Sergei Lukyanenko - The Genome

“Captain?”

“I’m listening, Xang.”

“Who is to perform the entry into the channel?”

“You—go ahead, Morrison.”

“Thank you.”

There was a momentary pause. And then Xang asked:

“What’s it like—being a captain?”

“It’s a very good feeling, Morrison. You’ve never been in charge of a ship?”

“Only back at the academy. But that was an ancient Heron , with no crew. Just me and the instructor.”

“Same here. Seems like retired Herons are used for training everywhere you go.”

“Back at Serengeti, we also had a Flamingo .”

“Not bad,” said Alex, sincerely impressed. And so they chatted away the hour. Ships came and went. A magnificent and monstrous Tai’i cruiser crawled out of the channel. It looked like a rough-hewn asteroid, its surface enveloped in blood-red flame. The cruiser was making its usual patrol rounds, and a small battleship escorted it through Imperial territory. The giant cruiser of a once-great civilization floated on among the stars as if not even noticing the tiny convoy ship, which could destroy it with one blast.

All is vanity among the stars.

The ancient Tai’i civilization, dying from its strange internal problems, clutching desperately at the last dozen stars left to it, still patrolled the ancient borders of its former realm. As if the Tai’i didn’t realize that their once-mighty ships wouldn’t survive any serious skirmish these days, and that they owed the very existence of their kingdom to the mercy of the races they once ruled….

Alex transmitted a full report of the recent incident to the pilot’s union, sending a copy to the Imperial administration and the government of Quicksilver Pit. Generalov had done a great job preparing the report, carefully detailing all the potential consequences of the collision, briefly noting the shocking negligence of the channel’s guard stations, and hinting at the possibility of a premeditated act of sabotage. The only thing Alex had to add was an “unofficial and off-the-record opinion” that the root of the trouble should be looked for in the commercial rivalry of competing tourist firms.

Then they downloaded the latest news from the station. There turned out to be nothing exciting, except, perhaps, the contents of the society pages. The gala celebration of the Emperor’s seventh birthday. A tired child, blinking sleepily, sat on the high throne, the actual seat of power that his ancestors had used to rule the Empire many generations ago. The child was receiving countless greetings from various ambassadors—and sometimes the representatives of the ambassadors—from various colonial worlds and alien races. Only the Zzygou, following their own peculiar customs, had sent the highest-ranking dignitaries and potentates to the official ceremony.

All is vanity among the stars. All but traditions.

Soon it was their turn to make another hyper-jump. And Morrison, expertly performing the graceful “Ionesco Loop,” ran the ship into the mouth of the channel. Their route now lay toward New Ukraine.

“Take a break, Morrison,” Alex suggested.

“Is that an order, sir?” the co-pilot rejoined quickly. The murky grayness of the channel flowed around the ship. This was a short jump—two hours and forty-three minutes.

“You’re not tired?” asked Alex simply.

Morrison laughed.

“I’ve just spent two weeks sitting on a planet, Captain. Can you imagine? No piloting. And broke, besides. Couldn’t even rent a glider.”

“Very well, Xang. Happy piloting!”

“Thank you, sir,” said the co-pilot with deep gratitude. “Alex… I won’t forget your kindness.”

Alex left the control system. Detached himself from the pilot’s chair, glanced briefly at the screens, and left the bridge.

The first thing that attracted his attention was the sound of laughter.

From the recreation lounge. Many happy voices joining in a merry uproar. He immediately recognized Kim’s bright peals of laughter, the high tiny voices of the Zzygou, and the deep throaty voice of… Janet!

Alex quickened his pace, cursing his own indecisiveness. He should have ordered Janet never to appear in the common modules while the Zzygou were there. He should have warned C-the-Third that sudden aggression from Janet might be expected….

He stopped at the entrance to the recreation lounge.

“We greet you, Captain!” the Zzygou sang out, though they didn’t seem to have been looking in his direction. “We thank you for the hyper-jump and for the second hyper-jump as well!”

No… There didn’t seem to be any trouble.

Kim was sitting next to the Zzygou, and Alex had to agree with Janet’s recent suspicions. The human and the adult Zzygou did look very similar. Even their clothes were alike—a dark-navy skirt suit on Kim and almost the same on the two aliens, though theirs were lace-decorated and a little lighter in color. If it weren’t for the Zzygou’s strange way of talking, no one could ever tell that they were a completely different life form.

Janet, with a rather placid smile on her face, was at the bar, mixing some cocktails. Generalov, lounging with a small glass of whiskey, greeted the captain’s arrival with a good-natured wave of his hand. And Paul, whose glass of wine was still untouched, gave a shy nod. C-the-Third smiled affably as he leaned against the wall behind the Zzygou. He seemed to be quite favorably impressed by the crew Alex had hired.

“And then we got very surprise-ed!” said one of the Zzygou brightly, moving the conversation along.

“We, I got very surprise-ed,” the other one intoned. “A smell? What smell is? Molecule movement in air?”

All right… then the second Zzygou had actually been the one who witnessed what was being described. They were not the same age. They had just lived together for a long time, and their appearance had synchronized.

Alex sat down at the table, opposite the Zzygou. Gave Kim a little wink. The girl replied with a barely noticeable but rather inviting smile.

“Would you like a cocktail, Captain?” asked Janet cheerily.

“Yes please, but not too strong.”

“Very well, Captain.” Janet reached for another cocktail glass.

“We were shock-ted!” pronounced the Zzygou. “How can molecule be offensive? They don’t harming, but offending?”

“Yeah, sometimes it might be very convenient to be unable to smell,” remarked Paul. “When I was a scout, we took long hikes in the woods for three or four days in a row. And if there happened to be no brook nearby, the tent in the evening got quite odorific…”

“How can the scent of a healthy young body be unpleasant?” asked Generalov with a dramatic flair.

“I don’t know about healthy young bodies,” Lourier countered, “but the scent of nice dirty socks…”

The Zzygou giggled, indicating to the others that they got the gist of the joke.

“And we, I suggest-ed a solution,” sang out the second Zzygou. “Spacesuit. Tight spacesuit. No molecule can escaping!”

“And then we made a fix,” the other one continued. “It’s painful… Ouch! But no smell at all. But going to the toilet very-very often, even every day!”

“Cocktails?” Janet came up to the table with a tray in her hands.

“We thank you, servant…” the Zzygou sang out. Alex held his breath. Janet had already been bending over backwards for them….

“Oops!” The Zzygou got up from their chairs, slightly bowing their heads. “We remember! Offensive word, causing pain… We mean ‘thank you, male or female friend!’”

“‘Friend’ will do,” Janet answered calmly.

“We thank you, friend!”

Alex also reached for a glass. Took a hurried sip, still watching Janet’s reactions. What if she had mixed in some poison?