not them, it's fate," the boy said quietly.
I placed the half-empty glass on the counter and left. Father Vitaly was waiting for me outside the door, while my uncle had already gone somewhere.
They were right. They really did mean nothing to me, and I to them, our entire planet was worth nothing to these strange children.
But it did mean a lot to me.
"Let's go, Alexey," the priest patted me on the shoulder. "Want a cigarette?"
"Sure, Father Vitaly… Isn't it bad to smoke before a battle?"
"It's reduced, will pass quickly…"
I inhaled the sweet smoke of marijuana and nodded to the priest gratefully. Wordlessly, dragging on the cigarette, we went to the square.
Obviously, not everyone was gathered forty minutes later. Some of the women had wanted to take the children at least as far as the edge of the jungle. Two old men needed help, since they couldn't walk on their own. Ogarin, seemingly happily, wrote four of the stronger teenagers papers that confirmed that they were freed from the militia and were attached to the refugees. The boys didn't realize their own fortune. They'd have much rather armed themselves and went into battle than carried stretchers through the forest. But Father Vitaly barked something reproachful about moral imperatives, and the shamed boys ran to the hospital to get the stretchers.
Only an hour later did a dissonant crowd moved from the edge of the town to the spaceport field. The guard post wasn't far away, the arsenal, the location of which was classified, was also close. We were already being expected, and soldiers were unloading boxes with weapons from four heavy trucks.
"Attention!" Ogarin picked up his microphone, and his voice, amplified by the speakers of the guard post's dome, spread across the field. "Split up into four groups! Groups commanders are Grigory Kononov, Vitaly Paklin…"
I didn't immediately realize that he was talking about Father Vitaly.
"Igor Choi…"
Right, Roman's father had also once served in the Imperial Forces, only very briefly. He'd gotten irradiated and was discharged, just in case.
"Pavel Otvyazny…"
Our mayor, whose most favorite things in the world were beer and working in his garden with a rake and a shovel, had clearly not been expecting such a responsibility. But Ogarin didn't give anyone a chance to object.
"Quickly figure out your groups! Each of you will be given one of my soldiers, for communication and coordination…"
Four soldiers started moving through the crowd. They'd probably been already informed whom they would be attached to.
"The groups will line up to the trucks to receive their gear. No questions or complaints, the equipment will be distributed by qualified specialists based on the militiaperson's personal qualities."
I glanced at the specialists, the four young soldiers standing next to the trucks. They'd arrived only recently and probably didn't even know everyone…
"Get organized, now!"
This was a different Denis. Very different. Not the one who'd always laughed at me, not the one who loved to tell marvelous stories that mixed the truth and imagination while staring at the blazing sky in the evening.
"If someone's not going to have a weapon an hour from now, then it's on you. I'll send you to fight the Psilons with your bare hands!"
I could tell that he really would…
The time for jokes was past.
I didn't even know he could be this way. It turned out there was a lot I hadn't known about him. How he'd ended up in the military, where he'd been born. I was perfectly satisfied with the funny stories about the daily life in the Imperial Forces, the heroic battles, and the adventures while on liberty.
I was seeing this Ogarin for the first time. This one really did know how to kill. Even his own, if they didn't prove themselves useful.
I ended up in Uncle Grigory's group. To be honest, I didn't care which one, but he made sure I was in his. A long line of people stretched to the truck, a soldier was taking out a tightly rolled bundle from one box, a weapon from another, and tossed a brick of some kind on top. Only after getting closer I was able to make out that the brick was food rations. That was it. Confused people were stepping off to the side, while Ogarin's voice was booming over them.
"Attention! We won't be issuing your armor, since you have no experience using defensive systems. Instead you'll be getting Chameleon camouflage capes. Trust me, it's not a bad thing! They were developed during the final months of the war, and, theoretically, the Loredan's crew shouldn't have sensors capable of detecting them. Attention! You have to follow the instructions on the cape's packaging to the letter. After it's activated, the Chameleon adjusts to the wearer's figure in seven minutes, try to stand motionless for the first three minutes, then move as actively as possible…"
Olga Nonova was standing in front of me. Over the past hour I'd lost all of my fears towards her… marriage was the last thing on my mind at the moment… She'd overcome her initial fear, or maybe it was confusion. Now it was even pleasant to watch her firm, confident figure and recall us kids listening to her tales in first grade with rapt attention. Who else could have answered our every question? Who else would have told us that the power output of a reajax drive was directly proportional to the size of the engine, that honeysuckles were never prickly, that the great artist Gauguin cut off the ear of another great artist named van Gogh in a duel… Nonova knew everything, and even now I got that childish feeling that everything was going to turn out all right…
Finally we got close to the truck. The young soldier wiped the sweat off his brow, glanced at Olga, then handed her a huge multi-barreled thing. He said, "This is a Chance, it'll work for you… It's easy to use—"
"Young man," Olga said sternly. "I knew what a Chance was before you were ever born. A six-barreled untargeted laser fire system designed by the great Martyzenski. Also known as a 'woodcutter.'"
The grabbed the Chance easily, got a better grip and said, "Bang-bang."
Everyone around her smiled. It was nice that even the teacher knew how to work with a woodcutter. The soldier—I remembered that his name was Vladimir—wordlessly handed Nonova a bundle with a cape and then, strangely, two ration packs. He grunted, "Fine. Except you're currently aiming it at yourself. When in battle, turn it away from you, okay? Next!"
"Hey, Boxer," I said. It was his nickname, maybe because of some skill in that ancient and semiforbidden sport, or maybe for some other reason. Vladimir threw me a grim look, then handed me a cape and a small pistol.
"Here. This is a Bumblebee, a medium-sized plasma blaster."
I was at a loss. After seeing Vladimir by the truck, I'd been certain I was going to get a truly cool gun. Maybe a Chance or the famous Ultimatum. And instead I got a blaster! We'd learned to shoot these at the school shooting range!
"Vladimir, what's going on?"
The bundle with the cape and a ration brick fell into my hands. Then Vladimir said in a quiet voice, "You idiot, I've just given you an extra minute of life. The Psilons' machinery will first track the ones with heavy weapons… Next!"
Pavel Bezyaev behind me was given the very same Ultimatum I'd been dreaming of. The passionate and fanciful Pavel's lips spread in a happy smile. Meanwhile, I was standing there with burning cheeks and wondering what I should do. Demand a normal weapon? Without any discounts and gifted minutes?
But someone still had to get an ordinary blaster… so why not me?
"A Bumblebee?" Ogarin approached, waving his communicator around. His voice was still booming over the field, and I was lost for a moment until I realized that it was a now a recording. "Excellent. I wanted to make sure you didn't stupidly grab a Chance…"
"Denis, I don't need any favors!"
"This isn't a favor. I want to keep certain people alive for as long as possible. Including you. Relax."
"But—"
"I'm telling you, relax!" Denis took my weapon and ration brick and placed them on the ground. He opened the bundle with the cape, threw it over my shoulders, and pressed some kind of bulge on the suit. The dirty gray fabric shifted, hissed, and started crawling over my body. "I said don't move! The Chameleon has to get used to your figure."
I froze obediently.
"Too bad it's an old model, so your face will be visible," Ogarin commented when the cape was done stretching and now covered me completely, except for a small over around my face. "When the Psilons arrive, bury your face in the ground. "After they move past…" he grimaced. "If they move past, then… then you can attack. Or not. Winning isn't important, we need to stall for time. Your squad will be located around Firing Position Gamma, it'll be destroyed quickly from the air, but then marines will deploy to check the area. That's when your work will begin. If there are three or four Psilons… maybe you can succeed. Fight off the initial attack, then immediately go into the forest, but remember to cover the retreat. They'll be in pursuit. Well… I guess that's it."
He gave me a rueful smile.
"Stay alive, man. I really wouldn't want to find you in a fried state tonight."
"Keep an eye on yourself," I bit off.
"It's my job."
"Captain?"
Both of us turned. Anne and Artem Eiko were standing next to us. The boy had also been given a set of gear, a light blaster, and a cape. Anne was unarmed.
"Yes," Ogarin replied.
"Captain, I'm not being allowed near our ship!"
The girl was wound up. And Denis could see that.
"Yes, on my order. Why do you want the ship?"
"I'm not planning on leaving!" the girl shook her head. "But the ship will likely be destroyed. I need to get my equipment."
"Weapons?" Ogarin inquired.
"Equipment," the girl insisted. "Special equipment."
Beads of sweat appeared on her brow. Her fingers were twitching nervously.
"Why?"
"Captain, my duty is to protect Artem. I can't do that effectively without special equipment. Captain, I'm very, very tense. It's difficult for me to control my behavior when I'm unable to fulfil my duty."
It was so ridiculous, so insane, that it overcame the craziness of the day. In the middle of a crowd of two thousand armed people stood a little girl and was almost openly threatening a captain of the Imperial Forces.
Ogarin glanced at me, "Why are you standing there? Move, the suit has to remember your range of motion! Jump, run! Go!"
I started moving. In place. I was too curious, extremely curious… Ogarin shook his head but decided not to send me away. He asked the boy, "Will she leave without you?"
Artem shook his head.
"Fine," Ogarin glanced at his watch. "How much time do you need?"
I estimated that we were about three kilometers from the yacht.
"Ten minutes to get to the ship, ten minutes to gather my things, ten minutes back, five for the reserve," the girl rapped out.
"Permission granted," Denis said. He raised the communicator to his lips and muttered something. Before he'd even finished speaking, the girl was no longer there. She was running, barely moving her arms, shifting her legs with a monstrous speed. As if she was a cyborg instead of a human.
"She's like a mechanist," Denis said bitterly.
"She's not a cyborg," the boy replied gloomily.
"I know. But it doesn't make it any better," Ogarin glanced at him. "Do you love her?"
"She's good," Artem said. "The best of all."
"Who are you people really?" Ogarin asked sharply.
The boy looked at him wide-eyed. Far too bewilderedly and naïvely.
"I don't have the time or the capability to figure something out," Ogarin said. "There's a ninety-nine percent chance that I'm going to die during the Psilon attack. It would just be nice to know. You see?"
The boy licked his lips.
"Kid, whoever you are, I bear you no ill will," Denis took a step towards him. "Maybe I'll ignore a few laws and allow you to leave the battle. Just tell me who you are and what this regatta really is to you."
Artem was clearly hesitating. He didn't have that stubborn determination his sister had.
"Will you let us leave?"
"Alexey, have I ever lied to you?" Ogarin asked me without turning.
"No," I answered quickly.
"It's probably too late," Artem turned around, as if looking for his sister. "I don't know… Do you promise to let us leave? I can't do it again, I swear! This is the seventh time, seventh!"
Dennis reached out a hand and patted him on the cheek, "I swear, kid. Tell me. Tell me the truth, and you can evacuate with the others…"
He didn't even finish speaking when it became clear that something was wrong. Ogarin had made a mistake. Artem's face twisted in a fastidious grimace, and he took a step back.
"My sister has our papers, Captain. She will answer all of your questions."
Ogarin chewed on his lip, then nodded.
"Fine. Off you go then. If you're afraid of dying, then at least don't be afraid of living."
"I know what life and death are better than you!"
For a moment I thought that it wasn't a boy standing in front of us, but a grown man. Something in his eyes… something in his tone of voice…
Artem turned and walked away.
"You know," Ogarin watched him leave. "One time in boot camp… they took us cadets to the theater. The play was very interesting. We missed the beginning but were already starting to figure out what was happening… then they made us stand, line up, and sent us back to the camp."
He took out his pipe. Glanced up at the sky, chuckled, and started filling it with tobacco.
"That was the point. They were smart people… very smart. Taught us that not every play can be seen from the beginning or watched to the end. Both in theater and in life. All right, Alexey. I've got to go. Hang in there."
Suddenly Ogarin stuffed the unlit pipe into his pocket, gave me a hug, and went to the guard post. A minute later, his voice boomed over the spaceport, "Goddamn it! I'm going to personally shoot the next person who takes their weapon off the safety without a direct order!"
I shrugged.
I really was a strange man.
"Well-well… Look at where we are…"
I was approached by Semetsky, the principal of our only school. Short, slender, once he'd looked like a giant to us… same as Olga Nonova. Except Olga was indeed large."
"You know…" Semetsky said just as melancholically. "Why don't we have a drink? I've never drank with my students! Might as well!"
He pulled a flask out of his pocket and handed it to me.
"Thanks," I took a swig of the cognac. "Why aren't you putting on the Chameleon?"
"Eh…" Semetsky waved his hand. "I'll get to it. Plus… I'm small, they won't notice me. Except for maybe this rifle…"
Lifting his Ultimatum by the barrel, he waved it over the concrete, scratching the plastic butt.
"Why do you think that you, a tall guy, were given a small pistol, and me, so short, a big cannon like this?"
"I don't know," I replied, returning the flask.
"Me neither," Semetsky sighed. "I'm going to go…"
Dragging the weapon, he left and was immediately lost in the crowd.
I felt really bad.
I suddenly thought that I would never see him again.
We spent another fifteen minutes near the truth. Everyone had already been issued their gear and was waiting for who knew what.
"It's time, people!" Uncle's voice came finally. "We're moving out to the secret Firing Position Gamma. Does everyone remember where it is?"
The vociferous roar confirmed that no one had forgotten their childish pranks.
"We're off!" Grigory forced the people to get serious with the ancient battlecry of suicide pilots. "God, the Unified Will, and Gray are with us!"
We moved across the field a little haphazardly but together, and considering the situation, we were actually pretty cheerful. Either it was the weapons or the fact that there were a lot of us. The ones at the tail of the column even started singing an old war song, "We were born to turn stars into dust…", but since few knew the words, the song faded away.
Fives minutes later, the stealth capes started working, having probably completing their adjustments to our bodies. First one, and then more people started melting away, turning into a hazy shadow, except for the floating cloud of the face. It was still possible to notice us when moving, but motionless we were completely lost in the surrounding area.
Could it really work?
Would the capes help us fight off the assault? They had nothing to bomb the planet with… we could stall for time, the fleet would arrive, blast the cruiser into debris… the whole galaxy would know of our planet. Maybe Gray would even send creds to help our development, reporters would arrive in droves, the value of the pearls would skyrocket…
And so, while indulging in my calming dreams, I reached the secret Gamma bunker. Naturally, it was impossible to see it, since all the structures were deep underground, under slabs of concrete. But I remembered several disguised entrances and could even picture where the laser and missile turrets would pop out of the ground when the battle began. After speaking with the soldier, Grigory started issuing orders. All of us were placed in a circle two hundred meters in diameter around the bunker and told to lie low. Fives minutes later, at first glance it seemed that the spaceport was completely deserted. I could only make out my closest neighbors: Semetsky, Nonova, Artem, and Anne Eiko, who'd already returned.
"Want another?" Semetsky asked me, indicating his flask.
I shook my head. One was enough. I cursed my overactive imagination after remembering my recent stupid thought about seeing Semetsky for the last time.
We'd have time for a drink later!
Semetsky took a swig and started moving, trying to lie down on the Ultimatum and cover it with his own body. It wasn't working out too well: either the side handles were visible, or the barrel started to pop out. Semetsky was fidgeting, spreading his arms, hitting his knees against the butt of the weapon, and cursing quietly.
"What are you doing with that rifle?" someone asked. This was followed by chuckles.
"Screw you," Semetsky bit off. "I'm trying to disguise myself here…"
Nonova didn't have any such problems. She'd comfortably positioned the huge Chance on her chest, almost rocking it like a baby. She'd clearly already forgotten the recent embarrassment.
Artem and Anne were ignoring what was happening. These strange children were talking about something of their own. Maybe even fighting. The girl's face, almost fully covered by the cape, was red and angry. Something had gone wrong…
"Attention!"
I jerked when I heard Ogarin's voice in my ears. No one had warned us that the capes were equipped with communicators.
"I'll be in constant contact. Unfortunately, it will be one-way. Anyway… I've been informed that all the groups are in position. The children and the elderly are in the forest. I received a final report from them, at which point they destroyed their radio. And now, to business. According to satellite data, the Loredan has launched the assault."
A shiver ran down my spine.
"Three fighters are moving in the front. I repeat, three. They're followed by three assault boats. It's probably all they have left. The stationary positions are ordered to let the fighters through and concentrate their fire on the boats."
Denis's voice quivered. He knew perfectly well that he was dooming his own people with that order. While the turrets would be trying to break through the shields of the assault boats, the fighters would destroy the bunkers.
But we'd have a chance…
"Three minutes to the fighters' arrival. ETA for the assault boats is five-six minutes. Good luck to us all!"
Silence fell once more. But not for long.
"I didn't tell you to do that!"
I glanced at the off-worlders. Artem was lifting up on an elbow, barely noticeable from the back. Anne pressed him against the concrete with a quick gesture. She told him something quickly. I thought I could read "too late now" on her lips.
Everyone had their own problems…
"Oh, I don't like that…" Semetsky said to himself.
Suddenly a piercing screech came from the sky. I knew perfectly well that I shouldn't break concealment. But I still looked up.
I couldn't even see the Psilon fighter, since it was attacking from the stratosphere. But the attack itself looked like it did in the movies. A standard scene of suppressing planetary defenses.
Six bright dots, six spinning orange vortices were flying straight at us…
The ground shook, slabs started to slide apart behind us, and gray metal columns began to slide up. Some of them were opening, releasing the short cigars of missiles into the sky, others started to reform into dishes of targeting antennae. As if in response to the fiery rain, the planet had given birth a monstrous lifeform, a steel mycelium.
Too late.
All six plasma bolts struck at the center of the circle. I was swept for several meters by the blast wave, and my ears were ringing. As if in a daze, I could see the spinning fiery vortices digging through the concrete, burrowing deeper and deeper. Into the damn cool of the concrete hallways, into the catacombs filled with generators and warheads, into the secure bunkers where Imperial soldiers were sitting… two soldiers, whom Ogarin had sent to their deaths.
This was impossible!
I even thought I saw the dull shadow of a Psilon missile that dove after the plasma bolts into the flaming maw. The ground shook once more, followed by silence. Then the bristly silver outline of the fighter sped over us and vanished.
Firing Position Gamma had been destroyed with a single volley, without even firing a shot.
As if the Psilons had known exactly where it was.
Impossible!
I rose and shook my fists at the sky in impotent rage. Barely audible humming punched through the ringing in my ears. Someone was firing after the fighter… dumb and ineffective.
"Cease fire! Everyone cease fire!" Ogarin was probably shouting at the top of his lungs. Take your positions. Await the arrival of the assault boats. Everyone take your positions!"
Getting back down to my knees, I pressed my face against the concrete. A flaming lake was boiling somewhere underneath, but for some reason that didn't scare me. A column of thick black smoke, unexpectedly even and even beautiful, was flowing up into the sky behind me.
Two more such columns were rising on the horizon.
We'd lost the stationary bases in the opening round of the battle. The Psilons hadn't given us the chance to attack the assault boats.