THE BURNING HEART OF NIGHT

by Ivan Cat

  <> flashed Rusty.

  <> Patton contradicted.

  <> Rusty insisted. <>

  <>

  <>

  <> the others asked.

  Rusty shook and jerked his head, and then spit a bunch of red spheroids from pouches in his throat into a forepaw. He took one and handed the rest off. <>

  <> flashed Crash. <>

  <> cautioned Rusty. <>

  As they refilled the humans' drinks, the domestics palmed firehead seeds into the droobleberry spirits along with the regular garnishes. Only Consul Trurl noticed. "Hey, where's my red berry" he complained, slurring his words. "Don't I get a red berry, too?" The domestics gave him one before he could make a fuss, but they would have preferred to leave Trurl drunk. Trurl always said what Tesla wanted him to say, and did what Tesla wanted him to do.

  Dessert followed the main course. Then more servings of spirits. Tesla continued to show smiley teeth. The evening drew to a close. Thinking the end was near, even the most paranoid of the humans began to relax.

  That's when Tesla drew an official stimpaper from the breast pocket in his daysuit.

  <> said Rusty.

  "Before you go," Tesla began, "there is a small matter that requires the attention of the Body."

  "What's up?" Consul Trurl drunkenly quipped. "Going to declare war?"

  There were a few sniggers.

  "In a manner of speaking," Tesla continued. "It has become necessary to call up the Reserves."

  A gasp swept along the table. Many Consuls went white. "The Reserves! Now? Impossible!"

  "It is possible," said Tesla, "and absolutely essential."

  "H-how many?" asked Consul Prahara Luca, the head of Administration.

  "As many as are necessary," Tesla replied.

  Luca nervously reached for a water goblet, but did not push the issue. Administration always sided with Tesla; many of Luca's people owed their positions to his influence. The buzz around the table increased. None of the humans wanted to see the Reserves called. There were few enough humans to fill posts as it was; the tasks of those left would be made that much harder. And then there was the fear of imminent conflict that went along with calling the Reserves.

  "On what grounds?" asked Dr. Bigelow, who had not consumed as much droobleberry spirits as the others.

  "On the grounds that this Enclave stands at a crossroads. It must expand or perish." Tesla spoke slowly and forcefully to let his words sink in. "This tiny island's resources are stretched to the limit. There is no room to grow."

  No humans argued with that. It was true.

  "The sink-hole at the center of our island continues to expand," Tesla went on, "Usable land decreases. Raw materials are nonexistent. Production is stymied. Hydroponics works around the clock and conventional agriculture is capped at current harvest levels for fear of draining too much water from deep-root reservoirs and irreparably damaging the very ground we live on. All because of lack of space. And despite our best efforts," Tesla looked, not unkindly, at Burke Hedren, "all attempts to increase that space have failed."

  Burke nodded grimly. "The Wart is a total loss."

  The domestics glowed sympathetically.

  It had been Burke's idea to attempt grafting a smaller ring-island onto the Enclave. Humans and domestics had worked night and day to splice water-carrying roots to keep it alive, but the only result was a dry skrag, dissolving month by month outside the battlements near Gate Three.

  "Of course, we've been dealing with these problems for years," said Onos, head of Construction.

  "That's right," Tesla agreed. "There is a more serious problem, however. Our practice of reconning nearby Feral islands to maintain domestic population is at an end. Colonel Halifax and his brave Guards have stripped every island within twenty kiloyards."

  All eyes turned to Halifax. "We can't keep it up," he admitted. "Deep recon sorties range farther and farther into Feral Territory to find fewer and fewer litters. Ferals fight hard. Casualties are high."

  Halifax's words had a chilling effect on the Consuls. The old warrior had a reputation for brutal honesty.

  "And so what do you propose, Prime Consul?" Bragg asked in rehearsed sort of way.

  Tesla stood up.

  The domestics, listening as intently as the humans, went dim with anticipation and trepidation.

  <> warned Rusty.

  "We must widen our defensive perimeter to encompass not just this island, but new islands with room for expansion. We must open up new sources for domestics—and we must do it now. Our present stock will be depleted by year's end. Within two years none will be left alive to participate in Sacrament."

  The domestics went from dim to somber blue.

  They didn't need to be told what that meant: their humans would die. They would die, too, but not one of the quadrupeds was worried about that. Nothing was more important than the lives of their humans. It was only due to Jenette's tireless efforts that they believed their own lives were important at all and that they now could understand how Tesla's plan would mean more fighting between humans and Ferals. More kits would be taken from the wild. And concerted attack by humans on Ferals would short-circuit Jenette's plans for peace and the hopes of getting Feral help to find a cure for Scourge.

  No, Jenette would not like Tesla's plan.

  <>

  <>

  <>

  <>

  <>

  <>

  <>

  A few of the scientists were rubbing their temples, but they still seemed unfocused. Only Bigelow attempted to stir up dissent.

  "Colonel Halifax," he asked casually, "how many troops would you require to implement such a plan?"

  Halifax considered. "High three figures, ballpark."

  There were gasps, even from Tesla's supporters. Such a number would be over a third of the Enclave's human population.

  "Surely," Dr. Bigelow pressed, "you are not in favor of widening the conflict between humans and Ferals?"

  Halifax chose his words carefully. "What I am in favor of is not important. I am a servant of the Body. Widening the conflict is a decision of the Body, and I—and my Guardsmen—will do whatever the Body requires." Having stated his position, Halifax met the eyes of both Bigelow and Tesla unflinchingly. "It does mean more risk. Ferals constantly change tactics. Recently they started throwing things. Last week they brought down a skimmer."

  Several scientists around Yll muttered amongst themselves. Tesla was quick to interject.

  "Concerns, Doctor?"

  Yll twitched nervously. "Only that, um, if you call the Reserves, it will be difficult to research a cure for the Scourge with a depleted staff."

  Tesla smiled reassuringly. "You told me yourself that Science is close to a major breakthrough."

  Yll looked around his colleagues for support, but, being good scientists and therefore bad politicians, they were of no help. "Actually, Prime Consul, what I said was that recent attempts to humanize plant antibodies have yielded promising results, however we cannot put a definitive time frame on—"

  Tesla cut the old biochemist off with the wave of a hand. "The Body Pure will prevail. All we need is more time and more domestics and Science will find a solution."

  <>

  <>

  <>

  <>

&
nbsp; <>

  Human reaction to Tesla's confidence in Yll varied around the table. A vaccine for Scourge had been elusive for twenty-three years. Few but the most optimistic humans believed Science would succeed anytime soon, which made Tesla's next argument even stronger.

  "In the meantime," the Prime Consul emphasized, "this Enclave must survive."

  He paused to find each face around the table, stabbing each with the force of his resolve. "Some of you have questions. About the expenditure of domestics. About Sacrament. Some of you are concerned. You are saddened. This is natural. I, too, am concerned, and saddened. And I am open to any reasonable alternate course of action. But until one is found, I feel we must proceed with what we can do now." Many Consuls nodded or grunted assent at that sentiment, including many of Jenette's friends. "As is my right as Prime Consul, I call the Body to account, now.

  The assembled humans were too shocked to know what to say or do. Tesla took the official stimpaper and a stylus, and handed them to the first person on his left, Subconsul Bragg.

  "You will vote yea or nay," said Tesla, "as is your will."

  Bragg scribbled enthusiastically and passed the paper to the Consul next to him.

  Rusty shook his head despondently. <>

  <> agreed Patton, looking at the arrangement of the seating. <>

  Bragg of the VF, Roddi and Yorn in Operations, Trurl in Maintenance, Withor in Logistics, Logars and Mats in Fabrication, Luca, Ulf and Hedda in Administration, and a dozen other Tesla supporters would put their signatures on the paper before the first dissenter in Science or Medicine even touched it.

  <>

  <>

  It would be hard for Jenette's friends to choose nay in such a public vote. They would side with Tesla.

  <> Patton grumbled. <>

  <> sighed Rusty.

  <>

  <>

  <>

  Tengen flashed nervously. <>

  <>

  <>

  <> Tengen asked.

  <> Patton answered. <>

  <>

  <>

  Suddenly Rusty flashed brightly and head-butted Patton and Tengen.

  <>

  Tengen clattered his teeth. <>

  But Rusty was making his way up the table to Bronte. They flashed secretly together, then Bronte moved up beside Dr. Bigelow. Bigelow, who was looking rather glum, leaned down and listened as she whispered in his ear.

  Bigelow's human expression lightened. He stood, abruptly, and waved his hands, theatrically.

  "Stop the vote! Cease and desist this breach of Enclave law!"

  Human hands froze over the stimpaper. Even Tesla blinked at the force of Bigelow's words.

  Colonel Halifax turned red. "Dr. Bigelow, you forget yourself.

  The Body cannot be prevented from calling itself to account. I myself am sworn to protect any fair and legal vote!"

  "But this vote is impossible!"

  "Impossible?" Tesla said, finding his voice. "It is my right!"

  Dozens of voices suddenly tried to out shout each other, but Dr. Bigelow eventually shouted the loudest. "It is the Prime Consul's right to call the Body to account—but it is also impossible! Consul Tesla is not present!"

  "I'm Consul Tesla!" the Prime Consul said indignantly. Bigelow stood his ground.

  "No, Consul Jenette Tesla is not present." He looked at Tesla but his words were aimed for the other humans. "Jenette Tesla was made full Consul. We all received notice of the Prime Consul's edict yesterday."

  "It is not necessary to have her present," Tesla said through clenched teeth.

  "Only—" Bigelow raised a dainty finger, "—if there is unanimous consent from the rest of the Body. And I, for one, would like to hear what Consul Jenette Tesla has to say on this matter."

  The domestics looked around the table. They had never seen so much human skin displaying so much beautiful red.

  <>

  <>

  <>

  Suddenly Burke Hedren spoke up. "I would too!"

  "Yes, and so would we!" proclaimed several scientists.

  Dr. Yll nodded nervously.

  "Where is Jenette anyway?" Panya, who was a special guest of the Body and held no vote, asked.

  "Nobody knows," Bigelow said, pointedly shrugging.

  "I thought I saw her leaving the perimeter in a crawler last night," said Alphonse Jeej, a geeky Subconsul in Administration.

  "Really?" asked Bragg, confused. "Alone?"

  "That's what I saw," said Jeej.

  <> wondered Rusty. <>

  Crash answered. <>

  <> Tengen pointed out.

  Tesla was looking pale and worried.

  Sensing victory, Bigelow pressed his attack. "What is Consul Jenette doing outside the perimeter in a crawler? Or doesn't the Prime Consul know?"

  All eyes, human and nonhuman alike, turned to the head of the table. The Prime Consul was supposed to know everything that occurred in the Enclave, anything less was a sign of weakness. But Tesla was not about to admit to weakness. He quickly recovered.

  "She is on an official Consular mission, at my request," he said, standing firm, blazing eyes daring anyone to question his explanation.

  <>

  <>

  <>

  Angry comments began to pass between the two opposing groups of humans. Tempers flared.

  Dr. Yll spoke up. "I propose we postpone the vote," he said in a placating manner, "until Jenette returns."

  "I second that motion," Bigelow said immediately.

  "She won't be back for a day or two," Tesla said nervously.

  "That is quite all right," said Yll, relieved. "We will wait."

  Pandemonium broke out among the humans. Tesla's hand went to his stomach.

  <> exclaimed Crash.

  <> said Patton.

  <> Rusty cautioned. <>

  Tesla leaned to his left.

  "Bragg," the domestics heard Tesla hiss in the bedlam. "Have my skimmer ready in fifteen minutes."

  IX

  It was a good batch to choose from, raised by her own hand since she now runs the domestic nursery. Every one of the kits was eager to be chosen by her. But what does she pick? A healthy specimen? No. The one with the clubbed foot! True he is large, but the choice of this crippled Arrou can amount to no good. My daughter's soft heart will be the end of her.

  —from the private journals of Olin Tesla

  Jenette's crawler bobbed in a skirt of ever-growing tube-and-bladder kelp that spread out from the shore of unexplored Feral Island 716, damping lively little waves which played on the open ocean. New Ascension's sun baked down on the crawler's rear deck, where Arrou had captured a buzzer unlucky enough to land beside him. The sun also shone on a rakishly tilted driver's cab and Jenette's legs, which stuck out from the generator compartment underneath.

  Arrou pawed his fist-sized captive, idly frustrating its attempts to escape. "New buzzer," he said, plopping a paw across its path. "Pretty colors."

  Jenette muttered under the cab. "Yeah, that's great. New buzzer, pretty colors. What about Ferals?"

  Arrou looked up at the nearby island, an overgrown profusion o
f rich greens with a few tall trees towering over the canopy. Strange calls hooted behind the dense foliage and distinctly pungent land breeze, almost fetid in comparison to the fresh air of the open ocean, wafted over the crawler, but there was no sign of life along the shoreline. "No Ferals." Arrou leaned back over the buzzer and whipped his long tongue across its glittering carapace. "Ugh! Stings!" It was coated in acidic glaze. The buzzer reared up, hissing, and lunged at Arrou's paw, but he was too quick. All it got between its impressive mandibles were deck splinters. "Good teeth," Arrou said appreciatively.

  A greasy but delicate hand shot out from under the cab. "Give me the big one," Jenette said.

  Using his lame paw to block the buzzer's escape, Arrou grabbed a grippy and handed it to Jenette. Her hand disappeared, but reappeared shaking vigorously. "No, no, the other big one!"

  Arrou sighed and rummaged through a small toolkit with both forepaws. He handed Jenette another grippy as the crafty buzzer made a break for it. Arrou tried to corral it with a hind leg, but it beetled over the edge of the deck and plopped out of sight.

  Again, Jenette's hand disappeared. There was more muttering, then, "Ouch!" and klink, plink, splash. Jenette squirmed back, hitting her head on the overhanging cab. Sitting beside Arrou, she rubbed both skinned knuckles and bruised head in frustration.

  "Told you so," said Arrou.

  Jenette scowled at him.

  "Told you. Not inertializer. Powerpak dead. Now inertializer broke and powerpak dead."

  Jenette scowled harder.

  "And buzzer gone," Arrou added. He pursed his teeth into a cone: a sign of consternation.

  Jenette wished for the grippy back so that she could throttle him with it, but all she said was, "Arrou, hush."

  The alien leaned over the edge of the vehicle and Jenette heard him slurping. She thought he was fishing for the buzzer, but when he pulled back up he took her hand and spat stinging brine on her skinned knuckles.

  "Ow." Jenette tried to pull away, but Arrou would not let go.

  "Make better." Arrou spat more silvery water to ensure that the wound was clean, then released her.

  "Thank you," she begrudged.

  Arrou slobbered the last traces of ill-tasting water over the side. "Jenette welcome."