Sergei Lukyanenko - The Genome

“There’s a gap!” commented the announcer quietly, without any hint of fear. “Dear guests of the planet! You will now see what to do in case of a break in the lotuses.”

Maybe it had been a gust of wind, maybe something else, but the plants scattered. Amidst the greenish-white field, a blinding flash flared up. As if a fiery spear, thick and heavy, had ripped through the live shield and hit the surface of the planet. The video camera lowered itself, zooming in on a strip of forest that was hit by the flare. A light mist stood above the treetops—water was evaporating from the leaves. Then the camera showed a family—a man, a woman, and several small children—enjoying a picnic by the edge of the woods.

“Even if it looks like the affected zone is passing you by,” said the announcer cheerily, “be on the safe side. Take cover…”

The man and the woman looked sideways at the sky and moved under a tent of mirror-like reflective plastic.

“Be sure to put on personal safety-wear…”

The kids, who had been peacefully making sand-pies, took little crumpled sun-coats made from the same shiny material from their pockets. Slipped them over their shoulders, put the hoods over their little heads—and went on playing.

“If for any reason you are unable to take these safety precautions,” said the announcer amiably, “be sure to assume the following position…”

Out of a brook, which meandered a little ways off, a little girl came running. She wore nothing but a pair of panties. She looked up and then hurriedly lay down, folding her arms and her head underneath her body.

“Help will come!” said the announcer soothingly. The girl’s mother was already running towards the brook, waving a sun-coat.

“And even if it comes too late…”

The scene flooded with blinding light.

“Do not worry. The ‘sun kiss’ lasts no more than ten or twelve seconds. In most cases, the worst you can expect are some superficial burns.”

The barrage of light rushed on. The mother pulled the whimpering little girl to her feet, spanked her a few times, and then, with equal ardor, rubbed the child’s body with ointment. Then the woman sauntered back to the tent. The little girl wailed for a while and then returned to the water.

“The corporal punishment of the child, as shown here, is in no way endorsed by Zodiac’s Health Ministry. It is not a mandatory procedure after being accidentally ‘kissed by the sun,’” quickly added the announcer. “Welcome to our hospitable planet!”

The infomercial was over. Alex couldn’t suppress a crooked grin, thinking of the official statistics. Every white-sun season still claimed from twenty to thirty lives on Zodiac. Mostly tourists’, of course. Locals were more careful, and everyone, even the naturals, had adapted to “sun kisses.” In the same situation from which the little girl had emerged with only a slight redness of the skin, he, a strong and healthy man, would have been howling from the pain of being covered head to toe with blisters.

“I’m not so keen on going down there,” said Generalov. He looked around, as if hoping the others would support him. The whole crew had already gathered in the recreation lounge, but no one shared the navigator’s pessimism.

“Two hundred million people live down there,” said Morrison. “I’ve been there, though not in the hot season. It’s a very beautiful world.”

“I wanna go there,” Kim interjected quickly. And smiled at Alex.

Alex felt he really was looking at Kim differently. The girl hadn’t become more sexually appealing… and he still felt affection for her. But something had changed—something Alex had no words for.

Would it always be like this?

“Our venerable passengers are sure taking their sweet time,” said Janet with a smirk. She was standing right next to the screen, now showing views of Zodiac set to pleasant music. Really beautiful views. Zodiac’s nature was not Earth-like, but strangely enough, it looked very agreeable. There were lakes of dark-blue water, as if tinged with artificial color. Lush crowns of trees—every leaf green on one side and white on the other. Agile, cute little animals, scurrying in the grass like orange fur-balls.

“The Zzygou must not need an orientation,” remarked Paul. He yawned. “Captain, do we wait for them or just go in for landing?”

This jolted Alex out of his contemplation of Kim.

“Yes, please. Paul, go call them in to the recreation lounge. But be sure to ask Zey-So first, she is the senior one of the couple….”

The engineer nodded and was just about to step out of the lounge when there was a sound of hurrying feet.

“Finally!” snorted Kim. “Should we hit replay?”

C-the-Third appeared in the recreation lounge.

The air went still with an oppressive silence. The clone’s face was covered with red blotches, and beads of sweat ran down his forehead. His eyes were glassy.

“What happened?” Alex stepped forward. This could very well be the way a pilot would look after seeing the stern of his own ship in the hyper-channel.

“Captain…” The clone’s voice was barely audible. He swallowed spasmodically, and stretched out his arm, grabbing Alex by the shoulder. “Come with me! N-now!”

Alex turned around, glancing at his crew. They all looked on in bafflement.

“Everyone, stay here,” he said, just in case. “We’ll leave the landing till the next circuit.”

The clone nodded vehemently, as though Alex had given voice to his own thoughts, and then dragged the captain off.

“What’s going on?” said Alex softly, as soon as they were out in the hallway. “C-the-Third?”

“Sh-sh-sh!”

Now that they were alone, C-the-Third’s face expressed such desperation and panic that the grimace that had frightened everyone back in the lounge seemed good-natured and happy by comparison.

“Stop it, C-the-Third!”

“It’s… all over…” the clone forced out. Laughed hoarsely. “No. I lie. It’s all just about to begin…”

Having lost any hope of getting a coherent answer out of him, Alex quickened his pace. Ten seconds later, they were standing at the door of one of the cabins.

“You aren’t faint of heart?” the clone’s voice dropped to a whisper.

“Not really.”

C-the-Third flung open the cabin door.

First, Alex saw one of the Zzygou, maybe Zey-So, maybe Sey-Zo, obeisantly kneeling beside the bed. The cabin, it seemed, had been decorated for a carnival—bright spots of red paint all over the walls. Odd, shapeless garlands hung from the ceiling. The odor, disgusting, almost intolerable to the human sense of smell, made him hold his breath.

And then it was as if a dam burst—his mind made the leap, and Alex realized all that had happened.

“No!” he shouted.

The Zzygou, frozen in a kneeling position near the mutilated, cut-up body of her partner, didn’t even stir.

“Let’s go, Alex. Let’s go. There is nothing we can do to help now.” C-the-Third dragged him out into the hallway, quietly closing the door of the cabin. He swallowed. Then shook his head. “It’s monstrous… monstrous.”

“Why did she do this?” Alex looked closely at the clone, who was, after all, a specialist in the Others. “They aren’t Bronins. They don’t have ritual murder!”

The clone tittered, quietly, hysterically:

“Alex… No! Zzygou partners are incapable of killing one another!”

“A suicide…” Alex began, and stopped himself. No living creature could smear its own blood all over the walls, festoon the ceiling with its own entrails, and then peacefully lie down on the bed.

“Zey-So has been murdered.” An anxious rattling note appeared in C-the-Third’s voice. “She has been murdered by someone in your crew, Alex! By a human—by one of us!”