The Genome

by Sergei Lukyanenko

  “Contact …”

  A warm wave washed away the cozy, tiny world of the pilot’s module.

  Space opened up all around him in every direction. The planet, the cosmos, the ships. The glowing rainbow—the soul of his vessel. And other people’s consciousness like fiery vortexes circling around him.

  Never before had Alex experienced this, seen the world this way—being in its center, at the very rainbow. The old Heron didn’t count—it had been a one-person ship.

  His crew was waiting.

  Alex reached for a small white vortex. He felt sure that was Kim, and he was right. The vortex curved toward him and its heat splashed onto Alex, a mixture of adoration, lust, flirtation … and a pure, completely unbridled readiness to destroy. Alex touched the vortex, as if slapping his hand onto hers, and recoiled away from her. Back towards the rainbow, towards the ship.

  A dark-red clot of fire. Janet. She did not rush toward the captain. Just saluted him with a brighter flash. A cold, dying star … ready to explode at any moment and turn into the devouring blaze of a supernova.

  A nebulous cloud of blue light. Like high-temperature plasma, bound by a magnetic trap. Alex watched Puck with intense curiosity, trying to see how he differed from the others. The navigator could not use a bioterminal because the neurons of his brain had not been altered. He entered the ship’s net with a primitive cable, like some spider from the spaceport accounting office. But it did not look as though that created any problems. The cloud glowed, greeting the captain.

  A quivering white zigzag. A captured bolt of lightning. When Alex first entered the virtual space, the zigzag lengthened, straightening itself. The engineer. For some reason, Alex had been sure that Paul would look precisely this way. Nothing fancy, no quirks—the way a novice astronaut, just out of school, should look.

  And finally, the other master-pilot. An emerald-colored spiral and a handful of precious gems, connected by an invisible thread and circling around the ship’s consciousness. Xang did not react to the captain’s presence at all. That was a bad sign.

  Alex moved toward the rainbow light.

  “It’s me …”

  The rainbow brightened, and every color of the spectrum turned painfully vivid and distinct. The six colors that naturals saw in rainbows turned into the seven colors scientists had thought up. Then split apart into strips of turquoise and threads of carrot-orange, veins of crimson and belts of canary-yellow, shadows of gray and filaments of sand.

  “Take me in …”

  A warm touch. Whispering foliage. Sunlight. A mother’s embrace. A gentle sea wave. Soft breeze. Sweetness and tranquility. Restrained passion. Intoxicating lightness. Giddy excitement. Restful contentment. Quiet exultation.

  No ordinary human could ever experience it. All of this at once. All of life’s pleasures, all this happiness accumulated bit by tiny bit. Alex, a small boy of five, racing toward the edge of the sea, seeing it for the first time in his life. Running and laughing, overflowing with joy, into his mother’s open arms, into a rolling wave … Alex, overcome with delight, holding Pawlie, his dog, warm and real, and Pawlie enthusiastically licking his face. Alex, celebrating his thirteenth birthday, the cake in front of him twinkling with multicolored candles, and his father, so young, brimming with pride, saying that his son would become a pilot next year, would be a person destined for nothing but happiness … Alex, already a student learning to use his new abilities, in a city park, kissing a girl-natural, his first real lover, inexperienced, but burning with desire to gain that experience with his help … Alex, wearing his pilot’s uniform for the first time, standing on parade square, and the legendary master-pilot Diego Alvarez attaching badges to the young pilots’ uniforms, finding a special word of encouragement for each of the graduates … Alex, sweaty and worn out, sliding out of the pilot’s chair, barely able to walk … but the throat of the channel, which had suddenly narrowed, is already behind them, passed, and he passed it, an inexperienced third pilot, none of his five hundred passengers realizing how close death had come … Alex, barely out of the hospital, alone and lost on a strange planet, saving a girl-spesh, helping her get through the most difficult time in her life …

  This was something new. He didn’t realize just how happy and proud he had felt about rescuing Kim. But memory lives by its own rules, so now that night would always be with him, as well as the quiet exaltation of a man who had done some good …

  Suddenly, something pricked him. Almost imperceptibly, and immediately washed away by a warm wave of iridescent light. And yet it did prick him, before it vanished …

  Before he became one with the ship.

  And the crew became a part of his own self.

  Alex sent out an order, without so much as a thought, and not in any verbal form. The white lightning flashed brighter, giving off energy. The emerald spiral lifted Mirror off the concrete blocks, then folded in the supports, checked all the equipment one last time. The bluish light opened like a fan, displaying hundreds of take-off trajectories. The white vortex and the red flame, his two fists, tensed up, ready for a personal battle with the entire planet of Quicksilver Pit, with the entire galaxy… .

  Now that Alex was in complete confluence with the ship, all of them became one whole, connected by his will.

  Exactly the way it all should be.

  Alex got up from his pilot’s chair and stretched. Everything around him still seemed irregular, unreal. The bridge looked too small after the boundlessness of space. The co-pilot getting out of his chair was no longer an emerald spiral. His own beating heart had replaced the silent stream of energy.

  “Seven minutes, thirty point five seconds,” murmured Xang. “Do you think that’s enough for the first training session, Captain?”

  “Quite enough.”

  Alex felt that the tone of his voice had changed, but he couldn’t do anything about it. And why should he? Now he really had become the captain.

  That was the whole point of the training session—to get a feel for every crewmember and to place his own image into their psyches. That was the goal, not the synchronization of all their actions, which was unavoidable anyway.

  “Captain?”

  He looked at Morrison.

  “Do you wonder what you look like from the outside?”

  Alex reflected a moment and nodded. “I do.”

  “A white star. So bright it hurts to look at it … even in virtual reality. A tiny white star. And when you had your confluence with the ship, the rainbow seemed to explode from within.”

  “Was it beautiful?” inquired Alex.

  Morrison hesitated a little before he answered. “Don’t know. Impressive, bright … beautiful, perhaps.”

  But he didn’t sound all that sure.

  “Thank you, Xang. You’re an excellent pilot. I think we will split our bridge duty time equally.”

  The co-plot looked suddenly perplexed. “Captain?”

  “Is that all right with you?”

  “Hell, yes!” Xang got up. “But why?”

  “Because you’re a good pilot,” said Alex. He couldn’t see the Demon, but knew that it had a spiteful smile on its face.

  Piloting was any pilot’s supreme pleasure. To merge with the ship completely, to become a metal bird soaring among the stars—what could ever be better than that?

  Only one thing was better—to be the ship’s captain. And Morrison had no idea of this little secret. He was only a pilot, just like Alex had been so recently.

  “Thank you, Captain.” Xang’s voice quivered. “Damn … it’s so unexpected.”

  “It’s all right, Xang.” Alex left the bridge and stopped outside in the hall, looking down its length. The engineer stuck his head out from the door of his engine room at the end of the hall, saluting the captain with a wave of his hand, and then dived right back in to be with his beloved gluon streams. It was as if he didn’t even need any comments about his recent performance. Then Janet and Kim simultaneously rushed out of the na
rrow passageways leading to the battle stations. Roaring with laughter, they gave each other high-fives, then a hug, and only after that, both turned to Alex. He smiled back. Somehow outer space always increased women’s longing for same-sex love, and Alex would have gotten jealous … had he felt more than just a friendly attraction to Kim. Jealousy was a mere derivative of the main function unavailable to him.

  Then a door closest to the bridge opened, and Generalov came out into the hall. He was still in his spacesuit, though with the helmet folded down.

  “Good,” said Alex. “Really good.”

  Puck grinned a crooked grin. The slight tension vanished from his eyes.

  “The route to Dorian was remarkable,” Alex said with sincere praise. “I never had any plans to go there, but the route you plotted was great. I never should have doubted your abilities.”

  The navigator reveled in this, like a young girl upon hearing her first compliment. It occurred to Alex that the analogy was to some extent true, and he hastened to add, now in a more formal tone of voice:

  “But the track toward Zodiac, which you plotted earlier today, is far from optimal.”

  “Now, wait a minute, Captain!” Puck cried out in dismay. “The optimal route would require going through the tunnel in the Monica-3 system!”

  “Yes. And what’s wrong with that?”

  “That region is not recommended for small ships, Captain.”

  “But neither is it forbidden, right?”

  “No. But any pilot would prefer to avoid the Bronins’ ritual zone.”

  “Puck, please keep in mind that I’m not just any pilot.”

  “And neither am I,” added Morrison, appearing suddenly behind his back. “I’ve had occasion to use the Monica-3 tunnels.”

  “And what were your impressions?” said Puck with curiosity.

  “Painful. But only pilots have to worry about it.”

  “How come speshes are always so suicidal …” murmured Puck.

  “Did you say something, Navigator?” said Alex.

  “No, Captain. I’ve taken your wishes into account. Next time, I will be guided only by the maximal optimization of the route, not by its safety. Excuse me.”

  He turned around and disappeared into his module. The door slammed behind him.

  “Looks like we’ve offended him… .” said Morrison softly.

  Alex thought in passing that what had offended Generalov was the co-pilot’s intrusion. When he talked to him one-on-one, the navigator was still open to suggestion. But when faced alone with two speshes, he immediately retreated into his shell.

  “I shouldn’t have interfered,” sighed Morrison, as if reading his mind. “I’m sorry, Captain.”

  “Let’s go have a drink,” said Alex. “After all, we’ve just had our first training session, and a rather successful one, I should say.”

  “Alright. The girls are already there, I see.” Morrison shifted his gaze away from the empty hall. “Captain … just in case … are you involved with Kim or Janet?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Would you mind if I courted the girl?”

  “Absolutely not.” Alex smirked. “Hell, you’re also a pilot … so why these questions?”

  “Well, you never know,” Xang explained as they walked down the hall. “Of course, we can’t love, so we’re spared the emotional prejudices … But I once worked on a ship, a medium-tonnage freighter, nothing out of the ordinary … well, the third pilot was involved with a navigator girl, and his reaction was quite hostile. His religious beliefs didn’t allow being unfaithful, you see.”

  “Thank God, I’m an atheist.”

  “That settles it, then.” Morrison nodded.

  “There’s just one thing, Xang. The girl’s in love with me. But I won’t be upset if she chooses you as a more appropriate object of affection.”

  Xang smiled contentedly, but said nothing. He had needed so little to put him in a good mood! Only seven minutes of contact with the ship.

  They passed by several closed cabin doors and reached a small circular lounge. Passengers and crewmembers always shared the recreation hall on small spaceships, and the furnishings were a compromise between asceticism and luxury. The compromise was never a happy one, and this lounge was no exception. The plastic walls were decorated by still lifes in heavy wooden frames that were way too fancy. The oval-shaped table was made of ordinary foamed metal, but two small sofas and armchairs were constructed from wood, though they did have safety straps. A tiny field bar was incongruously filled with exquisite beverages—from Earthly wines to Edemian cognacs and ambrosia. And small emergency lights surrounded the delicately wrought crystal lamp on the ceiling.

  It all looked as though the unknown designer had simply tossed together bits of standard interiors to create a random mix of passenger lounge and crew lounge.

  The door leading to a tiny kitchenette stood open, and Janet was already bustling around in there. Alex happily noted her willingness to get snacks ready. Had Janet been a feminist, no one could have gotten her into a kitchen, even at gunpoint.

  Kim was sitting in an armchair near the wall with a goblet in her hand. She gave them an unusually gloomy look as they walked in.

  “When the captain enters, one should stand up,” said Janet quietly without turning. Kim jumped up, all but spilling the contents of her goblet.

  Hiring Janet was beginning to look like the best decision Alex had made in the last few days. If anyone could make a true astronaut out of Kim, it would be a lady from Eben.

  “However,” Janet continued in the same tone of voice, “traditionally, female crewmembers do not abide by this rule and salute the captain’s arrival with a nod … or a charming smile.”

  And she turned around, demonstrating that smile to Alex.

  “Thank you, Janet,” he said. “Kim, please sit down.”

  “Sandwiches, anyone?” asked Janet without even a hint of formality in her tone, as she came out of the kitchenette with a tray in her hands.

  “Wow! Thanks.” Xang sat down sideways next to Kim. He smiled at the girl. “Friend-spesh, you look great on watch!”

  Kim snorted. Looked at Alex with piercing intensity, as if she had heard them talking in the hallway … Damn it!

  Alex felt his face turning red. But of course! Less than eleven yards of hallway was nothing to Kim’s enhanced hearing!

  “And you must be that dangling bit of green snot I saw?” she asked Morrison in all innocence. There was a silence. Then Morrison faked a laugh.

  “Usually my virtual image inspires more pleasant associations, you little white vortex.”

  “My first impression was more pleasant,” said Kim bluntly.

  Now Morrison also caught on. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, threw a guilty look at Alex.

  What could be done now? To Kim, it looked all too obvious. Two boors decide to share her, and the one she loves agrees to give her up without so much as a second thought.

  The situation was saved—to the extent that it could be—by Paul. The engineer was leaving his module. Alex heard the squelching sound of the hermetic hatchway, then waited a moment. Of course, everyone but Kim knew exactly what was happening. But Kim couldn’t help herself and asked:

  “What’s he doing now?”

  The “bit of green snot” was first to answer. Xang was uncommonly persistent, it seemed.

  “The engineer’s job, even on clean gluon reactors, always carries the risk of irradiation.”

  Kim shrugged, unimpressed by such rudimentary information.

  “His body is thoroughly specialized,” Xang continued. “His skull and his pelvic bones contain a lot of lead, to act as a screen. His ribs are fused into a single bone-and-cartilage plate, for the same reasons … But protecting the reproductive organs has always been one of the main challenges. You see, Kim, the irradiation of the testicles may lead to unwanted mutations.”

  “They should have more women engineers,” said Kim darkly.

  “T
hat’s what we were doing on Eben,” noted Janet. She languidly reached for a huge sandwich and took a bite.

  “In the last few decades,” continued Morrison, completely unabashed, “the most rational solution to this problem has been adopted … Hi, Paul!”

  The engineer nodded, entering the lounge.

  “The solution was found in one of the practices of sumo wrestling,” said Xang. “In case of emergency, Lourier draws his testicles into his pelvic cavity, where they are completely safe from radiation.”

  “Wow!” Kim looked at the engineer with admiration. “Is that hard?”

  “It’s a bit tough to explain to someone not in the trade,” said Paul, reaching for a sandwich. “Generally, it isn’t. The main thing is not to rush it, otherwise it hurts a little.”

  “Captain, what are you drinking?” asked Janet.

  “Red wine, please”—Alex bowed his head slightly toward Lourier, and Paul returned the polite gesture—“out of solidarity with the professional traditions of our engineer. You did a good job, Paul.”

  “Thank you, Captain. We have a great ship. It’s a pleasure to work with it.”

  Finally, Generalov also appeared. He paused in the hallway and looked at his fellow crewmembers.

  “Captain, I’ve checked the alternative route through the Monica-3 tunnel. There’s a seventy-two percent chance that it won’t give us any time advantage.”

  “Why is that?” asked Alex.

  “Such is the probability of a ritual battle of the Bronins at the moment we reach that system. Even if we manage to avoid getting involved in the fray, all the maneuvering to escape pursuit will take anywhere from nine hours to three days.”

  “We’ve passed through Monica-3 in three hours,” interrupted Morrison.

  “You lucked out.”

  “Please, sit down, Puck.” Alex nodded. “You’re probably right. Would you like some wine?”

  “Yes, I would, thanks.” Visibly proud of his victory, Generalov sat down next to Paul and quietly noted, “You did a great job, man… .”

  “You’ve provided interesting energy consumption challenges, sir,” replied Paul, reserved as usual.

  Janet poured everyone some wine. She seemed not to mind her impromptu role of hostess.