Lords of the Seventh Swarm (9 page)

“Certainly the Tharrin will never do it,” Felph said. “But I suspect that many of our
human
leaders throughout history might have done it. Unfortunately, we’ve given over our free agency to a pack of sniveling aliens who haven’t got the fortitude to do what needs to be done.”

“The Tharrin aren’t aliens,” Orick said.

“Of course they are—aliens of our own creation.” Felph considered for a moment. “What we need is a new kind of civilization, with leaders strong enough to meet the challenge imposed by nonhuman sentiments.”

This is what Gallen had been waiting for. Felph hadn’t admitted to being an aberlain. On most worlds throughout the universe, the work of aberlains was strictly illegal. Only on Tremorithin did mankind work assiduously to create new subspecies of humans to populate new worlds.

Maggie said, “And is this the work you’ve chosen for yourself, to create this new society?”

“Of course,” Felph said. “Someone must rise to the challenge.”

“Isn’t it illegal to engage in genetic manipulations on humans?”

“Ruin doesn’t belong to the Unity of Planets, so of course none of their laws apply. We’re sovereign here.”

“What of your local laws?” Gallen asked.

Felph seemed astonished by the question. “I really haven’t made up any, yet.” He studied their faces, saw their surprise. “You see, Ruin’s constitution was written several hundred years ago by me and two colleagues. As a jest; we decided to form a monarchy. With only three of us on the planet at the time, it seemed a simple solution to any political problems. We drew straws, and I won. As an independent world recognized by the Unity, anyone who wants to settle here must swear to obey the laws of our constitution—and accept me as sovereign. As a result, I’ve retained my title of `Lord Felph.’ “

“What of the people who live on your world? Don’t any of them object?” Gallen asked in astonishment.

“Object? Why would they object?” Felph asked. “People only object to government when it makes demands of them. I make no laws, levy no taxes. With the excess supplies I generate, I feed and clothe anyone who wants. No, no one objects to my reign. How could they?”

In the moment of silence that followed, Gallen furrowed his brow, then said. “Lord Felph, you’ve supported your view that the ancient Qualeewoohs created the Waters of Strength, and you’ve argued persuasively that they had at least some fairly high levels of technology. But one concern nags me. What makes you think the Waters of Strength still exist?”

Felph shot Gallen a knowing smile. “There are those who have tasted it. They bear witness.”

“But you said no one has reached it!” Orick blurted.

“No human,” Felph corrected. “There are creatures, animals in the tangle, with curious traits.”

“Such as?” Gallen asked.

“They are nearly immortal,” Felph said. “Oh, you can slay them, but they regenerate in a few hours. They attack as dumb animals do, with cunning, but lacking foresight. Come into the tangle with me, Gallen, on a small excursion, and I’ll show you what you’re faced with.”

This seemed so improbable that even Gallen dared not speak for a moment. “Predators?” Gallen asked. “These are the predators you want me to fight?”

“I did not say it would be easy,” Lord Felph answered. “It might take you a few trips. But you, or one of your clones, could make it.”

Gallen shook his head thoughtfully. This would take some consideration.

Maggie said, “I understand that you want to hire me for something?”

“Possibly,” Felph said. “At the very least, I would like to download the memory crystals from your mantle, particularly with emphasis on nanotech modifications to human life-forms. I can pay well, say a thousand credits per gig of nonduplicatory information?”

Maggie said, “I won’t give you information as an aberlain unless you are forthright with me. I won’t do anything immoral. I must know exactly what you are creating.” She glanced up at the beautiful children that hovered around Felph, mute witnesses to the conversation. Felph was controlling them through their Guides, forcing them to keep silent during this entire evening. It was an eerie, ghastly thing to behold.

Felph folded his hands together, put them up to his chin, and gazed at Maggie. “Indeed, I suppose you must know, mustn’t you?”

He cleared his throat. “You saw the people of Ruin, tonight, didn’t you? Scholars, eccentrics, poachers—they are all much alike, ragged creatures who live only to fill their bellies, procreate, entertain themselves. And occasionally scratch where it itches.

“The universe is filled with such people. They do nothing of import, think nothing of import, say nothing remarkable. They are of no more consequence than the beasts of the field. They take up space on a planet, nothing more. Their whole lives are wasted.”

“They’re important in the eyes of God,” Orick said. “No one is a waste. Christ said that God sees even the falling of a sparrow, and we are far more important than a sparrow!”

“You are a Christ worshiper?” Felph asked.

“Aye,” Orick said.

“If man is more important than the sparrows, then why does your God promise us a hell? I’ll tell you”—Felph gazed fiercely at Orick—“your God’s hell is nothing more than a dumping ground for human waste. That is why your Scriptures tell us that it will be so full. Few will make the grade. It has always been so, in any theology.

“You’ve seen the filthy people of my world? Once every generation, some young child will come to me, asking to learn, asking for a way off this world. I have teaching machines here, free for the asking. There are ways to improve one’s self. I take such children as servants, have them work a few years, then arrange for their transport off this rock, if that is what they want. But so few make the grade, so few want to be anything more than human waste.”

Orick was becoming furious at Felph’s words. “I can’t believe that!” he roared.

“Alas, I wish it were not so,” Felph grunted. “We fear the dronon. We fear that they will enslave us. But what value is our freedom, I beg to know, if we do nothing with it? What value are our lives if they pass by, as unremarked as a breeze?”

“A good life is its own reward,” Orick said.

Felph peered out at him from bushy eyebrows, his eyes amused and glittering. “I would say that any life—good or bad—is its own reward. A gluttonous life may seem fine and pleasant to a glutton, but I doubt that your Christ would say that such a life is a good, or that it is a reward.”

“A sinless life leads to greater reward,” Orick said.

“Then by all means, let us all lead sinless lives,” Felph said. “But if I understand aright, it is not enough just to avoid sin. One must openly wage a war for good—wield the vibro-blade of chastity, et cetera?”

“The sword of truth,” Orick corrected. “Whatever. You get the idea.”

Felph’s argument with Orick had run its course. Maggie said, “So, you are trying to create people who are not part of the dirty masses? How, exactly, do you plan to do this?”

“The answer is simple,” Felph said. “I’ve created children who
crave
.”

“Crave what?” Gallen asked.

“You seem angry with me,” Felph said. “Why?”

Gallen said, “I don’t believe we should meddle with our children in this way.”

Felph pointed accusingly at Maggie’s belly, at the swell of a child in her womb. “Isn’t that meddling? Aren’t you taking this life lightly? If you give birth naturally, you have no idea what will be born, what you are giving life to. Would you not want your own children to crave to be something more than—than some twenty meters of gut with attached gonads?”

“Of course,” Gallen said. “We all want our children to excel. But I don’t experiment on the unborn! I prefer to have my children naturally.”

“Experiment? Why damn you, you ignorant ass!” Felph shouted. “What is that thing in Maggie’s belly but an experiment! You merely hope for the best. You create it, you let it grow, you nurture it. But it is nothing more than an experiment concocted by two foolish children who have no grasp of the responsibilities they’re accepting. Giving birth naturally is no great virtue. Dogs do the same! Nature does not care one whit for your child. It doesn’t mind if your son is born a monstrosity with two heads and no heart. It takes no pity when your child whines in the night from hunger, or when it shivers from cold. It does not hope and dream and work for your child. Nature is so … arbitrary. Damn you, to trust your child into the benevolent care of an uncaring nature, then to berate me with such a tone!” Felph clenched his fists and glared at Gallen, his head shaking from side to side in his rage.

Instead of becoming more angry at Felph’s arguments, Gallen actually grinned. Perhaps it was Felph’s courage, his stubbornness. In the past several years, Gallen had gained such a reputation as a bodyguard—and then as a Lord Protector of entire worlds—that no one outside of Orick dared berate him. Yet here this old man, someone Gallen could knock over as easily as if he were a cornstalk, was shouting at Gallen like a maniac.

“Forgive me,” Gallen said, with a nod of deference. “I’d never considered genetic engineering as an obligation, rather than a choice. Still, I worry at what you are doing to your own children.”

“They
crave
,” Felph said, “as I told you!”

“But what do they crave?” Orick asked. Of them all, the bear seemed most horrified by Felph. Maggie seemed to be reserving judgment. Gallen now found himself favorably disposed toward Felph. The little bear Tallea had been quiet, nonjudgmental. As a refugee from Tremonthin, she had seen thousands of subspecies of mankind. The idea of engineering one’s offspring perhaps did not seem so horrific to her.

Felph told Orick, “My children crave everything: glory, honor, power, knowledge, carnality. They seethe with it, more than you will ever imagine! So I have, given them what they need to attain the heights they desire—strength, cunning, beauty!”

“A new race of leaders? That is what you want?” Maggie asked, suspicious.

“Precisely! We will no longer be led by alien Tharrin,” Felph exulted. “I’m creating new leaders, with all the attributes that mankind revels in!”

Orick growled, “With all of mankind’s weaknesses? You say they crave honor and power? Won’t this lead to jealousies and corruption? You want to rid us of the compassionate Tharrin and put these in their place?”

“We are at war! We are at war!” Felph shouted.

Gallen was disappointed by this. Felph was just another crackpot out to create a race of supermen. It seemed that everywhere he went, someone was trying to define what mankind ought to become. Perhaps it was merely the age he lived in. With the dronon threatening the very existence of mankind, every aberlain in the galaxy was concocting some scheme to overcome the threat. As a species, mankind would have to grow or die.

“I don’t think that either my wife or I will work for you, sir,” Gallen said, finally. He turned away, began walking toward the stairs that led up out of the darkened cavern. He expected the others to follow. Orick hurried after him, and Tallea followed.

But Maggie hesitated, as if still lost in thought.

“Wait!” Felph shouted. “Where are you going? I didn’t give you permission to leave yet! You haven’t given my offer proper consideration! At least think about it!”

Maggie turned to Gallen. “Wait a minute.”

Gallen looked down the stairs at her. She gazed up at him, confusion showing in her face.

“Gallen, he’s right.”

“Right?” Gallen asked. “To be manipulating his children this way?”

“No, he’s right … to be fighting. Maybe his work won’t do any good. Maybe it will come to nothing. But at least he is trying, and if we stayed here to work with him, we would be fighting the dronon. You’re the one who always wants to fight.”

She let the words hang in the air. For weeks they had been arguing this point. Gallen was tired of running. He wanted to fight the dronon. But he couldn’t challenge them without Maggie at his side. If such a fight would risk only their own lives against the dronon, Gallen suspected that Maggie would stand beside him in such a battle, and they’d live free—or die together. But Maggie had a child in her belly. They couldn’t jeopardize the babe. So Gallen had agreed to run with her, to hide, until after the child was born.

But now she was telling him that they could make a stand here. They could fight the dronon from here. She wanted to accept Felph’s offer.

She touched her own belly, feeling the heaviness of the child growing in her. From the top of the stone stairway, Gallen looked down into the dark hole, the ancient stone Qualeewooh ruins, where Felph stood in the darkness holding a glow globe, the light faintly playing upon the gloriously beautiful faces of his children.

Maggie said softly, “I have one more question before we decide whether to accept employment. Lord Felph, why do your children all wear Guides? Why do you keep them enslaved?”

Felph stammered, “Freedom is such an important thing, a tool that is used for ill as often as good. I want them to value it, to learn to use it correctly. So I give them only as much as I am certain they can handle. In time, when I trust them, I will remove all restraints.”

Gallen considered this. Maggie abhorred the Guides. She’d lived with their restraints under Lord Karthenor.

“Freedom is such an important. thing,” she said, “that I fear even you should not be its arbiter. How can they learn to use a tool they do not hold? Give your children their freedom, and perhaps they will learn as much from its misuse as they will from its proper use.”

Her words seemed to stun Felph, for he stood gaping at her, considering her proposal. Maggie continued, “You told Gallen that he could name any price for his labor. Here is the coin I desire: I can persuade Gallen to stay and work for you on one condition. So long as we choose to remain here, you will remove the Guides from your children.”

“In time—in a hundred years or so they may be ready—” Felph stammered, “We don’t have a hundred years for them to learn!”

Maggie said. “You imagine that the dronon will be here in five hundred years, but the dronon have built keys for the world gates. They’re here in the Carina Galaxy now.”