Furthermore, those five class-P worlds? They’re the ones where I made first contact, but I can’t imagine myself going back to claim sons and daughters, taking them away to the sky. How in the hell can I rationalize that? Culture shock might kill them, let alone grimspace.
“I don’t think you grasp the scope of what Mair wanted to do,” March says then.
“So tell me.”
“We aren’t interested in spiriting away a couple adventurous souls here and there,” Saul explains. “We’re looking to relocate whole villages—we’ll cull them from remote areas where their disappearance simply goes unsolved. Certain anomalies in Old Terra history make me believe this may have occurred before. Ever heard of Roanoke?” I shake my head and he adds, “No matter. You needn’t examine all the evidence as I have. But this is why Gunnar-Dahlgren needs to be fixed to support a surge in population. We’re not simply starting an academy, although that’s part of it.”
“A colony of jumpers.”
It’s a mammoth undertaking. I don’t ask if they have transport ships. Surely they must have passenger freighters somewhere on this rock, if they’re serious. I don’t know how I feel about that. Part of me thinks any breeding experiment is doomed to failure, and Mary knows we’ve seen bad results from this kind of thing, time and again. Purpose becomes twisted, and even a scientist with the best intentions, like Doc, gets swept up in the trappings of godhood. People shouldn’t be pushed to mate to produce a certain type of child; I feel strongly about that.
“Nobody will be forced to do anything,” March says with a disgusted sigh. “Doc’s isolated something that the Corp never saw. He’s been going through medical records for years.” Which doesn’t quite explain how he found it, but maybe he’s simply smarter than the average Corp scientist. Given that they’re mostly bureaucrats these days, that hypothesis doesn’t stretch my imagination much. “So there’s another factor that determines how long someone can handle grimspace, and it’s tied to the genotype.”
He pauses, and we stare at each other. I feel as if he’s willing me to make a mental leap, like he’ll be disappointed in me if I can’t put it together on my own. Then it dawns on me, a feeling of astonishment and awe—sunrise on Ielos. I sat in the thermal rooms with Kai once, watching slow red-orange break of light refracted over the glaciers. That’s how I feel now.
“Not a bloodline,” I say slowly. “You’re looking to engineer a new species. You want human recruits from class-P worlds with strong J-gene strains. Alien DNA provides for longevity—compensates for burnout.”
March watches me, probably tracking my mental processes. He knows when I work it out. I dub that unknown factor the L-gene, whatever allows inhuman navigators to withstand grimspace better than we do. A number of alien races can sense the beacons, but many despise us for our conquistador attitude, and the rest consider us food.
I say it aloud for the benefit of the others. “You’re going to make something new from mingling alien and human DNA. I’m right, aren’t I?”
Dina crams the last of a sweetbread into her mouth and says through the crumbs, “Hey, you’re not as dumb as you look after all.”
Maybe I really was better off in my cell.
CHAPTER 16
So we’re going to Marakeq.
I wish I could say I enjoyed my time on Lachion, but with Lex and Keri growling like a pair of Anduvian ice otters in mating season, the rest of us just lay low. Barely, I manage to restrain a wince when I see that they’re hauling crates of the nutri-paste, presumably to replenish our stores.
Great. We’ll survive any emergency. We’ll just wish we hadn’t.
The morning of our departure, I run into Keri outside the training facility. I’ve spent a lot of time in there because it gets the blood pumping, and pure physical exertion means I don’t have to think. Something in her face tells me I’m not going to like what’s coming, and I brace myself instinctively. It’s a wonder she hasn’t confronted me before now; I feel responsible for a lot of her problems.
She doesn’t say hello, merely looking me up and down with an air of indefinable scorn. I know what she sees, a woman past her prime with burn scars raying out from the edges of my workout gear, but I don’t shift beneath the weight of her eyes. I just wait.
“I don’t like you,” she says at last. “But you’re necessary to bring my grandmother’s vision to fruition. Make no mistake, that’s the only reason you’re alive.”
A bitchy reply springs to my tongue, but I swallow it down. I started trouble on this planet without knowing the rules. If I’d made a habit of being that careless on other worlds, I’d have died long before now, and this time, her family paid the price for my unsteady impulses. So I owe her, and she’s entitled to hate me as much as she wants. Right now, I’m none too fond of myself, either. I have to look at myself in the mirror, knowing I lived where eighty-two died, one of whom was the man I loved. Not to mention the loss of Miriam Jocasta, a diplomat of incredible eloquence and grace; she had been instrumental in achieving peace during the Axis Wars. The woman was an icon, and I killed her. Maybe. From the line of their questioning, the Psychs had certainly been inclined to think so, at any rate.
Frag, I wish I could remember.
“You want to go a few rounds with me?” I blot away the sweat and head back to the training mat without waiting for an answer.
Since she was Mair’s pupil, she’ll probably kick my ass ten ways from sunrise, given she’s younger and faster and probably stronger, too. I’ll take whatever she dishes out, but I won’t hand it to her on a plate. She’ll enjoy my beating more if she works for it.