To Bell the Cat

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Another squeal of animal pain reached them from the bubble tent twenty meters away. Juah-u Corouda jerked involuntarily as he tossed the carved gaming pieces from the cup, spoiling his throw. “Hell, a triad…. Damn that noise; it’s like fingernails on metal.”

“Orr doesn’t know the meaning of ‘surrender.’” Albe Hyacin-Soong caught up the cup. “It must be driving him crazy that he can’t figure out how those scaly little rats survive all that radioactivity. How they ever evolved in the first place - “

“He doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘mercy.’ ” Xena Soong - Hyacin frowned at her husband, her hands clasping her elbows. “Why doesn’t he anesthetize them?”

“Come on, Xena,” Corouda said. “They’re just animals. They don’t feel pain like we do.”

“And what are any of us, Juah-u, but animals trying to play God?”

“I just want to play squamish,” Albe muttered.

Corouda smiled faintly, looking away from Xena toward the edge of the camp. A few complaints, hers among them, had forced Orr to move his lab tent away from the rest. Corouda was just as glad. The noises annoyed him, but he didn’t take them personally. Research was necessary; Xena - any scientist - should be able to accept that. But the bleeding hearts are always with us. No matter how comfortable a society became, no matter how fair, no matter how nearly perfect, there was always someone who wanted flas to pick at. Some people were never satisfied; he was glad he wasn’t one of them. And glad he wasn’t married to one of them. But then, Albe always liked a good argument.

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