Ivan Cat - The Burning Heart of Night

And now cast off like garbage.

At the whim of those same blank-ones. They had no heart, no shame. The no-pact would die. He did not know the way. Did not know the light. Could not shine the Clash of Radiance. No, his survival was impossible. He could not even feed himself when the island went dormant. This no-pact Arrou knew nothing of these things. The blank-one's gift of abandonment was not freedom. Without belonging and knowing, it was a sentence of unfulfilled death as surely as was enslavement at their hands.

What arrogant cruelty.

Must go, must follow, Arrou moaned.

Truly, it would be easy to despise this stunted one? as it was easy for Tlalok to despise himself.

Arrou, does Arrou seek freedom?

No.

Good. Tlalok said after a pause. He had asked the wrong question for the right reason. That is not the way. Come make Pact. Bond with and serve Balance.

Arrou Pact with Jenette.

Tlalok's pack murmured dissent at the blasphemy.

There is no Pact with blank-ones, Tlalok warned.

Must go, Arrou flashed adamantly. Must find Jenette. Karr take. Must follow.

Jenette. That was a female blank-one name, Tlalok remembered. That would be the name of the one who had tried to speak with his pack. And Karr, that had to be the name of the male blank-one, the one who had taken the life of his beloved Lleeala. Tlalok rose from his bowed position to full height, which was much larger than Arrou, and rumbled, Blank-ones dance against death, not with it!

Not all humans bad, Arrou protested.

Tlalok balked at the hated word. All blank-ones steal life from Pact to live.

Arrou nodded sadly, blank-one fashion. Arrou knows.

Jenette steals life from Arrou to live.

Arrou nodded again.

Tlalok hoped that he was making progress. He pursed alternating teeth in the age old gesture of unity

? or conspiracy. No-pact and blank-ones: same heart, he accused.

No, Arrou argued. Domestics want life. Domestics want peace with Ferals. But domestics want humans live, too.

"Urrrr!" More hated words. Domestics! Ferals! More blank-one lies. Doesn't Arrou want to live?

Arrou looked down. Not matter.

But Tlalok would not let Arrou off that easily. Does matter! Doesn't Arrou want the light? he persisted. Doesn't Arrou want the Radiance?

Arrou closed his eyes, shivering. Ghostly remembrances of the Clash of Radiance peeked from his glowbuds. Yes...

Then choose! Make Pact, or be blank-one slave. Choose.

No choice, Arrou said, shaking his muzzle.

The pack shifted, ill at ease.

Leaning closer, Tlalok whispered, in the vile human tongue. "Arrou, Tlalok can help you. Tlalok knows you. Tlalok was once no-pact, a ... domestic." The despicable word seared his tongue, but he had to get through to Arrou. "Tlalok was just like you."

"Then Tlalok knows," Arrou said, meeting his gaze. "Choice made. Long ago."

Tlalok chuffed in frustration. This was the true horror of the blank-ones. With freedom in his teeth, Arrou chose to run back to his fetters. Arrou was powerless to do otherwise because he was force bonded to the blank-one female. The female would have to die? as Tlalok's blank-one had accidentally died? or Arrou would always spurn Tlalok's offer. And even if the blank-one female did die, then it would still not be over. With shame, Tlalok remembered his sorrow at the death of his blank-one. Tlalok remembered the suicidal mourning, the desire to wink out his Radiance, one glowbud at a time, until none remained and the shadow world took him. Only Lleeala had saved Tlalok from such a passing.

It was of no use. Tlalok was wasting his heartbeats. Tlalok had known it all along, but he had hoped....

Tlalok turned away, dismissive.

The rest of his pack followed his lead and headed for the jungle.

Wait! called Arrou.

Tlalok stopped. What, no-pact?

Arrou thanks Tlalok.

Tlalok became grim. No-pact cannot give thanks. No Pact, no value. No value, no thanks. No gift.

Only taking. Tlalok sighed at the waste. And the blank-ones keep taking from Arrou.

Tlalok looked up at the sky. Soon the Burning Heart would be upon them. There would be many more Clashes of Radiance and many more Tears, and all because of the blank-ones.

Blank-ones must die, Arrou, Tlalok warned. Do not follow them.

And with that, his pack pulled paddleboards and larger boats from the undergrowth and, using the thrashings of a bush-peeper entwined in a vine ball to distract sharkworms, they paddled off to the southwest, away from the island that they had tried to tend and defend for so many years, toward the distant glow on the horizon.

XV

Pilot Academy transcript from visual recording, planet Solara, 6.17.3533.

Document status: CLASSIFIED.

File: Consecration.

(Lindal Karr, aged nineteen subjective years, marches up the aisle of the High Solaran Assembly Hall, Station 1, in geosynchronous orbit. Academy staff fill the low gravity seats on his right, Solaran planetary officials those on his left. Realistic effigies of his father and mother from the Planet of Industry sit in the front row. He spares them no glance; his duty precludes self-pity.

Live-broadcast pickups follow his steps up to a broad stage. Lightning-troops in black and silver flank a robed figure in crimson and gold. Karr stops before the figure, his back to the assembly. A hush falls over the hall.)

High Praetor: Citizen Solarans, this day we gather to confirm a new Pilot on the path of High Duty and Destiny, and to affirm our personal dedication to the Spread of Humanity, as manifest in the candidate before us. (Places his hand on Karr's shoulder.) The candidate is ready?

Karr: Yes.

High Praetor: Then repeat after me. I, Lindal Karr....

Karr: I, Lindal Karr....

High Praetor: Being of sound will and focused mind....

Karr: Being of sound will and focused mind... do solemnly swear... to execute my Duty... to safeguard my fugueship ... without question or reservation ... to the fullest of my abilities... and obeying no other authority other than Duty ... forsaking all other concerns, personal, professional, or moral. ...

High Praetor: As long as you both shall live.

Karr: As long as we both shall live.

(A golden lanyard hangs over Karr's shoulder. A tiny, dingy sphere ? a miniature representation of the Planet of Industry ? dangles from the end. The High Praetor severs the cord with a ceremonial dagger and seals the miniature world in a tiny box. He gives it to Karr, a symbol of what is lost and what is gained.)

High Praetor: So it is spoken, so it shall be done.

(At a motion from the Praetor, Major Vidun and Dr. Uttz flank Karr. They pin shooting-star badges to his epaulets.) Pilot Lindal Karr, having graduated the Pilot Academy at Solara with high honors, I present to you the fugueship ? Long Reach! (A panel slides back revealing the void outside. Long Reach hangs above Solara's tan and gray continents. Karr steps up to the window.

From this moment on he belongs only to the ship. He has left the sphere of human concern behind.

The fugueship is his ticket out and he cannot wait to leave.)

The lifter flew through a blanket of still, hot fog. The only clue to the orbiter's motion was the scrolling of things across the ocean below? things Karr did not want to look at.

"Does this planet have sea serpents?" he asked.

"No," Jenette said from her perch back on the crawler, where she had been brooding all morning.