The Genome

by Sergei Lukyanenko

  As Sherlock Holmes and his loyal companion moved from cabin to cabin, Alex had visitor after visitor. A psychologist might say that, subconsciously, the crew still perceived Alex as a father figure. A strict and strong one, whose duty was to protect them.

  That was reassuring, in a way.

  After Janet left, Kim dropped in. The girl was beside herself with rage. She had also been informed that she was the prime suspect. It seemed that what had offended Kim the most was the fact that the hero of her favorite books turned out to be such a distrustful, dry old stick. She cursed—clumsily, but very diligently—telling Alex in minute detail of her conversation with Holmes.

  “Can you imagine? He said I was so desperate to get out of flying back to Edem that I whacked the Zzygou! That I was the only one who knew their anatomy well enough and was strong enough to overpower the Other! It’s like using a ray gun to kill flies!”

  “I know of a couple of planets where flies actually deserve that kind of treatment,” Alex noted. He pulled the girl onto his lap, and for the next few minutes they caressed each other in silence. Kim snorted, murmured something to the effect that she wasn’t a little kid anymore and didn’t go for such silliness, but she did visibly relax.

  “But you didn’t kill the poor Zzygou, right?” Alex said in a half-questioning tone, still caressing Kim.

  “Of course not! And if I were to kill her, I wouldn’t do it that way… .” Kim winced. “It was probably Janet. She’s an executioner-spesh, and she hates the Others.”

  “Janet says otherwise.”

  “Then it wasn’t her,” quickly agreed the girl. “She wouldn’t lie.”

  “Then who?”

  “You’re trying to guess? But that’s the detective’s job!”

  “Kim, everything is very, very complicated. If everyone thinks about what has happened, it might save billions of lives.”

  “You aren’t a detective. You aren’t designed to investigate!” Kim looked at him in surprise. She took away his hand, which had gotten a bit carried away. “You’re a master-pilot!”

  “Yes, I am a pilot. I’m used to operating under a multitude of dynamic factors that influence each other as well as the ship. I have accelerated reactions, enhanced memory, and reinforced logical capacity. And I am, like any pilot, specially adapted for the job of spaceship captain. That includes the basics of psychology, the ability to sense other people’s moods and guide their behavior. Why can’t I try on the role of a detective?”

  “Because you aren’t a detective-spesh!”

  “Kim …” He lightly kissed her lips. “Not everything can be pre-programmed.”

  She was silent, alarmed, looking him straight in the eye.

  “Then why am I not trying to investigate the murder?”

  “Because you think you’re a fighter-spesh.”

  “I’m not a fighter.” The girl pressed her lips together tightly. “I can feel that. I’m not just a fighter!”

  “Right.” Alex nodded approvingly. “You’re more than a fighter. You’re a spy. A terrorist. An agent provocateur.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I just know. Your job is to be involved in the highest circles of society. And, if necessary, to work a miner’s hack in a POW camp, serve in the military, serve at a brothel, do lab experiments. You’re capable of adapting to any situation. You can become almost anybody. Including a detective, I suppose.”

  “I don’t want to!”

  “Why not, Kim? Your specialization is unique. Model-speshes, singer-speshes, strategist-speshes … anyone you look at—none of them comes close to your specialization!”

  “That just means loneliness.”

  The sound of her voice startled Alex. She seemed to have aged instantly, grown decades older.

  “Any unique specialist is lonely. You’ll get to like your work. You will enjoy it, trust me. The real thing, not just what you have here.”

  “I don’t want to, Alex!” She hugged him tightly. “Why did you tell me all this? Why?”

  “You had to find out sooner or later.”

  “But I like flying on the ship. I like being with you!”

  “Well, no one can forbid you to work as an ordinary fighter.”

  “Now that I know what I’m meant to be?”

  “Yes, even now.” Alex didn’t look away. “Especially now.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Kim piteously.

  “You will.”

  He didn’t answer any more of her questions. And Kim didn’t persist for long. She didn’t know the “sweet-sweet sugar and bitter chocolate” game. It had probably been invented on Eben. But another game Kim suggested, “kitten claws,” turned out to be quite enjoyable.

  Generalov barged into the cabin while Kim was in the shower.

  “Would you like some wine?” Alex offered, tightening his bathrobe. A half-empty bottle of real Earthly Vouvray stood on the table.

  “Something stronger!” Puck roared.

  Alex bent over the bar. He fussed for a while with glasses and bottles, then poured the navigator some brandy.

  “So, Holmes has called you the prime suspect, eh?”

  “Yes! Everyone already knows?” Generalov shook his head. Roared with sardonic laughter. “Arguments of steel! Tough as titanium!”

  “And what are they?”

  “Well! I’m the only natural on board, you see! As well as the only homo!”

  “Is that what he called you?”

  “No, this Holmes character, this cloned jerk, used an even more insulting expression!” Generalov punched the air and poured himself some more brandy. “You tell me, Captain, how are my tastes in any way connected to the murder of the Zzygou?”

  “I have no idea,” confessed Alex.

  “It turns out, I was trying to make life hell for C-the-Third and the lady-speshes!”

  “Janet and Kim?”

  “Yes! I killed the Zzygou to ruin that nasty clone’s career, and was hoping to dump the murder on one of the women, since I hate them!”

  “You hate them?”

  “Me?” Generalov goggled. “Captain, no one treats women more tenderly and gently than we gays! Everyone knows this … except detectives, as it turns out! Holmes cursed me out like a drunk miner from some provincial planet!”

  “You have my sympathies, Puck.”

  “Thank you, Captain … But listen, how can we possibly count on justice if the investigation is conducted by a cloned idiot?”

  “Puck, you are incensed at being discriminated against because of individual peculiarities, and yet you yourself sound a bit … biased.”

  “Being a clone is not an individual peculiarity, but a rotten core!” said the enraged navigator. “And I have just been convinced once and for all! While our C-the-Third may be just a fool who couldn’t keep his wards out of harm’s way, Holmes is an aggressive, noisy fool who is a danger to society! Now I’m convinced—war is unavoidable!”

  The sound of running water ceased, and the sanitary block’s door opened slightly. Kim looked out from behind it. Droplets of water glistened on her shoulders. The girl had wrapped her wet hair in a towel, turbanlike.

  “Oh … hi, Puck!”

  “Hi, sweetie!” Generalov looked sideways at her. “Have you heard what I’m accused of?”

  “Just a sec … Alex, I threw my clothes into the wash, is that all right?”

  “Well, you can’t sit in the bathroom for a quarter of an hour.” The pilot smiled. “Come on out.”

  Kim darted over to the bed, sat down, and wrapped herself in a blanket. Smiled cheerfully at Alex.

  “I have nothing but good feelings for women!” announced Puck. “And for lady-speshes as well! My own mother is a doctor-spesh! As for clones, I don’t like them, but I wouldn’t kill the Zzygou to spite them!”

  He poured himself some more brandy. Alex thought for a second, then moved the bottle away.

  “Yes, thank you …” Generalov sighed. “I’m really sort of … but
just imagine, Captain, for thirty minutes, he threw insults in my face!”

  “Don’t be mad at Holmes,” said Alex. “He doesn’t really mean what he says.”

  “Then what does he mean?”

  “He’s just trying to provoke all the suspects. He deliberately pushes our buttons, works our inhibitions and biases. So he can watch our reactions.”

  “Asshole!” exhaled Puck with feeling.

  “Not at all, actually. This is an extreme situation, so it calls for appropriate methods. If reliable truth drugs existed, or torture with easily controlled coercive force, or any other valid methods for express-interrogations, Holmes would now be using them. He may even use some unreliable ones, if he is left with no other choice.”

  “Controlled torture?” Puck didn’t understand.

  “Of course. The murder has obviously been committed by a professional. He could withstand both drugs and ordinary torture. And very strong coercion would make an innocent person implicate himself. But only convincing proof would actually satisfy the Zzygou.”

  “Good Lord, what is the world coming to!” Generalov cried melodramatically.

  “The world is coming to the edge of an abyss. So, Puck, you really didn’t kill the Zzygou?”

  “No!”

  “And you don’t know who the murderer is?”

  Generalov thought for a while.

  “I thought it was you, Captain.”

  “Why me?” Alex was stunned.

  “The act required way too much of a sense of responsibility. Only someone who is ready to make decisions for other people could have committed it. No other spesh aboard this ship has the directive to make general decisions. Only the captain.”

  “And you, since you’re a natural!” cried out Kim.

  “Yes.” This time Generalov didn’t get angry. “And me. But I didn’t kill anyone.”

  Alex thought it over. Reluctantly admitted:

  “I haven’t tried to look at it from that point of view … Yes. It all makes sense. But I didn’t kill the Zzygou, either.”

  “You know what else that … clone picked on?”

  “What?”

  “That I like to walk around the ship in a spacesuit!”

  “That’s a good point,” Alex agreed. “It solves the problem of bloodstains on the clothes.”

  “But anyone could put on a spacesuit.” Puck got up with a sigh. “I should never have signed on to your crew, Captain …”

  “Everything will be all right, Puck. Innocent people won’t get in trouble.”

  “You have that much confidence in the cloned Holmes?” Generalov asked ironically.

  “No. I have confidence in myself.”

  Paul Lourier showed up in Alex’s cabin after both Generalov and Kim had left. Generalov left looking just as tense as when he arrived, but Kim looked much calmer.

  “Go ahead, sit down.” Alex nodded toward the armchair. “Want some wine?”

  Paul nodded wistfully.

  “Would Vouvray be all right with you? Or would you like a red, after all?” Alex asked.

  “Vouvray’ll be fine.” Paul took up the glass. He turned it in his hands, then asked, lifting his eyes to look at Alex:

  “Captain, do you suspect me in the Zzygou murder, too?”

  “And why would you be number one on the list?”

  Paul frowned.

  “So I’m not the only one?”

  “Tell me.”

  “Holmes was alluding to my psychological profile. Well … Captain, back at the academy, I really did like pranks … but that’s all a thing of the past! And there is a difference between hacking into a teacher’s computer and slicing up an alien!”

  “Yes, Holmes must have really scrambled for evidence there,” Alex agreed.

  Paul drained his glass. Winced.

  “Must not be the best year.”

  “Probably not,” Alex acknowledged. “Don’t worry, Paul. Holmes is just provoking you. To watch your reaction to being accused.”

  “I thought so. He also said I was too decent a young man. That I had too few reasons and opportunities to kill the Zzygou. And that was the most suspicious thing of all!”

  Alex burst out laughing.

  “Don’t worry, no court would ever uphold an accusation based on that kind of reasoning. Especially not the Zzygou. They need ironclad proof.”

  “So who killed her, Captain?” Paul lowered his voice. “Could it really be … Janet?”

  “Well, actually, I already know who the killer is.” Alex took out his cigarettes, lit one up. “Everything is really kind of simple.”

  “You already know?” cried the engineer.

  “Of course. I’m not sure Holmes knows yet. He’s still just watching us and gathering information. But I … do know.”

  “But you’re not a detective!”

  “So what?”

  The youth looked at Alex with admiration. Then asked:

  “So, who is it?”

  “I won’t tell just yet. I have no proof, either. But I will have it. The killer did make a blunder, after all. Now I will let him make the next one, and after that, the Zzygou will have their scapegoat. There won’t be a war.”

  “So it’s not Kim or Janet?”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Well … you said ‘he.’”

  “I was talking in general. A murderer is a genderless creature.” Alex grinned a crooked grin. “Don’t try to guess.”

  “I knew you would protect us, Captain.”

  “That’s my job,” said Alex. “All right, Paul. Morrison is on his way. I’ll have to hear him out, too… .”

  “Then the rest have already visited you?” Paul quickly guessed.

  “Exactly. Everyone came running to me and complained about Holmes.”

  Alex took Lourier by the shoulders and softly nudged him toward the door.

  “Off you go now. You made your complaint, now let your fellow crewmember do the same.”

  The door signal beeped again.

  Morrison also had to be revived with some cognac. Unlike Janet, the co-pilot was not thrilled with the prospect of war. Unlike Kim, he didn’t believe that Alex was capable of protecting him. Unlike Generalov, he wasn’t converting his fear into anger. And unlike Lourier, he had real reasons to be afraid of being accused. He was pale as a ghost.

  “Xang, things will work out,” Alex repeated yet again. “The detective-spesh won’t falsely accuse an innocent person. So, if you didn’t kill the Zzygou …”

  “I didn’t! Right after my shift was over, I went to bed. I was exhausted!”

  “Then you have no reason to worry.”

  “And I did want to drop by to visit Kim …”

  “You should have. You’d have an alibi. And so would she.”

  “I was at her cabin door, but it didn’t open.”

  Alex frowned.

  “That’s bad.”

  “I asked Kim later, and she just said she had been fast asleep.”

  “Nonsense. She’s a fighter-spesh. The signal would wake her.” Alex winced. Stupid girl … Couldn’t think of a better lie …

  Xang’s eyes grew wide.

  “Kim? Kim did it?!”

  Alex just waved this away. “Hold on …”

  He turned on the computer screen. Quickly sketched a chart, slightly resembling Holmes’s data grid, except simpler. Six lines—crewmembers and time dots. He murmured:

  “That’s why she wasn’t worried … she has the ace of trumps up her sleeve. So … who else has an alibi here?”

  “Kim was with someone?” asked Morrison, confused.

  “Of course. She was either busy shredding the Zzygou, or having sex with someone.”

  “No other alternatives?”

  “Nope. The girl’s too much in love with me. She feels it’s her duty to remain faithful, but it’s hard for her to challenge the other component of her personality. She needs a healthy variety of sex.”

  “Alex, have you,
by any chance, been specialized as a detective?” Morrison couldn’t help asking.

  “No, Xang, I haven’t. But circumstances force me to be… .” Alex nodded contentedly, deleted the chart from his screen. “How wonderful that Generalov is one hundred percent homosexual!”

  “I don’t get it,” the co-pilot admitted.

  “Everything is still tangled up,” Alex said. “I have to work with the assumption that there is only one terrorist aboard. And that hasn’t been proved.”

  He stretched, throwing a mocking glance at Morrison.

  “Unlike you, I have a duty to protect all my crewmembers. Everyone but the murderer … that is, if he is a member of the crew. It’s hard work.”

  “Wouldn’t want to be a captain …”

  “Oh, come on! It’s interesting. Let’s walk over to the recreation lounge, Xang. I’m sure everyone’s already there.”

  “The show goes on …” said Morrison despondently. “You have nerves of steel, Captain. Mine seem to be much weaker.”

  “One false move, and the show will end in the destruction of humanity,” said Alex. “Gotta keep my cool despite myself. Let’s go. I want to grab a bite to eat.”

  Chapter 3

  They say all people can be divided into two types: those whose appetite increases when they’re stressed, and those whose appetite disappears entirely.

  Among the crew of Mirror, Generalov was the only one in the latter category. He had been picking at a plate of salad in a lackluster way, but as soon as Holmes and Watson appeared, he laid his fork aside altogether.

  “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.” The detective was bright and cheerful. “May we join you?”

  He seemed to expect a cordial welcome from the same people he had recently accused of murder.

  “Of course, Mr. Holmes.” Alex gestured toward the least-occupied sofa. As soon as Holmes and Watson sat down, Generalov demonstratively got up and moved over to Kim and Janet. Janet, who had just made supper and was now setting the table, showed no intention whatsoever of offering any food to Holmes and Watson. A dull silence filled the air.

  “Once,” said the detective, completely unabashed, “the esteemed Dr. Watson and I investigated a theft of natural emeralds in the mines of Basko-4. We had to spend three days and three nights among the miners … to eat at their table, to stand shoulder to shoulder with them down in the tunnels, among many other things. If you only knew how many hateful stares drilled into our backs! How many times the timberings would ‘accidentally’ fall or the mining-robots lose their grip—And yet, when I, with the invaluable help of dear Dr. Watson, managed to find out the truth—everything changed. The workers cried, seeing us off from the planetoid.”