Chapter 2 #2
“His primary interests were in extending the age range for female fertility and increasing the odds for multiple births with each pregnancy. But when Veyalor inherited his estate and began going through his records, he found something else. Something that suggested a Cire male had reproduced successfully with a non-Cire female.”
The ground beneath his feet seemed to tremble at the words. His tail lashed once, hard and agitated, as he fought back a sudden overwhelming wave of hope.
“That’s impossible,” he heard himself say, his voice shaking. “We’ve always been taught that it is impossible to reproduce without a mate bond, and a Cire male can only form a mate bond with a Cire female.”
“Everything we’ve been taught may have been wrong.” Naran’s voice was calm. “Or at the very least, incomplete. According to the records Dr. Veyalor found, Dr. Pagalan believed that successful fertilization was not only possible but had already occurred.”
“Already occurred?”
“He claims that one of his experiments proved it.”
Another race biologically compatible with theirs? Everything he’d ever been taught argued that it was impossible.
“Who is this race that is supposed to be compatible with us? Does that mean they are capable of forming a mate bond?”
Naran focused even more intently on his fingertips.
“They are called humans. They are from a pre-flight planet that is not part of a Confederated Planets system. As far as the mate bond?” Naran shrugged. “Dr. Pagalan’s research wasn’t conclusive.”
The shocks just kept coming. Natural reproduction was dependent on a mate bond. And a primitive race…
“I don’t understand. If they are from a pre-flight planet…”
“The female subject in Dr. Pagalan’s experiment was taken from her planet by the Vedeckians.” Naran finally looked up, and this time Becsul saw the calculation he expected as Naran studied his face.
“That’s illegal,” he said immediately.
“Yes.”
“The Vedeckians are despicable slave traders.”
“Yes.” Another hesitation. “But with females in such short supply, it’s not surprising that they have taken advantage of the situation.”
He had a sudden terrible feeling about where the conversation was headed, but Naran continued before he could speak.
“Even if it were just an isolated incident, it would be worth pursuing. But the Council is… aware of several other similar situations.”
Another shock, but perhaps not surprising.
“They’ve known, and they’ve done nothing.” It wasn’t a question.
“The Council has chosen to suppress the information.” Naran’s tail lashed once, the only sign of his own frustration.
“They consider it… problematic. The idea that our species might continue through hybridization offends their sense of purity. They would rather die out entirely than admit that our future might depend on another species.”
“But you disagree.”
“I believe we no longer have the luxury of pride.” Naran turned to face the window again.
“Our race is going extinct. The training facilities stand empty. The breeding centers produce nothing but failure. Our culture, our history, everything we have ever been—all of it will be gone, and for what? Because the Council couldn’t stomach the thought of Cire children with non-Cire mothers? ”
His mind reeled, trying to process what he’d just been told. His entire understanding of Cire biology and their species’ unique reproductive requirements was being upended by a dead scientist’s research and a councilor’s schemes.
“Why are you telling me this?” he finally asked. “What do you want from me?”
Naran turned back to face him, and his expression had shifted into something unreadable.
“Dr. Veyalor has made significant progress in replicating Dr. Pagalan’s methods. He believes he’s close to achieving consistent results. But his research requires… subjects. Females capable of carrying Cire offspring.”
No.
The word formed in his mind before Naran had even finished speaking.
“You’re acquiring them,” he said flatly. “Human females. You’re bringing them here against their will.”
“We’re providing them with a purpose greater than anything they could have achieved on their own world.
” Naran’s tone had gone smooth and polished—the voice of a politician justifying the unjustifiable.
“Right now there are three. One who has never given birth. One with an infant. One with an older child. They will be well cared for. Any children they produce will want for nothing. And they will be contributing to the continuation of an ancient and noble species. They should consider it an honor.”
“Should they?”
“I didn’t bring you here to debate ethics, Captain.” Naran’s eyes hardened. “I brought you here because Dr. Veyalor’s facility requires security. Someone who understands both discipline and discretion and who can maintain order without asking inconvenient questions.”
“And if I ask inconvenient questions anyway?”
“Then I trust you’ll keep the answers to yourself.
” Naran moved closer, his presence filling the small space between them.
“I chose you specifically because of your record, Becsul. Your service has been exemplary. Your loyalty is beyond question. But more importantly, you’ve spent years in the labs.
You know they’re failing. You know what it means to watch something precious slip away while you stand helpless to prevent it. ”
His jaw tightened. Naran was talking about his family—his mother, his sister, all of them taken by the Red Death while he was too young to do anything but watch.
“This facility represents hope,” Naran continued. “Perhaps the only hope our species has left. I’m asking you to protect it. To guard it. To ensure that nothing interferes with the work being done here.”
“And the females? What am I supposed to do about them?”
“Your job is to keep them secure. Keep them healthy. And keep them compliant.” Naran’s tail lashed. “Dr. Veyalor will handle the scientific aspects. Your job is simply to maintain order.”
Simply. As if there was anything simple about what Naran was describing.
He stared at the councilor for a long moment, his mind racing through his options.
He could refuse. Walk out of this facility and pretend he’d never heard any of it.
Or could he? Given the secrecy surrounding the project, would Naran simply let him walk away?
And even if he could get away, was there anyone who would be willing to stop it?
The Council already knew the possibility existed, and despite their objections to the idea of hybrid children, he suspected that Naran wasn’t the only one desperate enough to look for alternatives to extinction.
And beneath his horror, beneath his revulsion at what was being asked of him, there was something else.
A faint, shameful, desperately selfish hope.
If Pagalan’s research was real—if Veyalor could make it work—then maybe, maybe, there was a future for his people after all.
Not the future they’d imagined, not the pure Cire bloodlines the Council prized so highly, but a future nonetheless.
Children who would carry something of them forward. A species that wouldn’t simply… end.
Was that worth the price Naran was asking?
He didn’t know. He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. But he also couldn’t walk away.
“When do I start?”
Naran smiled—a thin, satisfied expression that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Immediately. Dr. Veyalor will brief you on the current subjects and the security protocols. You’ll have full authority over the non-scientific staff.” He moved towards the door. “Oh, and Captain? One more thing.”
“Yes?”
“I suggest you prepare yourself. These females are not happy about their circumstances. Some of them may resist. It will be your responsibility to ensure that their resistance doesn’t… complicate matters.”
The door slid open, and Naran was gone.
He sat alone in the empty office, staring at the spot where the councilor had stood. Through the window, the Ciresian wilderness stretched to the horizon—beautiful, deadly, and utterly indifferent to the moral compromise happening within its bounds.
What have I agreed to?