“Most Krinar are designer babies?” Mia’s eyes widened in realization. This explained why all the Krinar she’d met were so good-looking. They had taken control of their own evolution by practicing a form of genetic selection for their children. It made a tremendous amount of sense. Any culture advanced enough to manipulate their own genetic code – as the Krinar had done to get rid of their need for blood – could easily specify which genes they wanted in their offspring. Mia was surprised it hadn’t occurred to her earlier.
Chiaren hesitated. “I’m not familiar with that term . . .”
“Yes, exactly,” Korum said, giving Mia a smile. “Few parents are willing to play genetic roulette, not when there is a better way.”
“But we did,” Riani said, looking a bit sheepish. “I got pregnant by accident – one of the few accidents of this kind to occur in the last ten thousand years. We discussed having a child, and we both went off birth control, planning to go to a lab like every other couple we knew. Statistically, the odds of getting pregnant naturally in the first fertile year are something like one in a million. Of course, this was during my musical mastery period, and I got very caught up in vocal expression, to the point that we put off our visit to the lab for a few months. And by the time the medical expert saw me, I was already three weeks pregnant with Korum.”
“I’m a throwback, you see,” Korum said, laughing. “They had no control over which ancestor’s genetic traits I inherited.”
Mia grinned at him. “Well, I think it’s pretty obvious where you get your coloring from.” He could’ve been Riani’s twin brother, instead of her son.
“It’s the ambition that puzzles us,” Chiaren said, shooting his son an indecipherable look. “It’s really come out of nowhere . . .”
Korum’s eyes narrowed a bit, and Mia sensed that this was likely the point of contention between father and son. She determined to ask Korum about it later. For now, she was curious about this new tidbit she’d learned about her lover. “So you’re not a designer baby, huh?” she teased, smiling at him.
“Nope.” Korum grinned. “I’m as natural as they come.”
“Well, you came out perfect anyway,” Mia said, studying his beautifully masculine features. She couldn’t imagine how he could look any better.
To her surprise, Korum shook his head. “No, actually, I didn’t. I have a small deformity.”
“What?” Mia stared at him in shock. This gorgeous man had a deformity? Where had he hidden it this whole time?
He smiled and pointed at the dimple in his left cheek. “Yeah, right there. See?
Mia gave him a disbelieving look. “Your dimple? Really?”
He nodded, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “It’s considered a deformity among my kind. But I’ve learned to live with it. Apparently, some women even like it.”
Like it? Mia loved it, and she told him so, making him and his parents laugh.
“We should probably get going,” Korum said after a while. “It’s dinner time, and Mia needs to get some sleep before getting up early for work tomorrow.”
“Of course.” Riani gave her a warm look of understanding. “I know humans tire more easily . . .”
Mia opened her mouth to protest, but then she changed her mind. It was the truth, even if she wasn’t particularly tired right now. Instead she said, “It was very nice to meet you, Riani – and Chiaren. I really enjoyed talking to both of you.”
“Same here, dear, same here.” Riani gently touched her cheek again. “We hope to see you soon.”
Mia smiled and nodded. “Definitely. I look forward to it.”
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Mia,” Korum’s father said, giving her a smile. Then, turning to Korum, he added, “And it was good to see you, my son.”
Korum inclined his head. “Until the next time.”
And the world blurred around them again, causing Mia to close her eyes. When she opened them, they were standing back in Korum’s house in Lenkarda.
* * *
“I like your parents,” Mia told Korum over dinner. “They seem very nice.”
“Oh, they are,” Korum said, biting into a piece of pomegranate-flavored jicama. “Riani is great. Chiaren too, although we don’t always see eye to eye on certain things.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “I’m not sure. It’s always been that way. In some ways, we’re too alike, but in others, we’re completely different. He’s never understood why I spent all my time building up my company instead of just enjoying life and finding myself a mate, the way he did. And he hasn’t really forgiven me for leaving Krina and depriving Riani of their only son, even though I frequently visit them in the virtual world.”
Mia smiled, seeing shades of her own family in that dynamic. It had been difficult enough for her parents when she’d gone to college in New York; she couldn’t imagine how they would’ve coped if she’d disappeared to another galaxy. She couldn’t really blame Korum’s father for being upset, particularly if he didn’t understand or appreciate his son’s ambition.
Still thinking about Korum’s family, Mia slowly ate her stew, enjoying the satisfying combination of richly flavored roots and vegetables from Krina. Suddenly, a disturbing thought occurred to her, causing her to put down her utensil and look up at Korum.
“Would you ever want to go back to Krina?” she asked, frowning a little. “You must miss your parents, and it seems so nice there . . .”
He hesitated for a couple of seconds. “Perhaps one day,” he finally said, watching her with an unreadable golden gaze. “But probably not for a long while.”
Mia felt her chest tighten a little. “What about me?”
“You’ll come with me, of course,” he said casually, taking a sip of water. “What else?”
She took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. “To another planet? Leaving everything and everybody behind?”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “I didn’t say we’d go soon, Mia. Maybe not even within your family’s lifetime. But someday, yes, I may need to visit Krina and I would want you with me.”
Mia blinked and looked away, her heart squeezing at the reminder of the disparity that now existed between her and the rest of humanity. Thanks to the nanocytes circulating through her body, she would never grow old and die – but she would also far outlive her loved ones. The fact that the Krinar had the means to indefinitely extend human lifespan but chose not to do so bothered her a great deal, making her feel guilty whenever she thought about the issue.
“Mia . . .” Korum reached across the table and took her hand. “Listen to me. I told you I would petition the Elders on your family’s behalf, and I have begun the process. But I can’t promise you anything. I’ve never heard of an exception being made for anyone who’s not considered a charl.”
“But why?” Mia asked in frustration. “Why not share your knowledge, your technology with us? Why do your Elders care so much about this issue?”
Korum sighed, his thumb stroking her palm. “None of us know exactly, but it has something to do with the fact that you’re still very imperfect as a species, and the Elders want you to have more time to evolve . . .”
“We’re imperfect?” Mia stared at him in disbelief. “What’s that supposed to mean? What, you’re saying we’re defective? Like a part in a car that doesn’t function properly?”
“No, not like a part in a car,” he explained patiently, his fingers tightening when she tried to jerk her hand away. “Your species is very young, that’s all. Your society and your culture are evolving at a rapid pace, and your high birthrate and short lifespan probably have something to do with that. If we were to give you our technology now, if every human could live thousands of years, your planet could become overpopulated very quickly . . . unless we also did something about your birthrate. You see, Mia, it’s all or none: we either control everything, or we let you be mostly as you are. There’s no good middle ground here, my sweet.”
Mia felt her teeth snapping together. “So why not give people that choice?” she asked, angered by the whole thing. “Why not let them choose if they want to live for a long time, or if they’d rather have children? I’m sure many would go for the first option rather than face death and disease –”
“It’s not that simple, Mia,” Korum said, regarding her evenly. “Overpopulation is not the Elders’ only concern, you see. Every generation brings something new to your society, changing it for the better. It was less than two hundred years ago that humans in your country thought nothing of keeping slaves. And now the thought of that is abhorrent to them – because generations have passed and values have changed. Do you think you could’ve eradicated slavery if the same people who had once owned slaves were still around today? Your society’s progress would slow tremendously if we uniformly extended your lifespan – and that’s not something the Elders want at this point.”
“So we
are
just an experiment,” Mia said, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “You just want to see what happens to us, and never mind how many humans suffer in the process –”
“Humans wouldn’t be around to suffer if it weren’t for the Krinar, my sweet,” he interrupted, looking faintly amused at her outburst. “You very conveniently forget that fact.”
“Right, you made us, and now you can play God.” She could feel the old resentment rising up, making her want to lash out at the unfairness of it all. As much as she loved Korum, sometimes his arrogance made her want to scream.
He grinned, not the least bit fazed by her anger. His fingers eased their grip on her palm, his touch turning soft and caressing again. “I can think of other things I’d rather play,” he murmured, his eyes beginning to fill with golden heat.
And as Mia watched in disbelief, he sent the floating table away, removing the barrier between them. Still holding her hand, he pulled her toward him until she had no choice but to straddle his lap.
“You think sex will make it all better?” she asked, annoyed at her body’s unavoidable response to his nearness. No matter how mad she was, all he had to do was look at her in a certain way and she was completely lost, turning into a puddle of need.
“Hmm-mm . . .” He was already leaning forward to kiss her neck, his mouth hot and moist on her bare skin. “Sex always makes everything better,” he whispered, nibbling on the sensitive junction between her neck and shoulder.
And for the next several hours, Mia found no reason to disagree with that statement.
* * *
After the noise and crowds in Shanghai, the stark landscape of the Siberian tundra was almost soothing. If it hadn’t been for the cold, Saret would’ve probably enjoyed visiting this remote northern region of Russia.
But it was cold. The temperature here, just above the Arctic Circle, was never warm enough for a Krinar, not even on the hottest summer day. Today, though, it was actually below freezing, and Saret made sure every part of his body was covered with thermal clothing before he stepped out of his ship.
The large grey building in front of him was one of the ugliest examples of Soviet-era architecture. Barbed wire and guard towers on every corner marked it as exactly what it was – a maximum security prison for the worst violent offenders in all of Russia. Few people knew this place existed, which is why Saret had chosen it for his experiment.
He openly approached the gate, not worrying about being seen by any cameras or satellites. For this outing, he was wearing a disguise, one of a couple he had developed over the years. It changed not only his appearance, but even the outer layer of his DNA, making it nearly impossible to divine his true identity. The humans knew he was a Krinar, of course, but they didn’t know anything else about him.
At his approach, the gate swung open, letting him in. Saret walked briskly to the building, where he was greeted by the warden – a pot-bellied, middle-aged human who stank of alcohol and cigarettes.
Without saying a word, the warden led him to his office and closed the door.
“Well?” Saret asked in Russian as soon as they had privacy. “Do you have the data I requested?”
“Yes,” the warden said slowly. “The results are quite . . . unusual.”
“Unusual how?”
“It’s been six weeks since your last visit,” the human said, his hands nervously playing with a pen. “In the past month, we haven’t had a single homicide. In the past three weeks, there have been no fights. I’ve been running this place for twenty years, and I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Saret smiled. “No, I’m sure you haven’t. What was the homicide rate before?”
The man opened a folder and took out a sheet of paper, handing it to Saret. “Take a look. There are usually two or three murders a month and about a fight a day. We can’t figure it out. It’s like all of them had a personality transplant.”
Saret’s smile widened. If only the human knew the truth. Satisfied, he folded the sheet and put it in the pocket of his thermal pants. “You can expect the final payment by tomorrow,” he told the warden and walked out of the room.
He couldn’t wait to get back on his ship and out of the cold.
Chapter 3
The following two days passed uneventfully. Mia spent her time working in the lab and enjoying evenings with Korum, deliriously happy despite their occasional arguments. She had no doubt that he loved her – and it made all the difference in the world. One day, she hoped to convince him to see her kind in a different light, to appreciate the fact that humans were more than just an experiment of the Krinar Elders. For now, though, she had to be content with the possibility of an exception being made for her family – something she knew Korum was fighting hard to obtain.