More than a few Curran males woke tired, the next day. So did the Smith boys. All had dreams of watery sirens, beckoning them to the sea. Only Liam and Pierre were unaffected. They still dreamt of the mer, but neither were attracted to women, so they brushed them off.
The girls dreamt of the waves, but their dreams were simply swimming free, unburdened by the cares of the land. They were far more restful, so they woke refreshed.
Only Ibrahim, and the eldest son of his... torso... knew what the dreams meant. They were the most irritable, come morning.
Ibrahim growled at his niece, when she entered the airlock. She was not as repentant as he thought she ought to be.
"For every child who returns to us, your burden is lessened."
"There are potentially one hundred others you could disturb," he scowled.
"And so we did."
He froze momentarily, injecting his vitamin blend. "Every child of my loins, you reached in one night?"
She smiled tightly. "We, uncle. I do not possess such power."
His jaw clenched. "It smacks of mind control. Even I did not do more than persuade others, one at a time, to leave me alone."
The smile turned brittle. "You were not as desperate. Every Curran who has The Gift sent their Call, with a different non-Curran as..."
"Bait," he said bluntly.
"Lure, uncle. Only a suggestion."
"Temptation, niece. Possibly unholy. I am not knowledgeable enough to say. While we are on the subject of temptation, what precisely does my grandfather ask?"
Her smile ceased its attempts. "I was given to understand that Saoirse delivered his... request."
He aimed a finger at her nose. "There was a key piece of information missing, and that one piece decides the entire matter--for myself, and the Curran Isles children."
She was instantly alert. The possibility that one thing could tip the scales had her on edge. "And what is it that she left out?"
"Land or sea?" The elegant finger did not drop.
She blinked. "He has lost many to land, uncle. They would remain with us, of course."
"'They'? Meaning the offspring you... request... or their sires?"
"Any offspring, and any willing daughters, would live in the sea."
He waited a beat. "And my sons? Myself?" The finger aimed at his own sternum, near where Emmett lay.
"That is up to you, your clones, and your sons."
The broad hand dropped. "My clones?" His voice was too quiet for her liking. The fact that the infant began to fuss set the hairs on the back of her neck on end.
"You were... quite persuasive about Judah. My great-grandfather wishes to explore his... capacities."
He was no mental slouch. "You said 'clones', not 'clone'. Li Am does not swing the direction you require."
Her lashes lowered. "We would ask for another."
"Deal breaker."
Wide, Curran eyes lifted again. "You would rather he take one third of your male offspring, rather than create one single clone?"
His knees gave way, but he managed to sit, with more grace than he felt. "So, those are the terms, then? One of me, or thirty of them?"
Her hands clasped, though they did so in front of her bosom, modestly clad in ebon hair. "There are forces at play that we cannot say."
"There always are," he growled, rocking his infant son absently.
"Every child on Curran C would be safe," she implored.
"You cannot guarantee that will always be the case."
The first sign of tears appeared. "I suppose I cannot. Great-grandfather can, if you but ask."
He put his feet up on a stool, feigning disinterest. "Desperate old men do desperate things." He leveled a dark glare at her. "I would know." He paused. "He may well rescind his... benevolence, should he lose more daughters to the land. I must ask how many of my aunts and uncles remain, girl."
Her knuckles turned white. "Only one male of any line is allowed in the pod. You have three aunts remaining."
His legs twitched at the knowledge that the "pod" was nearly all women. He suppressed his reaction; not only for little Emmett's sake.
"That does not sound like an efficient population model," was all he would say.
"Better than the options to the North," was all she would say.
His ankles crossed the other way. His circulation was still compromised, requiring more position changes than he liked.
"So, what? The daughters of Halcyon--" She twitched, but said nothing. "--Go to land, get pregnant by the... first guy they meet? The strongest? Then they're supposed to come back to dear old grandpapa, to raise them at sea?"
"The strongest is preferred." She did not deny anything else that he'd guessed. "It was the only way to preserve genetic diversity. In the North, they are not so careful. There have been... defects."
"And suddenly, impregnating every daughter he has, that isn't a Curran, will fix things?" He was clearly skeptical.
"They aren't called daughters, unless they are, but yes, it should. With only three of them being his, the rest are 'fair game', I believe you would say."
"But then, every mer in the pod would be a Curran, and then, he would be right back where he is, now. I still do not see the logic."
She held her shoulders in a shrug. "He will be dead by then, he thinks. His work will be done, and it will no longer matter whence his offspring have gone."
His massive arms crossed beneath Emmett's body, lain across one thick forearm.
"And it all hinges on one man? Not the smartest idea I've heard."
"One man's clones," she corrected.
His feet dropped to the floor. "Then it is inconvenient for him that I have discontinued cloning."
YOU ARE READING
The Curran Sea
Science FictionBOOK TWO: The Curran Saga Ibrahim has been dead for fifteen years. Most of his children are adults, his grandchildren teenagers. They have all branched off into their own fields of interest, and the Curran C has grown to match. The three islands are...
