The Genome

  “Tears of rapture at seeing you go,” grumbled Generalov.

  “I doubt that you want war to break out,” Holmes continued. “I doubt you are harboring the murderer. And I doubt that you hated the poor princess Zey-So. The conclusion is simple—you object to my method of leading the investigation. You have, of course, all shared your impressions with each other and realized that each of you has been falsely accused.”

  “‘Falsely’ is the wrong word,” said the navigator hoarsely. “You deliberately insulted me, Mr. Clone!”

  “And now you are insulting me,” rejoined the detective calmly. “And before that, you were insulting C-the-Third Shustov. Puck Generalov, I am unmoved by your references to my cloned origin. But it was your intention to insult me, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, it was!” said Generalov defiantly.

  “This kind of behavior would not be characteristic of a murderer,” Holmes observed. “If the murderer were an ordinary xenophobic maniac. But an assassin-spesh can lead a game on five or six different logical levels. Captain, could you please invite the esteemed C-the-Third and the grieving Sey-Zo to join us?”

  This was a breaking point in the general mood. Holmes looked as though the investigation was already finished.

  In complete silence, Alex left the recreation lounge and went down to the passenger hall. The door of C-the-Third’s cabin stood ajar. Alex knocked softly and entered.

  Danila C-the-Third was sitting on an unmade bed and staring vacantly at the screen. A tiny meditation pyramid of Earthly origin glowed with soft, flowing multicolored lights on the nightstand. Alex silently turned the pyramid lights off and sat down next to C-the-Third.

  “Why are you here?” asked the clone softly. Perhaps his trance had not been deep, or else he had come out of it very quickly and neatly.

  “The detective has called all of us to come up to the recreation lounge.”

  “Me, too?”

  “You, too. And Sey-Zo as well. Is her … mourning over?”

  “Probably.” C-the-Third slowly turned his head, looked wearily at Alex. “What is the point of all this?”

  “The detective must have found the murderer. Or maybe he just wants to talk to all of us at once.”

  “You can’t turn back time, Captain,” the clone murmured. “You can’t bring Zey-So back.”

  “Here. Have a drink.” Alex handed him a small flask of cognac.

  “Why?”

  “Don’t ask stupid questions. Drink up! This is an order!”

  A look of surprise appeared in the clone’s eyes. He cautiously touched his lips to the cognac flask.

  “Drink up.”

  “What’s been added to the cognac?” asked the clone suspiciously. “A tranquilizer?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Captain, I work with alien forms of intelligence. I often have to try their food and analyze human foods for compatibility. I have very good taste receptors.”

  “I thought so. C-the-Third, drink up. Trust me, it’s for the better.”

  “A tranquilizer, then?”

  Alex shook his head. “Pharmaceuticals wouldn’t defeat your depression. You must be feeling like a complete failure as a guide-spesh?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then drink.”

  The clone didn’t hesitate for very long. He probably would have agreed just as quickly to a glass of potassium cyanide. He drained the flask in three big gulps.

  “Great.” Alex nodded. “Now let’s go invite the Zzygou to the recreation lounge.”

  “We can give it a try,” agreed the clone listlessly.

  Despite many hours of airing out the room, the odor of merkaptane in the cabin was strong enough to make you gag. Thank God, Sey-Zo had put her friend’s body in order—reinserted the severed entrails, dressed it, and seemed to have even touched up the face with cosmetics.

  She herself was lying next to the motionless body and caressing it, slowly moving her hands. All four of her hands—Sey-Zo had taken off human clothes, and the Zzygou robes provided openings on the chest. Her small rudimentary hands, previously disguised as mammary glands beneath her clothes, were now tirelessly massaging Zey-So’s shoulders.

  “S-s-sey-Z-z-z-o …” said C-the-Third in a sibilant whisper. “Azané. Sso shaagaka.”

  “Kee-ee-stom …” Sey-Zo answered, without turning her head. It seemed she had stopped speaking the language of the Empire.

  C-the-Third sighed. His face reflected genuine anguish. But his voice, when he spoke, remained calm. He began producing a flow of speech that was soft and melodious and, at the same time, filled with hushing and sibilant sounds.

  Sey-Zo jumped up and flung open her arms, shielding the body of her dead friend. Her eyes were burning with hatred.

  “Gom azis! Sharla si! Sharla! Sharla!”

  “Sharla,” C-the-Third seemed to concur. Bowed his head. “Sso shaataka-laz.”

  The Zzygou hesitated. Her glance ran back and forth between the faces of C-the-Third and Alex.

  “Taea,” she said harshly. “Zaré.”

  C-the-Third grabbed Alex by the elbow and quickly took him out of the cabin. The door slammed shut behind them. Alex stood, drawing air into his lungs in a quick succession of long, deep breaths, as though attempting to expel the foul smell which had permeated his clothes. Then he asked:

  “So she refused to come?”

  “No. She agreed. Let’s go. She’ll catch up.”

  The clone was pale and still talked in short phrases, as though mechanically reproducing the Zzygou speech patterns.

  “You speak their language well,” said Alex, trying to offer some moral support.

  “No, not at all. This is the primitive conceptual language of the worker individuals. I can’t be absolutely fluent in every language of every race I work with. My primary specialization is the Bronins … I speak their language fairly well.”

  They started climbing the stairs.

  “What was she doing with Zey-So’s body? Some kind of ritual ceremony?” asked Alex.

  “Something like that. Thanatos-sex. Parting caresses.”

  “Are they really lesbians?” Alex was surprised. C-the-Third made a wry face.

  “Not exactly. This type of interaction is limited to emotional partners and ritual-based situations … They do need male individuals, after all.”

  Alex couldn’t help asking:

  “Male individuals? Drones?”

  “If you must know,” replied the clone in an icy tone of voice, “the answer is no. Human males will do as well. And clones also suit them just fine.”

  Alex held his tongue.

  They entered the recreation lounge. C-the-Third merely nodded to the crew, as though he had no wish to greet them in any other way. That wasn’t hard to understand. Zey-So’s murderer was here among them somewhere. With Holmes and Watson, he shook hands.

  “Please sit down, Danila C-the-Third Shustov,” said Holmes. “And please accept my deepest condolences.”

  “Have you found the murderer?” asked C-the-Third curtly.

  “Sit down, please. Where is the esteemed Sey-Zo?”

  “She is on her way.” C-the-Third walked over to the wall and remained standing.

  Silence descended once again. The Zzygou, however, didn’t make them wait long. There was a sound of soft, almost creeping, footsteps, and Sey-Zo walked into the recreation lounge. She also preferred not to sit down.

  Alex involuntarily lowered his eyes.

  Holmes got up and began speaking.

  “Dear Lady Sey-Zo, intellectual and emotional partner of the divine Lady Zey-So, let me share your sorrow and multiply your anger …”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Sey-Zo did give a nod, though she didn’t make a single sound.

  “Let me briefly inform everyone of the current situation,” said Holmes. Paused, as if expecting some objections. “So …”

  “Have you found the murderer?” repeated C-the-Third again. Holmes threw an ic
y glance at him and the clone fell silent.

  “When I was first was informed of the villainous murder of Princess Zey-So and was on my way to your ship,” Holmes continued, “I supposed that this would be a rather ordinary case. There was an Ebenian woman aboard, specialized as an executioner-spesh …”

  Sey-Zo started. Her eyes fixed upon Janet. The black woman turned her head lazily, as if accepting the challenge.

  “Also aboard,” continued Holmes in the same calm, academic tone, “was a girl, a fighter-spesh, who hadn’t undergone any psychological training. Elementary logic suggested that these two were the likeliest suspects.”

  Sey-Zo made a small step towards Janet. The same instant, Holmes, with an imperceptible movement, snatched out a police-type paralyzer-pistol.

  “Get back, Sey-Zo! No one has been charged yet!”

  “She is from Eben!” In her agitation, the Zzygou switched back to human language.

  “So what?” asked Janet lazily.

  “You knew that anise affecting us like truth drug!” Sey-Zo screamed. “You making us drunk on purpose!”

  “So it is a truth drug after all, and not just a hallucinogen?” countered Janet.

  Strange as it seemed, her argument worked. Sey-Zo, now stone-faced, backed off.

  Alex mentally applauded.

  “Shall we continue?” Holmes put away his weapon. “While on my way to the ship, I became convinced that the situation was much worse than I had supposed originally. Everyone had reasons to kill the Zzygou. In order of seniority, let me start with the captain.”

  “As far as I remember, my only fault was that I didn’t have any reasons to kill the Zzygou,” Alex smirked.

  “No, Captain. You did have reasons. And you very well know it.”

  “So you did find out, eh?” asked Alex dryly, lifting his eyes.

  “Of course. Victor Romanov. Captain of the corvette Rapier. Holder of the Endless Valor Star and three classes of the Orders of Human Glory. Your elder brother, with whom you had a deep emotional bond. He perished in a battle with a Zzygou military ship twenty-three years ago. The widely known incident in the Tokyo-2 system … it was a sad moment, but one that finally settled the two great races’ differences.”

  Now all eyes were on Alex.

  “It would be stupid to take revenge on every individual of an alien race,” said Alex. “Do you really suppose that, for almost a quarter of a century, I have been looking for a chance to kill any and every Zzygou?”

  “Are you telling me you haven’t read the report of Rapier’s demise?” queried Holmes with a crooked grin.

  “I haven’t read it.”

  Holmes stopped short. He looked at Alex in surprise.

  “But why not, Captain? It would be a natural reaction.”

  “I knew I was going to work in space. Have encounters with the Zzygou. I didn’t want to know the details. I didn’t want to make my whole life a vendetta.”

  “That is hardly the reaction one would expect from a youth fresh out of metamorphosis.”

  “Perhaps. But I haven’t looked at that report. Mr. Holmes … the phrase ‘deep emotional bond’ is a lie. My elder brother was a government child, who had been sent away to be raised at a pilot school from his early infancy. We met, yes … he would visit his parents occasionally, like any good government child. I liked to tell others that my brother was a military pilot. That I wanted to become like him. But emotional connection … forgive me, Mr. Holmes, there just wasn’t any. Ever.”

  No one said anything. Only the Zzygou, her eyes fixed on Alex, was whispering something inaudibly.

  “The incident in the Tokyo-2 system was connected with the fact that the Zzygou military ship had the Crown Princess Zey-So aboard,” said Holmes, no longer sure of himself. “It was she, as the highest-ranking person, who made the decision to disobey the patrol ship … to instigate the battle.”

  Alex was silent.

  “You didn’t know about this?” asked Holmes.

  “No. I didn’t.” Alex shook his head, looking at Sey-Zo. Had she also been there, on that Zzygou ship? Most probably she had. She and Zey-So were inseparable. But even if he had known all that … he wouldn’t have killed the princess.

  “I’m ready to believe you,” said Holmes. “And … I’m inclined to believe that you haven’t read the report of that old conflict. And that your relationship with your brother was not so deep that you would seek to avenge him. But someone wasn’t aware of that.”

  “Who?” asked Alex.

  “How did you get to Quicksilver Pit?” answered Holmes with a question.

  “You know how. There was an accident on my ship. I was torn in half. Literally. They had to generate half my body anew …”

  “It’s a believable version,” Holmes nodded. “Except that the experts have conducted another check of your body’s remains. It had been cremated, of course, but a few samples did remain in the hospital funds.”

  Alex started. The very thought that some part of him was now lying somewhere under the lens of a microscope made him feel sort of numb. Although not so much as one might expect.

  “You had been cut in half by a laser beam, Alex. But, someone seems to have paralyzed you first, made you lose consciousness.”

  “What for?”

  “For a single purpose. To make you stay on Quicksilver Pit. To have you come out of the hospital at the moment the Sky Company would need a captain for the new ship. To make you the captain … so you would see among your passengers the Zzygou Swarm’s Princess, Lady Zey-So.”

  “Someone thought I would kill her?”

  Holmes pondered for a moment.

  “More likely—someone hoped you would, while creating the stalemate situation we have now. Where everyone’s a suspect.”

  “But I hired the crew by myself!”

  “Yes. But whom did you hire? Xang Morrison,” Holmes nodded at the co-pilot, “who was turned down by other ships under all sorts of phony pretenses. Xang Morrison, the former extremist … You hired Janet Ruello from Eben, who had a similar problem finding work. Then you took Kim O’Hara into your crew, a girl who hadn’t undergone the psychological training required for a fighter-spesh. You took aboard Puck Generalov, who hates clones. You took Paul Lourier, who had been fired upon arriving on Quicksilver Pit, back into the crew again. And after that, the company sends the honorable Zzygou and the esteemed C-the-Third onto your ship!”

  “But who could have foreseen all this?” Alex shook his head. “I’m afraid I must still remain on the list of suspects. It would be much more realistic to suspect me than to suppose that it’s all the work of some secret organization, powerful enough for such intrigues. To have interfered with all the spaceport services on Quicksilver Pit … surely not, Mr. Holmes!”

  “Yes, you remain on the list.” Holmes nodded. “Along with everyone else. I have to admit that the unknown enemy has been deliberately setting up a situation which interferes with the investigation … at least for a short period of time. Someone has been hungry for war between the Empire and the Swarm.”

  “Who?” Alex repeated.

  “You’re an interesting person, Alex. You’re a pilot, but you are trying to play detective.” Holmes smiled. “Tell me your version.”

  Alex heaved a deep sigh.

  “The military, that’s my first thought. An alien race … not us, not the Zzygou … Maybe Cepheideans or Bronins …”

  “Remarkable,” Holmes said encouragingly. “Anyone else?”

  Alex glanced at Janet. Looked away.

  “Say it, Captain!”

  “Former citizens of the planet Eben. Those who stayed beyond the bounds of the isolation field, who have acquired citizenship … but never lost hope of saving their world.”

  “Remarkable, Captain. Now let’s think about this situation. Lady Sey-Zo, what other races might be interested in a conflict between the Zzygou and the Humans?”

  The alien thought for a moment. Then grudgingly admitted:

/>   “Practi-cally any race. A local conflict between us will weakening the Empire and the Swarm. It would benefiting everyone … excepting us.”

  “In case of war, humanity would be forced to take the quarantine off Eben,” said Holmes. “Do you understand that? What is your prediction?”

  “You won’t dare do it!” cried Sey-Zo.

  “There is a ninety-nine percent probability that we would. It’s a bad bet, but better than the certainty of mutual extermination.”

  “Then no one is interested. Nowhere except …”—the Zzygou shifted her gaze onto Janet once again—“except for the inhabitants of Eben.”

  “Janet Ruello?” Holmes asked. Alex tensed. But the detective did not say the formulaic phrase to charge her with the crime. He was obviously waiting for the ship doctor’s words.

  “What do you want from me?” answered Janet calmly. “Do I mourn the death of the Zzygou? No, of course not …” She suddenly stopped. Shook her head. “Not at all!”

  “Did you kill Zey-So?”

  “I won’t answer that,” said Janet firmly. “If I say ‘yes,’ I’ll be extradited to the Zzygou, and Eben will remain under the quarantine field. If I say ‘no’ … will you ever believe me?”

  “Sey-Zo,” asked Holmes quickly. “Will you be able to stop the Zzygou squadrons? Will you be able to prevent the war?”

  The Other was quiet for a while, then nodded reluctantly.

  “Yes.”

  “Under what conditions?”

  “Under condition that I personally administer justice to punishing the murderer, and the punishment is no less horrible than the fate that befell Zey-So.”

  Janet pressed her lips together, but said nothing.

  “Dear Sey-Zo, do you realize that the war will not be of any use to either your civilization, or to the Human Empire?”

  “I realize.”

  “If a crew member voluntarily confesses to having committed this heinous crime and hands him or herself over …” Holmes threw a passing glance at Alex. “Will you stop the war, Lady Sey-Zo?”