Prologue
Dr. Amber Waithe looked at her sons with pride. They were all the finest specimens of manhood, most of whom clearly exhibited the dominant and protective genes she'd labored over, and some showing signs of being risk-takers and pioneers. They were all physically strong, but were mentally superior as well. They had high-level intelligence and steady personalities, the best she could design.
And they all bred true.
Each and every one of them was totally immune from the Jit'suku virus that so cursed many others. The Jits thought they had struck the final blow in the Unwinnable War, but they were wrong. It was Amber and her sons who would prevail in the end. The Jits had not ended humanity within three generations, as they planned when they had been defeated at Markesh.
Their doomsday weapon—the virus intended to attack the human reproductive system—had ultimately failed. Not solely because of Amber, though her genetic research did have a lot to do with the recovery of the human race, and would well into the future.
No, it was their failure to really understand human reproduction in the first place that had been their downfall.
Amber's research revealed their grave miscalculation. Jit genetics, while closely resembling humans in other ways, actually defaulted to the male. By contrast, Homo sapiens generally defaulted to the female. The Jit virus, which had mutated through the human population to eventually infect the Jit'suku themselves, was designed to kill off all male humans—even those still in the womb. It was a point of Jit’suku honor that they did not make war upon women, but their bioweapon was more deadly than they’d thought and it did kill some women, sickening and scarring many others with the result that they became infertile as well.
Humans were just different enough from the Jits in the microscopic ways that counted, though the vast majority of human children born after the virus attack were female. With Amber's help, and the few males who were immune or otherwise able to avoid being infected, some male children were born to perpetuate the species, but not enough to keep it viable. Which is where Amber's sons had their purpose.
Designed in the lab, they were sex machines with high intelligence. Add dominant alpha male traits, killer physiques, and the skills to match, and they were all completely immune to the Jit virus. She had carefully planned the first generation of her boys so they would breed ninety-seven percent male offspring. Successive generations would equalize over time to the human norm of about fifty-fifty, but by her calculations, that would be well into the recovery of the species as a whole. They would have done their jobs by then, and the future generations' genetics would normalize.
All as she had planned.
4
One
Zeke looked about and grimaced. The dark earth beckoned to him, but he couldn't drop yet. He had to find shelter before the sun rose higher, or he would burn to a cinder on this godforsaken rock.
Zeke had more than his share of stamina. It was a gift of his genetics. Designed and raised by Dr. Amber Waithe and her team of geneticists, he knew he had a mission in life: to spread his seed far and wide, bringing his fertile offerings to every woman who would have him. By the Maker, he enjoyed his job.
But even his enormous strength was taxed by the huge binary stars that were just a little too close to this dry, arid planet. Too bad his Risker's nature had brought him here but he was usually able to roll with the punches. Riskers had to be able to deal with the results of their actions, and he was one of the best at making lemonade out of lemons.
This time, however, he might just die for his troubles. The suns were rising all too quickly, and he was caught out in the open. He took one last, long, weary look at the suns and kept on trekking. Minutes, or maybe hours later, he felt himself fading under the onslaught of oppressive heat and strong solar
Dr. Amber Waithe looked at her sons with pride. They were all the finest specimens of manhood, most of whom clearly exhibited the dominant and protective genes she'd labored over, and some showing signs of being risk-takers and pioneers. They were all physically strong, but were mentally superior as well. They had high-level intelligence and steady personalities, the best she could design.
And they all bred true.
Each and every one of them was totally immune from the Jit'suku virus that so cursed many others. The Jits thought they had struck the final blow in the Unwinnable War, but they were wrong. It was Amber and her sons who would prevail in the end. The Jits had not ended humanity within three generations, as they planned when they had been defeated at Markesh.
Their doomsday weapon—the virus intended to attack the human reproductive system—had ultimately failed. Not solely because of Amber, though her genetic research did have a lot to do with the recovery of the human race, and would well into the future.
No, it was their failure to really understand human reproduction in the first place that had been their downfall.
Amber's research revealed their grave miscalculation. Jit genetics, while closely resembling humans in other ways, actually defaulted to the male. By contrast, Homo sapiens generally defaulted to the female. The Jit virus, which had mutated through the human population to eventually infect the Jit'suku themselves, was designed to kill off all male humans—even those still in the womb. It was a point of Jit’suku honor that they did not make war upon women, but their bioweapon was more deadly than they’d thought and it did kill some women, sickening and scarring many others with the result that they became infertile as well.
Humans were just different enough from the Jits in the microscopic ways that counted, though the vast majority of human children born after the virus attack were female. With Amber's help, and the few males who were immune or otherwise able to avoid being infected, some male children were born to perpetuate the species, but not enough to keep it viable. Which is where Amber's sons had their purpose.
Designed in the lab, they were sex machines with high intelligence. Add dominant alpha male traits, killer physiques, and the skills to match, and they were all completely immune to the Jit virus. She had carefully planned the first generation of her boys so they would breed ninety-seven percent male offspring. Successive generations would equalize over time to the human norm of about fifty-fifty, but by her calculations, that would be well into the recovery of the species as a whole. They would have done their jobs by then, and the future generations' genetics would normalize.
All as she had planned.
4
One
Zeke looked about and grimaced. The dark earth beckoned to him, but he couldn't drop yet. He had to find shelter before the sun rose higher, or he would burn to a cinder on this godforsaken rock.
Zeke had more than his share of stamina. It was a gift of his genetics. Designed and raised by Dr. Amber Waithe and her team of geneticists, he knew he had a mission in life: to spread his seed far and wide, bringing his fertile offerings to every woman who would have him. By the Maker, he enjoyed his job.
But even his enormous strength was taxed by the huge binary stars that were just a little too close to this dry, arid planet. Too bad his Risker's nature had brought him here but he was usually able to roll with the punches. Riskers had to be able to deal with the results of their actions, and he was one of the best at making lemonade out of lemons.
This time, however, he might just die for his troubles. The suns were rising all too quickly, and he was caught out in the open. He took one last, long, weary look at the suns and kept on trekking. Minutes, or maybe hours later, he felt himself fading under the onslaught of oppressive heat and strong solar
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