As he instructed the young Designate-in-waiting in the tasks and responsibilities he would one day control, Udru’h recalled how long it had taken him to accept the grim necessities of the breeding program. He was pleased the young man seemed to have an open and receptive mind.
Daro’h stood patiently at his uncle’s side as they paused before the gate of the enclosed compound. The Designate-in-waiting displayed calm, striking features that resembled those of his father. He had put aside judgment for the time being, despite knowing that his father did not approve of the breeding experiments. Like all Ildirans, he would always swear loyalty to the Mage-Imperator, but Daro’h also seemed to understand and accept his charge here.
Even so, Udru’h would not tell Daro’h the truth about Nira. Not yet, if ever.
Overhead, the hazy sky was blurred by stratospheric clouds. The air felt hot, and all the hills were green. Lush grasses and weeds had rapidly covered burn scars from the previous year’s fire season. Inside the camp, captive humans worked and slept and went about their lives. After generations here, they knew no other way of life, despite what the female green priest had tried to tell them.
“We have developed a substantial data set by mixing human DNA with a spectrum of Ildiran kiths. Many of the offspring have been failures—as might be expected, since genetics is not an exact science. We quickly euthanized the worst horrors. At first we let the human mothers know, but their emotional reactions were difficult to control.”
Daro’h frowned, staring through the fence at the low barracks. “Do they not see they are contributing to the good of the Empire?”
“The humans are not part of our Empire. They do not embrace our long-term goals.”
“Perhaps they simply do not understand our goals?”
The Dobro Designate shook his head. “They do not—and will not—care.”
Inside the compound, human family groups tended small gardens when they weren’t on labor shifts. Guards and work supervisors took small vehicles, carrying groups out to the arroyos and rocky outcroppings, where anyone not currently needed for breeding did daily chores, chipping out opalbone fossils to be sold as rarities across the Ildiran Empire.
Daro’h observed the camp activity, drinking in the details. “And they are allowed a certain amount of freedom? They form their own social groups and family units? They choose where to live and sleep without being assigned to specific bunks or buildings?”
“We exert sufficient control to serve our purposes, but we also consider the drawbacks of imposing unnecessary restrictions. A small amount of flexibility engenders an increased level of cooperation. One of the men, a sturdy fellow named Benn Stoner, is currently the de facto representative of the camp. You will meet him.”
Daro’h didn’t seem to understand. “How does he exert command over the humans?”
“They generally listen to his suggestions. One hundred eighty-five of their years ago, Ildirans brought their wandering and damaged generation ship to Dobro. For a time humans and Ildirans lived side by side, but . . . certain unpleasant events changed the situation.
“One of my predecessors was forced to confine the remaining colonists, and Mage-Imperator Yura’h deemed it wise to incorporate them into our long-term breeding program. At first, the humans were defiant, hoping to change their circumstances. But my predecessor understood that such beliefs and the so-called natural freedoms they took for granted could be bred out of them within a generation or two of proper instruction and deprivation.”
“If the humans resisted, could we not use artificial insemination? Specific fertilization and embryo implantation?”
“Possible, yes, but more difficult and far less efficient. We have also found that half-breed children created of artificial means are frequently born disengaged from or lacking in the full faculties of the thism. If we allow this, then our plan fails. In the end, it posed few problems. We were able to overcome their reluctance, and so it was not necessary . . . though we still have the option, should the need arise.”
Daro’h stepped closer to the fence. In a central open court with showers and waiting benches, medical kithmen cleaned human females returning from their work assignments, documenting each one by name and genetic code markers. In their files, they maintained graphs that indicated when each female was at the peak of her fertility cycle.
“The infusion of human bloodlines has been shown to enhance certain Ildiran characteristics. A child who carries even an eighth part of human genetics is more likely to become a stronger worker, a more talented singer, a more visionary scientist. In many cases, they look similar to Ildirans, and we raise them as such. Others appear so strikingly different that we keep them here on Dobro until they mature, and we crossbreed them again in hopes of mainstreaming their progeny.”
As Daro’h and Udru’h watched, doctors culled out four naked human women and directed them to enter the long breeding barracks. There, they would be assigned to mate with males from specific Ildiran kiths that were carefully chosen for each step of the breeding program. Sperm was harvested from human males whenever it was needed, but Ildiran females did not conceive as easily. “Human women are more fecund than Ildirans. They reproduce like rodents—which is to our advantage.”
Daro’h was full of interest. “Is that why the humans are eager to colonize so many worlds? Because their race is growing, and they need the room?”
Udru’h shook his head. “They don’t need the room. They simply want, more and more. It is their way.”
Udru’h recalled his own questions and reaction when he was younger, upon learning this information when he’d become the Dobro Designate-in-waiting. He had been innocent then, like Daro’h, guessing nothing about what really took place on Dobro. The truth eventually penetrated, though, and Udru’h had devoted himself to his life’s work.
Daro’h would do the same.
“My father spent much time with a human woman, a green priest,” said the young Designate-in-waiting. “He still talks about her.”
Udru’h guarded his expression carefully. “She weakened both his heart and his mind. But now that he has ascended and taken the thism, I believe—I must believe—that as Mage-Imperator he will do what is right for the Empire.”
“I intend to do what is right,” Daro’h promised, and Udru’h felt his heart lighten.
Inside a well-lit but austerely appointed training facility, the Dobro Designate gathered all five half-breed children born of Nira Khali. Rod’h, the second oldest of Nira’s children—sired by Udru’h himself—bowed to his father. Rod’h was six years old, but accelerated beyond his years. The Designate saw great potential in the boy, though not as much as in Osira’h.
The other three—Gale’nh, Tamo’l, and Muree’n—spent their days undergoing intensive training from medical kithmen, scientists, mental trainers, and Udru’h himself. Lens kithmen used their faint mind powers to guide the children and further awaken their telepathic skills. All of Nira’s young mixed-kith offspring were already as powerful as adult lens kithmen.
“These five children are at the heart of our plan, Daro’h,” he explained. “Even here, the guards and bureaucrats are not privy to the full scope of our purpose. Your own father did not understand, until just before he ascended to become Mage-Imperator. But you must know, Daro’h, for you will lead this work when it is your time . . . though I hope that after so many generations this will be the last. If the Dobro project reaches its culmination, we can finally become a normal splinter colony, a proud part of the Ildiran Empire without secrets.”
“I am ready to listen, Designate.”
Udru’h paused, searching for where to begin. “Ten thousand years ago, a titanic war swept the Spiral Arm like a storm across the ocean of space. Hydrogues allied themselves with the faeros, against the wentals and the verdani.”
“And did Ildirans fight in this war? There is no record of it in the Saga of Seven Suns.”
“We participated . . . but only in the way that carrion birds take part in a battle. We were insignificant and in the path of destruction—until the Klikiss race also became involved. They developed their Torch and destroyed many gas giants, which turned the wrath of the hydrogues against rocky worlds, including ours. They didn’t understand us, didn’t wish to. The hydrogues simply lashed back and destroyed whatever they could.
“That was when the Klikiss robots turned on their masters, seeking to exterminate them and free themselves. With their machine language and coordinated computing power, they succeeded in contacting the alien hydrogues. They found common ground, established a link, and learned a form of communication infinitely more complex than anything we understand as language. They made the hydrogues understand who they were, and convinced them to aid the robots in destroying the Klikiss race.”
“Then how did we become involved?” Daro’h asked. The half-breed children also paid attention, knowing that this tale comprised the history that determined their fates.
“After dozens of our worlds were annihilated by the hydrogues, the Mage-Imperator at the time reached an accord with the Klikiss robots, who agreed to be our intermediaries with the hydrogues. The robots used their communication abilities to convince the hydrogues not to attack our splinter colonies, and in return Ildirans assisted the robots in exterminating their parent race.”
Daro’h frowned. “That sounds . . . dishonorable.”
Drawing a deep breath, Udru’h said, “Nevertheless, the Ildiran Empire survived—and the Klikiss did not.”
The young Designate-in-waiting listened with a look of mingled fascination and horror. Udru’h continued. “But we have never entirely trusted the robots. They are machines nearly as alien as the hydrogues. In those ancient treaties, we agreed to many things, as did the robots, yet all along we knew we could not rely on them—just as we knew the hydrogues would not remain quiescent forever.
“Therefore, to protect ourselves, we sought a new way to form a bridge between Ildirans and hydrogues, a means of communication transcending simple words and thoughts. Thousands of years ago we began this program, combining kiths and bloodlines in an attempt to enhance our own telepathy. But even the best of each generation advanced our ability by only the smallest increment.
“After thousands of years, we finally developed the lens kithmen, who exhibit enhanced mental skills. They can touch the thism more readily than other kiths, though not as well as the Mage-Imperator or his direct bloodline. Even though the lens kithmen became marginally stronger with each generation, we despaired that it would ever be enough, or in time.”
Daro’h guessed the next part. “And then you found the humans.”
Udru’h smiled sardonically. “Yes. They offered genetic variations that let us jump ahead by at least a hundred generations. Their mental abilities were like a potent catalyst when added to Ildiran bloodlines—and not a moment too soon. The Klikiss robots have failed to keep the hydrogues away from Ildiran worlds, whether through their inability or outright treachery. Either way, we require our own bridge to negotiate directly.”
“Do the Klikiss robots hate us, then?”
Udru’h looked at him. “We cannot know what the robots think, but we know they are capable of deception and betrayal. It is clear, however, that their fear of us grows as they lose their leverage and the war continues to escalate. We know many things they do not wish others to remember.”
Across the room, young Osira’h finished a training exercise and ran over to them, her eyes sparkling. The Dobro Designate smiled and reached out to the telepathic half-breed girl, while Daro’h looked curiously at his half sister. “And so, Osira’h must become our intermediary. We are counting on her to make matters right with the hydrogues.”
The girl returned his smile, but her voice was solemn. “I will be ready, Designate. I promise.”