Edit: Changed topic header.

I chose S. Lukyanenko "The dreamline" for testing myself in fiction translating.

I'm asking native speakers to check the following chapter for mistakes and style issues. Also I'm concerned about verb+preposition constructions. I would be grateful for any additional remarks.

EDIT: Made some corrections myself.


Sergery Lukyanenko
The Dreamline
Part one. God the Father and God the Son
1
Children were what Kay hated the most. Were this affected by his own childhood in the asylum “The New Generation” on Altos – it was unknown. Whatever the case, he never lingered on one planet any longer than nine months. On the planets which had undergone a fertility treatment during the Feud War and conscientiously worked as suppliers of cannon fodder for the Empire he never stayed longer than four months and a half.
Besides, Kay didn’t like it to be killed. It was quite painful sometimes and it was always associated with considerable expenses. And Kay needed money. He loved his hyperboat which demanded expensive maintenance, women who didn’t demand this much, wines of Empire and Mrshhan association, fragrances worked by the old Klackon masters and such pleasures of other races which human can understand and endure.
Now his two antipathies have joined together. And the most unpleasant thing was not even the fact that he was about to be killed by a kid, for a kid and using one of the most unpleasant ways to do it. The real distress was in the fact that Kay had not yet got around to pay for the aTan renewal.
And this, as everybody knows, is fatal.
The hotel room was shabby enough not to kindle some burning interest of robbers and was decent enough to guard Kay from filchers. The boy standing by his bed matched the second category judging by his appearance. Where did he get the electronic key to open the door and the nullifier for blocking the alarms, remained a mystery. The weapon in his hand was easier – algopistols, weapons of sadists and losers, were inexpensive.
“Let’s do it this way”, offered Kay trying very hard to keep his face calm, “you will turn your gun aside and then we’ll talk. As serious people.”
The boy smiled, “I am not serious”.
He didn’t look all that serious indeed – swarthy and dark-haired, the kid was about twelve or thirteen. A jaunty shirt made of pink silk and short white trousers made him appear even less hazardous.
“Listen”, Kay appealed again, “Even if you throw the gun out of the window…”
The boy frowned a little.
“Even if you throw the gun out of the window, I won’t be able to do anything to you! You can see…”
“I see”
“I can’t talk with the gun pointed at me…”
“And why should I talk to you?” the boy was surprised a little.
In his thoughts Kay praised all known gods. The more is said now, the less would be the chances the punk pushes the trigger. To kill a man whom you’re talking to is not so easy, honestly though, Kay wasn’t so sure about whether this rule was applicable to children.
“You’re going to kill me, right?” he asked.
The boy nodded.
“Death from an algopistol is the most terrible thing one can imagine. Believe me, I know it.”
“Have you killed?” the boy was interested.
“I’ve been killed.”
The kid narrowed his lids. He clearly understood.
“So,” Kay continued making his voice sound confident and friendly, “If you’re going to use this abomination on me then tell me for what at least. This is not so great a favor, isn’t it?”
“You’re right”, the boy agreed surprisingly easy. He walked to the armchair that was standing by the wall, sat in it cross-legged and placed the pistol on the arm rest. Unfortunately, he didn’t risk anything. Kay was sprawled on the bed, naked and totally helpless. His body was covered by a thin silvery web that firmly bound Kay to bed-sheet, the bed itself and the wall the bed stood by. The spray container stood on a table where the boy left it as if he was going to repeat the procedure if necessary.
“So, what ill have I done to you, my little friend?” Key carefully turned his head trying to avoid the thin fibers cutting through his body. “Are you a robber? My congratulations, you’re a gifted one. And lucky too. I’ll tell you where the cash is and the code for the card. I need to fly away tomorrow, so I won’t be looking for you and your police…”
The boy’s face wavered.
“I’m not a robber. And you’re not going to fly anywhere. Your flying here was enough.”
There stood a silence in the room for a moment. Then Kay asked very quietly:
“Who this girl was to you?”
“A sister.”
“My friend, this was a pure accident. I was landing on the field of the spaceport. I landed within the allocated zone…”
“But you didn’t land within the circle! You killed her deliberately! I know what you’ve said to the flight-control – “I hate children, these little bitches always creep under the nozzles”. Many saw your landing; you’ve swerved over the field in order to hit Lena with the beam!”
The boy’s voice became thready, cracking. And Kay understood with horror that the boy’s winding himself up. Preparing himself to push the trigger.
“I didn’t see her, believe me. Why would I want to do it…”
“Of course, you were just dancing in the air.” the boy assumed with contempt.
Key chocked on the prepared phrase. How he was supposed to explain to this kid from ghetto that he was indeed dancing? How to express the weight of the piloting headpiece, and the blue haze that surrounds you, and the weightless ship which you became one with? The humming of gravity drives, the air flows, the exhilaration of flight… Yes, he was dancing. And he didn’t look on the concrete plain where stood a girl who bribed some spaceport guard and was waiting for his ship in order to run to the hatch first and to offer the cheapest drugs on the planet, herself as a guide or simply herself…
He was dancing, and the gravity beam slipped over the girl, rubbing her into concrete and turning her into the bloody dust, into that grayish-brown spot that he saw when he exited the ship.
“Kid, my autopilot went haywire so I took the control, but the ship swayed…”
“You’re lying.” the boy said mercilessly, “Everybody in the port knows that your boat is in perfect order.”
He took the pistol, carefully unlocked it and approached the bed.
“Listen,” Kay said feeling an icy chill on his skin, “I have the aTan. You won’t be able to kill me permanently, understand? I’ll come back and make you think of algopistol as of a good riddance.”
“You’re lying” the boy hesitated slightly.
“No, I’m not. You see my body, there’s not a single scratch on it. Men of my profession don’t look like that. I resuscitated a month ago, you understand?”
Boy didn’t show any interest in Kay’s profession which Kay vaguely hoped for, but considered the end of the phrase, instead:
“If you had resuscitated only a month ago you might not have your aTan renewed yet.” he said thoughtfully, “I’ll risk.”
Kay cried, in his thoughts, of course. He came to Cailis in order to renew his immortality – it was quite cheaper here than on Sigma-T where he’d been killed. He loved money that made his life pleasant and he had just lost this life.
“At least” he asked quietly, “you can kill me not with the algopistol.” Your sister died instantly, so don’t make me suffer. In this case you’ll have the chance that I won’t be very zealous with the revenge.
The boy examined Kay carefully, assessing with great interest his neck muscles, and then shook his head:
“I’m not sure I can strangle you…”
“In the closet, on the second shelf from the bottom, there is a blaster. An assault “Bumblebee”, you know… the officer’s model. The money and the credit card are there too. The access code is thirty two, orange, “WOLF”. All of that is your prize. Kill me with the blaster.
“All right” the boy tucked the pistol under his belt and headed for the closet. Key squinted at his left arm. The web covered it poorly holding only the tips of his fingers. The arm was free from the shoulder to the second phalanges.
“How did you get in the hotel?” asked Kay. He bit his lips in order to feel the taste of blood and the pain and jerked his arm. The polymeric fiber indifferently took the sacrifice disjoining the last phalanges of his four fingers. The thumb remained intact which was good.
“I passed off for a call-boy” the kid explained carefully opening the closet. “Paid to the receptionist, hey there is only money here and no gun…”
“Here it is” Kay said taking his hand from under the pillow. The blood from his cut-off fingers gushed out with thin pulsating spurts. The ribbed barrel of the “Bumblebee” wobbled back and forth. The boy turned raising his gun and froze staring at the fancy blood fountains.
“I hate children” whispered Kay, “pity I didn’t see your sister. I’d killed her deliberately.”
The stump of his forefinger pushed the trigger. When naked tissues touched metal a sharp pang forced Kay to give a cry. The hand faltered and the thin red beam slipped over the boy’s shoulder. Now it was the boy’s turn to cry either from fright or Kay managed to mark him still. The boy crouched and the algopistol bloomed with a cone of flaring green light. It blended surprisingly well with the splashes of blood.
It’s hard to miss when shooting a weapon for losers.
When the field of neuron activator or simply algopistol reached Kay he forgot about the pain in his hand. He himself turned into pain. It happened before, but then his aTan had been paid up and he could believe at least that he would revenge.
Kay didn’t cry for long, a second later there wasn’t strength left to cry. In a minute an a half of intolerable agony he died, blind, deaf and cut to pieces by the “web” he was writhing in.