This is a fan translation of Emperors of Illusions (Императоры иллюзий) by the Russian science fiction and fantasy author Sergei Lukyanenko. The novel is a sequel to Lukyanenko's Line of Dreams (Линия грёз) novel and can be considered a fan fiction of the original Master of Orion game.
Chapter 7
Alexander Zimin, the Emperor's personal doctor, shook his head wearily, "But I must insist, my Emperor. You have been subjected to an almost complete cycle of psycho-breaking. Consequences are inevitable."
"I feel great," Gray seemed as good-natured as it was possible to be. "Alex, I value your care… but the bastards had a failed plan."
"Emperor, do you remember your speech at the theater?"
Gray grimaced.
"Their plan worked at least in part. There's no need to take any chances."
"Alex, as far as I know, specialty is in virology, correct?" the Emperor's tone had changed.
"It is."
"Then why don't you worry about my physical health, cancer prevention… and leave the evaluation of my mental health to the psychologists," Gray rose from the couch and reached for his robe. "It's unthinkable to interrupt the Prostration."
"Your psychologists are cowardly sycophants," Zimin said in an even voice. "They would prefer not to notice small problems… until it's too late. You need to undergo a complete examination, rest…"
Gray stared at the doctor pensively.
"You've been heading up my medical team for fifty years, Alex. Doing an excellent job."
Zimin nodded briefly.
"I like your idea of rest. I think six months at the best resort in the Empire will be good… for you, doctor."
The doctor looked at the Emperor silently.
"I'm the sovereign of the Empire, Alex," Gray said jauntily. "But, first and foremost, I'm the sovereign of myself."
"I was afraid of something like that," Zimin said. He rubbed his chin. "At the very least, don't forget about daily monitoring, my Emperor."
"Thank you, Alex," Gray patted the doctor on the shoulder good-naturedly. "In six months, you'll admit you were wrong. But now, go relax. My people will handle your rest accommodations."
Zimin folded his medical scanner silently. He looked at Gray with slight sadness.
"Goodbye, Emperor."
"See you later, Alex. And… drop that tone. I have no intention of dispensing with your services… but, first, you need some rest."
After the doctor had left, Gray laughed quietly. It seemed that being an immortal's doctor was not good for one's psyche. It forced one to invent problems where there were none.
The intercom on the table trilled quietly.
"I'm listening," Gray said tersely.
"A shuttle with Commander Shegal has landed at the government spaceport. He is requesting an immediate audience. What are your orders?"
"Bring him here."
The Emperor smiled again, remembering the doctor's words. Too much panic for no reason. Shegal had probably also found another reason for agitation… Gray went up to a window, touched the heavy drapes, and they parted slowly.
On Tauri, gardens couldn't be a sign of luxury. The complex of government buildings was surrounded by a yellow sandy field, pockmarked with colorful boulders. A piece of desert, which had never existed on this planet. Dead and beautiful… the aesthetics of the President of Tauri were as peculiar as his sexual preferences.
"This world is mine," Gray said.
It was foolish to bind himself with political games, when he was the overlord of the universe.
"Send in the task force commander," Gray ordered without turning back to the intercom. "The Minister of Propaganda too. The Political Consultant… no, not him."
It had been a long time since he deposed a ruler of such a high standing as the President of Tauri. But he had a firm intention to do so right after his conversation with Shegal.