Sergei Lukyanenko - The Genome

Alex was silent, looking at Sherlock Holmes, a person created by the talent of writers, by the work of geneticists, and by the wild imagination of detective Peter Valke. Valke was in some ways akin to Hiroshi Moto—the writer turned himself into a reincarnation of Conan Doyle, and the detective became the embodiment of the literary character.

“I am not guilty of Zey-So’s murder,” said Alex with a sigh.

Holmes nodded and began speaking again. His voice changed now, becoming soft and benevolent, which was surprising in a person completely devoid of emotions. Alex recalled that Sherlock Holmes had remarkable acting abilities.

“Tell me everything that happened following your first visit to the deceased Zzygou’s quarters, Mr. Romanov.”

“I went back to the recreation lounge,” began Alex. “All the crewmembers were waiting for me. They were all a bit alarmed because the appearance of C-the-Third Shustov had made… em… quite an impression. But I didn’t notice anyone behaving differently from everyone else. Just ordinary tension among people who sensed that something unpleasant had happened.”

Holmes nodded approvingly.

“Having told the crew what had happened, as prescribed by the rules, I asked if anyone wished to clarify the situation. Everyone said that they had not the faintest idea about the causes or the circumstances of Zey-So’s demise. After that, using the captain’s exclusive access, I took Mirror into a stable emergency orbit and blocked all the control systems of the ship. Then I reported the situation to the Imperial Security Services, adding to the report the special opinion of C-the-Third Shustov about the consequences of the Zzygou’s death. Having gotten the confirmation that the message had been received, I turned off all communication systems, and we waited for you.”

“We flew out immediately.” Holmes nodded. “So… let’s sum up… everyone on board denies any involvement in Zey-So’s death?”

“Yes. Everyone absolutely denies any involvement.”

“And you haven’t noticed anything suspicious in the conduct of the crew, or Sey-Zo, or C-the-Third?” Holmes carelessly omitted the last name of C-the-Third’s matrix, required by the rules of politeness when there was more than one clone around.

“Nothing. Just ordinary shock because of what has happened. I’ve had occasion to see people in a catastrophic situation. And Sey-Zo never comes out of her deceased partner’s cabin.”

“She’s undergoing a parting ritual, which will last for another four and a half hours,” Holmes informed him. “I’ve had to take in a sizable dose of information about the Zzygou.”

“Then tell me—is C-the-Third Shustov right? Is war really possible?”

“It’s inevitable,” said Holmes coolly. “The Crown Princess having perished by a human hand, and especially in such an utterly outrageous way… Did you know that her ovary had been cut out?”

“Oh, God… no. But why?”

“Otherwise Sey-Zo could have preserved the genetic fund of Zey-So, by transplanting the ovary into her own body. Sey-Zo herself, as the junior partner, lacks reproductive organs.”

Alex looked Holmes straight in the eye.

“That would mean that the murderer planned all this in detail? He… set out to kill Zey-So in the most insulting way… making sure nothing of her would survive?”

“Yes.”

The pilot wiped his sweating forehead.

“Holmes, I’ve heard a lot about the Zzygou, but I can’t even imagine where their damned ovaries are…”

“Ovary—they have only one. Right under the stomach. It’s equipped with its own sealed lymph-supply and a muscle pump. Even after the death of Zey-So, that part of her body could have lived on for several days. The murderer cut out the ovary and severed the lymphatic contour. This is a very, very professional murder.”

Alex tensed. He realized what the next question would be.

“Mr. Romanov, having hired Janet Ruello to be a member of the crew, did you know that she was from the quarantined planet of Eben, and that she had been specialized as an executioner-spesh?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Then why did you take her into your crew?”

“Back then I had no idea that Mirror would be involved in transporting the Others!”

“Then why didn’t you void the contract immediately upon discovering the ship’s mission?”

The pilot helplessly spread out his arms.

“Mister Holmes… Janet Ruello is now a citizen of the Empire. Her rights are not restricted in any way. Psychologists have made her tolerant of the Others—”

“So tolerant that she would serve them some anise cocktail, inducing a temporary insanity?”

Alex couldn’t begin to fathom how the detective had come to know of this incident. From C-the-Third? Or from Sey-Zo?

“That didn’t threaten their lives in any way,” he said gloomily. “Besides, anise induces not insanity, but a fit of truthfulness.”

“You can’t prove that. The Zzygou say something quite different.”

“In any case, Mister Holmes, I insisted that Janet Ruello swear to me an Ebenian military oath! She promised that she wouldn’t harm the Zzygou in any other way!”

“Mister Romanov…” Holmes sighed. “And you believe her promises?”

“Yes, I do. After all, being true to her word is a genetic feature.”

“As is her hatred for the Others. So our psychologists have either overpowered both of these features, or both these components of Janet’s personality are still functioning.”

Alex was silent. He had no way of countering that.

“Mr. Romanov, perhaps your decision to keep Janet Ruello aboard Mirror was motivated by some special circumstances?” Holmes sympathetically asked. “For instance, by that shady little transaction of getting new documents for Kim O’Hara, which you accomplished by using the double legal status of speshes and the captain’s right to set the ship’s time?”

Alex expected that his “little transaction” would be uncovered by the detective-spesh. But the speed with which it had been discovered terrified him.

“No,” he answered, after a brief consideration. “That wasn’t the reason, Mr. Sherlock Holmes.”

“What is unpleasant is the very fact that a spaceship’s captain, a pilot-spesh, considered it possible to break the law.” Holmes sighed. “The whole Empire stands on the moral strength of its speshes. We are role models for ordinary naturals, whose consciousness is at times overwhelmed by the lowest kind of emotions. And here you are, a spesh, breaking the law!”

“From the formal point of view, you’re right,” said Alex quickly. “But Kim was under my protection. And she was sure that her legalization as Kim O’Hara would put her life in danger. It was my duty to help.”

“And what was Kim saying about your final destination? About her arrival on Edem?”

Alex licked his parched lips.

“She didn’t want to fly to Edem…”

“Didn’t want to? She felt very strongly about this?” inquired the detective.

“Yes.”

“All right, Mr. Romanov. Now tell me—has Puck Generalov’s animosity towards cloned people manifested itself in any way?”

“It has.” Alex realized that his part would now consist of nothing but affirmative answers to the detective’s cues. “He reacted to C-the-Third Shustov’s appearance with great hostility.”

Holmes sighed and unhurriedly shook out his pipe into a silver pocket ashtray.

“How stupid. All these human enmities—speshes and naturals, people and clones—all that could easily plunge you into racism and nationalism. Was there anyone who supported Generalov’s position?”

“Paul Lourier.”

“And by all appearances, he is such a nice, courteous, modern young man. By appearances…”