Garlitsky gave a few slow nods.
“Of course, of course. What I’ve done to Kim! Evil me! I’ve given her the gift of destiny—one of a great spy, provocateur, a lady of the demimonde, madly adored by both men and women. A person who will work for dozens of secret services. Books will be written about her, and movies made! People of power will order this kind of intriguing specialization for their children. Little girls will play, pretending to be Kim O’Hara. You can’t even imagine what a fascinating life awaits this girl, Alex! Now she will help me gain a body, and then I will help her. We are both in for a most interesting life in this great and fascinating world! Although …” He raised his eyebrows. “You can change all that. Easily. I’d advise you to go the vacuum way—a fried gel-crystal reeks to high heaven, being organic after all. The stench will be too much like that of burnt human flesh. As for my participation in the conspiracy … you’re also mistaken.”
He got up, stretched, straightening his nonexistent body. Murmured:
“How I’d love to hear a creak in my sinews … hit a funny bone and feel the pain … or get a scratch … Well, what next, Alex? What will you do with me? Your murder blocks are off. You’re fully in charge of your states of mind. Here it is—freedom!”
Alex got up from the sand. Smiled, bitterly. And nodded to Garlitsky before exiting the gel-crystal.
Forever.
Kim was sitting in the chair, flipping through the book he’d left on the table. When Alex took off the neuro-terminal, she smiled at him.
“Sorry to intrude—your door wasn’t locked. Did you tell Edgar that everything was all right already?”
“No. I left it to you.”
“Then let me …”
He silently handed her the crystal and the neuro-shunt. Kim winked at him, before putting her hand under her blouse to hide Edward Garlitsky’s world in her own body. She said:
“I already turned in my report. Holmes said that in a couple of hours, when Janet finishes up the intensive treatment course for Sey-Zo, we’ll go in for landing. And Xang wanted to know if you’d let him pilot the ship?”
“Everything’s allowed now,” Alex replied.
“Here, listen to this …” Kim threw a quick glance at the page, put the book aside. She really did have perfect photographic memory.
“No poems, please,” said Alex.
“What?”
“I don’t want poems now. Even if they’re good.”
“Are you mad at me for some reason?” asked Kim, after a pause.
“No, baby. Everything’s all right.”
“Really?”
“Tell me, are you still in love with me?”
She fell into thought.
“Don’t worry, I won’t get offended,” said Alex. “You already know that pilot-speshes are incapable of love.”
“Alex …” Kim did nevertheless jump off her armchair, sidle up to him, and hug him around the shoulders. “Alex, dearest. I’m so …”
She stopped, smiled apologetically, then finished the phrase she had started.
“I’m so grateful to you. You helped me through a very difficult and very painful time. When I was all alone against the whole world. It must be destiny—that we have met.”
Alex hugged her. Kissed her hair, smelling of something warm, summery, floral. Gently, without any passion, to which he had no right anymore.
“I like to think that it really was destiny,” he agreed.
“And I so wanted you to fall in love with me. The way I am. Inexperienced, stupid … I tried so very hard …”
“Forgive me.”
Kim slid her hand along his cheek. A calm, assured gesture of a woman grown wise with experience.
“It’s all right. I understand everything now! But you and I had fun, right?”
Alex smiled.
“Did we ever! ‘Kitty scratch’—that was really something!”
Kim gave him a smacking little kiss on the cheek.
“Uh-huh. Well, I’ll be going, okay, Alex? I need to talk to … and discuss all the details.”
“Go ahead, baby.”
He even walked her to the hallway door. Just seven steps—but a sign of respect, nevertheless. And slapped her on her behind so that she let out a happy little squeal.
“To hell with all of it …” said Alex, after the door had closed. He didn’t finish his phrase. Rolled up the sleeve of his jersey, looked at the Demon.
The little devil was crouching, its head down on its knees, so that the face couldn’t be seen.
Alex had no need for an emotion scanner now, but he was glad to see the Demon anyway. His old, trusted friend.
“We’ll make it, buddy,” he said. “Plenty of pretty girls in the galaxy, right?”
The little devil didn’t stir. Alex walked up to the terminal.
“Connect to Janet Ruello’s quarters.”
“Blocked …” replied the service program in a regretful tone.
“Captain’s access,” said Alex, after a brief hesitation. “Unilateral surveillance.”
A screen appeared.
Janet Ruello and Puck Generalov were sitting on the bed. Janet was naked. Puck was half-dressed.
“Still unpleasant?” asked Janet. She was holding Generalov’s hand to her chest.
“I don’t know … feels strange …” Puck heaved a deep sigh. “But why is it so big?”
“That’s the way it’s supposed to be,” said Janet gently. “Relax.”
“But you gotta understand, this is a perversion for me!” said Generalov piteously. “And then Kim … what she did … that was so …”
“My body is made much more simply,” said Janet, soothingly caressing his braid. “Trust me. You’ve been meaning to expand your life’s experience? And now if we don’t counter those negative impressions—all will be lost! I think we’d better start with something you’re more accustomed to—”
Alex switched off the screen. Stood still for a second. And then burst out laughing. Said, to the Demon, or maybe to himself:
“So, the genetically altered emotions get blocked? Interesting …”
He lay down on the bed, yawned. Really wanted to take another look at the Demon—could it, too, appreciate the irony of the situation? Or was it still crouching there, hiding its tear-stained face?
But it made no difference, in the end.
Afterword
This too was a sky.
From horizon to horizon stretched greenish-white oval leaves, drifting through the air at the height of about ten thousand feet.
Clouds, condensing to form a light mist under the giant lotuses, seemed to be fine pollen falling from the leaves. The city, sheltered from the deadly luminary by a living shield, was wrapped in mysterious shade. A glider gamboled high up, carefully avoiding the precious green cover. Sharp needles of skyscrapers seemed to bend, afraid to scratch the soft flesh of the plants. The slow drifting of the lotuses was almost imperceptible to the eye.
Alex gazed into the sky, and it was irregular.
Unprecedented.
“I never thought it would be beautiful,” he said. “It looks as though an enormous dragon, with moss-covered scales, is hanging above the planet.”
Only a vending machine near the hospital gates could hear these words. The bright little face of a holographic advertising screen frowned in puzzlement. Even if there were any moss or scales for sale, the electronic vendor prudently didn’t offer them.
The quiet hospital lounge was as cozy and peaceful as any human hospital would be. The walls were painted in soft colors, the floors covered with a thick rug, the lights dimmed. Japanese or Japanese-style engravings depicted scenes from the life of the first planetary colonists.
Having approached an info-terminal, the pilot entered his identification and the goal of his visit.
“Alex Romanov, you are allowed a brief visit,” politely reported the terminal. “Please wait to be escorted …”
“Jenny!” he cried, not listeni
ng to the rest of the robot’s sentence. A woman, walking down the hall in an olive-colored robe, stopped, looked at the pilot in surprise.
A smile of astonishment lit up her face.
“We’ll discuss this later, Yoko,” she said to her companion, a very young girl with the features of a surgeon-spesh. The girl, not hiding her curiosity, looked the pilot over, lifted her eyebrows with a gentle, scoffing sound, and continued on her way.
“Alex? What …” The woman stopped short, then nodded, understanding. “She’s quite all right. Our best doctors have been working on her.”
“Maybe I’ve come to see you, rather than the Zzygou?”
“Very funny.”
She shook her head, came closer to him.
“Honest.”
“If you knew that I’d returned to the hospital. But I’ll bet you didn’t.” Dr. Watson cocked her head. “Well, even if you did …”
A kind of awkward silence followed. The rainbow-colored streams of the fountain in the middle of the lounge sparkled. The water murmured softly. Two stern female nurse-speshes with expressions of deep concentration on their faces passed as quietly as ghosts in their soft shoes. A stretcher holding a moaning patient from the trauma ward rushed silently by. A young paramedic, sitting on a small collapsible side chair, was saying something soothing to the patient.
If this world had a less appropriate place for mutual teasing, it would surely be hard to find.
“Of course, I didn’t know that. Forgive my bad joke.” Alex bowed slightly and spread his arms in a gesture of apology. “Did you really get tired of being a detective’s aide?”
Touching his hand, the woman softly prompted the pilot to follow her.
They had to submit to complete decontamination, even though human diseases were no threat to the patient. They were allowed to enter the ward only after a five-minute cycle and a thorough disinfection control. This patient was so special that the planetary government preferred to play it safe.
The naked body lying in the intensive care pod still resembled a human. Even the middle pair of limbs seemed to be some sort of practical joke, a trick of some unknown prankster. The wounded arms and legs looked normal already, though complete regeneration of the plasma-burnt sinews would, no doubt, take a while yet.
The Zzygou opened her eyes and looked at the visitors.
A barely noticeable semblance of a human smile appeared on her face. She probably was really pleased to see them. Or maybe the former companion of the princess just kept imitating human emotions?
“I’ve been trying to come see you for three days now. As soon as they let me out of the isolation room, I came to the hospital.” Alex bowed apologetically.
“Fank you,” said the representative of the alien race, perhaps the only one in the human territories now. Her tongue had already undergone a restoration course, but speaking remained difficult for her. “Zhe ozher appreciay you vizhi, shervan …”
Her smile turned the last word into bitter irony.
“We’re always happy to serve you, Sey.”
This was the name she was destined to go by, now that she had lost her senior companion. And probably for the rest of her life. She also would have to forsake the thought of an eventual return to the fold of her own civilization. The youthful “bees” always chose their life’s direction and their companions once and for all. This was, perhaps, the very root of the strength, as well as the weakness, of their civilization.
Softly pushing the pilot aside, the former detective-spesh’s aide silently walked up to the patient, checked a monitoring device, and nodded with satisfaction.
“Would you like me to tell you about what happened to the rest of the crew?” Alex somehow hoped that this would be an appropriate topic for conversation. “Are you interested? Well, the navigator, um, the male human with a braid and a painted face, has already got a job on another ship … and not alone, but with our female doctor.”
Alex was glad to see a shadow of emotion on her weary, pain-wracked face.
“Shavage woma …”
Though barely able to move her tongue, she did, nonetheless, manage to express the strength of her feeling.
“Yes. That is, if we forget that she has saved your life.”
“You’re correkch, huma.” Sey gave a feeble nod. “I harbor go anger. Zhe Ozherzh were her arch-foe. But she overpower hershelf … Och everyong ish capabuh of zhach.”
“O’Hara left in an unknown direction, having bought the criminal’s body.”
The alien wasn’t interested in this fact, which meant so much to Alex. The young fighter-spesh, as well as the piece of meat into which the murderer had been turned, were already a past stage of Sey’s life.
That is what always happens. Alex thought that between two individuals, even if they belong to the same race and culture, the names and words which are crucial to one person mean nothing to the other, and vice versa. It’s such a peculiar thing—speech. After all, you can express anything orally, or on paper … But the probability is high that you will be misunderstood.
Only a thin thread of words connects all intelligent beings into one whole, allowing them to understand each other. And what a shame it is when you try, over and over, to say something really important, but meet no understanding. The truth is always different for each person, so that a trifle of a joke might lead others to pay attention and take interest, while your pain and sorrow remain unaddressed. There are exceptions, of course, but they are monstrously rare.
“She became your firsh pashio, but way choo laich …” said Sey unexpectedly, half-closing her eyes. “We ofchen have zhach happeh, choo …”
“I don’t know how you came to understand that, but thank you,” the pilot replied. And then the former detective’s aide bestowed a look upon him, the likes of which he had never known before. “The only person I don’t know anything about …”
“Morrison went off to the sea, I’ve made my inquiries.” Dr. Watson kept her surprised and intrigued eyes fixed upon him. “It may sound odd, but the pilot-spesh has decided to get into aquanautics. There is demand for dolphin herders, bathyscaphe drivers, and foresters to care for the lotuses. A very strange thing for a pilot to do … there was even a news report about it.”
“Are you sure?”
“One hundred percent. That is, if his first name is Xang. Well, let’s go, no need to tire out our guest—she’s already dozing off …”
Quietly leaving the ward, they entered the hallway. Moved aside to let the same stretcher pass, carrying its patient.
“Eh-eh-eh …” mumbled the unconscious patient, and the paramedic was whispering into the walkie-talkie, “Yoko, please meet us in surgery room number seventeen, immediately. The patient’s in serious condition …”
“The responsibility level must be as high here as it is in space,” said Alex, glancing back at the patient. “It’s nerve-wracking. Hard even on the doctors who’re speshes—how do you handle it?”
“Are you considering becoming a doctor?” smiled his companion.
“Quite possibly … will they page you in to help?”
“Yoko’ll manage. She’s a capable girl, and a spesh, besides … Our hospital has hundreds of doctors. And I’m done with my shift for today.”
“Are you free tonight?”
“Ah! Ten or so years ago, I would’ve been very flattered by such a question coming from an old space-wolf. Except my mom had warned me to never fall in love with pilots—they can’t love back.”
Alex answered, unruffled:
“But the thing is, I can.”
“You’re kidding?”
“Yes and no. Well, Yoko is a nice girl, too … but …” Stopping abruptly, the pilot embraced her. “She’s not my type. It’s you I like, and I’m rather afraid I’m falling in love.”
Alex looked at her seriously, without a hint of a smile. The distrust in the woman’s eyes began to fade.
“What’s happened to you, Pilot? People like you should be
shown off in a circus freak show! There’ll be huge lines to get in. A spesh, a pilot-spesh, who is capable of love!”
“That’s how it is. Of course, it didn’t happen all at once.” Alex was smiling, heartily enjoying her confusion. “Some thought that the sudden ability would fade away all by itself. If that had really happened, it would actually make my life easier. But, alas, I’m still able to love.”
Jenny mumbled in bewilderment:
“Alex, what you’re saying is way too strange and serious …”
It must be difficult for a woman to continue arguing when a man she likes starts kissing her. Judging by Jenny’s reaction, it was certainly so.
“Love is a strange thing—you feel it right away,” said the pilot, taking his lips off hers for a moment.
“I sense that. But it’s impossible!”
“If you doubt it, give me a trial period.”
The hospital, as is customary, was located in the city’s outskirts. From the gates, where some rental cars were parked, the two of them went on foot. Funny thing was—they didn’t have to discuss this—they both felt like taking a stroll.
Alex gazed into the sky.
He may get to see perhaps hundreds of different planets, and he had seen quite a few already. Why, then, is each new sky so strange and wonderful? The fiery clouds of Omelia, the flying lotuses of Zodiac, the dust storms of Nangyala …
Alex said pensively:
“I think I’ll remain a pilot, after all. So you’ll have to master the work of a space doctor.”
Dr. Watson laughed.
“Too bad my former boss can’t hear you now. Of course, he would immediately start figuring out the causes of your weird behavior.”
Alex shook his head.
“You know, I have a feeling he’ll change jobs, too. Maybe he’ll become a musician. If he hasn’t already.”
“What ever makes you say that?”
“Just a hunch.”
An intrigue is an old weapon that never fails. Only now did the pilot realize what it really was to woo a woman—to entice, to attract, to seek her love … instead of abandoning himself to quick and carefree sex. If this was part of love—he liked it.
The Genome Page 39