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 4

For the first time, Kay came to Grail the "normal" way. Not through the sterile whiteness of an aTan facility, but through the spaceport, whose level was probably the lowest on the Imperial classification.

It was nighttime, and Mage flew the yacht on instruments. His flying was decent, although Kay had to fight the desire to take over the controls. The silver glow of the digitally zoomed image was turning the tiny spaceport into either a highly-detailed scale model or a child's toy.

This place had no forced landing gravitators, which were used by large liners. Then again, those couldn't land on those two concrete pads the spaceport was likely proud of. One of them was currently occupied by an old container ship with the strange name Glory Days. It probably referred to a veteran's past. The other one was empty, but the yacht was directed to land on the "small field". Kay had a distinct impression that it also served as the local airport. The yacht set down among light flyers and several cargo planes, which couldn't fit in the hangars. About a minute after the landing, one of the planes taxied out onto the runway right in front of the yacht. It seemed as if the pilot had deliberately taken a detour to take a closer look at the strange guest.

"Brrr!" Mage shivered. "Fellas, are you sure you have business here?"

"Unfortunately," Kay went to the airlock. He threw Kuznetsoff a questioning look, who nodded back.

The air was humid and clean. Grail hadn't managed to set up any large-scale industry in all these years. Silence filled the spaceport; the disappearing hum of the plane that had just taken off only served to underscore it.

"It's chilly here," Mage said. "Listen, I've got an old jacket here somewhere; want it?"

Kay glanced at Tommy and asked, "Will it fit the kid?"

"Sure, sure…"

Kuznetsoff disappeared for a few moments, digging through something in the cargo hold and swearing under his breath. He came back with a gray jacket made of some dense fabric and handed it to Tommy. Kay wanted to express his doubts about the age of this article of clothing… but he kept his mouth shut.

"Thanks," Tommy said, throwing the jacket over his shoulders. "Hah, it's even stylish…"

"Gray is always in style," Mage confirmed with a glowing expression. "Dutch, do you need a small loan?"

"No need, Mage," Kay smiled to the banker. "You'll bankrupt yourself this way."

"Eh," Kuznetsoff waved a hand. "An ideal course is an experience worth paying for."

"Enjoy your vacation. Are you staying here?"

"Just to refuel."

"See you," Kay said.

They went down a short ramp. Rain was starting to drizzle, as if it had made a brief pause during the landing. A service vehicle was driving up to the yacht; at least the speed of the service wasn't a problem. The staff was probably curious who and why had ended up on Grail.

"You look terrible," Tommy said, stuffing his hands into the pockets. "Hah! Kay, there's a cred card in a pocket; Mage probably forgot it…"

"He didn't, he put it there. Let's go."

"Name?"

"David Copperfield," Kay answered.

"With an F or a V?"

"With an F."

The grayish officer in a threadbare uniform diligently entered the name into the registration computer."

"And yours?"

"Oliver Twist," Kay replied for Tommy.

"Oliver…" the officer frowned. He was clearly confused by some distant memories. "Excuse me, may I take a look at your identification?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"We are members of a cult of anonymists. Our faith forbids any photographs… so, no, we don't have any identification."

The officer hesitated.

"Even our names are borrowed from ancient books. You have probably read the classical novel of a medieval writer named Mark Twain about the adventures of two close friends?"

"Oh… yeah."

"Well, that's where our names come from, Copperfield and Twist."

The mollified officer nodded.

"Here on business?"

"On a tour. We are hitchhiking across the galaxy."

"Welcome to Grail," the officer pressed a button, and the turnstile of the registration room opened. "I hope you enjoy your stay."

"We have no doubt."

They went into the waiting hall. As expected, it was empty. The windows of duty-free shops were glowing dimly, presenting their uncomplicated choice of goods, largely forgotten in most of the Empire. Almost everywhere, simple vending machines with their manipulators spread out were frozen behind the glass. Human labor was already becoming unprofitable here – a tiny sign of the planet's growing "civilization". No salespeople and no customers. Only a small group of people could be seen in the far corner either waiting to board a plane or just homeless, whiling away the rainy night, who were throwing curious glances in the direction of the unexpected visitors.

Kay stopped, looking around.

"Do you want to get new clothes?" Tommy asked.

"No… although, you're right."

Kay passed by several shop windows, causing the vending machines to exhibit lively twitches. Advertising panels turned on, music started playing, and a green light started blinking over the cred card reader.

Kay stopped at the shop, where a young woman was sitting with a book in her hands. She stopped reading and smiled.

"You know, our prices are a little higher than at the automated shops."

"I've guessed as much. I need a good raincoat."

The girl glanced at her window display thoughtfully.

"I doubt you're going to like what we call 'galactic fashion'. How about this one?"

Kay threw a thin simple-cut beige raincoat over his shoulders. He looked at the girl questioningly.

"It looks good on you, but the size is a little large. Let me see—"

"No need. Do you sell weapons?"

The girl was silent, studying Kay. Then she switched her gaze to Tommy.

"We don't have a license."

"That wasn't what I asked."

"I can sell you my Convoy."

Kay laughed quietly. Seeing her confused smile, he said, "I seem to have a strange lingering affair with that toy. Thanks. I'll take it."

The card Mage Kuznetsoff had "forgotten" in the jacket pocket had enough on it to pay for both items.

The girl took a Convoy out of her handbag, demonstrated through the glass that the charge indicator was at maximum, took the clip out, wrapped it in paper along with the pistol, and handed it to Kay.

"Thank you," Kay said, holding the package under his arm. "Let's go, Tommy."

It smelled of burnt cheap drugs in the glassy vestibule of the port, the last place of light before the rainy darkness. Three young guys, who were smoking next to the half-open door, stopped talking at their appearance.

Dutch unhurriedly buttoned up the raincoat, opened the package, loaded the Convoy, and placed it in his pocket.

"Have you ever seen rain sizzle on a laser beam, Tommy? It's beautiful."

They exited the building. Kay placed a hand on the young man's shoulder and laughed quietly.

"What's wrong?"

"Remember how I found you on Kailis? It rained just like this."

"Idiot," Tommy stopped and slid his hood up. "I almost died of fright then."

"Stop it, you held yourself well," sticking his hands in his pockets, Kay looked around. He was reminiscent of a predatory bird trying to find its prey. "There are no accidents, Tommy. The world doesn't recognize coincidences. I don't believe in them after the ideal course."

"What do you mean?"

"The night, Tommy. Night and rain. Should we get a flyer?"

"No, let's keep engaging in hydrotherapy…" the young man replied in an almost angry voice. They started walking on the wet pavement along the glass wall of the spaceport.

"Somehow, I think everything is going to be fine now," Kay went on. "That I will be able to ask the question, regardless of the answer."

"Where did that optimism come from?"

"Take a wild guess."

"Night and rain?"

A weak deflector field was activated over the flyer pad, yet another indicator of the stubbornly developing planet. Trickles of rain, flickering in the light of the lamps, bent and fell down to the ground in a dome. Through the ripping veil, the human figure sitting on a meter-and-a-half tall concrete fence looked ethereal and painted.

"Night and rain," Kay echoed, stepping through the curtain of rain.

Arthur Curtis lifted his gaze from the game he'd been playing on a tablet. He smiled, timidly and with embarrassment, like a mischievous kid.

"If you only knew, Kay, how sick I am of this age."

Kay Dutch, who hated children, nodded. He approached the fence.

"Will you catch me?"

"Have I ever dropped you?"

Arthur hopped down and pressed his face into Kay's shoulder.

"You can cry if you want to," Kay whispered.

Curtis Jr. shook his head. He answered just as quietly, so that he wouldn't be overheard by Tommy, who was standing only a few paces away, "Don't leave me. Or I'm going to go crazy. Honest."