Kinder des Schicksals 4 (Xeelee 9): Resplendent

connoisseur’s approving glance. ’That fighter
is strong,’ he said. ’But now she will learn afresh that there are
many stronger than she is.’
    ’These barefoot cadets must long to escape.’
    ’But their prison is not just a question of walls. In some places
the regime is - harsher. When they are taken from their homes, the
children are sometimes made to commit atrocities there.’
    ’Atrocities?’
    Dolo waved a hand. ’It doesn’t matter what. There are always
criminals of one class or another who require corrective treatment.
But after committing such an act the child is instantly transformed,
in her own heart, and in the hearts of her family. The family may not
even want the child back. So she knows that even if she escapes this
place, she can never go back home.’ He smiled. ’Ideally, of course,
it would be a family member who is struck down; that would be the
purest blow of all.’
    ’How efficient.’
    ’Even in the face of violence a child’s social and moral concepts
are surprisingly resilient; it takes a year or more before such
things as family bonds are finally broken. After that the child
crosses an inner threshold. Her sense of loyalty - why, her sense of
self - becomes entwined not with her family but with the regime. And,
of course, the first experience of combat itself is the final
threshold. After that, with all she has seen and done, she cannot go
home. She has been reborn. She doesn’t even want to be anywhere
else.’
    They walked on to the edge of the compound. Beyond the rows of
buildings there was a break in the fence. On the rocky plain beyond,
a group of children, with adult overseers, were lying on their
bellies in crude pits dug into the ground. They were working with
weapons, loading, dismantling, cleaning them, and firing them at
distant targets. The weapons seemed heavy, dirty and noisy; every
firing gave off a crack that made Luca jump.
    Dolo asked, ’Now. Do you see what is happening here?’
    ’More indoctrination. The children must be trained to handle
weapons, to deploy destructive forces - and to kill?’
    ’There are native animals - flying, bird-like creatures - which
they hunt. These days the animals are raised for that purpose, of
course; it has ironically saved them from extinction. Yes, they must
learn to kill.’
    ’And people?’
    ’The Xeelee are not like us - but they are sentient. Therefore it
helps to be exposed to the moral conflict of killing a sentient
creature, before it is necessary to do it to save one’s life. So,
yes, people too, when appropriate.’
    ’Commissary, must we commit such barbarism to wage our war?’
    Dolo looked surprised. ’But there is no barbarism here. Novice,
what did you expect? This regime, this crude empire of mud and clubs
and blood, is actually a sophisticated processing system. It turns
human beings, children, into machines.’
    ’Then why use human beings at all? Why not fight the war with
machines?’ It shocked him to find himself even mouthing such
ideas.
    Dolo seemed patient. ’This is a question everybody must ask at
least once, Luca. We fight as we do because of the nature of our foe,
and ourselves. The Xeelee are not like humans, not even like species
such as the Silver Ghosts, our starfaring rivals in the early days of
the Expansion. Read your history, Novice. With the Xeelee there has
never been a possibility of negotiation, diplomacy, compromise. None.
In fact there has been no contact at all - other than the brutal
collision of conflict. The Xeelee ignore us until we do something
that disturbs them - and then they stomp on us hard, striking with
devastating force until we are subdued. To them we are vermin. Well,
the vermin are fighting back.’
    ’And we are doing so,’ Luca said, ’by consuming our children.’
    ’Yes, our children - our human flesh and blood. Because that is
all we have.’ Dolo held up his hands and flexed his fingers in Galaxy
light. ’We weren’t designed for waging a Galactic war - as the Xeelee
seem to have been. We carry our past in our bodies, a past of
cowering in trees, of huddling on plains, without weapons, without
even fire to protect us, as the predators closed. But we fought our
way out of that pit, just as we’re fighting our way out of this one -
not by denying our nature but by exploiting it, by breeding,
breeding, breeding, filling up every empty space with great swarms of
us. We are nothing but flesh and blood - but in overwhelming numbers
even