Homesick

“Our ways have other benefits too, Captain, which you as a scientist should appreciate,” Daaarrm said, changing his approach. “You need us now more than any other time in your history!”

“I’m sure you’ll explain what you mean by that.”

“Captain, you probably sampled the quality of our atmosphere.”

She nodded. “Naturally, we had to make sure it was breathable.”

“I’ll bet you found very little of the pollution you know on Earth,” he said with pride. “Our ozone layer is in no danger of dissolution, we know no acid rain, and we’re not stumbling head-long into a greenhouse crisis.”

“You’re well-read,” she admitted. “So, what’s your point?”

“It was not always so here. Before our order was established we were facing many of the same problems you’re facing now.”

“But now the majority of your people have no need for comfort or pleasures of their own, so you don’t have to waste precious energy catering to them, right?”

“Exactly!” he exclaimed, as if praising a bright pupil. “Almost all the industries on your planet are dedicated to producing elaborate goods and services for a class of people who shouldn’t even exist! We don’t need factories here! We don’t need vast transportation systems, complicated communications networks, or even great agricultural institutions. All we require to prosper is easily contained within small areas, and all our goods can be made by human labor! That, by the way, ensures the best quality. The only real quality!”

“And with the best materials, I see.”

Daaarrm shook his head in dismay. “Captain, don’t you see we’re only being ecologically sound?”

Sally couldn’t resist a laugh.

“We waste nothing! The Brethren serve us in life and in death! It falls down to purpose once more! If a brother or sister had to choose between spoiling uselessly in the ground or remaining valuable to us in some form after death, they would clearly choose the latter! Putting your primitive taboos aside, you must admit we’re doing them no harm in this even if they didn’t have a choice. They’re dead, after all!”

Sally shook her head in disgust, but Daaarrm appeared not to notice, consumed with his own charisma. “And the ‘materials’, as you call them, are superior to your synthetics and easier to maintain than the animal skins you may be used to.” He opened his jacket and extended its lapel. “Feel!” he offered.

“No thanks.”

“But doesn’t this all make sense if you just consider it? There are those on your planet who understand the balance of nature! But that balance is distorted by your overuse of technology and your foolish attempts to create heaven for everyone!” He waved his hands in triumph. “We’ve restored that balance! Our Brethren represent the cleanest form of power ever devised! Muscular strength!”

“Well, what happens when they die off?” Sally asked with a calm she didn’t have to force. “I’m not an idiot, Darm. I know they’re dying like flies down there. Scott wouldn’t have lasted a week if Ian and I hadn’t gotten to him. He was almost dead when we found him.”

At this he did pause, and Sally could see that her point was indeed an obstacle to his strategy, perhaps a big one. He quickly regained his stance, however, his voice registering only mild annoyance. “If that’s true there are plenty more to replace them! There are always more!”

“Where?” Sally challenged, with a hint of genuine curiosity woven into her skepticism.

He considered for a moment, clearly not pleased with this turn in the conversation. “Those who escaped the first wave of the order,” he growled. “They continue to survive on our continent, unhappy though they be. I’ve caught hundreds with the aid of the Builders.” At this thought his smile took on a hint of something ugly that was just visible enough for Sally to detect. It was a dirty smile, swollen with the memory of evil pleasures. It was there for only a flicker, but Sally recognized it immediately for what it was.

“You enjoy it, don’t you,” she said with a mixture of mild curiosity and contempt, as if she were making a clinical observation of a criminally insane patient.

“There are those on your planet who take hunting as a sport,” he defended. “What, may I ask, is the difference?”

“We don’t hunt people.”

He snorted out a scoffing laugh. “Of course you do! War is a sport, is it not? You do have wars.”

“We’re not perfect,” Sally admitted. “But war is not something we look forward to. We take no pleasure in it.”

“Oh, come now!” He laughed. “There are men who live for it! Your history is full of them!”

“War accomplishes a purpose. Murder and rape do not.”

Daaarrm leaned closer to her. “We are at war! This is a war for our survival __”

“Don’t try to sugar coat it. You’re a psychopath and so are most of your friends. You enjoy hurting and killing your own kind. I’d respect you more if you just admitted it.”

“Very well then, and why not?” he agreed, his animal lust spilling out once again. “And who wouldn’t enjoy it? It’s good sport, after all! The more cunning the prey, the better the hunt!”

“And that includes children, of course.”

“Sometimes. Maybe not for Brethren so much, but for other diversions!”

Sally fought to keep her face neutral.

“You see, the female animal comes in many varieties. The child has size as an advantage, and natural agility. They also have heightened senses and the instinct to take refuge in small places. Their disadvantage is experience, however. The adult female is more developed and skilled, but these days most of them lack any real confidence. They give up far too easily and provide little sport, hardly a challenge! But you . . .”

Sally shook her head in mounting disgust. “I was wrong about you, Darm. I could think less of you.”