“Yes.” The woman nodded. Holmes looked rather startled—it seemed that Jenny’s duties had always included asking a few more-or-less silly questions at the end. But his loyal companion added, looking at Alex, “I admire you, Pilot. And I’m also a little sorry… that you’re a pilot-spesh.”
For a moment, there was an uneasy silence.
“What’s to become of us?” Generalov finally asked.
“You will now write detailed reports about the events that you witnessed. If I find them satisfactory, we will allow you to land on Zodiac, and after that, you will all be free to go. Your ship is, as I’ve already said, impounded, and you will have to look for other employment. But…” Holmes cocked his head, raising his eyebrows. “I can’t help you there. Such is the will of the Emperor.”
“Or, more exactly, of the Imperial Council, which probably includes a few of the agent’s accomplices,” added Morrison gloomily.
“I have no right to enter this discussion. And I advise you to restrain yourself from dubious comments about the ruling government!” said Holmes harshly.
“Mr. Holmes, what will be done with Paul Lourier’s body?” asked Kim.
“The real Paul Lourier has probably found eternal rest in the soil of Quicksilver Pit,” Holmes replied. “Or lies in some seedy bar, stuffed full of drugs. You mean, the agent’s body?”
“Yes.”
“It will be sold to a clinic on Zodiac. They will probably find a use for it… testing new drugs or teaching students to perform complex surgery.”
“Can I buy the body?”
Holmes looked at Kim in surprise.
“I have money!” hastily added the girl. “We are entitled to sizable severance pay, right? Or will that not be enough?”
“I doubt that a body of a narrowly specialized fighter-specimen, devoid of all memory, will cost all that much,” said Holmes pensively. “But, for goodness’ sake, tell me, what do you need it for?”
“Maybe I’m sentimental,” said Kim with a smile. “So maybe I want to care for the helpless human shell whose individuality has been destroyed with my help. Or maybe I’m a filthy sadist who wants to torture a soulless piece of organic material? No, wait… maybe I’m a crazy nymphomaniac who decided to get herself a super-submissive lover?”
“I think the real reason wasn’t mentioned,” Holmes replied. “In any case, I don’t see any obstacles to it.”
Alex caught Kim’s triumphant glance and gave her a little nod. Edward Garlitsky had gained a body. A strong and complex one… Oh, God… that was…
He shifted his gaze away.
That eerie impression of unity, of affinity between these two agent-speshes which had stung him for a moment during their fight—had it been just a coincidence? Garlitsky had created himself a bodyguard, a helper, a lover… but who said that he hadn’t also started growing some bodies for himself a long, long time before that? Back when Eben wasn’t yet part of the Empire, he had to have been a consultant for their geneticists. And Eben, ready to implement endless specifications for human bodies, could have served him as his best, most reliable testing ground!
“And now, ladies and gentlemen,” said Holmes almost cheerfully, “I ask everyone to go back to his or her cabin and get started on compiling those reports.”
Alex silently got up.
“And you, Mr. Romanov,” said Holmes brusquely, “I will ask to stay!”
Dr. Watson seemed the most surprised. When Holmes asked her to leave for the second time, she gave up, but shook her head with a hurt expression.
Alex was not surprised by this demand to stay. What was much more surprising was that the detective preferred to speak with him one-on-one.
Before he said anything else, Holmes took a small black disk out of his pocket. He touched the control sensors and put it down on the floor. Their ears got a little stuffed up, and the room around them seemed to have gotten darker.
“Now we’re insulated from your ship’s internal surveillance devices,” Holmes informed him. Alex was looking at him with growing astonishment. “I would like to get a few unofficial answers… unofficial for now,” Holmes emphasized.
“Only an idiot lies to a detective-spesh,” said Alex wearily.
“Yes, of course. Smart people just don’t mention some details. Alex Romanov, what has happened to you and to your crew?”
“What are you referring to, Mr. Holmes?”
“To the strange behavior of the speshes, who were required to sacrifice themselves for humanity. You yourself, I believe, have said that a normal spesh has to readily perish for the good of the Empire?”
“Stress, perhaps?” ventured Alex. “We all found ourselves in such an alarming, ambiguous situation… besides, our common death wouldn’t satisfy Sey-Zo anyway.”
“This is the version I will express in the official report,” said Holmes. “That is, I might express it. But now I would like to hear the truth.”
Under the detective’s intent stare, Alex lowered his hand into his pocket and took out the little vial.
“A while ago,” he said, putting the vial next to the black disk, “I happened to get my hands on a rare drug.”
“Yes,” said Holmes, encouragingly.
“Its effect on the organism of a spesh… any spesh… leads to the blocking of all the emotional alterations.”
“The emotional ones only?”
“Yes. Memory, professional characteristics, body modifications remain intact.”
Holmes carefully lifted the vial, shook it. Pensively remarked:
“And you fed this drug to your crew.”
“Yes. You saw the result.”
“I’m baffled,” Holmes confessed. “Was this drug obtained by you in an honest way?”
“Of course. The formula was given to me by its creator. As far as I understand, he had been working on the remedy for many years. The synthesis was performed in an ordinary automatic laboratory, and I paid for it the honest way… nothing shady here.”
“Except that speshes start acting like naturals.”
“This remedy doesn’t force any extraneous emotions on anyone, Mr. Holmes. This isn’t some narcotic. Even calling it a psychotropic drug would be a stretch. All it does is temporarily block the emotions distorted by specialization.”
“You say that as if specialization were something evil.”
“No, of course not. But… does the law forbid speshes to get rid of changes made to their own ethics?”
“Why forbid something that’s impossible?” Holmes replied with a question. “There has not been a precedent.”
“Maybe the fact that Imperial laws do allow a spesh to remove the physiological after-effects of specialization, if he so wishes, could serve as such a precedent?”
Holmes nodded. He dropped back in his armchair, still holding the vial in his hand.
“You can try the remedy, Mr. Holmes,” Alex suggested. “Just a few drops will do it. An overdose isn’t dangerous. And it works… em… for several days.”
“Is this, by any chance, a bribe offer?” said Holmes with lively interest.
“No. It’s an agreement to conduct an investigative experiment. You can estimate the consequences of the use of the drug and, if you find them dangerous, you can subject me to any punishment.”
“You’re quite a risk-taker, Alex Romanov!” Holmes frowned. “You’re that sure of your decision, eh?”
“No. I’m not sure,” Alex admitted frankly. “But I hope you will agree with me.”
“Alex, my dear fellow.” Holmes smiled. “Tell me, what would a detective-spesh be worth, if he were capable of falling in love? Afraid of a ray gun pointed at him? Overcome by sentiments?”
“I don’t know what you’ll be worth, Mr. Holmes.” Alex leaned slightly toward him. “Honestly, I don’t. But if specialization is the only thing that prevents you from taking bribes from criminals or hiding from murderers—you’re not worth a dime, anyway. Neither you, nor your matrix, Peter Valke!”