Sergei Lukyanenko - The Genome

The ship went in for landing over the sea. Tore through a line of clouds—a sign of an approaching storm moving toward the shore at a leisurely pace. Rushed over the pallid gray blotches of water poisoned by hydrogen sulphide—the terraforming was still not completed. The view changed closer to the shore. The sea turned a clean greenish blue, and the air got clear and bright. The ship was moving about three hundred thirty feet above the surface of the water, having reduced its speed to a minimum and shifted to the clean, though energy-consuming, plasma thrusters.

“Will there be any shore leave, Captain?” inquired Generalov, in a businesslike tone. He had absolutely nothing to occupy him at the moment, so he was visibly bored.

“Yes. A six-hour leave for anyone interested. The only one to stay on duty…”—he hesitated briefly—“will be me.”

The raging white vortex—Kim’s consciousness—tossed a needle of white light at him.

“Alex!” The girl was clearly mad at him, but at least she chose to confront him on a private channel. “I thought we’d hang out on the planet together!”

“Kim…” He transferred the piloting to Xang, who was delighted with this unexpected gift. Then Alex focused on the conversation. “As the ship’s captain, I must make sure that the crew has a chance to rest. By tradition, the first shore leave is the captain’s time to stay aboard.”

“I hate your traditions! I won’t leave the ship, either!”

“Fine. Stay on,” Alex agreed.

She fell silent immediately. Then grumbled:

“I changed my mind.”

“Come on, don’t be mad…” Alex tried to imbue his words with as much warmth as he could. “We’ll hang out together on Zodiac for sure. And it’s a much more beautiful planet, trust me.”

“Do I have your word?” asked Kim quickly.

“I swear.”

Kim fell silent, apparently satisfied. Alex returned to piloting, though he did not take the controls away from Xang, simply keeping an eye on the co-pilot instead. There was no real need for that—the ship was already coming in for landing. Below them stretched green fields of lush alfalfa, pigs leisurely plodding through them. Alex turned on the magnification to take a closer look at these gigantic, imperturbable animals in all their glory. They did not in any way react to the landing ship—they were used to them. And only a mischievous shepherd boy, making his rounds on the back of a fast young piglet, turned his little face toward the sky and waved at the ship enthusiastically, his little hand clutching a thermal whip. Alex smiled, regretting the fact that he couldn’t greet the happy kid in kind.

“Landing glissando…” Xang reported.

Mirror slid down to the very surface, rushing over the landing field paved with six-sided concrete slabs.

“Standing in the pillar…”

The ship came to a stop over the spot assigned to it by flight control.

“Touchdown…”

The landing supports had slid out of the body of the ship and touched the work-weary slabs of the spaceport.

“Thank you very much, Mister Morrison,” said Alex ceremoniously.

“Much obliged to you, Captain,” replied Xang with feeling. “Shall we make the transfer to parked mode?”

“Yes. Go ahead.”

Alex slipped out of the glimmering rainbow, out of the warm, caressing embrace of the ship. Felt the ship reaching for him, striving to prolong the moments of contact.

“I’ll be back… I’ll be back… I’ll be back…”

Leave on terra firma!

What could bring more joy to a spaceship crew?

No matter how long the flight had been—a few hours or a few weeks. No matter what kind of world the ship had landed on—the fragrant valleys of Edem, or the wide open New Ukrainian steppes, or among the biodome settlements of the mining planets.

It made no difference; nothing was more joyous or more eagerly anticipated.

The balmy air of a new world, new faces, funny and strange customs, exotic dishes, happy local hetaeras, interesting though useless souvenirs—all that awaited the crew stepping out for shore leave. Combined with the pleasure of one’s favorite work, the ship was their home, and the most beloved little part of the Universe. But what human being doesn’t enjoy being a guest? And that was why all astronauts cherished even the briefest hours of leave so fervently.

Alex stood under his ship’s belly and smiled, looking at his crew. His wards, his coworkers, his friends, his children… they stood waiting for the land transport. This spaceport wasn’t so large as to have a well-developed underground transportation network like the one on Quicksilver Pit.

Generalov was preening himself, looking in a little mirror, wetting a tiny pencil with his tongue, and touching up his thick eyebrows. He was obviously counting on having some sort of romantic adventure. Janet, standing next to him, was doing the very same thing. She may have had the same intentions, or perhaps she did it simply out of every woman’s ineradicable need to look as seductive as possible.

Kim stood next to Morrison. The co-pilot, bright and cheerful, as if he hadn’t just finished a lengthy stretch of one-man bridge duty, lightly encircled the girl’s shoulders with his arm. He wouldn’t get anywhere, Alex was sure of that, but still mentally wished his colleague the best of luck.

“You’re off to the museum, then?” Alex inquired, just in case. “I’d go to the sea…”

“Join us, and we will go to the sea,” rejoined Kim. She smiled, picking with the tip of her little shoe at the concrete slab. Xang threw an alarmed glance at the captain.

“Nope, I can’t,” said Alex, with a tone of regret that was almost genuine. “Well, have a nice time.”

He himself found nothing interesting about visiting the Museum of Animal Husbandry, one of the main places of interest on New Ukraine. But Kim, it seemed, was really into every facet of genetic engineering.

“Here comes the van,” said Paul with a melancholy air. The engineer was the only one who didn’t regard shore leave as anything particularly special. He hadn’t even changed out of his uniform overalls and intended to spend the whole six hours’ leave in the spaceport bar.

A potbellied van of the ancient wheeled variety rolled up to the ship and slid sharply to a halt. The driver couldn’t be seen behind the mirror-windshield, but a girl, all smiles, came out of the passenger section of the bus. A customs-inspector badge was pinned to her blouse, embroidered in the New Ukrainian folk style.

“Good day to you, travelers!” she cried in a ringing bright voice. “Be welcome, dear guests!”

The girl was cute. Even her force field belt, in the standby mode, looked more like a sweet joke than like a menacing attribute of a customs officer.

Alex waved at his comrades as they were getting into the bus, then winked at the customs girl. In reply, she gave him a very endearing smile, even if it was prescribed by her job regulations.

They probably wouldn’t have any problems with the customs—New Ukraine was famous for its lenient and indulgent border patrol services. The only conflict that came to Alex’s mind had to do with an attempt on the part of one Sviatoslav Lo, a navigator-spesh, to take some vanilla pork fat off the planet. As it turned out, this unusual delicacy was strictly forbidden for export—a rather simple way to attract tourists. But Mr. Lo got no punishment for his attempted crime, not even a fine.

The bus had already disappeared into the distance, approaching the squat spaceport buildings, but Alex remained where he was, standing near the ship. Lighting up another cigarette, he happened to remember that New Ukraine had some decent tobacco… he would need to contact one of his crew and ask them to buy some local cigarettes.