“An excellent murder,” said Holmes through his teeth. “No traces of the culprit. We still don’t know who he is… But at least there’s no doubt we are dealing with a professional of the highest class!”
“Janet or Kim!” cried Dr. Watson cheerily. Alex ground his teeth to keep himself from stating his opinion about her joy.
“I’m not sure,” said Holmes, letting out a billowing cloud of smoke. “Not sure at all. Despite common assumptions, most genius-murderers are self-trained, not products of genetic enhancements. Do you remember the maniac from the Third-Orbital, Jenny?”
“Oh, yes!” Watson was smiling, but her hand involuntarily rubbed a scar on her neck. It was a strange scar, resembling human tooth marks. “Nineteen victims… and I almost took his score up to twenty.”
“Nineteen and the two poor souls who, under torture, falsely confessed to committing his crimes and were then thrown out into vacuum,” Holmes corrected her. “So, what do we have so far?”
Dr. Watson fell deep into thought.
Alex couldn’t help becoming absorbed in the show that they were putting on. Of course, he was the spectator for whom Holmes and Watson were reasoning aloud. Dr. Jenny Watson really did serve as a sparring partner for Holmes—she was the wall against which he bounced the tennis ball of his intellect.
“The murderer is a very clever professional,” said Jenny tentatively.
“Yes,” pronounced Holmes approvingly.
“And he is also a heartless bastard who tortured to death a poor helpless woman—”
Holmes shook his head.
“The Zzygou are far from helpless, Watson. Even with your impressive combat training and military experience, you wouldn’t have been able to overpower her. Or you would have emerged from the fight with broken bones and bruises all over your body. But something else is much more important, Dr. Watson.”
Holmes got up abruptly, and Jenny involuntarily slapped her hands down, trying to keep her balance on the chair as it tilted to one side. The detective’s eyes sparkled feverishly.
“The murderer is a professional. He knew how to neutralize the Zzygou and how to kill her in the way most offensive to her entire race. The murderer has expertly covered up all of his tracks! And he must have known that there was a detective-spesh on Zodiac, and that the kind of crime that would cause a trans-galactic war would eventually be solved! And still the murderer made absolutely no attempt to run away, or to take over the ship, or escape down to the planet. That means,” Holmes threw out his hand, pointing at Watson, “he is simply biding time! He doesn’t value his own life! His goals couldn’t be just to destroy an individual alien, or to vex C-the-Third, or to bankrupt the Sky Company. His goal is precisely a galactic war, a clash between the Empire and the Swarm!”
“Oh, God!” was all that Dr. Watson could say. Holmes turned to Alex.
“And what would you say, Captain? Remember the incident with the tanker that almost tossed you into Cepheidean space?”
“Of course I do!”
“I must tell you that the tanker’s pilot broke off his own vital functions during an attempted deep questioning. It seems he had been pre-programmed with a multi-level psychological code. Traces of a self-eliminating gel-crystal of medium size have been found in the tanker’s controls system. Most probably, the calculations of the trajectory that threatened the Zzygous’ lives were done precisely by that crystal… and the brainwashed pilot simply didn’t interfere with the controls.”
“Then you can clear at least a few of us of suspicion?” asked Alex. “Doesn’t that mean that Generalov, Morrison, and Lourier had nothing to do with it?”
“On the contrary! Alex, I was actually inclined to consider the tanker incident a result of the commercial competition between tourist firms, and the Zzygou’s murder an act of a psychopath. But now there can be no doubt. Someone is trying to provoke a galactic war. Someone attempted to cause the Zzygou to perish at the hands of Cepheidians, which wouldn’t have made any difference—the Swarm’s wrath would still have come down on the humans. When that attempt failed, the agent who has infiltrated this ship went for the ultimate stakes. He has killed Zey-So and is now biding time. Once the first bombs rain down on helpless planets, the war will be impossible to stop. I will not be surprised if someone comes forward to confess to the princess’s murder right after the start of the war. But anyone could be that ‘someone.’ Including C-the-Third. When the stakes are this high, criminals could have interfered even with a spesh’s mind. I don’t know how, but…”
“There are substances to block the altered emotions…” Alex ventured to put in. But Holmes shook his head.
“Nonsense, my dear friend! Fairy tales that childhood sweethearts whisper to each other before their metamorphoses! ‘I’ll grow up and become a tax-inspector, but I’ll still be able to love! I will love you, only you!’”
Alex started. The memory was piercing, like the sting of ice-cold water.
…Nadia, raising herself up to rest on her elbows, and his hand reaching toward her, brushing the sand off her naked chest. She’s smiling—so sadly, as though they hadn’t managed to swim out after all, to get out of the ice-cold water of the gulf. As though Alex hadn’t dragged her, immobilized by a cramp, to the shore, to the warm sand, under the parting caress of the autumn sun. And in her eyes—a farewell. She seems to be memorizing his smile, his touch, and his naked body.
“I will still love you,” Alex is saying, because he knows the words she longs to hear. He is saying them sincerely, fully convinced he will keep his promise. “I’ll be a pilot, but so what? Metamorphosis won’t make any difference…”
“Are you thinking about something, Captain?” Holmes asked bluntly.
“I was sure that the substances that can block altered emotions do exist,” said Alex.
“You should watch fewer soap operas and adventure thrillers. It would take a genius the likes of Edward Garlitsky to consider all the operons and make up this kind of remedy. Chemical interference with the mind of a spesh is impossible… but I am still ready to suppose that C-the-Third could have been a victim of mental encoding.”
“Who could possibly want a galactic war?” Alex shrugged. “I don’t think we could find madmen with that much power in the Empire. Holmes, could it have been—”
“The Zzygou themselves?” Holmes shook his head. “Absolutely not! Sey-Zo could not have killed Zey-So. It would be the same as severing your own hand.”
“Human history has known such cases. What if, for some reason, a war is necessary to the Swarm? What if Zey-So had volunteered to give up her own life to provoke a conflict…”
Holmes seemed suddenly downcast.
“Captain, a crime has been committed against a citizen of an alien race. The prosecutor is the Zzygou Swarm. I cannot make the victim’s companion answerable as a suspect. As a witness, at most. To prove Sey-Zo guilty, I would have to absolutely exclude the guilt of every person aboard the ship. That won’t be an easy task.”
“But you’ve been created precisely for difficult tasks.”
“So you want Sey-Zo to be found guilty?”
“I want no harm to come to my crewmembers.”
“Everything is in the hands of the law. Well, thanks for your cooperation, Captain. Dr. Watson will stay with you a while longer, but I have to go see the other suspects.”
Already at the door, Holmes turned around.
“Captain, why is the ship’s inner monitoring system off? As far as I know, technology allows you to record everything that happens on all the premises?”