Ivan Cat - The Burning Heart of Night

"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 flashed 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.