Sergei Lukyanenko - The Genome

He caught a glimpse of the approaching Barracuda and hid the vial in his pocket. The empty delivery robot floated away over the field at a leisurely pace.

C-the-Third scrambled out of the car first, then extended his hand to the Zzygou. The two aliens couldn’t have looked more pleased… although that seemed to be their usual disposition.

“You’ve been standing on the field all this time, eh, Captain?” cheerfully cried out C-the-Third.

“Had some mail delivered.” Alex preferred to explain the robot’s appearance himself. “I’ve decided to have some fun.”

He winked conspiratorially at C-the-Third, hinting at having ordered some illegal drug or some particularly elaborate sex simulator. C-the-Third winked back.

“You should’ve come with us, Captain. It’s a really funny sea.”

“I know. I’ve been here once before.”

“So nice, so nice, friend Captain!” the Zzygou reported. They were holding each other’s hands and exchanging glances. “Much pity that you were not there!”

“I’m really sorry, too.” Alex nodded.

He stepped aside to let the Zzygou and the clone pass on their way back into the ship. Then he lit a cigarette. The tobacco from a different world somehow seemed to taste worse… as if the New Ukrainian air didn’t want to accept it.

Thirteen more minutes passed, and the minivan with the crew appeared.

It was immediately obvious who had fared well on shore leave and who hadn’t—who got Fortune to smile upon them, and whose hopes had been dashed. Generalov, all gloom, went back inside the ship without saying a word. Paul came out of the minivan with a stolid air of a space wolf that had seen a hundred planets. He threw Alex a sharp, formal salute and also went inside.

“Your cigarettes, Captain,” said Janet. Handed him a carton. “They seem all right.”

She was smiling, obviously content with her life.

“What’s with Puck?” Alex inquired.

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Janet smirked. “Found a boyfriend at the bar, dreamed up all kinds of things… now he’s all hurt. Decided it was the love of his life.”

“Can you fall in love in just five hours?” asked Alex rhetorically.

“Oh, Captain, my Captain…” She kissed him playfully, touching her plump lips to his cheek. “Anything’s possible, trust me. But don’t worry about Puck, he just wants to squirm and suffer a bit… he’s just that type of person.”

“How irrational…” Alex shook his head. “I am ready to accept the expediency of love, though I lack the ability. But you should fall in love exclusively by mutual consent, making extra sure in advance that your partner agrees to reciprocate your feelings for a long enough period of time. Otherwise, all you end up with are negative emotions instead of positive ones… Janet!”

The black lady had pressed her hands to her mouth, but her laughter still broke through.

“Alex… no, forgive me, for Angry God’s sake… you’re right… of course… theoretically speaking…”

The pilot went silent.

Slightly embarrassed, Janet went back to the ship. Kim, who had been patiently waiting for them to finish talking, came up to Alex.

“This is for you.”

The thick brown paper packet was small but rather weighty. Alex unwrapped it with that sudden happy feeling that touches anyone receiving an unexpected gift.

Of course, it was the very thing New Ukraine was so proud of—a piece of fresh lard.

“They cut these off the piggies right out there on the pasture,” Kim said. She was bubbling over with new impressions. “But it doesn’t hurt the piggies at all—the skin heals up in a day, and the pig gets more fat, just walking around. Here! Try some—it’s already smoked. When the layer of fat gets to be over a foot and a half, the piggies start secreting special ferments… Isn’t it neat?”

Alex took out his pocketknife and cut off a small piece. Chewed it, then nodded. “Yes, it’s neat. Very tasty. And a green apple aroma, right?”

Kim nodded. Behind her, Morrison’s face was contorted in disgust. “Aroma… you should smell the aroma of those pastures—Good Lord! This lardy mammoth lumbers around the steppe, gorging itself on everything it can find, and shits continuously, excuse the unsavory details!”

“It’s a natural process!” Kim retorted.

“Of course it is. But the aroma is disgusting. Why can’t they grow their meat and lard in containers, as it’s done on any decent planet?”

“You just don’t get it, do you?” Kim’s quick temper flared. “The taste would be completely different! Besides, pigs are good for the planet’s ecology. And they’re cheaper to keep. Three shepherd-speshes can manage a huge herd, and there are no other expenses!”

Alex, like Xang, was not at all inclined to see New Ukrainian animal husbandry as an engaging topic for conversation.

“Kim…” He took the girl by the shoulder. “We take off in thirty-nine minutes. I think everyone wants to take a shower and change…”

“So you’re not even a little bit interested in this…” she replied, slightly offended.

“I am. But I’ve already visited the Animal Husbandry Museum.”

“And did they take you to see the main genetic lab?”

“They did.”

“They didn’t let us in. There was some experiment on…”

The three of them entered the ship.

Heraldica.

One of the strangest human colonies Alex had ever heard of…

The mouth of the hyper-channel was located some six hundred miles away from the planet, orbiting it like an ordinary satellite. There was only one battle station here, though it was rather powerful. The security of the channel was guaranteed by the stationary installations on the planet itself. They were spread out all over the surface—in the arid, hot deserts, atop forbidding mountain ridges, and even on floating oceanic platforms. Their construction must have cost a lot more than the building of a few space citadels would have, but from the point of view of Heraldica’s inhabitants, their solution had been the only option. As the channel made its orbital loops around the planet, control over it was transferred from one battle installation to the next.

Heraldica was a planet of aristocracy. Gathered here were the remnants of the ancient Earth lineages, now dying out, such as the British royal family and the Arabian sheiks. But also the more recent aristocracies—for instance, the New-Russian dynasties, who had amassed their enormous fortunes at the end of the twentieth and the beginning of the twenty-first century by selling off the lands, natural resources, and population of their earthly homeland. Several aristocratic lineages from other colonies—planets that had made a transition to other forms of government—also dwelt here. Rumor had it that there was even an enclave of the Bronins, descendants of the once-ruling nest.

Alex had no intention of landing on the planet, of course.

They were waiting their turn to enter the channel, and everyone—Alex had no doubt about that—was peering down at the planet revolving below. The ship’s optical systems were powerful enough to provide the observers with a richly detailed view.

Alex himself had chosen to watch a small, cozy town in a mountain valley. Its little houses, only five or six stories high, were roofed with carmine-red tiles. Its streets were buried in greenery, and everywhere, fountains ran. Close to the town was a palace—the pilot would not have been surprised to learn that the building had been brought to Heraldica from Earth. There was also a spaceport, but it was so tiny and run-down that there could be no doubt the planet’s aristocrats had lost all interest in space.