Chapter 19

            Dr. Ruff did not appear during the six-hour trip from Muttlandia to Bulldogovia.  From what Zeke Raccoon said, the doctor was busy in his lab on the disabled Beagle.  What he was doing he wouldn't say, only that it was important to the war effort.  Will hoped whatever it was would be enough to turn things in the Bloc's favor.

            During the journey, Will stayed in the guest quarters allotted for he and Tom while his brother soon slipped away to Jessie's quarters.  What they were doing in there Will could only imagine, which he did in painstaking detail.  If only he could create some way out of this for himself.  At the very least he wished he could create a girlfriend for himself, someone who wouldn't cheat on him with another boy, let alone his brother.

            Trying to take his mind off this situation, Will played with the holographic display in the suite.  Scrolling through a list of programs, he discovered the dogs, raccoons, and cats of the Bloc of Planetary States had developed plays, movies, and shows similar to those on Earth.  There was even a sort of Romeo & Juliet with a bulldog as the Romeo character and a mutt as the Juliet he pursued against all odds.  As in the Shakespeare version, both lovers died tragically.  The writers in the Bloc had not developed some genres, though, most notably science fiction and westerns.  He supposed this was because they already lived in the future promised by most science fiction and there had never really been an Old West on any Bloc planets.

            After the romantic tragedy, Will watched a sort of Sam Spade mystery only with a raccoon as the hardboiled detective.  The story involved a valuable artifact stolen from a museum.  The artifact is owned by a beautiful feline, who hires the down-on-his-luck raccoon to solve the case.  By the time it ended with double- and triple-crosses and a gunfight, the victorious detective exposes the artifact's owner and then takes the item back to the museum.

            The movie had just ended when the door chime sounded.  Ricky was at the door, wearing a dark blue uniform trimmed with gold.  "You must be going somewhere special," Will said with a smile, noting the raccoon's look of discomfort in the formal attire.

            "The ship's manufacturing machines have programmed new clothes for you and the other Creators as well," Ricky said.  He pressed a bundle into Will's hands that turned out to be a gray suit.  Will hadn't worn a suit in five years, not since his grandmother's funeral.  The suit fit perfectly, leaving Will to wonder how the ship had gotten his measurements.  "Where is your brother?"

            "He's probably in her quarters."

            "Are they having a strategy session?"

            "You might call it that."

            "We'll be boarding the landing craft in approximately twenty minutes.  I'll come to find you when it's time."

            "Great.  Thanks."  Will sat in his quarters, fiddling with the holographic display until Ricky returned with Tom and Jessie.  The ship's machines had made a brown suit for Tom that fit as perfectly as Will's.  For Jessie the ship had designed a flowing purple dress that Will thought would look more appropriate at the prom.  The ship had also come up with some rudimentary cosmetics so that her cheeks were rouged and lips painted pink.  She had let down her hair, pinning it back from her face with a pair of barrettes.  Standing in the doorway, she and Tom looked ready for a date.  "Is it time to go?"

            "Yes," Ricky said.  He led them to the launch bay, where crews had shoved the Beagle off to the side and secured it with cables and netting.  A trio of delta-winged fighters were lined up behind the landing craft waiting to take the Creators to the surface.

            "You're bringing an armed escort?" Jessie asked.

            "It's just for show," Ricky said.  "And as a precaution should anyone know the chancellor and Creators are on board."

            Spot II and his son were already aboard the landing craft, having settled themselves in the rearmost row of seats.  Apparently the chancellor didn't have his own personal vehicle or he preferred not to use it in this case.  Given the security precautions, Will supposed it was a good idea not to draw too much attention to their appearance.

            "Did you have a pleasant evening?" Spot II asked.

            "Oh yes," Jessie said.  "The raccoon village was beautiful."

            "Indeed it is.  My wife and I honeymooned there.  That's how I met Ricky's family."  As the landing craft began its descent towards Bulldogovia, Spot II fixed the humans with a stern look.  "I trust you know the importance of this meeting.  I'm also aware Ricky has warned you not to create any undue tension.  President Bulldog is a good dog, but he can be prickly."

            "We'll try not to say anything."  Jessie looked over at Tom reprovingly.  "Won't we?"

            "My lips are sealed," Tom said.

            Spot III whispered something into his father's ear.  The elder Mutt laughed.  "Yes, I almost forgot to warn you about the cigars.  I hope none of you are allergic to smoke or have any respiratory problems."

            "Not me," Jessie said.  Will and Tom seconded this. 

            The descent through Bulldogovia's atmosphere was as violent and warm as that into Muttlandia.  This time Will was better prepared for what to expect, though at one point he nearly threw up all over his new suit.  He was gratified to see some of the color drain from Jessie's face.  Then he saw her reach over to take Tom's hand again, sending fresh pain through him.

            The landing craft became stable and the temperature leveled off.  The ship touched down gently on the tarmac of New London's spaceport with its three escort fighters remaining overhead until the chancellor and Creators were safely into a waiting hovercar.  The fighters then landed next to the landing craft until it was time to leave.

            New London resembled London, England in most ways, right down to Big Ben and the parliament house.  Most of the citizens going about their way were English bulldogs, though a few other breeds of dogs were in evidence as well as a smattering of cats and raccoons.  The hovercar crossed New London Bridge on its way to what in England was known as Buckingham Palace but on Bulldogovia was merely known as the Presidential Estate.

            The guards patrolling the front gate wore red uniforms but did not have the funny black hats as their human counterparts.  The guns they carried were most certainly not merely for show, nor was the heavy gun emplacement beside the guardhouse or the snipers on the roof.  "Looks like he isn't taking any chances," Tom said.  Jessie glared at him.  "Fine, I won't say another word."

            As much as Will wanted to disagree with his brother at the moment, he couldn't.  It was obvious Buster Bulldog wasn't taking any chances when it came to any saboteurs—Black Ship agents or otherwise—penetrating his estate.  Will couldn't suppress a shiver at the feeling they were entering a war zone.

#

            Will had never been inside Buckingham Palace, so he had no idea how the interior of the Presidential Estate compared.  As in Muttlandia, they were greeted by the president's chief of staff, who was also the president's son, a hunchbacked brown bulldog named Maximillion Bulldog.  "You can call me Max," he said.  He cordially shook Will's hand, as well as those of the other males in the party.  He made a similar gesture to nuzzle Jessie's hand as Spot III had.

            Once inside the estate, a steward bowed to them.  Max said to Jessie, "We've arranged an audience with the First Lady for you.  If you'll follow the steward—"

            "Wait a minute," Jessie said.  "I should be at the meeting too."

            Max looked helplessly to the others.  "I don't think that would be appropriate."

            "Why?  Because I'm a girl?  You—"

            Tom put a hand over her mouth.  "She'd be delighted to see the First Lady," he said.  "Remember what you told me."

            She nodded sadly and then turned to the steward.  "Fine.  Let's go meet the First Lady.  I'll catch up with the rest of you later.  Then you can tell me what happened."

            After Jessie had stomped away, Max's misshapen body seemed to relax.  "If you'll follow me, I'll take you to the president's study."  Along the way, Max narrated about various paintings of famous Bulldogs, most of whom looked the same except for the clothes.  There was no fresco of the Mutt rebellion of course, but there was a painting of a red-clad Bulldog leading a group of soldiers into battle against the ragged army of rebels.  Will saw both Spot Mutts tense at this, but they held their tongues.  Max seemed to sense the tension, quickly moving the tour along to a portrait of Buster Bulldog.

            "My father has been president of Bulldogovia for the last fifty-seven years.  In that time he was a principal figure in expanding the Bloc to include Cattatonia."

            They at last came to a pair of wooden doors, which Max opened with a wave of his hand.  The study looked just as Will would have expected with shelves of books and an oversized globe of Bulldogovia surrounded by chairs.  Will recognized Buster from the portrait, though clearly the bulldog had put on a little weight since the portrait was painted.

            The artist had also neglected the cigar Spot II had mentioned.  Buster stuffed the cigar into his mouth as he rose from his chair to greet his guests.  "Chancellor!  It's good to see you again.  Too bad it's in such dire times or we could go pheasant hunting again."  Instead of a handshake, Buster patted Spot II on the shoulder.  "That snout of yours is much better it than mine will ever be."

            "Yes, well, my grandfather was a bloodhound," Spot II said.

            "I'll bet.  And this must be your son.  What a sharp-looking lad he's turned out to be.  I remember when he and Max were just tiny pups nursing off their mothers' teats."  Spot III and Max looked down sheepishly in unison.  Buster shifted the cigar in his mouth as he studied the humans.  "And these are our illustrious Creators.  I thought you'd be taller."

            Will wasn't sure what to say, so he settled by chuckling dryly with Tom following suit.  Buster clapped Will on the back, evil-smelling smoke wafting into Will's nose.  "It's good to see you Creators have a sense of humor.  Of course I already knew that when I saw those Chihuahuas.  Couldn't decide if they were supposed to be rats or dogs."

            Spot II's muzzle twitched at this, but he said only, "Perhaps we should get to business."

            "Yes, I suppose so.  Care for any brandy?"  Before they could answer, Buster signaled for his son to bring the drinks.  Will, Tom, and Spot II situated themselves on armchairs by the globe while Spot III and Ricky hovered nearby. 

            Will had never drank alcohol before.  He swished the brandy around in the glass a moment before taking a gulp.  He began gasping for breath as the drink burned its way down his throat.  Buster laughed at this.  "I guess Creators can't hold their liquor."

            Spot II took a sip of his drink before setting it aside.  "I trust you've been briefed on the incident with the Beagle?" 

            "A damned good thing your ship was in the area.  I tried to convince Randy to take at least a squadron of Hellhounds with him for protection.  He never does listen to me."  Buster waved one hand.  "I'm only his cousin about twenty times removed or something like that."  Before anyone else could jump in, Buster continued, "Now I suppose the question is what we do with these young Creators of ours.  What has the doctor come up with?"

            "Nothing so far.  He's still buried in his lab."

            "Probably hooked himself into the machine so we can't pull him out."  Buster chomped down on the cigar.  "Then I think the only thing we can do is go out hunting for these Black Ships on our own.  My scientists have been studying the data from their initial attack.  They have a pretty good idea of the vector they came in from.  We can take a flotilla out there and see if we can find them."

            "They could have made multiple jumps to confuse our sensors," Spot II said.  "I think our best course is to wait for Dr. Ruff's findings and in the meantime deploy for a defensive engagement."

            "Defensive engagement?  We've been playing defense all along.  It's time we take the hammer to these buggers."

            "We don't know where they're located.  Sending a flotilla to look for them might end up being a waste of ships and lives."

            "You expect us to sit around here wagging our tails waiting for them to hit us again?  We should have prepared a counterstrike the moment they took out our first colony instead of dithering around with this Creator nonsense."  Buster looked over at Will and Tom.  "No offense, lads, but I don't see what good you're going to do unless you have a magic wand."

            Will had been asking himself the same thing.  He considered it again while Buster and Spot II continued to argue.  He nearly fell out of his chair when Tom broke into the argument to say, "I think Buster is right.  We're not going to do any good sitting around picking our butts.  Let's go out and find these jerks."

            "What?  How can we possibly find them?  They could be anywhere in this quadrant of the galaxy.  Or even another dimension," Will said.

            "At least we're doing something then."

            "Getting ourselves killed."  The argument became a four-sided affair now, resolved only when the doors burst open and a white cat strode into the room with Jessie.  From the paleness of Jessie's face, Will knew it wasn't good news.

#

            When as a little girl she had sat in her backyard drinking imaginary tea with Whiskers, she had never dreamed that someday she might actually have tea with the cat.  Whiskers, the First Lady of Bulldogovia as well as Queen of Cattatonia, looked just as she had in the backyard, down to the tiara and string of pearls.  Only now the white cat stood a few inches taller than Jessie and she was the one pouring the tea.

            "I've wanted to meet you for so long," Whiskers said.  "Ever since Dr. Ruff told me there was a female Creator, I knew you were the one who had created me."

            "I've wanted to meet you too," Jessie said out of courtesy.

            "Of course there were many—including my husband—who refused to believe it until my daughter brought you back.  Did Heather come with you?"

            "No, I'm afraid not.  She was busy with her duties on the ship."

            Whiskers hissed softly at this.  "She's always too busy with some secret operation or the other.  I've spent most of my life trying to groom her as my successor, but she isn't interested in any of it.  She'd rather go to the target range."

            "I'm sorry."

            "Perhaps you could have a talk with her.  I'm sure she would respect your opinion."

            Thinking of her encounters with Heather Catt so far, Jessie doubted this very much.  If anything, she imagined Heather would try to use her for target practice.  "I'll do what I can."

            "Good.  There's still plenty of time, of course.  My daughter is young and so am I.  Though with this war, there's no guarantee any of us will live much longer."  Whiskers shook her head sadly and then refilled Jessie's teacup.  Jessie had to admit the Bloc tea was better than anything she had ever drank—real or imaginary.

            "Dr. Ruff is working on something.  He thinks we can help end the war."

            "I certainly hope so.  Too many have already died in this pointless war.  And if nothing changes, many more are going to die."

            Jessie sipped her tea, not sure what she could say to ease Whiskers' concerns.  The cat had to not only worry about her fellow cats, but also her husband's bulldogs as well.  If that wasn't enough, there was the safety of her daughter and stepsons.  By comparison, Jessie had to only worry about herself, Will, and Tom. 

            "How exactly did you and Buster decide to get married?" Jessie asked.  She already knew the answer, but it seemed like a good way to take Whiskers' mind off the war.

            The cat leaned back in her chair, her mouth twitching into an approximation of a smile.  She described how she had been the daughter of a local chieftain.  She and her entourage were lying in the sun, Whiskers grooming herself when she spotted a bizarre creature looking at her through some bushes.  "I'd never seen a bulldog before.  At first I thought he was hideous, some kind of demon sent to kill me.  Then he came stumbling out of the bushes, muttering apologies and waving his hands.  He was so cute back then, not much more than a puppy and painfully shy.  My mother wanted to kill him, but I was already smitten.  I pleaded with Mother to spare him, throwing myself on him.  I was little more than a kitten then myself.  We were both so young and foolish."  Whiskers shook her head.  "Mother decided to exile him from the planet and I secreted myself aboard his ship.  Dr. Ruff married us on the way back.  Of course it wasn't until our honeymoon that he mentioned he already had two sons."

            "What about Heather?" Jessie asked.

            "She's our little miracle.  Not even Dr. Ruff knew what to expect when I became pregnant.  We worried she would end up some kind of hideous freak.  Fortunately, she got my good looks.  Unfortunately she got her father's temper."

            "A dog and a cat making a baby.  It's amazing."

            "It certainly is."

            Heather chose that moment to burst into the room.  "Mother, we have to leave.  Now!"

            "Daughter, please, I'm talking with our Creator—"

            "Forget the meatbag.  The ship is already warming up to take us up."

            "Heather, please, what is going on?"

            "It's the Black Ships," she said.  "They're attacking Cattatonia!"