Sergei Lukyanenko - The Genome

“You created Kim to suit yourself ?” asked Alex.

“Of course. I had no illusion that she’d be faithful to me forever. I had time enough to rid myself of the ancient moral attitude… almost. According to my original plan, Kim would rescue me when already a grown woman, with sound savings and solid covers. But the lab was being modernized, the communication lines were changed, and I realized I was about to lose contact with the girl. So I had to improvise, but it turned out very well. I took over the controls of one of the service robots. It carried the gel-crystal out and set fire to the laboratory. The crystal was considered destroyed, when in reality Kim was taking care of it. But then almighty chance came into play. Kim’s mother caught her with the crystal. Realized it wasn’t just a collection of sex entertainments or romantic stories. You know the rest. We ran away.”

“And you took the risk of trusting your life to a girl on her very first foray into the galaxy? Who knows what all could have happened to her!”

“Like what?” Edward shrugged. “Yes, she is attractive! But she is also a fighter-spesh with a whole lot of other capabilities. If someone tried to rape her… I wouldn’t envy him! Even if she were tied up hand and foot.” The smile that appeared on Edward’s face was the unpleasant smile of a person who knows something unknown to anyone else.

Alex frowned.

“So you deliberately made her this way? Smart, beautiful, sexy, and at the same time a merciless killer?”

“And what’s wrong with that, Alex? These are the things the Empire lives on. Every government creates the citizens it wants. Every large firm with serious intentions for the future puts in an order for speshes of the type it needs. Parents, choosing the future for their kids, pay for this or that specialization. How are my actions any worse? I worked really hard for Kim. So the fact that she’s rescuing me is… well, a kind of natural gratitude, perhaps!”

“If she were rescuing you knowingly! If you weren’t feeding her all these lies!”

“The time will come, and she will learn the truth.”

Of course. Alex was silent. Nodded.

“Maybe. But you were wrong.”

“Time will tell,” replied Edward wearily.

“And you’re sure that her mind is stable? To combine a hetaera and a fighter in the same consciousness is already at the limits of possibility.”

“I know the potentialities of the human mind better than you do.” Edward squinted. “Trust me, Kim couldn’t have gone mad and disemboweled the Zzygou… that’s what you’re talking about, right?”

“Yes. I am trying to check out a number of possibilities, to exclude the utterly impossible.”

“Aren’t you taking on the work of a detective-spesh, my friend?” The geneticist laughed. “God… it’s nice to talk with you this way… sincerely and kindly!”

Alex had no reaction to these words. He just sat there, thinking. Most probably, Edward wasn’t lying. He had created Kim O’Hara to suit himself: as a bodyguard, as a source for his means of existence and, ultimately, as a lover. It was improbable that a galactic war had been a part of his plans.

People suppose, but it’s chance that disposes. Still, the girl’s unstable psyche could have skipped a beat… no matter how sure Edward was of the opposite.

Alex asked, “What would you conjecture?”

“The murderer?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I’m not a detective. If a spesh is aboard, and a clone of Peter Valke, at that”—the geneticist threw up his hands—“all I can do is watch and admire his work.”

“Is he really that good?”

“Magnificent. I worked on that specialization for more than twenty years. Went through a lot of setbacks, but the result exceeded all expectations.”

“So far Mr. Holmes hasn’t impressed me all that favorably. A collection of standard magic tricks and enhanced sensory organs.”

Edward just smiled.

“The very existence of the Empire is at stake here.” Alex tried again to appeal to reason. “You probably won’t survive this, either. Finding the murderer is vitally important to us.”

“The Empire against the Zzygou?” The geneticist sounded utterly indifferent. “The poor little bees don’t have the slightest chance.”

“Why?”

Edward sighed.

“Good Lord, a pilot-spesh should show a bit more intelligence! Everything is there in plain sight! The murderer, and the cause, and the trump card up the sleeve—the card the Imperial cabinet is going to produce at the right moment!”

His voice rang with absolute certainty. But for some reason it only frightened Alex.

“What are you talking about? Is there a magic weapon that ordinary people don’t know about?”

“You could put it that way.” Edward pensively rubbed the bridge of his nose. “No. I won’t explain anything. You have all the necessary data to figure out what is going on. And so does the detective. So don’t worry about the Empire’s fate… and get ready to enjoy the show.”

“How can you call the death of a sentient being a show? And the inevitable death of someone from my crew?”

“I’m tired, Alex,” said the geneticist bluntly. “Drop in to see me in twenty-four hours, okay? That is, of course, if Sherlock Holmes hasn’t solved the puzzle by then. Goodbye for now!”

He got up and lazily walked toward the wall. It trembled, opening up before him.

“Edward!” Alex shouted.

To no avail. The wall reassembled, hiding the geneticist from view. Inside his own crystal, he was lord and master… until a more powerful device took over the controls.

“You don’t know any more than I do,” he said out loud. “Even less…”

What had he missed?

Or, rather—what was he reluctant to notice?

In any case, he wouldn’t get an answer here.

Alex left the virtual space.

Sherlock Holmes had recommended that the crew not leave their quarters until a special permission was issued. And a detective-spesh’s recommendation was, in fact, an order. Even for the captain.

Glancing now and then at the outer-space screen, where the Lucifer hovered languidly, Alex tuned in to the news from Zodiac.

And, of course, immediately ran into the news about the Zzygou.

The actual cause of the conflict hadn’t appeared in the commonly available information net. There were only indistinct references to an incident that had led to the death, on the Empire’s territory, of a member of the Zzygou ruling clan. Apologies had already been issued in the name of the Emperor, along with promises of just punishment of the perpetrators, the organization of a fancy funeral, and reparations. In general, from any human’s point of view, the Zzygou’s rage was absolutely unfounded… after all, accidents did happen in the universe, and rushing to war over the death of a single sentient being—it was sheer madness!

And that was what frightened Alex. The Empire was getting ready for war. The Empire was creating background propaganda. Of course, the alien races would learn the unedited version of the conflict, but… the belligerent Cepheideans would be happy with any kind of trouble with the Zzygou, and the Bronins most probably wouldn’t consider even the most gruesome murder as reason for war.

Perhaps the alien races were precisely the cause for Edward’s optimism? Maybe he was betting that humanity would quickly be joined by some allies?

That was naive. Allies always appeared on time, all right. The time when the opponent’s territory was being redistributed.

The worst thing appeared to be the fact that both sides had already sustained some casualties.

The incident had happened on Volga, a poor and austere planet whose inhabitants—mostly Jews and Slavs—earned a meager living by arduous and ceaseless labor. The planet had essentially only one large city, near the spaceport, and a single industrial enterprise—a fuel refinery. The rest of the habitable surface of the planet was taken up by shallow swamps, which were farmed by the planet’s inhabitants.