"Point taken, ma'am. Something else, Linda ... Mothers contribute most of the genetic material to offspring, not fathers. The egg contains it all. A man's sperm only activates things and gets the egg rolling, so to speak."
"Where did you hear that?"
"Don't remember. Someplace on the Internet in a newsgroup."
"Was it gospel or gossip?"
"I'd say gospel. A bunch of know-it-alls were trying to correct or upstage each other on the subject for a week or so. Something about an outfit claiming to be able to DNA-trace a person's maternal lineage to one of the original few Earth-mothers for a fat fee. My final take on it was that there were probably quite a few lines that died out when sons were born or daughters died, and back then death was pretty easy to come by. These guys had to be generalizing big-time and selling to the seriously vain, but everyone seemed to agree that humanity's genes are passed on by women, not by men."
There was no answer for a couple of moments.
"Linda?"
Still no answer.
"Linda, are you there?"
Nothing. I was becoming concerned when she finally answered in flat tones.
"Verified, Ed. Mothers pass on the majority of genetic structure."
"Is this a problem, Linda? Our Amarans were never Amarans. They were destined to become Earth people before they left the drawing board."
I grinned at Ellen and added, “The worst that could happen would be that they'll make lots more good-looking smart people, right? How bad can that be?"
Ellen smiled, then frowned and seemed thoughtful. She asked, “Linda, are you saying you see us as some kind of world-domination ploy?"
Linda said, “Well, hell, lady! What would you call it? Do you have any idea what other kinds of conditioning you were given? Would you know if you carried some special kind of disease to Earth? Something that would wipe us out and leave the place for other Amarans to take over? Why would they tell you?"
Ellen was becoming upset. I moved Bear to the arm of the couch and went to Ellen to put an arm around her.
"Linda,” I said, “You're right. They wouldn't tell Ellen or the others a damned thing about it, so ranting at her serves no good purpose. Let her up."
There was no answer for a moment, then Linda said in controlled tones, “Ellen, one more question. What happens to factory seconds on Amara? What happens to the people who can't make the grade? Did they tell you that?"
Ellen was almost in tears. In a small voice she said, “They know which cells will be genetically viable before they're allowed further growth."
Her expression and voice gained firmness as she added, “They don't wait until the cells become people, Linda! Is that what you're asking? Do they grow us and kill off the imperfect ones? No, they don't."
Ellen rose from the chair abruptly and ran to her bedroom. The door slammed and I heard sobbing.
"Great, Linda. First you make her feel like a broodmare and then you make her feel like a broodmare trapped in a plot to take over the Earth."
"Well, what if she is, Ed? What if it is a plot to take over Earth?"
"Then we were all fucked from day one, Linda. They could have just as easily whomped up a batch of women and slipped them in over the last fifty years. The last five hundred years. Hell, maybe they did. Who knows? What could we do about it? Hunt them down? Root them out? Kill mothers and daughters with certain DNA patterns all over the world? Welcome back to the goddamned Dark Ages. All we need now is a new 'Malleus Maleficarum' to go by."
Linda's agitated voice yelled, “A what? A mallus-what?"
"A 'Malleus Maleficarum', Linda. That translates as 'Hammer of Witches'. It told churchmen how to hunt witches down and kill them. The last 'Malleus' was just a way to persecute women and steal land legally in the name of God. At least this one will have us killing women for scientific reasons, right?"
Linda was quiet for a moment, then asked, “Are you making fun of me?"
"No. All you have to do is show me how that won't happen."
She rather coolly said, “I'm not advocating killing women, Ed."
"If you pop this theory out there you might as well be kicking off the next real witch hunt. These women are stuck here with us, Linda. If they interbreed with us all they'll do is make better people, as far as we know. When I think about some of my neighbors and some of the people I've known here and there in various parts of the world I kinda wish it had already happened. I quite honestly don't see a cause for panic yet. Do you? Could be all they're doing is upgrading the human race a bit before it reaches the stars. Who the fuck knows?"
Several moments passed before Linda said, “I'll get back to you later."
"What are you going to do, Linda?"
No answer.
"Linda?"
No answer.
The trouble with these damned watches is you don't know when they hang up on you. At least they say ‘goodbye’ on a phone. Well, except maybe Linda...
"Elkor?"
"Yes, Ed."
"Am I right? Are we being upgraded?"
"I don't have that information yet."
"Yet?"
"I wasn't programmed with that information, Ed. I'm trying to extrapolate more data now, but it would so far seem that you are generally correct."
I made a coffee and leaned on the kitchen counter.
"Jesus, what a TV series this would make. We have gorgeous, sexy alien women, a plot to inject the human race with new DNA, starships, talking computers, and force fields. We have a big corporation trying to move into the neighborhood. We have greedy native bureaucrats passing laws to eliminate rival manufacturers of personal vehicles by banning the use of their products and their fuel. We even have halfwit racist groups planting bombs, and we may have a real, live witch hunt on our hands by tomorrow."
Elkor asked, “Were you addressing me, Ed? Is a response required?"
I sighed. “Oh, no, I was just musing out loud about the mystical, magical nature of humanity and the whole frigging universe, Elkor. That's all."
My watch giggled.
"Linda doesn't giggle more than twice a year, so you must be Ellen. Want a coffee, Ellen? We're all in the kitchen. Join the party."
She didn't answer. She just walked into the kitchen a few moments later, took her cup from the cabinet, and filled it.
"Some party. All I see is you, Ed."
I let my gaze travel from her ankles to her hair and said, “And all I see is you. And I'm damned glad to be able to see you. You're the gorgeous, sexy alien woman I mentioned earlier, you know."
Ellen smiled and sipped her coffee, then said, “You said ‘women', Ed. Plural."
"So I noticed the others aren't ugly. I didn't try to grab any."
She nodded and smiled again, but the smile didn't last.
"Linda's really upset, isn't she, Ed?"
"It won't last, Ellen. It can't. Linda's one of the most pragmatic people I've ever known."
"Will everybody hate us now?"
I said, “Ellen, this is Earth, so don't personalize your situation too much. If you had 'Made in USA' stamped on your butt more than half the world would hate you for that alone. Earth people look for any kind of reason to hate other people. Color. Race. Religion. Nationality. Wealth. Poverty. It doesn't fucking matter, ma'am. Whateverthehell you are, there's a hate group for you and against you on good ol’ Earth. Don't worry about it. The worst you and the other ladies can do is improve the place a bit."
"I hope certain people share your opinions, Ed."
"Me, too, but if they don't it still won't matter a damn. They'll just move the Amarans, hubbies, boyfriends, kids, and all, to one place and throw up a guard perimeter. Those in charge of Earth want flitter factories. They may wind up isolating you ladies in that town, after all, but short of sending you back to Amara or killing you all, I'm fairly sure there will be only one eventual outcome."
Linda said, “I'm back. I heard that, Ed. Care to elaborate?"
"Okay. Ther
e's no point in saying anything to anyone. It would only create a panic that would get people killed and make the Amarans use some other method of introducing the new genetics. I don't think they'll just walk away from their investment, Linda. They could conceivably put us on hold for a few decades and work behind the scenes until a new, more cooperative generation is available."
Linda sighed and said, “What other method would that be, Ed? People get their genes from their parents."
"These are just my speculations, Linda. We can tailor viruses to carry a new genetic mix into lab rats. It would seem likely that the same system could be used on people. If this were truly an invasion of some sort, that would be the way to do it. A relatively harmless version of the flu or something like it would sweep the world. All children conceived after that would be affected."
"Didn't I hear you say you didn't know much about genetics?"
"I picked up a few things, most of which I've learned since Gary asked me if I knew anything about genetics. Where did you run off to?"
Linda said, “I talked to some people and got some quick answers. Nothing we hadn't already figured out and a whole bunch of people saying 'no comment', which makes me think that this was all quietly part of the original deal."
"Figures. I almost wish they'd used a virus."
"Can we be sure they didn't?"
"Sure. Check newborns for Amaran DNA strings. You probably won't find any, though. I think how we deal with this and handle the women is probably an important part of the project."
Ellen had been sipping her coffee and listening. Now she spoke.
"Yes. It has to be. Gary and I and all the others spent five years preparing for this mission. They wouldn't waste all that training by sending us somewhere we could be killed, would they?"
Linda gave a nasty laugh and said, “Tell her about the Vietnam War, Ed."
Ellen looked at me. I shook my head.
"Some other time. She has a point, Ellen. To you, three hundred people and fifteen hundred years of training are involved. To those who sent you, perhaps just three hundred expendable units. I don't know enough to guess about that, but I can tell you that some small nations on Earth waste people in larger numbers than that routinely."
Ellen looked none too pleased with that line of thinking. Linda said nothing for quite a while, but I knew she was still listening because she bumped something that made a ‘tink’ noise in the background.
"Linda,” I said, “What if Ellen and company were treated as refugees? Not officially, of course, but what if some of their story was released to the tabloids? They were created and sent here without a choice. Until I see evidence to the contrary, I'm inclined to think of them as unwitting pawns. Victims. Draftees, just like most of the guys I knew in the Army."
Linda's voice took on a threatening tone.
"Nobody in any of my operations has ever told the press a goddamned thing, Ed. It just isn't done, and you know that."
"Crap. We told them what we wanted them to hear, ma'am. All the time. Just about daily, as I remember it. What's different about this?"
"Just don't even think about it, Ed."
I looked at Ellen and smiled. “Now I don't have to think about it. She will."
Ellen seemed lost in somber thought as she left the kitchen. I watched her go from my spot by the pot. As I refilled my mug she called me from the living room.
"Be right there,” I said.
She was sitting on the sofa chair, holding her cup in both hands as she rested her elbows on her knees. The position made the muscles of her legs stand out interestingly, but I said nothing about that due to her apparent mood.
I sat on the couch and said, “What's up?"
After a couple of moments of staring into her cup, Ellen said, “I talked to Elkor the other day, Ed. I wanted to know why I wasn't pregnant yet. I wanted to know if one of us had a problem. He told me about your vasectomy. Why didn't you?"
"You never mentioned birth control, so I thought you were doing your own thing about it. Later I thought that Linda had probably told you. I'd have told you if the subject had ever come up."
She nodded. “Something inside me needs to make babies, Ed. I know that's just programming to you, but to me it's a very real need."
When I didn't say anything, she looked up at me.
"Elkor could make you whole again, Ed."
I thought about how best to express my opinion of that idea and settled for the polite response.
"No, thank you. I'm not incomplete or broken, Ellen. I made a choice a long time ago and I haven't changed my mind yet. Kids are for other people."
Ellen's eyes seemed to be searching her coffee cup for something.
"You wouldn't consider it, even to keep us together, Ed?"
I searched for a way to say it that wouldn't hurt and found no such way.
"No, Ellen. Especially not for that reason. I wanted you. Nothing else. Just you. I don't want to devote my remaining years to raising a kid, even if it means finding someone else to play with."
Ellen nodded. It was a quick, 'that was what I expected' nod. She didn't look at me as she put her coffee down, got up, and hurried to her room.
Aw, hell.
I sat on the couch for a few minutes with Bear, then went out to sit on the hood of my Malibu, lean back against the glass, and stare at the sky for a while.
Chapter Twenty-One
When I leaned to reach my coffee mug, a bullet hit the top of the windshield near my head. As the windshield starred and collapsed under me, I didn't have to guess what had happened. I'd heard the sound of bullets striking things before and the sound of the shot came only about a second behind the impact. I slid down and off the Malibu on the driver's side and spoke to my watch.
"Elkor? Where's the shooter?"
Elkor said, “One hundred and seventy-one yards northwest of you, in a tree. I've already sent a drone."
Ellen came running out, but I waved her back.
"I'm okay! Get back inside!"
She didn't, of course. She stood staring at me and my situation. A leaf of some sort landed flat against the house's protective field near her face and slid to the ground. I felt kind of silly as I realized that I'd forgotten about the field. Another round spanged off the Malibu's fender near me, reminding me that I wasn't within the boundaries of the house's field.
"Elkor, can you extend the house field to cover me?"
"It's a fixed-diameter field, Ed. If you had parked closer..."
"Never mind, Elkor."
I couldn't have parked closer at the time. They'd been unloading the field hardware when I got home, so I'd pulled in beside the truck. I realized that I hadn't used my car for several days.
I wasn't betting that the guy was using a bolt-action rifle when I lunged for the cover of the field. Because he'd already missed me twice, I was betting that he wasn't used to shooting at moving targets. Another round skipped off the driveway behind me as I got myself inside the field boundary.
"Can you give me control of the drone from here, Elkor?"
"What are you going to do, Ed?"
"I'm gonna knock his ass out of that tree. What did you think I'd do with it?"
"He's wearing a climbing belt, Ed. It won't let him fall."
"He'll fall, Elkor. One way or other, he'll fall. The sunuvabitch will jump to get away from me."
"I can't let you do that, Ed. He's moving now. He's climbing down. The drone will watch him and I'll tell the police where to find him."
"Get another drone out there, Elkor. If he sees this one, he may shoot at it. Can you display on this outside field?"
"I'll send the drone first."
I watched the shining little ball streak away from the house like a missile. The drones were about nine inches in diameter and operated on power broadcast to them by the field generator. The field in front of me became a reflection of what the first drone was seeing, and what it was seeing was its own doom.
The guy seemed to
be aiming right at me from a distance of maybe twenty feet, which meant he was about to knock down a drone. Elkor jinked the drone, but the guy anticipated the move and led the drone just enough. There was a brief flash from the rifle's muzzle before the picture disappeared.
"Ed, he's still in the trees north of the street, but he's coming this way."
I went into the house and got my guns. The .357 I stuck in my belt and the .22 I carried in my hand as I crawled out the back door.
Ellen had followed me inside and was watching me from the living room. She asked, “What are you going to do?"
"Well, first I'll try not to be seen as I go out, and you could help by not staring at me while I do it. He's moving now. That means he's heading for a car if he isn't setting up another shot."
"Elkor can follow him. Don't go out there."
Elkor can't follow him where he may be going. I really hate being shot at.
I didn't answer her as I slipped behind the shed and then over the cyclone fence into the neighbor's yard.
"Elkor, where is he now?"
"He's almost to the edge of the trees along Mallard. He's out of the trees and appears to be running for an automobile. There's someone in the automobile. He just opened the passenger door..."
I was hunkered by the cinderblock wall at the end of the neighbor's property where it met the sidewalk along Northcliffe when I said, “Enough, Elkor. What color is the car? What make?"
"They're in an older model white, two-door Dodge sedan. The man who shot at you is in the passenger's seat holding the rifle."
"Mallard ends one block west. If they go east, they'll have to follow winding little back streets to Deltona. They'll have to get on Northcliffe to go anywhere fast. Let me know which way they go."
I heard rubber screaming and a big V-8 engine howling on the other side of the trees. The racket headed west. I ran to the end of the block and arrived just as the white Dodge Charger screamed around the corner of Mallard and Geranium.
We saw each other at about the same time. There was nothing substantial to use as cover, so, holding the .22 behind me, I stood there and waved to the white Dodge, gave them a big smile, then gave them the finger.
Book 1: 3rd World Products, Inc. Page 23