Close Remembrance (The Krinar Chronicles 3)

ning a little. “You must miss your parents, and it seems so nice there . . .”

He hesitated for a couple of seconds. “Perhaps one day,” he finally said, watching her with an unreadable golden gaze. “But probably not for a long while.”

Mia felt her chest tighten a little. “What about me?”

“You’ll come with me, of course,” he said casually, taking a sip of water. “What else?”

She took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. “To another planet? Leaving everything and everybody behind?”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “I didn’t say we’d go soon, Mia. Maybe not even within your family’s lifetime. But someday, yes, I may need to visit Krina and I would want you with me.”

Mia blinked and looked away, her heart squeezing at the reminder of the disparity that now existed between her and the rest of humanity. Thanks to the nanocytes circulating through her body, she would never grow old and die – but she would also far outlive her loved ones. The fact that the Krinar had the means to indefinitely extend human lifespan but chose not to do so bothered her a great deal, making her feel guilty whenever she thought about the issue.

“Mia . . .” Korum reached across the table and took her hand. “Listen to me. I told you I would petition the Elders on your family’s behalf, and I have begun the process. But I can’t promise you anything. I’ve never heard of an exception being made for anyone who’s not considered a charl.”

“But why?” Mia asked in frustration. “Why not share your knowledge, your technology with us? Why do your Elders care so much about this issue?”

Korum sighed, his thumb stroking her palm. “None of us know exactly, but it has something to do with the fact that you’re still very imperfect as a species, and the Elders want you to have more time to evolve . . .”

“We’re imperfect?” Mia stared at him in disbelief. “What’s that supposed to mean? What, you’re saying we’re defective? Like a part in a car that doesn’t function properly?”

“No, not like a part in a car,” he explained patiently, his fingers tightening when she tried to jerk her hand away. “Your species is very young, that’s all. Your society and your culture are evolving at a rapid pace, and your high birthrate and short lifespan probably have something to do with that. If we were to give you our technology now, if every human could live thousands of years, your planet could become overpopulated very quickly . . . unless we also did something about your birthrate. You see, Mia, it’s all or none: we either control everything, or we let you be mostly as you are. There’s no good middle ground here, my sweet.”

Mia felt her teeth snapping together. “So why not give people that choice?” she asked, angered by the whole thing. “Why not let them choose if they want to live for a long time, or if they’d rather have children? I’m sure many would go for the first option rather than face death and disease –”

“It’s not that simple, Mia,” Korum said, regarding her evenly. “Overpopulation is not the Elders’ only concern, you see. Every generation brings something new to your society, changing it for the better. It was less than two hundred years ago that humans in your country thought nothing of keeping slaves. And now the thought of that is abhorrent to them – because generations have passed and values have changed. Do you think you could’ve eradicated slavery if the same people who had once owned slaves were still around today? Your society’s progress would slow tremendously if we uniformly extended your lifespan – and that’s not something the Elders want at this point.”

“So we are just an experiment,” Mia said, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “You just want to see what happens to us, and never mind how many humans suffer in the process –”

“Humans wouldn’t be around to suffer if it weren’t for the Krinar, my sweet,” he interrupted, looking faintly amused at her outburst. “You very conveniently forget that fact.”

“Right, you made us, and now you can play God.” She could feel the old resentment rising up, making her want to lash out at the unfairness of it all. As much as she loved Korum, sometimes his arrogance made her want to scream.

He grinned, not the least bit fazed by her anger. His fingers eased their grip on her palm, his touch turning soft and caressing again. “I can think of other things I’d rather play,” he murmured, his eyes beginning to fill with golden heat.

And as Mia watched in disbelief, he sent the floating table away, removing the barrier between them. Still holding her hand, he pulled her toward him until she had no choice but to straddle his lap.

“You think sex will make it all better?” she asked, annoyed at her body’s unavoidable response to his nearness. No matter how mad she was, all he had to do was look at her in a certain way and she was completely lost, turning into a puddle of need.

“Hmm-mm . . .” He was already leaning forward to kiss her neck, his mouth hot and moist on her bare skin. “Sex always makes everything better,” he whispered, nibbling on the sensitive junction between her neck and shoulder.

And for the next several hours, Mia found no reason to disagree with that statement.

* * *

After the noise and crowds in Shanghai, the stark landscape of the Siberian tundra was almost soothing. If it hadn’t been for the cold, Saret would’ve probably enjoyed visiting this remote northern region of Russia.

But it was cold. The temperature here, just above the Arctic Circle, was never warm enough for a Krinar, not even on the hottest summer day. Today, though, it was actually below freezing, and Saret made sure every part of his body was covered with thermal clothing before he stepped out of his ship.

The large grey building in front of him was one of the ugliest examples of Soviet-era architecture. Barbed wire and guard towers on every corner marked it as exactly what it was – a maximum security prison for the worst violent offenders in all of Russia. Few people knew this place existed, which is why Saret had chosen it for his experiment.

He openly approached the gate, not worrying about being seen by any cameras or satellites. For this outing, he was wearing a disguise, one of a couple he had developed over the years. It changed not only his appearance, but even the outer layer of his DNA, making it nearly impossible to divine his true identity. The humans knew he was a Krinar, of course, but they didn’t know anything else about him.

At his approach, the gate swung open, letting him in. Saret walked briskly to the building, where he was greeted by the warden – a pot-bellied, middle-aged human who stank of alcohol and cigarettes.

Without saying a word, the warden led him to his office and closed the door.

“Well?” Saret asked in Russian as soon as they had privacy. “Do you have the data I requested?”