“You have interesting customs,” said Alex.
“Why do you say that?”
“On Earth, where I come from, it isn’t customary to have real sex instructors. We do have training at school, but only in virtual reality.”
Kim shrugged.
“Earth is a rich planet. And technology-crazy. I … I had a virtual lover, too. But that’s not really common. Everything ought to be natural, as my school sex teacher used to say.”
Alex thought in passing of the crystal the girl was hiding in her altered body. Its capacity would have been enough to teach every last schoolgirl on Edem …
Why are other people’s secrets always so tantalizing?
“Kim, you want to go out to eat?”
“At McRobbins?”
“Ugh.” Alex scowled. “Today I took my post as captain. This calls for a celebration. I’ll find out which restaurant in town specializes in Earthly cuisine, and we’ll go there.”
“Will you get me some ice cream?”
“Absolutely.”
“Yeah!” Kim smiled and slipped off his lap. “Then give me a sec, I have to put myself together.”
She disappeared behind the bathroom door, and there came the sound of running water. Alex got up and walked over to the window.
Was there any trace of yesterday’s sky?
No, not even a tiny bit. A thick, ragged layer of dirty, gray clouds. Neither winter, nor spring; neither snow, nor rain. A cold, lead-colored drizzle filled the air. Faded, cheerless rainbows clung to the streetlights.
“It must feel great to be a ship’s captain!” yelled Kim from the bathroom.
“It’s awesome!” replied Alex.
And smiled.
The warmth of the captain’s chair.
Darkness and the multi-colored web.
The breath of another soul.
I love you.
Love me.
Be one with me.
How hard life must be for those unable to ever experience it …
Chapter 4
They were all waiting at the ship.
Janet, feigning indifference, was looking over the blister of the battle station on the left side. Alex could tell immediately that she liked the vessel a lot.
Puck and Paul were discussing something. Judging by the embarrassed look on the engineer’s face, he had just been hit with the news of the navigator’s biological status. Although the young fellow looked only slightly shocked.
Upon seeing Alex, Paul straightened his back. Kim walked at Alex’s side, trailing slightly as she gazed inquisitively around the landing field. Generalov turned around and also straightened. He had washed off the face paint, and Alex was pleased. Janet limited herself to just a nod—she was not yet a member of the crew. But a tightly packed bag, the kind suited for a minimum of personal belongings, was dangling from her shoulder, and that was encouraging.
“This is Kim O’Hara,” Alex introduced the girl, “our … possibly, our fighter-spesh.”
Paul looked surprised, but glad, too. Puck’s face remained unreadable. Janet was silent.
“Paul Lourier, our engineer. Puck Generalov, our navigator. Janet Ruello … possibly, our doctor.”
“Still having a problem finding a co-pilot?” inquired Janet politely.
Alex nodded. “Yes. I hope to solve the problem today. Do any crewmembers have any objections to the candidacy of Janet or Kim?”
Generalov coughed. Glanced sideways at Paul, as if hoping for his support, and then asked bluntly:
“Captain, as far as I know, having a fighter-spesh on board presupposes dangerous trips, right?”
“Possibly. Dangerous trips, or a paranoid boss.” Alex gave a dry smile. It’s always important to distance yourself from the company owners.
“And you’re certain that Ms. O’Hara is adequately trained?”
“In the case of a fighter-spesh, the word ‘training’ doesn’t really apply.” Alex regretted these words as soon as they left his lips. Now it looked like he was pointing out the natural’s deficiency. Puck could play all the games he wanted, flaunting his naturalness and professional mastery, pushing people’s buttons … but he still couldn’t help feeling deficient.
But Generalov kept his cool.
“I agree with you, Captain. But in case of real danger, I would prefer to have a male fighter aboard. And it’s not in any way connected to my sexual preferences.”
Alex looked around at Kim. The girl was fingering her white lace collar and smiling at the navigator—a sweet, happy smile.
“Puck, imagine a stranger approaching our group. Whom would he not see as dangerous?”
“All right. I see your point,” nodded Generalov. He did not even glance at Kim. “But a fighter-spesh should not be so much a camouflaged killer, as a warning presence.”
“I hold a different view. The fighter has to guarantee security.”
“And she will be able to guarantee it?”
Alex looked at Kim, caught her questioning glance, and gave a slight nod.
The next split second, the girl was already standing next to Generalov. Her right hand was squeezing his throat, and her left gripped his genitals through the fabric of the uniform.
“Which do you prefer, pain or death?” asked Kim in ice-cold tones. “Choose now.”
Puck tried to stir, but that proved to be a bad decision. A grimace of pain contorted his face, and he froze.
“Choose now,” repeated Kim.
No one needed a more vivid proof of the fighter’s capabilities. No natural could have covered the distance so fast—the movement was imperceptible to the naked eye. Moving in accelerated time was possible only after a total transformation of musculature and the nervous system. Alex said quietly:
“Let our navigator go, Kim.” Another split second—this time Alex managed to see a faint shadow and feel a slight movement of the air. He tried to estimate the speed of Kim’s movements, but couldn’t do it very exactly. In the neighborhood of ninety miles an hour.
Of course, no spesh could keep that speed up for more than a minute. But there wasn’t any need for that. They would all be dead by now, if Kim had wanted.
“Puck, do you still have any doubts about her training?”
What a fine beginning for their work together … a hateful quarrel between two crewmembers.
Puck cleared his throat, rubbing his neck.
“I take it back, Captain.” He finally looked at Kim. Lowered his head slightly.
The girl returned his polite and rather ceremonious bow. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair awry. Those were the outward, the most innocuous, manifestations of what had just happened. Now she ought to have something sweet to drink. A full sugar bowl of coffee, for instance, followed by a piece of meat. Her cells needed to recuperate.
“Good going, kid!” said Janet unexpectedly. “Well, Captain, shall we take a look at the ship?”
The person most interested in the ship was Kim. She had probably never flown on a discus yacht. In the cargo bay, she stared at the transparent six-and-a-half-foot-tall plastic cylinders, then looked at Alex in bewilderment.
“Those are spacesuit units,” he told her quietly. But not quietly enough. Generalov heard him and turned his head. A great opportunity to stick it to the captain—a fighter-spesh who had no knowledge of the most elementary features of a ship!
“Captain, permission to test out the wardrobe functions.”
“Go ahead,” said Alex. What was the natural up to this time … ?
Puck stepped over to one of the units, slapped his hand on the sensor to make the cylinder come open. A thin split appeared in the plastic, then widened to make an opening. The navigator stepped in, and the two sides reattached.
“A full-blown test,” Janet said, in a mildly mocking tone. “Show-off …”
The plastic clouded up a little as the spacesuit gel filled the inside of the hollow cylinder walls. Then tiny sprayers opened up, and a billowing gray mist filled the cyli
nder. Invisible force field needles stitched the mist into thick fabric, tightly wrapping Puck from head to toe. Only the navigator’s face had a clear space in front of it.
The unit worked fast. When the air inside the cylinder cleared, Puck was fully enveloped in a silvery suit. The spacesuit bulged a little on his back, around his waist, and under his chin—that is, everywhere the gel molecules were forming not just a flexible armor, but also the life-support systems. The face shield of the helmet was the last to condense out of the mist.
The cylinder opened, and Puck stepped out into the cargo bay. He gave Kim a tiny wink, and Alex felt a slight twinge of concern. Was that a sign of respect on Generalov’s part? Or was he flirting, despite his declared orientation?
“Captain, the cargo bay systems are functioning properly. Spacesuit assembly time—fifteen seconds.”
“Thank you, Navigator. Will you be taking it off?”
Generalov looked at his new suit with obvious pleasure.
“With your permission, sir, not yet.”
Alex shrugged. Narcissism was a flaw that could be lived with.
They left the cargo bay and entered the ship’s main hall. Puck was the last to follow. His silvery armor crackled slightly, making its final adjustments to his body.
“Everything’s standard,” said Alex, stopping. “Six cabins are at our disposal.”
“Will the quarters also be assigned the standard way?” inquired Janet.
Alex nodded. Although … which order would she consider standard? Their crew composition was a little odd.
“Starboard side—captain, fighter, navigator; spaceport side—co-pilot, doctor, engineer. Any objections?”
“Makes sense,” confirmed Janet. “A direct hit to either side would still enable the crew to function. Your permission to occupy my quarters?”
“Should I consider this an indication of your joining the crew?”
“Yes.”
Alex silently reached for a copy of the contract and handed it to Janet. The black woman threw a passing glance at the text, licked her finger, and forcefully pressed the identification point. Then she gave Alex his part of the copy.
“I’m glad,” said Alex. He could have found more heartfelt words, but there was hardly any need for that. Janet was from Eben, so she would not be all that sentimental.
What she said next confirmed his opinion.
“Captain, where is the sick bay?”
“One second.” Alex looked at Puck. Narcissistic and irritating as he may have been, he was still worried about only one thing at this moment. Only a navigator could feel almost the same level of attachment to the ship as a captain. “Puck, will you be able to find the navigation module?”
“Yes, of course. I am familiar with discus yachts.”
Generalov looked straight down the hall. A door at the end led to the bridge, but there was another door next to it.
“You may go inspect your work station.”
“Aye-aye, Captain …” The navigator quickly headed down the hall. His space suit had fully adjusted to its new owner, and now his movements were absolutely quiet.
“I envy him a little,” remarked Janet suddenly.
“Why?” said Alex.
“Are you familiar with navigation, Captain?”
“Somewhat. The required academic minimum, plus two refresher courses.”
“Then you would agree that those are very interesting sensations, Captain.”
The hatch door of the navigation module opened in front of Generalov. He looked back at his fellow crewmembers, and then stepped in.
“Let’s hope I didn’t make a mistake,” said Alex. All of Puck’s recommendations may have been great, but Alex was still worried.
“If necessary, I will be able to set a course from any point in space,” Janet promised him.
“I don’t doubt it. But I’d rather not bring shame upon myself and disappoint the bosses …” Alex stopped himself. No need to share his concerns with the crew. A captain could be aloof, or close with his crew. In a small ship, the latter was even preferable. But a captain should never show any signs of weakness. He had no right.
“In any case, everyone should be given a chance,” he concluded. “Paul?”
“Yes, Captain.”
The young engineer was obviously not a chatty type. Or had been brought up in the spirit of strict subordination.
“Where is the reactor on this ship?”
“Aft, Captain.”
Alex grinned.
“What about the engines? Are you sure that they and the gluon reactor all fit in the rear of Mirror?”
“The reactor module is located aft on this ship, Captain.” Paul shyly returned the captain’s smile. “In between the engines. We have a tandem gluon reactor called Niagara, the newest technology available to the civilian fleet. Radiation screening is done entirely by a force field, with no hard shield. It’s really beautiful, Captain, even in the parts of the spectrum that can be seen by a non-specialist.”
“Paul, you must have had great teachers!”
“Thank you, Captain. I am also grateful to my academy. But this isn’t a typical ship. The thing is, I’ve already flown on it.”
“Flown on it?”
“Then it was called The Intrepid. I don’t know why anyone would change a ship’s name. Granted, the original one didn’t fit very well.”
“Paul, are you sure?”
The engineer blushed.
“Captain, my quarters were second on the port side. There is this tradition, you see …”
Alex walked quickly to the quarters that Janet would be occupying. Put his hand on the lock.
“Open. Captain’s orders.”
The right for inviolable private space was recognized even on military ships. The identity chip under his collarbone pulsated, confirming Alex’s special authority.
The door slid into the wall.
Alex entered the cabin—the usual furnishings, comfortable and functional, like a solitary prison cell. Well, maybe the info terminal was too large for a prison.
The bathroom unit was really tiny. Alex silently sat on the toilet lid, turned his face to the wall.
The small inscription, carved into the plastic with a pocketknife, was not particularly original.
“Tested and approved. Paul Lourier, engineer-spesh.”
Alex looked up. Janet, Kim, and Paul were in the room, staring at him. Paul looked embarrassed, and Janet smiled a barely perceptible smile. Kim didn’t understand a thing. Had he now taken his pants down and started doing what people normally do on the toilet, she would probably have taken it for some kind of elaborate space ritual.
“There’s a penalty for this kind of thing, Engineer.”
“Yes, Captain. Already received it, Captain. Tradition, Captain.”
Why were the greenhorns always such sticklers for tradition?
Alex got up, and the damned toilet behind him rumbled softly, starting the self-cleaning cycle, just in case. Damn those simple electronics!
Kim snickered.
“Janet, would you mind if Paul took these quarters, and you took the third on the port side? I suspect this is his only chance to avoid getting another penalty.”
“As you wish, Captain.”
Alex looked at the engineer next.
“Paul Lourier, I need to see you tonight in my quarters. I will have a few questions for you.”
“Aye-aye, Captain.”
“Now you may get settled in here … or go inspect your work station.”
“Aye-aye, Captain. I’ll check the reactor.”
“Janet.” Alex nodded to the doctor. “I have a special request for you. Do you know where the sick bay is?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Thank God. According to the schematics, it’s right before the recreation lounge.” He shifted his gaze to Kim. “You’re coming with us.”
While Janet was inspecting the sick bay facilities, Alex and Kim sat on an examination
table. The doctor-spesh didn’t need any assistance, although Alex had some idea about the equipment around them. A universal regeneration unit, a folding surgical table, anabiosis capsules attached lengthwise to the wall—after all, if you’re dying, what do you care whether you sleep standing up or lying down? Sick bay was painted a range of soothing green-blue tones, and light—a calming yellow sunshine—was flowing down from the entire ceiling.
“Was I right to behave the way I did with the navigator?” asked Kim quietly.
“Yes.” Alex nodded. “Strange as it seems, it was the right thing to do.”
“What’s so strange about it?”
“Well, you humiliated him. In front of the whole crew. After that, we could expect anything.”
“But instead he …”
“Yes. Stopped doubting you, and that’s great. Did you expect this reaction from the start?”
“Of course.”
“Why of course?”
“He’s used to flaunting his deficiency.” Kim lifted her eyebrows. “He’s even proud of it. And if a spesh demonstrates something that a natural simply can’t do, Generalov doesn’t get offended, not in the least. Quite the opposite, he’ll find a chance to demonstrate his navigation mastery, and then he’ll be proud of himself. That would make him our equal, you see?”
“Interesting.” Alex shrugged his shoulders. “I can certainly see that happening. But you didn’t have enough information for a conclusion like that. I hadn’t told you anything about him, really …”
“For me, it was enough.”
“Impressive,” said Alex.
Janet finished inspecting the regeneration unit and walked up to them.
“Captain, I am more than happy. A good ship, and an excellent sick bay. This isn’t the newest equipment, but all these models have been proved absolutely reliable.”
She really did look happy—maybe she had still been worried about the “sick bay/galley” combination.
“I hope we won’t have to use any of this equipment.”
“Of course, Captain. Permission to look at the rest of the ship?”
“Wait a minute, Janet. I have a request for you … a personal favor to ask.”
Janet looked thoughtfully at him, then at Kim.
“All right, Captain.”
The Genome: A Novel Page 9
