Sergei Lukyanenko - The Genome

This was a breaking point in the general mood. Holmes looked as though the investigation was already finished.

In complete silence, Alex left the recreation lounge and went down to the passenger hall. The door of C-the-Third’s cabin stood ajar. Alex knocked softly and entered.

Danila C-the-Third was sitting on an unmade bed and staring vacantly at the screen. A tiny meditation pyramid of Earthly origin glowed with soft, flowing multicolored lights on the nightstand. Alex silently turned the pyramid lights off and sat down next to C-the-Third.

“Why are you here?” asked the clone softly. Perhaps his trance had not been deep, or else he had come out of it very quickly and neatly.

“The detective has called all of us to come up to the recreation lounge.”

“Me, too?”

“You, too. And Sey-Zo as well. Is her… mourning over?”

“Probably.” C-the-Third slowly turned his head, looked wearily at Alex. “What is the point of all this?”

“The detective must have found the murderer. Or maybe he just wants to talk to all of us at once.”

“You can’t turn back time, Captain,” the clone murmured. “You can’t bring Zey-So back.”

“Here. Have a drink.” Alex handed him a small flask of cognac.

“Why?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions. Drink up! This is an order!”

A look of surprise appeared in the clone’s eyes. He cautiously touched his lips to the cognac flask.

“Drink up.”

“What’s been added to the cognac?” asked the clone suspiciously. “A tranquilizer?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Captain, I work with alien forms of intelligence. I often have to try their food and analyze human foods for compatibility. I have very good taste receptors.”

“I thought so. C-the-Third, drink up. Trust me, it’s for the better.”

“A tranquilizer, then?”

Alex shook his head. “Pharmaceuticals wouldn’t defeat your depression. You must be feeling like a complete failure as a guide-spesh?”

“Yes.”

“Then drink.”

The clone didn’t hesitate for very long. He probably would have agreed just as quickly to a glass of potassium cyanide. He drained the flask in three big gulps.

“Great.” Alex nodded. “Now let’s go invite the Zzygou to the recreation lounge.”

“We can give it a try,” agreed the clone listlessly.

Despite many hours of airing out the room, the odor of merkaptane in the cabin was strong enough to make you gag. Thank God, Sey-Zo had put her friend’s body in order—reinserted the severed entrails, dressed it, and seemed to have even touched up the face with cosmetics.

She herself was lying next to the motionless body and caressing it, slowly moving her hands. All four of her hands—Sey-Zo had taken off human clothes, and the Zzygou robes provided openings on the chest. Her small rudimentary hands, previously disguised as mammary glands beneath her clothes, were now tirelessly massaging Zey-So’s shoulders.

“S-s-sey-Z-z-z-o…” said C-the-Third in a sibilant whisper. “Azané. Sso shaagaka.”

“Kee-ee-stom…” Sey-Zo answered, without turning her head. It seemed she had stopped speaking the language of the Empire.

C-the-Third sighed. His face reflected genuine anguish. But his voice, when he spoke, remained calm. He began producing a flow of speech that was soft and melodious and, at the same time, filled with hushing and sibilant sounds.

Sey-Zo jumped up and flung open her arms, shielding the body of her dead friend. Her eyes were burning with hatred.

“Gom azis! Sharla si! Sharla! Sharla!”

“Sharla,” C-the-Third seemed to concur. Bowed his head. “Sso shaataka-laz.”

The Zzygou hesitated. Her glance ran back and forth between the faces of C-the-Third and Alex.

“Taea,” she said harshly. “Zaré.”

C-the-Third grabbed Alex by the elbow and quickly took him out of the cabin. The door slammed shut behind them. Alex stood, drawing air into his lungs in a quick succession of long, deep breaths, as though attempting to expel the foul smell which had permeated his clothes. Then he asked:

“So she refused to come?”

“No. She agreed. Let’s go. She’ll catch up.”

The clone was pale and still talked in short phrases, as though mechanically reproducing the Zzygou speech patterns.

“You speak their language well,” said Alex, trying to offer some moral support.

“No, not at all. This is the primitive conceptual language of the worker individuals. I can’t be absolutely fluent in every language of every race I work with. My primary specialization is the Bronins… I speak their language fairly well.”

They started climbing the stairs.

“What was she doing with Zey-So’s body? Some kind of ritual ceremony?” asked Alex.

“Something like that. Thanatos-sex. Parting caresses.”

“Are they really lesbians?” Alex was surprised. C-the-Third made a wry face.

“Not exactly. This type of interaction is limited to emotional partners and ritual-based situations… They do need male individuals, after all.”

Alex couldn’t help asking:

“Male individuals? Drones?”

“If you must know,” replied the clone in an icy tone of voice, “the answer is no. Human males will do as well. And clones also suit them just fine.”

Alex held his tongue.

They entered the recreation lounge. C-the-Third merely nodded to the crew, as though he had no wish to greet them in any other way. That wasn’t hard to understand. Zey-So’s murderer was here among them somewhere. With Holmes and Watson, he shook hands.

“Please sit down, Danila C-the-Third Shustov,” said Holmes. “And please accept my deepest condolences.”

“Have you found the murderer?” asked C-the-Third curtly.

“Sit down, please. Where is the esteemed Sey-Zo?”

“She is on her way.” C-the-Third walked over to the wall and remained standing.

Silence descended once again. The Zzygou, however, didn’t make them wait long. There was a sound of soft, almost creeping, footsteps, and Sey-Zo walked into the recreation lounge. She also preferred not to sit down.

Alex involuntarily lowered his eyes.

Holmes got up and began speaking.

“Dear Lady Sey-Zo, intellectual and emotional partner of the divine Lady Zey-So, let me share your sorrow and multiply your anger…”

After a moment’s hesitation, Sey-Zo did give a nod, though she didn’t make a single sound.

“Let me briefly inform everyone of the current situation,” said Holmes. Paused, as if expecting some objections. “So…”

“Have you found the murderer?” repeated C-the-Third again. Holmes threw an icy glance at him and the clone fell silent.

“When I was first was informed of the villainous murder of Princess Zey-So and was on my way to your ship,” Holmes continued, “I supposed that this would be a rather ordinary case. There was an Ebenian woman aboard, specialized as an executioner-spesh…”

Sey-Zo started. Her eyes fixed upon Janet. The black woman turned her head lazily, as if accepting the challenge.

“Also aboard,” continued Holmes in the same calm, academic tone, “was a girl, a fighter-spesh, who hadn’t undergone any psychological training. Elementary logic suggested that these two were the likeliest suspects.”

Sey-Zo made a small step towards Janet. The same instant, Holmes, with an imperceptible movement, snatched out a police-type paralyzer-pistol.

“Get back, Sey-Zo! No one has been charged yet!”

“She is from Eben!” In her agitation, the Zzygou switched back to human language.

“So what?” asked Janet lazily.

“You knew that anise affecting us like truth drug!” Sey-Zo screamed. “You making us drunk on purpose!”