The Genome Page 11

  “And there’s one more thing, Janet. How sexual are the fighters?”

  “Same as ordinary people. They are not hetaera-speshes, after all.”

  “Well, Kim is … how should I put it … a bit oversexed.”

  “Captain, as far as I understand, you helped the girl out of trouble, got her through metamorphosis … now you’re getting her onto the ship. Couldn’t this be a very natural reaction on her part? A crush on the heroic pilot-spesh, a desire to have him, to win his love in return … A mixture of gratitude and calculation?”

  “It didn’t look like it, Janet. Last night, the girl offered herself to me. I wasn’t really against it …”

  “I can imagine,” Janet chuckled. “I’m sorry, please continue …”

  “I suggested that she wait a while … After the metamorphosis, the body should have time to rest.”

  “That’s reasonable.”

  “We went to a restaurant. It was all very nice. Kim behaved as though she was a member of the highest aristocracy … she was a little flirtatious with me, nothing more than that. But when we got back to the hotel, the whole thing started up again. Changing into her pajamas turned into a strip tease. A couple remarks about the weather got her started telling erotic stories straight out of her own limited experience. Then she offered me a few fun diversions.”

  Janet was silent. Looked at the test tubes, got up, started rummaging through her vial rack.

  “I’ve had a few dealings with hetaera-speshes,” said Alex. “It’s an expensive pleasure, but every now and then you indulge yourself …”

  “So?” Janet poured the remnants of blood from the syringe into a clean test tube. Threw in a few tiny crystals from a vial.

  “I could swear that Kim is specialized as a hetaera—that besides being a fighter-spesh, she is also a courtesan-spesh. Is that even possible, from a medical point of view?”

  “It’s difficult, but it is possible … Very difficult, Captain. The hetaera’s body modification is minimal, but the psychology is changed completely. A fighter has to kill, with no scruples, no hesitation. Kill anyone who can be defined as an enemy. A hetaera has to love. Really love—selflessly, purely … to give herself to love completely. And at the same time, to be able to step aside, to forget her love, as soon as her services are no longer required. It would be very difficult to combine the two specializations, Captain.” Janet shook a test tube side to side in the air. “It would be more reasonable to suppose that after the metamorphosis, her hormones were out of balance …”

  “Well, if we remember history … back when all people were naturals, they somehow managed to combine many roles. Napoleon was a great military leader, right? And at the same time, he was quite a womanizer.”

  “With all due respect, Captain, that’s nonsense. In the past, there were people who might today be described as speshes. Military leaders, womanizers, scientists, artists. But every spesh today is a result of the most complex genetic alteration. All the unnecessary stuff is eliminated. Let’s take you, for example—you’re incapable of love, right?”

  “Right.”

  “By the same token, a fighter might be capable of love, but only to the ordinary human degree. There!” Janet lifted a test tube containing a few drops of pinkish liquid. “You see that?”

  “What does it mean?”

  “Modified pheromones. One of the characteristics of a hetaera. To be completely sure, it would be best to test for the VIII-Operon, responsible for hyper-sexuality, but I don’t have the right serum …” Janet put aside the test tube, rubbed her forehead. “You’re right. I’m wrong. Kim is both a fighter and a hetaera. Most intricate work!”

  “But who would need such a combination?”

  “There are several possibilities. To make a female bodyguard, for instance, one who would also be able to provide sexual services. It would be very expensive, very complicated, almost foolish … but possible. It’s not right, Captain …” She looked at Alex gloomily. “Do you understand what has happened? And what the consequences may be?”

  “Not just yet.”

  “Kim has fallen in love with you.”

  “So it seems, but …”

  “A hetaera has to achieve reciprocation! Do you see? That’s her specialization. Her reason to exist!”

  “I don’t intend to keep her away permanently, Janet! If it’s so important for Kim …”

  The doctor sighed.

  “It’s not sex that she needs, Captain. To be more precise, it’s not just sex and not only sex! She wants you to fall in love with her!”

  “But I’m incapable of that.” Alex threw up his arms. “If something’s not given, it’s not given. I understand that love is a wonderful, pleasant, sacred feeling …”

  “Pleasant …” snorted Janet. “Ah, Captain … sometimes I envy you pilots, incapable of love …”

  “Maybe Kim could fall in love with someone else?” Alex suggested tentatively. “Puck is out of the question, but what about our young engineer?”

  “That would be nice. Let’s hope that her specialization as a fighter will distract her from the hetaera part of herself. But you made a very dangerous and painful step for everyone involved when you took the girl under your wing.”

  “I realize that already.”

  “Shall I issue the certificate?” asked Janet bluntly. “Or is it not worth it? You could still give her some money and let her fend for herself.”

  “It’s too late for that. Go ahead and issue the papers.”

  Janet nodded, as if she had never expected another answer.

  “Pilot …”

  Alex could not decide whether the word contained ridicule or pity, or was only the assertion of a simple fact.

  Probably the latter. After all, he had never had a right to choose, ever. His parents had made the choice, nine months before he was born.

  And he appreciated their decision.

  Chapter 5

  The courthouse was close to the spaceport. Alex sincerely hoped that the staff would refrain from asking too many questions.

  And on the whole, his hopes were realized. Half of the short line in the cozy waiting room consisted of visitors from other planets. Even among this colorful crowd, one family group stood out. They were visitors from High Valley—two tall husband-clones, naked but for their small metalized loincloths, and their plump wife, wrapped in brocade and fir. Crowding around them was a large litter of half-naked children, still too small to tell their gender. Only the eldest had a white bow in its braided hair. That was the one for sale.

  A little farther off stood two Zzygou. They really did resemble two adolescent girls. Only their airtight, transparent overalls with a sealed air circulation cycle gave these odorous creatures away. Alex wondered what they were doing there. Maybe they had decided to register a marriage under Imperial law? Not likely. Zzygou didn’t have the concept of family. More likely, they were there to finalize some business transaction with humans.

  Five stalwart mercenaries from Baghdad-3, looking warlike in full battle garb, their skull crests fanned open, were probably also waiting to sign some kind of contract. After all, they had no labor union of their own to make sure their agreements were issued properly.

  Looking around, Alex was pleased. In this company, he and Kim looked downright respectable. There was a good chance that they would attract no special attention at all.

  “This is the first time I’ve ever seen a real Zzygou!” Kim whispered in his ear, getting on her tiptoes. “They are just like humans, aren’t they, Alex?”

  “Only on the outside,” said Alex. He decided not to mention Janet’s recent suspicions. “Could you kill them?”

  “Do you need me to?” asked Kim, businesslike. “Right now?”

  Alex choked, grabbed her firmly by the arm. “No! No! It was a theoretical question. I just wanted to know if you were ready to fight with the Others.”

  “I’m ready,” said Kim calmly. “If you ever need me to, just tell me.”<
br />
  The girl looked at the pilot, and Alex saw that she wasn’t just ready. The thought filled her with enthusiasm. Not so much the thought of killing, but the opportunity to please him.

  Janet was right. He had gotten himself into a very delicate situation.

  “I’ll tell you,” he promised her. “But a fighter’s job is not just killing left and right.”

  “What then?”

  “Being ready to do it. Ideally, being ready every minute of your life.”

  “All right.” Kim smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m ready!”

  The two Zzygou, blissfully ignorant of their close call with fate, were talking to each other, pressing together their transparent head-shields. The line moved gradually forward. The big High Valley family left, and the mercenaries barged into one of the back rooms. The only ones left in front of them were the two Zzygou and a gloomy, well-dressed man with a large-headed, hunchbacked midget on a chain. The midget stared into space with a blank, stupid expression. A thin thread of drool hung from its half-opened mouth, and its left eye twitched repeatedly. Alex tried to remember which planet had a fashion of keeping freaks as pets, but couldn’t think of it and turned away. Wasn’t his business, after all. The galaxy was a big place.

  The Zzygou got called in, and with a polite nod to the rest, they left the waiting room, holding hands. Then the little tag on the hand of the midget owner lit up. The man was apparently lost in thought, and he didn’t notice the signal. The midget darted an angry look up at him, yanked the chain, and hissed:

  “Iven!”

  The man started, looked down at the midget, and said wearily:

  “You and your shenanigans, Miles …”

  He stopped short and walked toward the door, above which a small light signal was flashing. He dragged the miserable midget behind him. The chain jingled, and the midget minced along, throwing its arms wide at every step.

  “You remember your part?” said Alex quietly. Kim nodded, furrowing her brow.

  “Yes. To say nothing and just smile.”

  “Put all your charm into your smile, if the clerk is a man. Be shy and quiet, if it’s a woman.”

  His little tag started blinking. Alex peeled it off, threw it on the floor, then got up and straightened his uniform.

  The office they entered was tiny, apparently used to take care of lone visitors or couples. The older woman sitting behind the table had a small bundle of wires coming out of her temple. Another spider, making her living in the boundless web of data.

  Kim demurely lowered her eyes.

  “We would like to register a marriage contract,” said Alex, putting their spesh-certificates on the table.

  “Duration?”

  “Twenty-four hours.” Alex smiled.

  The spider moved the certificates toward the center of the table. Apparently, that was where the scanner was located. She looked pensively up and to the left, where she alone could see her virtual screen. Then she asked:

  “Your IDs?”

  “Did you bring yours, Kim?”

  The girl shook her head. Alex looked at the spider. “Are they really necessary, ma’am?”

  The spider frowned, still looking up into space.

  “No. No, but … Kim, you received your spesh-certificate an hour ago?”

  The girl nodded.

  “You see,” Alex felt it was high time to launch into an explanation, “she’s just had her metamorphosis. She was so excited when she finally got the certificate … we just couldn’t wait to try out its legal potential. Surely … she couldn’t get married with a minor’s card!”

  The spider pursed her lips. The excuse sounded more or less reasonable … but something seemed to worry her.

  “But why a twenty-four-hour marriage? To try out the certificate? Or do your religious beliefs require formal permission for sex?”

  “Do you have to know these details?” asked Alex harshly. The whole plan was going to hell.

  “I don’t,” agreed the spider. “But I have a right to put a hold of up to three days on a marriage contract. Because one of the people involved is young, for instance.”

  Having seen a pair of happy teenagers, as young or even younger than Kim, leave this very room half an hour ago, Alex was barely able to suppress a harsh remark. Kim was the one to rescue the situation:

  “Alex, dearest, show her your labor contract. Chapter eight, paragraph seventeen B.”

  “I don’t have it with me,” Alex answered, trying to recall the text. What did she mean? Chapter eight … financial provisions. “Besides, I can’t show it to anyone without the company’s permission …”

  The spider looked really curious. Kim turned to her and said, still smiling shyly:

  “We are from the same ship, ma’am. We have a provision for a fifteen percent bonus for married couples. To boost crew morale. I haven’t signed the contract yet, and so …”

  The woman pursed her lips. Murmured:

  “Your company lawyers don’t have any brains. Well, at least you’re not making up stories of sudden romance.”

  Alex was silent, leaving further discussion completely to Kim.

  “The registration of a twenty-four-hour marriage costs five spacenyans. Whose account should I charge?”

  “Mine,” said Alex quickly.

  The spider coughed, got up from her chair, winced as her wires caught on the corner of the table and got got detached from the contact plate.

  “Alexander Romanov and Kim O’Hara, in the name of the planet of Quicksilver Pit and on behalf of our president, Mister San Li, I congratulate you upon your entry into a temporary marriage union. During the period of the contract, I hope you get to know each other better”—here, even the spider could not help smiling—“so that the present contract can be extended for a longer period of time. Your marriage is now recognized by His Imperial Government as legal on the planets of the Empire, as well as beyond its borders, for the entire period of the contract.”

  The pleasant, though somewhat willfully improvised, version of Mendelssohn’s wedding march, which had been playing during the entire speech, ceased.

  “Any special wishes?” the spider politely asked, obviously not expecting any such wishes. Her right hand was already sliding around in the air, filling out all the items of the marriage contract form.

  “I would like to take the last name Romanov,” said Kim quietly.

  “Why?” asked the woman in surprise.

  “It sounds exotic.”

  The spider shrugged her shoulders.

  “As you wish. You want your property rights separated? Genetic rights stay with the genes’ carriers? Personal debts and felonies do not transfer onto the family unit?”

  Her fingers fluttered in the air, weaving new threads into the data web.

  “My warmest congratulations, Alex and Kim Romanov … Would you like to make a small donation to the planetary home for orphaned children of astronauts? Or for the development of medical technologies?”

  “For the children’s home,” said Kim. She looked at Alex, and he nodded.

  “Five nyans? Ten?”

  “Ten.”

  “I thank you on behalf of the grief-stricken orphans of astronauts… . Your marriage contract is now valid. Congratulations.”

  With a slight bow of her head, the spider handed them two marriage contract documents.

  “Thank you.” Alex caught Kim under her arm and dragged her out of the office.

  “What about my ID?” whispered Kim as soon as the office door closed behind them.

  “We’ll get it from another spider,” Alex explained. “Any manipulations with the law should be done one step at a time. When none of the bureaucrats break any rules, they don’t give a damn about the final result. Janet turned a blind eye on the time manipulations, one spider registered the marriage based on the spesh-certificates, and another one will now issue you a new ID.”

  “So the whole thing is based on the fact that a spesh has two identity documen
ts?” asked Kim.

  “Exactly.”

  “So naturals couldn’t have pulled it off?”

  “Naturals never have any problems with the Imperial bureaucracy. The spiders just let them slide.”

  A smiling waiter handed Alex a cigar. The restaurant was half-empty today. The workday was in full swing, and it was past the lunch hour. Alex thought wearily that he would probably have to sit around till very late in the evening.

  “May I, Captain?”

  It was the master-pilot he had met the other day. To approach a hiring person the second time, having once rejected the position, was considered somewhat rude … but Alex nodded yes. The man silently played with his sake cup. It seemed hard for him to start the conversation.

  “I’ll be very glad if you have changed your mind,” ventured Alex.

  The pilot drank up his sake in one gulp. Murmured:

  “This is a hole of a planet, isn’t it?”

  “I’ve seen worse.”

  “Really?” the pilot rejoined, with a sudden ironic note in his voice. “I’ve been trying to get hired onto a ship for two weeks now, and there hasn’t been anything better than a Hamster!”

  “Strange. When I was looking for a job, I saw several galactic-route positions …”

  “You don’t mean to say that you … got your job as a captain from an infonet search?” He looked like he was about to have a heart attack.

  “I did.”

  “That means I am phenomenally unlucky,” the pilot scowled. “Astonishingly unlucky. I haven’t seen a single decent offer, let alone a captain’s post. Yesterday, a promising option did pop up, on a passenger liner … a local one, from this stinking garbage pit … Well, they didn’t take me! When I tried to register the contract, they told me to collect all the info about all the relatives on my mother’s side! Another great idea from the spider room… .”

  Alex snorted.

  “Yes, I heard about that. When I went to have my papers issued.”

  “I hope you’re not based here?”

  “No, on Earth.”

  “That’s good …” The pilot rolled the sake cup between his fingers. “Show me your contract, Captain. If I still suit you, of course.”