If not for Janet…
The door beeped.
“Open,” Alex ordered.
It was C-the-Third. He wasn’t even dressed—he came just as he was, in his pajamas, which were rather childish, blue with little red and white stars. Alex made a mental note to be more careful with the word “immediately.”
“What’s going on, Captain?”
The clone’s harsh tone did not match the cheerful design of his pajamas. And his face wore the look of a man ready to kill.
“Sit down. Would you like a drink?” Alex leaned over and opened a little bar. Glanced at the flattish flasks… not a bad selection!
“Brandy,” said the clone resentfully. “Just a little.”
He waited while the captain poured two glasses of brandy and then asked, a little more calmly:
“So what’s happening?”
“At the entrance to the tunnel, we were almost rammed by a mercury tanker.”
“An attack?” The clone tensed.
“The pilot said their engines misfired. It’s been known to happen on old tubs like that. Their computers are extremely primitive and unstable.”
C-The-Third frowned.
“Captain, this ship is supposed to be well protected… and well armed. If I am not mistaken, according to the law, the guard towers were supposed to destroy the tanker. And you had the right to do so, as well.”
“No, I didn’t. The collision would not have led to a catastrophe—only forced us to enter the tunnel with an uncharted trajectory.”
“Was there a collision?” asked the clone.
“No. You would’ve felt it, I can assure you. We… managed.”
C-the-Third drank up his brandy in one gulp. Asked testily:
“Then what the hell? I knew we weren’t going for a walk in the park. You could’ve told me all about it in the morning…”
“C-the-Third, by a strange coincidence, the new trajectory would have led us into Cepheidean space.”
The clone started. He rolled his empty glass in his fingers and said:
“But it didn’t happen, right?”
“Right. We are on our way to Gamma Snakebearer. Can you imagine what would have happened, had we entered Cepheidean space?”
C-the-Third winced.
“Customs search. Capture of the Zzygou. Or, rather, an attempted capture. I have a duty to protect them.”
“I too have a duty to protect all my passengers.” Alex poured two more drinks. They drank in silence.
“It seems I must thank you.” C-the-Third bowed slightly. “That was an extremely unpleasant situation.”
“Indeed. But not me—Janet Ruello. Well, that’s beside the point, anyway. What do you think is the probability of an accidental collision?”
“Negligible.”
“Agreed. C-the-Third, I don’t like what’s happening. We were hired for civilian service.”
“This is a civilian trip. Ordinary tourism…”
“Is it?”
They looked closely at each other for a few moments. Then the clone shrugged his shoulders.
“Damn it, Captain… I’ve been making these trips for seven years now. Three years for the Pearl company and four years for Sky. I have escorted Zzygou, Bronins, Cepheideans, Fenhuan… and a dozen other races, with whom humans hardly ever have any contact. I am a spesh for these contacts, you see?”
“Yes, I see.”
C-the-Third continued, more softly and earnestly:
“Alex, I have lived through many different incidents. Skirmishes with xenophobes. Aggression on my customers’ part. Once I had to kill a Bronin who suddenly got violent. Another time we were taken over by terrorists from New Ukraine and had to wait eight weeks before a Zzygou patrol ship rescued us. I’ve seen a lot of things… but it’s all ordinary civilian work. Maybe slightly more risky than average… but your salary is probably also a little higher than average, am I right?”
“Who could be behind this? And why?”
“Got anything smokable?”
Alex silently handed him a pack of cigarettes. They both lit up.
“Tourism business for alien races is not the most developed field…” said the clone pensively, letting out a stream of smoke. “How can you smoke this trash, Captain? But there are four companies, nevertheless. Ours is the largest. An incident causing our passengers’ capture by the Cepheideans would have led to a complete loss of trust in our company. You see?”
“Yes, I see.” The clone’s constant questioning of his understanding was beginning to irritate Alex. It was as if C-the-Third doubted his captain’s ability to put two and two together. “It’s all just the competitors’ underhand plotting, then?”
“Possibly. We will contact the police authorities… and, of course, we’ll have our own investigation right away.”
“Can you imagine what bribing a pilot would cost?”
The clone smiled.
“No, I can’t.”
“Neither can I. If the poor fellow from the tanker gets convicted, he will lose his pilot’s license for good. This kind of thing has no price, C-the-Third. It would be like wagering someone’s life. Like depriving someone of all colors, forcing him to see the world through a dark, murky glass. We pilots don’t have that many simple human pleasures.”
“But there might be exceptions?”
“Yes. Theoretically, a tanker’s pilot could be a natural—his job would then be only one of many joys in life. That sort of thing ought to be forbidden.” Alex halted, remembering Generalov.
“That would be discrimination,” said C-the-Third bluntly. “What if somebody had reprogrammed the tanker’s computer?”
Alex thought for a few moments. Those computers really were primitive.
“An ordinary change of programming wouldn’t work. Without the pilot’s help, the tanker’s computer wouldn’t be able to calculate such a complicated maneuver. Although someone could hack it and control it remotely.”
“Agreed.” The clone nodded. “The terrorists could have been anywhere—one of the guard stations, or one of the other ships waiting in line. They could have put in a remote-operation bio-block, which would simply disintegrate once the action was over.”
“Nasty.”
“Yes, indeed. But any business field has some ruthless people. No one has ever succeeded in making a businessperson-spesh, you know.”
Both of them smiled.
“So did I wake you up for nothing?” Alex inquired.
“Of course not. The situation really was extremely dangerous. In the morning, as soon as we are out of the channel, I will contact the company management.”
“Mr. Li Tsyn?”
The clone scowled.
“No. Mister President doesn’t bother with small incidents. I will contact my matrix, Danila Shustov. He’ll understand.”
“Are there a lot of you?” Alex asked.
“Clones? There were four. But Danila C-the-First Shustov was killed a year ago.”
“Condolences.”
The clone bowed slightly.
“We all work in the tourism business, Captain. C-the-First was in some respects my opposite—he escorted humans in the alien sectors. There was a freak accident. While in the Fenhuan sector, he organized an excursion to the incubation beach. A little girl left her mother’s side to look more closely at one of the eggs. They’re very beautiful, you know. They radiate a whole rainbow of colors, and their singing is lovely, too… She licked her finger and rubbed the egg… wanted a closer look at the embryo.”
Alex winced.
“My brother had no other choice but to take the blame upon himself.” A note of bitterness rang in C-the-Third’s voice. “The Fenhuan performed their ritual cleansing and then sent his remains back to Earth. With profuse apologies, of course. That’s life. But from now on, when our company organizes trips to alien planets, children must be kept on a short leash and wear a muzzle at all times.”