Ericson began to voice a heated protest, then shifted his eyes toward the hearth rug. Crawler stared over the ruffled edge of the pillow, an insolent, triumphant smile creasing his face. Realizing the lethal set of events that could be set in motion if he spoke his mind, Ericson swallowed his objection.
Baron Sharpe swung his right arm out from the shoulder in a fringe-whirling circle, then stabbed a finger directly at Ericson’s face. “Let’s take care of business.”
Chapter 8
Lakesh faced Brigid across the top of his small desk in his spartan office and tried desperately to think of a way to deflect her anger. He knew very little about women in general, and worse, Brigid knew it, too.
“Believe me, dearest Brigid,” he said, trying his best to sound warm notes of reasoned sympathy, “Rouch overstated her reasons for being here.”
“And what about your reasons for bringing her here?” she snapped, a steel edge in her voice.
Lakesh sighed and massaged the deep grooves in his forehead with gnarled knuckles. ‘ ‘Would you not agree that above all else, we must consider the future? What we would term as true humanity is an endangered species. The population of hybrids expands as we diminish. The ville-bred are raised to be servants, vassals, dray animals, and we cannot factor them into an equation dealing with the future of humankind.”
“Whether I disagree or agree is beside the point,” replied Brigid. “You should have consulted us about your plan to improve the breed, to turn Cerberus into a colony rather than a sanctuary.”
“Why should I have?” he demanded.
“Because you’re not god, this isn’t the Garden of Eden and none of us came here to be Adams and Eves.” She inhaled a deep, steadying breath. “What you say about humanity’s dwindling population is valid. But I question the means of reversing it. We’re not set up here to raise children.”
Lakesh nodded. “As of yet. But circumstances change.” He dropped his voice. “Tell mehave you ever thought about motherhood?”
Brigid blinked and shook her head. “I admit I haven’t. These last few months, I’ve been too busy trying to keep my own life intact to think about creating another one. But as you said, circumstances change.”
Lakesh leaned back in his chair, absently drumming his fingers on the desktop. “At present and for the foreseeable future, you are too valuable to Cerberus to have your time, energy and resources expended on maternity.”
Brigid’s lips twitched in a cold, humorless smile. “And since Rouch isn’t as valuable as me, she can afford to waste her time with pregnancy?”
Impatiently Lakesh retorted, “I’m not saying that at all. But it is a fact that some peoplemen and women alikeare better suited for parenthood than others.”
“And Kane is a good candidate for fatherhood?”
“Genetically speaking, yes,” Lakesh answered bluntly.
“And what about megenetically speaking?”
Lakesh’s finger drumming stopped. “I don’t want to have this conversation. These are medical matters, best discussed with DeFore.”
“And because DeFore is a woman, you think I should hear the bad news from her?”
“YesI mean, no. I mean” Lakesh broke off, lifted his hands and dry-scrubbed his hair in frustration. He noted how her rosy complexion had suddenly become a shade paler. “You’re twisting my words.”
“Untwist them, then. Tell me the truth.”
Lakesh stared levelly at the woman who had a memory like a computer, reflexes as quick as a scorpion and equally dangerous, but who was still a woman. He was surprised by the sensation of fear her jade bright, jade hard eyes awakened in him.
Softly, sadly he said, “Dearest Brigid, remember the radiation you were exposed to a couple of months ago in the Black Gobi?”
She didn’t answer. She wasn’t likely to forget the shimmering golden haze that permeated the disabled space vessel and burned like a tiny fire in the blood. Nor would her memory ever relinquish its hold on the tortures inflicted on her by the Tushe Gun, trapped in the genetic mingler
Brigid straightened up in her chair. For a second, the floor and walls of the tiny office seemed to tilt crazily around her. She was only dimly aware of whispering, “Oh, my God.”