David Farland - Lords of the Seventh Swarm

Maggie said, “But, if you destroyed the Sixth Swarm, you would be committing genocide against dronon on hundreds of worlds.”

“Not genocide-” Felph argued, “sterilization. Those living on such worlds could continue to live out their natural life spans.”

Orick shook his head. “I don’t think that will happen. I don’t see how we could do it.”

“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?”