When Mort(e) spotted Culdesac, the bobcat tipped his head, a signal that Mort(e) should enjoy this while he could. There would be work to do later. Culdesac had played the entire episode to his advantage. As far as anyone else knew, he had sent Mort(e) and Tiberius on a suicide mission, and their loyalty was so absolute that they agreed immediately. Some human traits, such as duplicity, came in handy every once in a while.
MORT(E) DID NOT talk about Sheba again for a long time.
He managed to survive a few more years of war. And thanks to the increasing need for EMSAH experts in the field, he and Tiberius became minor celebrities, important assets in the Queen’s experiment. The Red Sphinx could not stop at a base or settlement without some officer from the regular army asking questions about the quarantine. Under Culdesac’s orders, they downplayed the disturbing late-stage behavior of the victims, focusing instead on detection and diagnosis of the physical traits. Tiberius was invited to vivisect other animals, and he often asked Mort(e) to join him. Whether he wanted to or not, Mort(e) was auditing a medical education.
Tiberius died still believing he would find a cure. It happened during a raid on an underground bunker, which the Red Sphinx tried to infiltrate by crawling through a ventilation shaft. The humans detected them and began firing. Tiberius couldn’t run away. Mort(e) screamed his name over the noise but heard no answer.
After the humans were overrun and the bunker secured, Culdesac personally executed the survivors. The Red Sphinx buried Tiberius near a river and placed rocks on the ground in the shape of a medical cross. Afterward, Mort(e) began to accept that they were no closer to finding a cure, despite the constant news of victories on the frontier.
One day, the Red Sphinx passed through another settlement. Mort(e) was the only one who refrained from remarking bitterly about how good these civilians had it. He wanted what they had. He wanted to find a house and wait for Sheba to return, or else continue his search for her. He would explore life rather than death. There was nothing more for him to learn about the latter. There had to be some justice in the universe that would bring her back after the enormous price he had paid. But this was human thinking. The universe owed him nothing.
With the new settlements cropping up, there was talk of the war shifting into a “transition period,” when life would finally proceed as planned. The ants, speaking through their chosen animal ambassadors, assured everyone that their needs would be met while things were returned to normal. Accustomed to taking orders and living only for sustenance, the animals fell in line.
With this loyalty as a foundation, the Colony set up a quorum of elders for every species, each of which sent a representative to the Council. The first order of business was to establish a Bureau to oversee the dirty work of rebuilding: construction contracts, relocation assistance, adoption services for orphans, local policing, education, medicine. Weary from years of conflict, the animals embraced these mundane tasks. Veterans were returning home, and construction workers were arriving by the busload. Things moved again. Streets opened up. There was even talk about reestablishing cell phone connections once the network of towers was rebuilt.
Ignoring all these developments, Culdesac asked the Red Sphinx to stay together. The enemy was still watching them, he warned, and no one should relax simply because some politicians declared the war to be technically over. “The new order must be defended,” he said, sounding like some human propaganda broadcast. “Somebody has to protect these trash-pickers and schoolteachers.”
When a new settlement known as Wellbeing opened in the part of the country where he had grown up, Mort(e) quietly left the Red Sphinx. It was his right. He was the first one to do so while still living. Mort(e) had saved the lives of the others so many times that they dared not criticize him. But Culdesac could not hide his disappointment. He said he would never forgive Mort(e).
Mort(e)’s decision to quit came with another price. He relinquished many of the benefits of being a war hero and would have to go to the resettlement camps and wait with all the civilians. Still, he had options. Culdesac, on the other hand, had no home to which he could return. His entire life was combat. The Change had made him smarter, but the struggle would never end.
Living in the camps took some adjusting for Mort(e). The food was bland and repetitive, and he had to sleep in a massive auditorium with rows of pallets on the floor. He grew accustomed to the routine. After so many exhausting missions, his strength was returning, his mind clearing at last. And because he was a veteran, the administrators gave him prime real estate by one of the windows. They even let him browse the logbooks, though he could not find records for anyone named Sheba.
Mort(e) was snoozing in the dusty light, his thoughts dissipating among the echoing voices in the room, when the captain paid him a visit. Culdesac nudged him with his foot. Mort(e) rose to give a salute.
Culdesac put up his great paw to stop him. “Don’t bother.”
In his typical blunt fashion, the captain went through the list of those who had died on the latest mission, a raid on a fortified villa in the mountains. He kept his hands at his sides, his ears twitching at the sound of crying children. This camp, filled with weak, ungrateful civilians, insulted everything he stood for, everything he was. He needed the war. Peace, for him, was the equivalent of death.
“You’re going to get lazy and fat again with all these other pets, aren’t you?” Culdesac asked. “You’re going to take this new order for granted.”
“There is no new order,” Mort(e) said.
Their ongoing argument had grown more heated in recent years without Tiberius to act as mediator. The newer members of the Red Sphinx, unfamiliar with the long relationship between the two, would sometimes fear for Mort(e)’s life when he disagreed with the captain. For his part, Culdesac seemed to enjoy their debates. It was exercise for him, the same way a battle was something to prepare for and learn from.
“Has it ever crossed your choker mind,” he asked now, “that the Colony has bigger plans for you?”
“I’ve served the Colony,” Mort(e) replied. “The war is over. They can’t possibly have any other plans for me.”
“You were supposed to represent the best of the Change.”
Mort(e) burst into mocking laughter. “If that’s true, then we’re all choked,” he said. “What are you getting at? What is Her Highness telling you these days?”
Culdesac waved him off. “Never mind,” he said. “It just wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
“We’re going to become like the humans,” Mort(e) said, as he always did. “I don’t care about this ‘aim true’ crap. Your Queen is wrong about us.”
Culdesac said that if Mort(e)’s predictions ever came to pass, then Mort(e) could punch him in the face. “And I won’t even kill you for it.”
“Okay,” Mort(e) said, “Then the next time we meet, you know what I’m going to do.” He balled his mangled hand into a knobby fist.
“Then maybe this should be the last time we meet.”
Somewhere in the large auditorium, two pups fought over a stuffed animal until an adult told them to stop.
“You’re going to try to find her again, aren’t you?” Culdesac said. “After all you’ve learned. After all I’ve taught you. You still think you’re going to see her again.”
Mort(e) considered this for a moment, letting out a deep sigh.
“Yes,” he said. “Yes.”
Part II: Rebirth
Chapter Five: Humiliation
