Sergei Lukyanenko - The Genome

It was already dark. Stars lit up one by one in the sky. Alex dropped his head back, looking at the constellations. The Southern Cross glowed right overhead, and a little farther off were the Sextant, the Spy Glass, and the Dolphin.

“I won’t betray you,” Alex said. “The gel-crystal will remain in my cabin. That’s the only terminal that can provide a normal connection for it. Kim can come into your virtual space any time… and I’ll ask her to do it often. You can use all the information from the ship’s infonet. I’ll keep the access to the closed-circuit cameras blocked, though. I’ll probably just disconnect them altogether.”

“But why?”

“Edgar, trust me, to feel that someone could be watching your every step is really unpleasant.”

“Suit yourself. I’ll have plenty to occupy my time. This is a very powerful crystal.”

“I’m sure you’ve amassed quite a library.”

Edgar nodded, barely visible against the darkness.

“Yup. Quite a library.”

“And you’re really a top-notch genetic constructor?”

The boy smirked.

“Yeah.”

“Tell me about Kim. She has a strange specialization, right?”

Edgar was silent for a moment before he answered in an even, calm voice:

“My whole world is a fiction, mister pilot. A tiny island of organized data, held together in a quasi-alive goo. I don’t exist. Neither does this river, or this sky. All I have is information. So I am very cautious about sharing it. We’ll talk about Kim, if you want. But not now.”

Alex got up off the grass. His pants were soaked. His waterlogged shoes squelched.

“I understand you,” he answered gravely. “But I’m not your enemy, trust me. And, come to think of it, I’m also nothing but an island of information, locked in the goo that’s called a brain. You’ll be all right.”

“Best of luck to you, Pilot,” said Edgar in his even voice. Paused for a moment, and added, “You can drop in and see me. Once in a while.”

“Thanks. I will. From time to time.”

He strained his mind, ripping himself out of the dark summer night, leaving the other on the bank of the geometrically perfect river.

The virtual world faded away.

Kim watched him from her armchair. She had dressed and looked like a nondescript young woman again rather than a raging hetaera. Alex couldn’t decide if he was pleased about it, but in any case, it was better this way. After all, Edgar was watching them from his transparent prison.

“How is he?” asked Kim quickly.

“Fine.” Alex took off his headband. “Alive and well.”

“So, now you know I wasn’t lying?” Kim demanded.

A tiny eye of the optical sensor on the cabin ceiling…

“You weren’t lying,” he replied, endowing his words with all the conviction he could muster. “But he got really upset.”

“Why?”

“Because of what you and I were doing. Edgar is still watching us through the cabin’s sensors.”

Kim winced.

“Edgar, that’s stupid!” she shouted. “Don’t be jealous!”

“Kim, he can’t reply,” interrupted Alex softly. “Tell you what. You go see him right now, so you two can settle all the misunderstandings. In the meantime, I’ll take a nap. For at least a couple hours.”

“Will you help him, Alex?” demanded Kim.

He thought for a moment before making his answer:

“Kim, this story is horrendous. Of course I consider it my duty to help a boy who has been so viciously mistreated.”

The girl nodded, relieved and reassured.

“Go talk to him,” Alex repeated, “if you’re not sleepy.”

“I’ll manage,” said Kim quickly. “I can go for a week without sleep.”

“I know. Me too. But I don’t see the need right now.”

Paying no more attention to Kim, he tossed off his robe and stretched out under the blanket. Watched the girl put on the neuro-shunt headband.

Damn it, what should he do?

What was this mess he had gotten himself into?

Just a few random suspicions that were impossible to prove or disprove. Circumstantial evidence, to use a legal term. And a gnawing sense of deception…

Kim jolted. Her body stretched out and then lay still. Her skinny legs stuck out funny, the right foot dangling in the air, not reaching the floor.

Kim, what have you gotten yourself into?

Edgar was right. Alex was bound hand and foot by the invisible biochemical fetters that made him protect all those close to him. He was incapable of love, but could anyone tell from his actions? Pilots were ideal captains, after all. Their power rested not in strength or authority, but in the love of their crew. And that was right. He was glad to have ancient moral principles embedded in him, the principles that had been learned through thousands of years of human suffering. These fetters were also a gift. No need to strive to become better—it had all been given to him in advance.

He couldn’t betray Kim.

He couldn’t let himself resolve his vague doubts the simplest and most obvious way—by ripping the gel-crystal out of its nest and handing it over to the security officers at Gamma Snakebearer.

All he could do now was wait… and hope that all his suspicions were groundless, that all the coincidences were random. And that the crystal harbored a frightened young man who dreamed of gaining a human body.

Alex closed his eyes and went to sleep. He would sleep for exactly two hours. It was certainly less than recommended, but quite enough for a modified nervous system.

Gamma Snakebearer had no planets suitable for life. One planet, a charred hunk of rock, orbited very close to the star itself. Another, a luminary never born, just a cold clot of gases, patrolled the very edges of the system. But the space channel located there was very convenient—twenty-eight exits led out to populated worlds, most of them human, and a few to alien territories. So the Empire had built a gigantic transport station at the channel’s mouth and stationed several ancient battleships there to milk the new and lucrative junction for all it was worth. The absence of any planets actually proved to be a bonus; it was much easier for the Imperial government to control a space station than a planetary colony. This way, the profits didn’t have to be shared with any local presidents, kings, tsars, khans, or shahs.

Mirror didn’t need to stop for fuel or rest. The ship dove out of the exit point, turned around to trace a gigantic arc around the one-eyed cylinder of the space station, and then got in line for another entry. The magic mirror of the hyper-channel floated among the stars, indifferent to the many ships diving in and out.

Most of the crew were off duty. The engineer appeared, idled a while, got bored, and departed, leaving the engine running at minimum capacity. Generalov dropped in for a second. With the generosity of a magician, he spread out several routes and went off again. There was still an hour remaining before re-entry into the channel. Janet never appeared at all, and Kim was bored at her battle station, entertaining herself by calculating possible attack routes. Seeing this, Alex blocked off her weapons systems, just in case.

Only Morrison was utterly thrilled to be flying. He enjoyed every tiny maneuver, every little piloting show-off trick invisible to the untrained eye. Seeing who could perform the most graceful turn, using the gravitational field of the channel. Or who would be the one to give the most elegant salutation to his colleagues by a barely detectable movement of the ship.

Now that Alex had become a captain, he regarded Morrison from a slightly different point of view. Not with condescension, but with a certain smiling indulgence. The way a gray-haired father might regard his young son’s academic feats in college.