THE BURNING HEART OF NIGHT

by Ivan Cat

  "Rickety-brick-house," said the massive alien.

  Unable to feel hopeful that night, Jenette focused on the task at hand. "Rikit-a-brikhauss. No. Rikit—EE—brikhauss," she repeated.

  Yellow starlights cascaded down flashbuds on the alien's bullet head. Jenette had said it right.

  "That's what I would say," said Jenette. "Then what do you say?"

  "Don't-touch-my-mustache."

  "Arrou, will you please be serious," Jenette chided. "Your language is hard enough already."

  "Easier this way," Arrou asserted. "Easy to remember funny rhyme." He looked down devilishly at her. "Don't-touch-my-mustache."

  Jenette sighed and made a valiant attempt to wrap her lips around the alien words. "Din-tixss-ymisstash—"

  "Don't-TOUCH-my-mustache," Arrou corrected, body pulsing with the Khafra light-language equivalent. Flash, pop, sparkle, pop.

  Jenette was limited to the verbal version, and her vocal cords sounded nowhere near as windy and hollow as a Khafra's, but she tried. "Din-TIXSS-ymisstash."

  Again, Arrou's head glittered.

  Arrou was Jenette's bonded domestic of five years. Large and covered in black armor plate, Arrou had a stunted right forepaw from an injury when human Guards kidnapped him from the wild.

  The crawler lumbered over a recently fallen tree; scavenger moss was already wriggling greedily over the windfall. Jenette turned onto a lane paved with roadwort tubers, which glowed golden yellow in the crawler's headlamps. She had been driving clockwise along the ring-island, now she steered into the residential area of the Enclave, inward from its bastion-like perimeter walls. The crawler's hollow wheels rattled on the faux-cobblestone surface.

  "Oh great," Jenette grumbled, shifting the vehicle into its low power range. Colonists, unaccustomed to the feeling of well-being that night, had come out of their domiciles to stroll stiffly down the road with their domestics. All of them were moving in the same direction as Jenette, blocking the road. It was impossible to drive faster than a slow amble. "I should shut down. We could walk faster."

  Arrou cocked his head, contented waves of green fading from his flashbuds. "Leave crawler?"

  "Yes, you lazy Khafra, leave the crawler."

  "But crawler good." It was a quirk that domestic Khafra could run a string of human words together in rhyme or play-song, but could only speak simple sentences in regular conversation. "Crawler fast."

  "It's not that fast," Jenette snapped as the foot traffic increased. They passed a team of domestics repairing a pothole in the roadwort. The aliens doused damaged tubers with silvery seawater from backpack tanks and then injected immune venom through their long teeth. In response, the tubers grew with visible speed, dividing and swelling like cells reproducing in a petri dish. The hole would be filled in under an hour. Jenette didn't care. Rapid plant growth was commonplace on New Ascension, unlike the traffic. Frustrated, she let go of the drive levers and fidgeted as the crawler idled along.

  "Practice more words?" Arrou offered.

  "No. My brain hurts."

  Jenette steered the crawler around a large group of colonists. She was just about to shoot them a reproachful glare when she suddenly focused instead on two figures farther up the road. "Look," she hissed to Arrou. "Halifax and Luca. Did we get them yet?"

  "Not yet," said Arrou.

  The crawler crept up behind two humans with appearances in stark contrast to one another. The first was a short, blocky man who filled a simple olive-drab uniform with muscle. His leathery hands and face were scarred from seventeen years fighting the Feral Wars. The other human was a slim dark woman with handmade resin jewelry adorning Consul robes. They stepped aside for the crawler to pass and their domestics did the same.

  Jenette stopped beside them, apprehension stiffening her back. "Colonel Halifax, Consul Luca," she said with forced cheer. "Care for a lift?"

  "Don't tempt me, young lady," Taureg Halifax said in a coarse bass. "Got to keep these bones of mine moving or they'll seize up."

  Consul Prahara Luca shook her head politely. She was one of the lucky few who still responded to hormone inhibitors at the age of twenty-nine and she still had the soft, healthy skin of a preadolescent. Colonel Taureg Halifax, on the other hand, was old. Jenette was both fascinated and repelled by the furrows scoring his brow and the wrinkles bunching at the corners of his eyes, nose, and mouth. Halifax was at least forty, maybe forty-five. Jenette tried to imagine being that old, how it would feel to move around in all that worn-out flesh, but it was hard. There were only three ancients like Halifax left on New Ascension. The majority of New Ascension colonists, like those blocking the road, appeared adolescent by outworld standards. Jenette was reminded that the hormone inhibitors, which kept them immature and turned all their hair the omnipresent blond-gray, had stopped working for her two years ago. Now, at the age of twenty-three, Jenette's body was blossoming into the deadly curves of an out-worlder at the age of fifteen. She hoped to live as long as Halifax, but it was not likely.

  Arrou sparkled staccato bursts of light at the domestics paired with the soldier and consul. Halifax's domestic, Patton, sparkled back. Luca's looked the other way.

  Halifax squinted good-naturedly. "Damn flashers never get tired of that, do they?"

  "Not as far as I know," Jenette said, careful not to react to the wink Halifax shot her way. "See you in Chamber."

  Halifax groaned. "Don't remind me."

  Jenette drove away, whispering to Arrou. "Did they get it?"

  Jenette was referring to the domestics, not the humans. Out of the three thousand human colonists on the island, only Jenette knew more than a few words of Khafra language, but the light-code had been too fast for even her to follow.

  "Got it," Arrou confirmed.

  "You explained that I want to set the plan in motion?"

  "Yes, explained."

  "And you explained about sending the envoy and how important it is for them to pass the message on to their humans?"

  "Urr, yes, yes." The alien rolled his bulbous eyes. "Explained many times."

  "All right, sorry," Jenette said, apologetic, but also relieved. "I know I'm on edge. You know how important this is. Anyway, you're doing good work. Great work. Keep it up."

  Jenette twisted her head around. By the look of the colonists behind them, Arrou's secret communications had gone unnoticed yet again; certainly Luca had not suspected anything.

  Jenette edged the crawler further up the road. It was still crowded and very slow going. "We should walk."

  "Not do pickup?" Arrou asked.

  Jenette's spirits sagged once more and her nose crinkled as it often did when she was in thought. The pickup. It was the reason Jenette had requisitioned the heavy vehicle in the first place and she wasn't looking forward to the task.

  Jenette maneuvered between the colonists on the road and their dwellings. The spun ceramite structures were yellowed with age, but well cared for and nestled cozily in domestic-tended creepers, vines, and hedges; domestics carefully controlled the rapid growth of all plant life on the ring-island, including food crops, roadwort, and even the island itself. Buildings not made of out-world materials were constructed with sheets of domestic-grown fiber laminates, which gave the Enclave a distinctly organic, frayed look.

  Many of the dwellings were empty that night, those who normally hid within being outside and headed for a cottage at the far end of the tree-lined lane. Colonists stood alone or in groups around the cottage, bathed in warm light pouring from its windows. Heads were bowed, fists stacked reverently over hearts. Without thinking, Jenette made the same gesture, and then cursed under her breath. Insidious conditioning. Conform or be absorbed.

  She drove around to the rear of the house, out of sight, shut down the crawler's drives, and climbed down to the ground. Arrou hopped off the generator cowl and followed her up to the back door, his stunted forepaw not slowing him down at all.

  Jenette knocked. Claws clattered inside. Arrou flashed and light fl
ashed back from behind frosted glass.

  "Hello Arrou," said a voice. A domestic slid the squat door open. "Hello, Jenette."

  "Hi, Rusty," said Jenette.

  The aliens flashed some more. Arrou streamed out the secret code patterns. Poppata-pop-flash-sparkle. Rusty responded just as fast.

  A big, full-grown man with an honest, weary face appeared and bent low under the door. "Subconsul Tesla." Burke Hedren was in charge of Enclave Agriculture. His callused hands shook Jenette's warmly. "It's good to see you."

  "It's good to see you too. How is the miracle coming?" Jenette asked.

  "Fine," Burke answered with a backward glance into the cottage. Through a distant bedroom door, Jenette caught the briefest glance of a sleeping, pregnant woman. "Mother and all four babies." Burke grinned. "At least that's what Dr. Marsh said at the last hyperscan. I just wish the little beggars would hurry up. Everyone wants it to happen soon." Burke waved his hands toward the crowd out front. "And I guess not just me and Panya." Burke sighed. It was not like the large man to worry, but there were bags under his eyes.

  "I could ask the gawkers to give you some space," Jenette offered.

  "Naw, it's good for morale. Besides, Panya kind of likes the attention."

  Jenette just bet Panya liked it, but bit her lip out of consideration for Burke. Not because he was a full-grown man instead of a hormone gelding, but because he was a nice guy who, for no reason Jenette could fathom, loved his wife, Panya.

  Always polite, Burke stepped aside. "Please, come in."

  "Can't," said Jenette. "Official business."

  Burke's gaze darted to a shed out back. His face fell. "I almost forgot."

  We all feel the guilt, Jenette thought. No one escaped it. That's why the first pregnancy in ten years was such an event. It was a hopeful sign.

  "I'll help," Burke said simply.

  They walked silently to the shed, part ceramite and part domestic-woven hedge walls. Jenette guessed its original intent was to house livestock, but no indigenous domesticated animals liked to live indoors and no outworld livestock had survived the Scourge.

  Lying on a bench inside was the latest victim of Scourge.

  Wrapped in a plain fiber shroud lay Burke's domestic, Trum. Creamy folds outlined a hardened Khafra body. Arrou helped Burke and Rusty carry the cold parcel. With the greatest respect, they laid it on the back of the crawler.

  Jenette had watched similar scenes a thousand times. The shroud was crude, but lovingly stitched by Burke himself. Unexpected to Jenette were the bulges on Trum's bullet shaped face. Burke had placed two coins over Trum's eyes. Ship metal coins. To buy his way into heaven. It was strictly forbidden. On an ocean planet, the destruction of any kind of metal was unthinkable. Not only that, but her father's policies condemned any sort of burial ceremony for nonhumans, so that the colonists would not become attached. Most colonists went along with the heartless edict because of their pathological need to deny how they survived on the suffering of others, but not Burke. Jenette marveled at his defiant gesture.

  The big man stood by the body. There were traces of blue-black stains on his neck, Jenette noticed. Stains that would not scrub off. And there were gouges on his arms.

  "Rough Sacrament?" she observed.

  Burke nodded, clutching the fabric of the shroud, not wanting to let go. "The restraints broke. Wasn't his fault."

  Jenette nodded. "Of course it wasn't...."

  Silence for a while, and then:

  "Why do you do this?" Burke asked. "I couldn't."

  Jenette shrugged.

  Burke persisted. "The dead ones aren't even part of your job."

  Jenette shrugged again. "I drop them off. I pick them up. It's not a big deal." That was a lie. The truth was that Jenette made herself do it, no matter how hard it got. The problem would not get any better if she looked the other way.

  Burke's lip quivered. "Good-bye, Trum."

  Jenette studied the sky, embarrassed by the big man's grief.

  When the tailgate closed, she looked back. "Come by the nursery tomorrow and pick up another domestic."

  Burke was confused. "But you already gave me a... new friend for Rusty."

  "Not for you, for Panya."

  Burke was more confused. "But Panya doesn't need another domestic. Tengen's only on his first Sacrament."

  "Don't argue," Jenette scolded. "This guy's the pick of the last raid. It won't hurt anyone if he doesn't enter the cycle for a while."

  "Feral strong," Arrou agreed. "Bright light."

  Burke began to see what Jenette was up to. "If he's so strong, there must be higher-ups in line."

  "Screw the higher-ups. I don't see them pregnant." A lot of risk went along with having children on New Ascension. "Panya needs this Feral more than anyone else. His immune rating is very high. First Sacrament should be twice as strong as normal. Panya gets him."

  Overcome with emotion, the big man scrubbed an arm over his eyes. "We owe you so much. I don't know how we'll ever repay you."

  "You'll repay the whole Enclave with those babies."

  "Panya and I were afraid to even try before you helped—"

  "I don't want to hear it," Jenette cut in.

  "But it's important," Burke persisted. His voice lowered and his hands clamped around Jenette's thin arms. "I want you to know I'm going."

  "Burke," Jenette hissed, "not here!" She looked around. Fortunately, no one could see them.

  "I want you to know that," he insisted. "I'm going with the envoy."

  "No you're not," Jenette insisted back. "Panya's not going and you're not going either. You're going to be a father any time now. End of discussion."

  A importunate voice from the house cut further argument short. "Burke? Burke?" it called. "Where are you? I need you."

  "Coming," Burke called. Then to Jenette, "Whatever you decide. You can count on me." He hurried into the house. Rusty followed.

  Shortly, Panya Hedren came out of the house wearing Burke's sloppy big boots. She was a rare quantity on New Ascension, just like her husband. Panya was a fully matured woman, even though she was the same age as Jenette. Womanly curves filled out Panya's short nightgown. Her bosom protruded, ripe and full. Her hips swayed, seductive and hypnotic. Lately, everything swayed and protruded more than normal due to the enormous distention of her pregnant belly. Panya got a lot of attention because of her good-looking body—and the danger that went along with it. Jenette felt distinctly boyish in comparison and Panya never let her forget it.

  "Panya," Jenette said, "should you be out like this?"

  Panya tossed her hair haughtily. "I never felt better, Jinny."

  Jinny. Jenette gritted her teeth.

  "Here," said Panya, "this is yours."

  She handed Jenette a little black book. It was a stimpaper collection of Jenette's private prose—erotic prose. Jenette never intended it for public scrutiny. But, as dangerous as pregnancy was for females on New Ascension, the fluctuating testosterone levels associated with sexual activity were even more dangerous for males. Any change in the level of the hormone could trigger the onset of Scourge, and that knowledge often had a stifling effect on the male libido. In a concession to the greater needs of the Enclave, Jenette had loaned the book to Panya when she and Burke initially had trouble conceiving.

  Panya's lip curled, ever so slightly. "I found it... innocent."

  Jenette fumed at the jibe. Panya had conceived within days of borrowing Jenette's book. The innocent material must have had some effect.

  "I made some notes," Panya continued, "to race it up a bit. Of course there's no way you could have known, but that kind of stuff is what really gets a man going."

  The self-inflated, nose-in-the-air bitch had written in Jenette's book. Jenette wanted to strangle Panya. The more Jenette bent over backward to help Panya, the worse Panya behaved in return.

  Jenette did not understand it, but she reminded herself that Panya's arrogance was the very reason why she had risked a p
regnancy in the face of such deadly odds. She simply did not believe she could die. Jenette, and every other New Ascension colonist, envied her that.

  Jenette bit her lip. "Thanks."

  Panya preened. "Thought I'd give you some pointers, for the future."

  Tengen, Panya's present domestic, had followed her out He exchanged strobing signals with Arrou.

  Panya shielded her eyes. "Stop that! It gives me a headache." Tengen obediently went dark. "Burke told me about the new domestic. He'll be flashing day and night," Panya complained. "I'll dust off the prod."

  "He won't need the prod," Jenette said quickly.

  "I always use a little prod at first," Panya intimated. "Lets them know who's boss." Her eyes skirted Trum's body on the crawler. Jenette didn't notice any sign of emotion.

  Two more Sacraments would find Tengen wrapped in such a shroud. The new domestic would then advance to go through Sacrament with Panya. The cycle of exploitation would continue.

  With Jenette aiding and abetting.

  Panya winced sourly. She clutched her abdomen.

  "Are you all right?" asked Jenette.

  "Oh, fine, fine." Panya said suddenly sweating, but trying to keep a proud face. She glanced at the cottage. "I better get back. Just in case I need to use the personal, for the twelfth time today." With an affected wave of her wrist, she waddled hurriedly off. "Bye."

  "Bye." Jenette climbed into the crawler, generally disgusted with recent events. "Come on, Arrou. We're going."

  Arrou hopped up to his place on the cowling. Jenette powered up and cranked the drive levers hard over. The crawler pivoted, right wheels going forward, left wheels backward, and then lurched into forward motion. But Jenette heard a telltale clink and stopped. Reaching back, she examined Trum's shroud. The coins had fallen together because of the vehicle's jostling.