by Jay Allan
“All ships report missiles ready to launch, Admiral. Enemy ships entering range in thirty seconds.”
Strand just sat quietly, looking calm, she hoped at least, though she was anything but. She’d known the mission would be a difficult one from the moment she’d volunteered to go…but now it was time to face her return to battle, to relive the nightmare, the fear.
She watched as the time counted down, as the First Imperium ships moved steadily toward her waiting force…as they launched their own missiles.
She stared at the wall of approaching projectiles, but she held her tongue, for another minute, then two. Her ships were well within launch range, but Strand wanted that extra time, the few moments that might make the difference in targeting…either that, or something else held her back, some hesitancy to return to the horror of war. She wasn’t sure, but whatever it had been, it passed quickly.
“All ships,” she said calmly. “Launch missiles.”
Chapter Fourteen
Cutter Research Compound (Home of the Mules)
Ten Kilometers West of Victory City, Earth Two
Earth Two Date 01.27.43
Achilles rolled over onto his side, the abrupt movement sending the light sheet cascading down the side of the bed, landing on the floor in a tousled pile.
“You are unsettled, lover. Do you wish to talk?” He’d thought Callisto was awake, but he hadn’t been sure until he heard her soft voice.
Achilles turned his head, shifting to look back across the bed. Callisto was beautiful. She stood out, even among the almost physically perfect Mules, or she did, at least, to him. She’d been his primary sexual companion, almost since the two had progressed into adulthood, and as much as he unconditionally trusted anyone, he did her. But, he knew she couldn’t help him now. It had been over a month since his meeting with President Harmon, a month since he’d shaken the president’s hand and accepted a compromise on behalf of the Mules.
Only he didn’t speak for all the Mules anymore. At least not as he once had.
He looked at Callisto for a moment. He was on edge, but just the look of her face calmed him. It was an animalistic reaction, he realized, one that he considered beneath his Mule intellect, but he felt it nevertheless.
“I must take a firmer hand with the Nexies.” The term was a casual one, used to describe the Next Gens, essentially every Mule in existence save the original 116. But, Achilles was thinking mostly about the first class of Next Gens, the twelve-year olds, the only ones since the Prohibition ended to have entered adulthood. They were more strident than their forty-year old predecessors, considerably so in many ways, and now they were joining the ranks of the mature Mules, nearly doubling the number of grown Hybrids on Earth Two. There was parity there, of a sort at least, but Achilles knew it wouldn’t last. The lead class of post-Prohibition Hybrids would be joined now, each year, by another one hundred, ending the near thirty-year drought of new adults entering Mule society. It was a development that threatened to dramatically change the dynamic of the Mules’ culture…and their relations with the Normals.
“Things will have to change, Achilles. You know this. The Next Gens are the second step in our evolution. A quarter century of scientific advancement went into their creation, all of our minds and research building on what Dr. Cutter did with us. They will very likely prove to be more intelligent than we are, more capable…and probably longer lived as well.”
“And more arrogant. Less tolerant.” Achilles turned his body around completely, so he was facing fully toward Callisto. He was tense, preoccupied…but then he found himself distracted by her naked form. The Mules, free of the imperatives of reproduction, or denied them by fate, depending on perspective, had never adopted the pair bonding traditions of the Normals. Concepts like spouse, or boyfriend or girlfriend had little place in their small societal structure, and sex was, in theory at least, nothing more than a recreational pursuit. Still, he found he spent a large amount of his time with Callisto, and, as he gazed at her in silence for a few seconds, he realized his attraction hadn’t waned at all, even after twenty-five years.
“We are all arrogant, at least in the sense the Normals understand the term.” Callisto spoke before Achilles had recovered his train of thought, though first she’d flashed a quick smile, a sign that she had noticed his other attention…and that she welcomed it. “Such can be taken too far, of course, and we have always sought to protect the others…yet we are, in fact, superior, are we not? In every manner two sets of humanoids can be judged? Intelligence, strength, constitution, projected longevity. This may be a hurtful thing to say to one of them, and kindness may compel us to avoid such usage in public discourse, but that changes nothing of the truth of it.”
Achilles nodded gently. “We could debate the definition of ‘arrogance’ endlessly. Of course, we are superior, and a Normal very well might consider that statement arrogant while we ourselves see it as obvious fact. But, there is still little doubt we are prone to overconfidence. We likely underrate the contributions the Normals make to our own security, for example, and write such things off to their imposition of limits on our numbers. It is easy to say that, without the artificial population constraints caused by the Prohibition or the continuing limits on quickenings, we would not need the Normals at all. But this is a partial conclusion, is it not?”
“In what sense? Do you doubt Mules could fight as well as the Tanks, that they could hold any position and execute any job as well as the Normal who does it now, if our numbers were unlimited?”
“No, of course I do not doubt the obvious. But, your dataset is incomplete. You cannot extrapolate a multi-decade deviance from current norms without allowing for alternate realities that might well have arisen.”
“Such as?”
“Such as Mules battling against each other, for one.” He hadn’t intended to disclose what he’d been thinking. Indeed, he never would have, not even to Peleus or Meleager or any of his close confidantes. Only to Callisto. “We have always been a very small society, almost a family, and we have shared so much together we have avoided deviation into factions, at least until now. Can you say with certainty that we would have been the same if there had been ten thousand of us? A hundred thousand?”
“We have had disagreements among us, of course, most notably twelve years ago, when you launched your rebellion.” Callisto had sided with him then, but there had been considerable dissension among the population of Mules as a whole before Achilles had won them all over. “But, even then, perhaps at the greatest stress point we have endured as a people, there was no prospect of conflict between us.”
“Yes…among a limited population of 116. At a time when, like we remain now, we were vastly outnumbered by the Normals, and facing extermination from an outside force as advanced and powerful as the Regent. Reconsider your analysis, and postulate conclusions based on the vastly larger Mule population I set forth…and add the defeat of the Regent and removal of its threat as an added data point. What do you see?”
Callisto didn’t answer, but he could see concern slip onto her face.
“We are strong-willed…indeed, we are arrogant, both in the definition you offered, a basic recognition of superiority, and also in what I fear is a more malevolent sense, one that could have disastrous implications for the future.”
“You fear we will one day war among ourselves?”
“Such has long concerned me…yet, I always concluded that we could control the darker side of our natures.”
“Your conclusion has changed?”
Achilles paused. “I am more concerned now. My talks with the younger Mules, Freya in particular, have left me unsettled. There is a stridency there, even harder than that we felt in our youth. It may mellow with age, or it may…” He left the thought unanswered.
“She is the first of the Next Gens, Achilles. Perhaps she is smart enough to reach such conclusions herself, to learn to temper her reactions. There is little doubt her intelligence exceeds even that of her closest
peers.”
“Or mine.” Achilles words were deadpan, a mere statement of fact. “She has respected my requests to date, and she has not openly challenged me. But, I fear that will not last. She has much influence over the Next Gens, and in less than a year, they will outnumber us almost two to one, by an even greater margin if we count the older adolescents, not yet officially of adult age but capable of meaningful participation. They also respect my…authority…” There was a hitch in his voice, a recognition that his position of leadership among the Mules was a purely informal one. “…but, they seethe with impatience, as well, and one day, I fear, that will turn to anger.”
“You should go and speak to her again, Achilles. She has great influence over the other Nexies. If you can keep her aligned with your view of the future, perhaps she can help you guide the rest.”
“I will,” he said softly, lying back on the bed, wishing he felt more confident than he did. He was concerned about Freya and the other Next Gens, about what they might do in the near future, of course. But that wasn’t what was truly troubling him. He was reasonably confident he could persuade her to hold back on anything too rash, at least while the threat of the Regent still loomed over Earth Two. That was, after all, an exercise in pure logic, and one of Freya’s intellect would understand the dangers of destabilizing Earth Two’s society in the face of a deadly enemy, even without the life experience he hoped would one day smooth out the sharp edges of her stridency.
No, it wasn’t that, nor even the desperate war against the Regent that was truly troubling him. It was his own peoples’ future. He’d come to wonder if the hated Prohibition, and the severe limitations on quickenings that had replaced it, hadn’t in some way helped the Mules, even saved them. Beyond simply extending the limited supply of First Imperium DNA that would one day run out, the dark secret that drove every desperate attempt to find a way for the Hybrids to reproduce naturally or replicate themselves through some other means.
He’d tried to imagine the future of his people, unrestrained, living in much larger numbers. What he had seen each time had shaken him to his core. He imagined not the peaceful camaraderie of the original 116 Mules, nor even the turbulent debate among the Next Gens. He saw battle, great struggles for dominance, each of his people battling against the others, their arrogance no longer restrained, struggling endlessly for total control in some devastating war of the gods. The Normals would be destroyed, or enslaved, used as pawns and soldiers in an ever-more destructive conflict, one almost without end. And, by the time it was over, he feared, his people would destroy each other.
“You are shaking…” Callisto put her hand on his shoulder, her soft touch pulling him from the waking nightmare that had threatened to take him.
He turned his head and managed a smile. “I was just cold,” he lied softly, pausing for a moment, and then getting up as quickly as he could without it looking strange. He didn’t like lying to Callisto, and worse, he knew she was well-aware he hadn’t told her all of what was bothering him. But, it wasn’t the time. This nightmare was his, and at least for now, he wouldn’t inflict his image of a dark future on anyone else.
Not until he’d found a way to prevent it.
* * *
“The pattern of discriminatory conduct toward cloned individuals is clear and irrefutable. We Mules are expected to accept the argument that the others’ fear of us justifies restricting our species to an ever-shrinking portion of the population.” Freya, like most of the younger Mules, had abandoned some of the diplomatic veneers the older Mules had always used, particularly with regard to things like holding back on referring to themselves as an outright different species. “I disagree with that assertion on every level, but even if we consider that, for purposes of debate, a valid concern exists, and that it justifies the persecution of our kind, it offers no explanation at all regarding legal restrictions on other forms of clones…which, though far more relaxed, still exist.”
“Freya, I understand all of your points, I truly do. I was arguing such things before you were quickened. But, I am telling you, there are other considerations. Most of the fleet just left Earth Two, on a mission that is far more desperate than common knowledge suggests. You rail against perceived injustices with the enthusiasm of youthful certainty…yet, I fear, for all your intellect, you leave certain information out of your analysis, realizations that come not from thoughtful study, but from life experience. From watching fleets destroyed and spacers killed.”
“You are correct, of course, Achilles. Yet, there are some things that cannot be justified. Consider the Doubles. The attempt to create second generation Tanks from the DNA of existing clones is widely considered a failure, is it not?”
Achilles just nodded.
“Further attempts to clone from Tank DNA are illegal, are they not?”
“They are under restriction pending further analysis.” Achilles knew his answer was factually correct, but he felt the sludgy residue in his mouth from an almost political response. There was almost no chance further double clones would be allowed in the future, and he knew it. But, he needed to convince Freya to be patient. She was the key to reaching the other young Mules.
“Yet, Double Borns, the naturally-conceived offspring of Doubles, are merely discouraged and not forbidden, despite the inarguable fact that they display even greater genetic abnormalities and health problems than the proscribed Doubles themselves? Is this not an indisputable example of mammalian reproduction being preferenced above in-lab quickenings? It is illegal to clone Doubles, but not illegal for already-existing Doubles to reproduce naturally with even more severe consequences for the offspring.”
Achilles considered his response. Freya was right, of course, at least to a great extent. The republic’s laws declared all citizens to be equal, regardless of their method of birth…but he knew that was rhetoric without substance when restrictions were applied to different groups based solely on means of conception and birth.
“There are human prejudices, Freya, without question. As there are such things among our people, as well. We Hybrids consider ourselves superior, do we not?” He knew he was straying from pure logic, and he could almost feel Freya calling him on it, even before she did.
“We are superior, Achilles. There is no prejudice in simply stating a fact.”
“And, what is superior? We are smarter, yes, and we have more physical ability. But, the Tanks are close to us in terms of strength and speed, and I will remind you, we cannot do that which a common lab rat or a dog in the street can do…we cannot have children. You focus on those areas in which we excel, but can you not imagine an NB viewing our sterility as a serious genetic flaw?” He was trying to convince the young Mule to accept a line of thinking that served his purpose at the moment, but in fact, he himself believed completely in the superiority of his Hybrid brethren, despite their inability to reproduce.
“You attempt to manipulate my thinking by creating false equivalencies. Yes, perhaps one could view our sterility as a flaw, indeed, in its own way, it is. But to suggest it is on par with vastly greater intellect, far stronger constitutions, and likely, lifespans greatly exceeding human norms…that is a foolish argument, is it not?”
“Is it? Is it such a small problem, Freya? Where does it leave us now, even disregarding any restrictions imposed by the government? Consider all factors. Are we a sustainable race, one that can build a civilization of our own, one that stands the test of time, that lasts millennia, as that of the Ancients did?”
Achilles knew the answer to his question. The Mules were different, of course, and in their deficiencies lay their doom. Every attempt to clone directly from cells of an existing Mule had been as unsuccessful as the repeated efforts of the Hybrids to reproduce naturally. The only way to create a new Mule was to combine a human donor cell with chromosomal fragments of First Imperium DNA. But, the last of the Ancients had died over half a million years before, and, while the supply of preserved genetic material was sufficient to
quicken many thousands more Mules, it was finite, with no conceivable source of replacement. It would run out one day…and one day soon if all limits on quickenings were removed.
It was the Mules’ great weakness, the one thing that truly held them back, made them dependent on the others. Unless they were able to determine a way to clone themselves, or to make natural reproduction work, they would eventually die out. They might each live for centuries, even millennia, but eventually they would die…and there would be no more.
The restrictions on quickenings, and the Prohibition before them, had served one purpose. By slowing the rate of usage of the precious ancient DNA, it had bought time…time for the Mules to research, to find a way to escape the doom that awaited them sometime in their future. But, Achilles had spent no small time on such projects already, with little but frustration to show for his efforts, and he knew any solution would be difficult, if not impossible, to develop.
There was a very real chance his people were doomed to extinction, no matter what they did.
“Your words make sense, Achilles. Consider, however, that our scientific efforts have been devoted almost entirely to research useful to fighting the Regent. While, I could argue we should divert more focus to studying ourselves, on resolving the great limitation that holds us back, you are correct when you assert that the Regent would destroy us as easily and as willingly as the humans if its forces discover Earth Two. Therefore, it would be foolish to divert research efforts until the enemy is defeated.”
“Yes,” Achilles said, the relief in his voice apparent. “And, the increase in the quickening rate brings us close to the maximum sustainable level right now anyway. We could produce perhaps five hundred Hybrids each year without restrictions, but more than that would recklessly use the remaining genetic material, without giving us time to conduct the research required to solve our fertility and direct cloning problems.” He paused. “The difference between 300 and 500 is not enough to risk a confrontation that could destroy us all.”