The Quiet Pools

because we sent her off with too many kings aboard—we didn’t understand yet what the rules were. And the nestmakers and dreamers have no use for us.”

“So who are you taking?”

Keith settled back against the fender. “Memphis needs a core of stable, loyal, dedicated people who know their place in the plan. It needs a leavening of creative types to keep the vision alive and deal with the unexpected. And it needs wise, unselfish leadership.”

“BCs, ACs, and Chi-positives.”

“I told you you’d catch on.”

“But when Memphis gets where it’s going, then you’ll need the others—the kings and adventurers and the rest—to build nests and empires on the new world.”

“Right. So they’re making the trip in steerage, where they won’t be any trouble.”

It took Christopher a moment to understand his meaning. “The gamete banks—that’s what the gamete banks are for.”

Keith made an imaginary mark in the air with his finger. “One point for the contestant from Oregon.”

“So how many Chi-positives? Five thousand? Five hundred? Fifty? How rare are they?”

“I told you, I don’t know,” Keith said. “They’re about four percent of the applicant pool. But that’s a self- selected sample. Why does it matter?”

“Because of what Jeremiah said. What happens when they’re gone, Daniel? Are you stealing the spark?”

A surprised laugh was Keith’s first response. “And John Gait said that he would stop the motor of the world,” he said. “Our poor little ten thousand, Christopher? We won’t even notice they’re gone.”

“You just finished telling me how special they are. The pinnacle of evolution.”

Impatience flashed across Keith’s face. “How about a little perspective? There’ve been at least fifty natural disasters and a hundred wars in the Christian era alone that killed a hundred thousand or more. There was a flood in China in 1931 that wiped out almost four million. The Second World War killed forty million.”

“But who were they, Daniel?” he demanded, stepping closer. “Drones and breeders? The faithful and patriotic? How many of them had a chance to shape the world? How many of them even had a chance to shape their own lives? And even so, do you really think it doesn’t cost us anything when a whole race, a whole generation, is exterminated?”

Keith held his hands palm-out in supplication. “It’s only ten thousand. Not a race. Not a generation. Do you know how long it takes the world population to replace ten thousand people? An hour. Forty-nine minutes, if you want to split hairs.”

“You said it yourself. They’re self-selected. The manifest for Memphis is made up of ten thousand of the best educated, most talented, most highly motivated people we’ve produced. If this is where it’s all been pointing, how can it not make a difference? You can’t have it both ways. The birds are still here, but the rest of the dinosaurs are gone. Sometimes the torch passes.”

“That’s fear-talk,” Keith said, straightening from his casual pose. “I expected better from you.”

“Really? Is that why you brought the gun?” Christopher’s hand closed around the neck of the bottle in a fighting grip. “And please, don’t insult my intelligence. I saw it when you paid for the wine. How close did I come to being dumped into the lake?”

With a slow, deliberate motion, Keith reached into an inner pocket and retrieved the contoured shape of a shockbox, which he laid on the roof of the car. “I wouldn’t come down here at night without something. It had nothing to do with you.”

“I’d like to believe that, Daniel, except I don’t know what you’re up to. I can’t figure out why you told me what you did tonight.”

“I told you the truth. Everything you asked.”

“I know. You told me things I’d have been months finding out.”

Keith shook his head. “You’d never have found them. There isn’t even anything in the hyper.”

“You’re not helping your case. Nobody tells this kind of secret as a favor. We’ve been friends, but not that good of friends. What do you gain? Or are you supposed to kill me now?”

“No.” Keith took a sideways step away from the car and the gun.

“Then tell me what’s going on, goddammit,” Christopher said, looking around nervously. “I’m getting very jumpy out here. Why did you tell me?”

“Because you’re Jeremiah’s son. But you’re also Chris. I took a chance because I thought you would listen.”

“What?”

“I wanted you to know you don’t have to be afraid of us. I want you to let us be. Don’t try to stop Memphis, Chris. Please.”

Christopher stared. “Son of a bitch,” he said under his breath. “Son of a bitch. My father was afraid I wasn’t enough like him. And now you’re afraid I’m too much like him.”

“I don’t know what to think, Chris. I really don’t.”

Shaking his head, Christopher dropped the bottle where he stood and made for the door of the Avanti. “I’m leaving,” he muttered. When he reached the car, he knocked the gun to the ground with a careless, angry swipe of his hand, then pulled the door upward.

“Chris—”

He settled in the seat before looking back. “What?”

“I can’t be sorry about Jeremiah. But I’m sorry about your father.”

Christopher looked at Keith with blazing eyes. “My father was a king.” He said it pridefully, with a hint of a challenge.

“Yes. I think he was.”

Nodding as though satisfied with the concession, Christopher brought the car to life, the door still open. Then he seemed to take a deep breath, taking the control wheel in both hands as though he needed it for support. He looked over his shoulder out at Keith. “What am I, Daniel?”

Keith came a step closer. “I was expecting you to ask that a long time ago—and you’re not going to like my answer. The truth is I know you too well to see you that simply. I can see all eight attributes in you—including Chi- negative.”

“Then how do I find out?”

“You can’t,” he said, shaking his head.

“Doesn’t the company know?”

“No,” Keith said. “That’s one of the questions that got me in trouble. You were an employee. You were never sampled. And there isn’t a lab anywhere outside Allied that knows what to look for.”

“You knew I’d have to know.”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t need to be told.”

“Why?”

“Can’t you feel it? Didn’t you say, ‘Yeah, that’s me,’ at some point in the list?”

“Sure. Three times.”

Keith frowned. “Then the key is your mother. Maybe you can figure it out from there.”

“Maybe,” Christopher said, little hope in his voice or his eyes. He sighed and jerked his head toward the empty seat beside him. “Can I drop you somewhere?”

The invitation was an apology and a peace offering, and Keith’s acceptance the signing of a truce. But they had little more to say to each other. From the time they lifted off to the time Keith climbed out in the driveway of his parents’ Stone Park home, only once was the silence broken.

“One more question?” Christopher asked as they bore across the Loop.

Looking out the side glass at the Daley Tower, Keith gave a slight nod.

“Were you ever sampled?”

“BC-positive,” Keith said. “Hardworking and loyal to a fault.” He turned back and showed a wan smile. “Most of the time, anyway.”

“But they didn’t take you.”