Fire Season

Chapter Five

“Over to the right,” said Ranger Jedrusinski, “you’ll see the nest of a mated pair of condor owls.”

Anders craned around-he was on the left side of the air van, in the backmost set of seats. His dad, sitting on the right, next to Ranger Jedrusinski, who was piloting, had the best view, but he didn’t pay much attention. Anders wasn’t surprised. Dad’s specialization was material remains. This specialization was sometimes called ethno-archeology, because efforts were made to draw connections between past cultures and present.

Dr. Nez who, despite his rank, had taken the other rearmost seat, specialized in living cultures, not things. To him, the other native life-forms on Sphinx were at least as important as the treecats themselves.

Now Dr. Nez grinned at Anders and pointed. “Look! Up there, near the top of that huge crown oak. Wow! That’s a messy nest. I wonder if the condor owls build heavy for insulation in the winters?”

Dr. Nez leaned back so Anders could see past him. Gratefully, Anders shifted so he could get a good look. He’d never seen a Terran oak tree, except in pictures. He wondered if the person who’d named this tree had either. He supposed that the general shape was about right, but he didn’t think that oak trees had those large arrowhead-shaped leaves. He didn’t think any Terran oak had ever reached 80 meters in height, either.

Anders wondered why the plants were so large here, especially given that the gravity was higher than Terran normal. He’d have thought all the plants would be short and squat. He’d seen how humans born on Sphinx, even with access to counter-grav units and various therapies, tended to develop stockier builds. When Karl had taken Anders back to base, they’d gotten to talking about Urako in comparison to Sphinx. Karl had mentioned in passing that he had to take all sorts of supplements to assure strong bone growth.

The condor owls had built their nest in the upper third of the tree, taking advantage of the combination of an area where the trunk was heavy enough to be stable, but the branches were lighter, allowing for good launching points.

Ranger Jedrusinski brought the van around so all the passengers could get a good look at the nest.

Maybe she’s figured out Dad isn’t really interested, Anders thought. He moved so Dr. Nez could get a view from this angle.

Meanwhile, Ranger Jedrusinski was saying, “Despite the name given by early colonists on Sphinx, the condor owl is actually mammalian. It is covered with fine down, rather than feathers. Like most animals native to the planet, its structure is hexapedal. The front set of legs have become the wings, but it retains four strong legs, each of which has a very powerful set of talons.”

“Am I correct,” asked Dr. Emberly, the team xenobiologist, “in recalling that condor owls have been known to prey on treecats?”

“We’ve never witnessed such an event,” Ranger Jedrusinski replied, “but the secondary evidence is pretty strong. We’ve found treecat bones in condor owl waste. This, of course, could be a result of scavenging on carrion. However, treecats shown what appeared to be a condor owl shadow take cover immediately. Certainly, the condor owls themselves should be capable of preying upon a treecat. They have extraordinarily keen vision and enough intelligence to realize that the picketwood serves as a highway for all sorts of creatures-treecats among them.”

“But,” protested Virgil Iwamoto, the lithics-or stone tool-specialist of the team, “treecats make stone tools. Doesn’t that argue for an ability to defend themselves?”

“Treecat tool use,” Ranger Jedrusinski replied, “seems to involve close-range tools used primarily for manipulating their environment. We haven’t seen any evidence of bows and arrows, or even spear throwers. Unlike humans, treecats are excellently equipped by nature to hunt the creatures that are their usual prey. They show no ambition to take on creatures markedly larger than themselves, except in self-defense or defense of another of their kind.”

Or Stephanie, Anders thought. He wondered what it would be like to find yourself being defended from a monster by a horde of treecats.

That morning, one of the other Forestry Service rangers had taken them to see a sort of “zoo” inhabited by native animals that, for one reason or another, needed care. Among these were captive hexapumas that were being prepared for release back into the wild. He didn’t think “monster” was too strong a word for a creature over five meters long-without the tail, which added another 250 or so centimeters-that weighed as much as a horse.

Ranger Jedrusinski was wheeling them away from the crown oak that held the condor owl’s nest. “At a meeting today, it was announced that a recently deserted treecat settlement had been located by SFS rangers inspecting the area after the Franchitti fire. We have just enough time to go by and look at it from the air.”

This interested Dr. Whittaker.

“Is the settlement in a Forestry Service district or on private lands?” he asked.

Anders could swear his dad was already calculating contacting the land owners. If so, Ranger Jedrusinski’s response must have dashed his hopes for finagling a way closer to the treecats.

“Oh, it’s safely in a Forestry Service district,” she said, obviously thinking Dr. Whittaker had wanted to be reassured that the treecats were safe. “The fire was on nearby privately held lands and, unfortunately, fire is no respecter of human boundaries.”

“Ranger Jedrusinski,” Anders asked. “I’ve been wondering. Just what is a Forestry Service district? Are they public lands? And are the treecats only protected if they’re in a district?”

The ranger looked distinctly uncomfortable, but she didn’t dodge his question.

“Forestry Service districts are lands that are actually owned by the Crown. We simply administer them. Currently, our policy is to preserve them as relatively pristine territories. This hasn’t always made us popular with some local residents who feel that Crown lands should be exploited-they prefer words like ‘utilized’-for human profit. As for the treecats…I don’t think the Crown would like to hear of anyone mistreating any wildlife, but it’s certainly a lot harder for us to enforce such policies on private lands.”

Dr. Whittaker’s interest in questions of land ownership had vanished as soon as he learned he still had to deal with the SFS.

“Ranger Jedrusinski, will we have an opportunity to get out and take a closer look at the treecat colony site?”

“We’ll just look today,” Ranger Jedrusinski replied. “Maybe later. We’ll want to observe and see if the treecats have actually abandoned it. Sometimes they leave for short periods of time. It’s possible that the fire in that area led the inhabitants to temporarily relocate.”

“I’m puzzled,” said Kesia Guyen, the linguistics expert. “Why don’t you know more about the treecats? Stephanie Harrington first encountered them in late 1518. I would think that in three years you would at least have major settlements marked.”

Something in Ranger Jedrusinski’s tone told Karl she’d answered this question a lot. “First of all, although Stephanie now admits to having first seen the treecat now called ‘Lionheart’ in late 1518, she didn’t share the information immediately. It wasn’t until March of 1519 that the rest of us were let in on the secret-and I wonder if we would have been then, except that Lionheart was so badly injured that he couldn’t escape and his clan chose to stay and support him.

“That brings me to a point you can’t overlook. Humans have been on Sphinx since 1422. We didn’t see our first treecats until nearly a hundred years later. That means they chose to hide from us.”

“But now you know they’re there.” Guyen’s protest was phrased politely enough that Anders felt pretty certain she was showing off for Dad-after all, he was the boss. “Couldn’t you do satellite surveys, use infrared to detect clusters that might indicate population density?”

Such options had been debated quite seriously when the research design for this mission was being put together. When he’d listened, Anders had thought the suggestions quite reasonable, so much so that he was surprised to hear Ranger Jedrusinski laugh in genuine amusement.

“It’s wonderful to talk to someone who’s as interested in treecats as some of us at SFS are. I wish the rest of Sphinx shared your priorities. The reality is that while most residents of Sphinx are delighted that such an interesting new species has been identified-sales of treecat toys do well with both locals and tourists-the fact is, treecats aren’t considered very important.”

“Not important?” Dr. Whittaker nearly bellowed the words. “A sentient species and not important?”

“You forget, sir, one of the reasons you and your team are here is to help decide if treecats are indeed sentient and, if so, to what extent. No one disagrees that they’re tool users, but their lack of an apparent language remains a huge barrier to the acceptance of them as sentient.”

“But the elaborate platforms they build…” Dr. Whittaker protested.

“I can name you a dozen species of birds on Terra alone,” Ranger Jedrusinski replied, “that build nests as or more elaborate. Consider termite mounds or beehives or beaver dams-and those are only Terran examples.”

Predictably, Iwamoto spoke in favor of his specialization. “What about the stone tools? Surely those show intelligence.”

“Various Terran primates have been shown to make simple stone tools. Sea otters will carefully select and even reshape rocks they use for opening clams. Ursoid species on your own Urako, which no one claims are ‘people,’ make simple stone axes. Actually, we’re placing a lot of hope on you in particular, Mr. Iwamoto. The stone tools-and the nets-are some of the best evidence of treecat intelligence we have-the sort that convince all but the most hard-headed.”

“But what,” persisted Guyen, perhaps miffed that tools were being favored over language, “about using satellite look-down to map colonies?”

Ranger Jedrusinski sighed. “Sphinx is rich in wildlife-some of it quite large. Moreover, treecats are not the only native creatures to live in groups. Finally, quite simply, SFS doesn’t merit much satellite time. Our primary mission is viewed as managing wild areas for the benefit of the colonists, not taking away resources that are needed for other things. Remember, this is a colony world. We simply don’t have the infrastructure for what many consider luxuries.”

“I read,” Anders cut in, thinking someone should support the ranger, “how smaller thermal scanners can’t penetrate the thick leafy canopy, so even if you could get the satellite time, it might not be of much use.”

“There’s that,” Ranger Jedrusinski agreed cheerfully.

This question of technological options and priorities occupied the next leg of the journey. Anders half-listened-he’d heard a lot of similar discussions before, even between his mother and father about how government money “should” be spent. Instead, he studied the landscape, remembering the things Stephanie and Karl had taught him while they were hiking, about different trees and the zones in which they grew. He felt he was getting better at identifying different types.

Surely that was a grove of picketwood coming up. Those straight trunks were distinctive, even from a distance, even-maybe especially-from the air, where their odd connected patterns really stood out. With summer coming to an end-it could even be argued that the season was verging on autumn-a few rich, red leaves stood out among the green.

Anders had read that picketwood shed its leaves in autumn. He wondered if the treecats could stay as easily hidden in winter. Maybe that would be the time to try and map colonies or use thermal imaging technology. He was about to suggest it, but then he remembered the length of the seasons on Sphinx. Winter wouldn’t be here for fifteen months. By then, this expedition could be long gone.

He felt a little sad, then brightened. Maybe there would be a winter expedition. He’d be seventeen by then. If he studied hard, contributed something significant to this first expedition, maybe he could come back. Maybe, like Stephanie, he could serve as a sort of provisional ranger-or provisional grad assistant or something. Dad would never see him that way, but he bet Dr. Nez would.

When Ranger Jedrusinski brought them into the location of the abandoned treecat settlement, the buzz of excited conversation was general.

“This stand of picketwood borders on a more open area.”

“Look! That platform is nearly new. Even from here, I can tell they’ve used a substantial amount of lace willow. That differs from the samples Dr. Hobbard showed us.”

“That basket has quite a large hole in the bottom. I wonder if that’s why they left it. Maybe it was ceremonially ‘killed.’”

Anders could tell Dad was itching to get out and look around. When Ranger Jedrusinski was distracted answering Dr. Emberly’s question about the probable source for a hank of fur pinned to a picketwood trunk, Anders saw Dad glance at the air van’s directional readout, then make a few notes on his uni-link. Something about the way he then quickly leaned to take some pictures made Anders think Dad hoped no one had noticed.

After far too short a stay, Ranger Jedrusinski turned the air van in the direction of base. “Sorry, but I’ve got fire watch tomorrow morning at an hour when all of you will be snug in bed. I’ll check with Chief Ranger Shelton about when we might come back. After all, you folks are going to be here some months yet. There’s plenty of time.”

If Ranger Jedrusinski had known Dr. Whittaker as well as Anders did, she might have worried about how placidly he took this departure. Certainly, Dr. Nez gave his long-time boss a curious look, but he didn’t say anything.

When they got back to the ranger housing where they were staying, they found a message waiting.

“Hi. This is Marjorie Harrington. We’re having a fifteenth-birthday celebration for Stephanie. We thought that if you’re not in the field, Anders might like to come. Stephanie and Karl-who he’s already met-will be here, but it will give him a chance to meet some of the other local kids his age, in case he ever gets tired of people who think of nothing but treecats. Anders certainly doesn’t need to bring a present or anything, but I think Stephanie would be glad to have him here.”

She ended with giving a date and time, and offering her private contact number.

Dr. Whittaker looked nearly as pleased as he had when he’d learned he’d won the competition to head the project to Sphinx.

“Good, boy,” he said, pounding Anders between the shoulder blades. “If Dr. Harrington doesn’t think her daughter is at least a little sweet on you, I’m no anthropologist. I’ll certainly make sure we’re available to get you to that party. Maybe I’ll drop you off myself, just to show friendly…of course, I’ll turn down any offer to stay. Don’t want to cramp your style.”

Whistling, Dr. Whittaker went off towards the shower. Anders, slowly stripping off his own field clothes, wondered why his own reaction to accepting the invitation was so mixed. After all, his father wasn’t asking him to do anything worse than his mother did on a daily basis, right?

Gritting her teeth, Stephanie let herself out of the air car, then tugged her black-and-orange hang glider out of the cargo compartment. Lionheart leapt lightly out after the glider. He, at least, was clearly looking forward to today’s practice.

Stephanie wished that she was.

“Thanks for the ride, Dad,” she said.

“Unless something goes wrong,” Richard Harrington replied, “I’ll be back to get you no later than an hour after practice ends. I’ll com if I’ll be late.”

Stephanie nodded. “I brought my uni-link. If you’re late, I’ll go over to the cafe and do some homework.”

She saw Dad swallow a comment. She knew he and Mom wished that she’d use time in town to visit with people her own age.

Well, she thought glumly as she waved good-bye to her father, shouldered the hang glider, and trotted off toward the practice field. Today they’ll get their wish. Damn birthday party…

The late summer/early autumn weather was just about perfect for hang gliding, the winds light, with just enough variation to provide some challenge. Unlike those who had originally practiced this sport, Stephanie and her teammates had counter-grav units to make launching easier. So, instead of having to drop off a cliff or hope for a promising breeze, they could begin in an open field that air traffic control had isolated from any other vehicles.

But today, Stephanie thought, aware the image was just a bit melodramatic, I feel as if I’m walking off a cliff just the same.

“Bleek!” Lionheart commented, a note of reproof in his voice. At least, Stephanie thought she heard reproof. Lionheart might not be able to “talk,” but he had a wide variety of verbalizations. These might not be “words” as such, but she’d learned to hear the differences between a “bleek” of excitement, of alarm, and, as this time, of disapproval.

She knew Lionheart knew she was nervous. All the way into town, the treecat had sat so he could wrap his tail around her neck-a gesture she knew was one of comfort. However, she’d felt no hint of him attempting to intrude into her emotions, to provide soothing and calming as he had from time to time.

I wonder if that means he thinks I’m up to dealing with this? The thought made her surprisingly cheerful.

They were close enough now for Stephanie to see that most of the club members had already arrived. When her dad and Mayor Sapristos had started the club, there had only been a few people interested, but it had grown quite a bit and even spawned an adult chapter. Initially, Stephanie had been one of the younger flyers, but now there were a fair number younger even than she’d been when she started. She liked that. She’d found that kids even a little younger than her didn’t seem, well, as resentful of her as did kids her own age.

Topping the list of those kids Stephanie didn’t get along with was Trudy Franchitti. Stephanie had already promised herself that she was going to avoid Trudy today. They hadn’t met up since what the SFS informally called “the Franchitti fire” and Stephanie didn’t trust herself to keep her temper if the subject came up.

Now that the club was larger, avoiding Trudy wouldn’t be as tough. Moreover, after a few attempts to put them on the same team-in addition to solo flying practice, club meetings also featured team events like relay races-Mayor Sapristos had resigned himself to separating them.

Stephanie hadn’t precisely been eavesdropping-was she to blame that so many grown-ups forgot that a kid apparently engrossed in reading might be listening as well? — when Mayor Sapristos had spoken with her dad.

“I know I agreed with you that even if Trudy and Stephanie were among our strongest flyers they might benefit from being on the same team. Problem is, what we’ve ended up with are four teams: the Red Team, the Blue Team, Team Stephanie, and Team Trudy. They won’t pass to each other if they can help it. Trudy fouls Stephanie if she thinks she can get away with it. Stephanie doesn’t quite go as far as fouling Trudy, but I’ve caught her stealing wind in a way that’s more appropriate when done against a rival team.”

Dad had sighed. “Better to put them on opposite teams then, where they won’t ruin the fun for the rest of the kids. Pity, though. I’d hoped Stephanie was above that sort of thing.”

Hearing that, Stephanie had flushed. She hoped no one had realized she heard. She hated disappointing her folks, but some of the other kids-especially Trudy and her gang-were such blackholes. Did Mayor Sapristos know that Stan Chang, Trudy’s boyfriend, often came to practice high? Did he know that the reason Toby Mednick had screwed up so bad that time was because Stan and his good buddy Frank “Outta Focus” Camara had pressured him into trying a hit of something?

She’d considered telling the mayor, so Stan could be kept away from Toby, but because she liked Toby, she hadn’t done so. There would have been a blood test and Toby would have gotten seriously in trouble. His parents were super strict. The whole thing had been confusing, because Stephanie knew her parents would have said she should have told, that Toby could have been hurt.

She’d settled for keeping an eye on Toby. So far, his near accident seemed to have scared him from trying anything else dumb. As for Stan and Focus…Well, Stephanie just couldn’t make herself care. They were belly lice and bullies. If they wanted to take theselves out of the gene pool by flying stoned, let them.

Toby was on Stephanie’s guest list for the birthday party. He was only a few months younger than her, so she figured he fit that mysterious “peer” qualification. It seemed weird to Stephanie that age should matter so much. Trudy was almost a year older than her, but several sections behind in all their classes.

Don’t be dense, Steph, she said to herself as she assembled her glider. You know the reason Mom and Dad want you to invite kids your own age is precisely because you find that hardest. Think of this as a test, just like in math or literature.

That thought buoyed her up. All she had to do was think about social skills as if they were another subject-like social studies. Hadn’t people once studied such things very seriously? Things like etiquette or the complex hierarchical systems of the ancient Japanese-traces of which still existed in their forms of personal address.

Stephanie grinned, wishing Karl was around so she could share her insight. He’d laugh, patting her on the head like he did his little sisters, Nadia and Anastasia. She wondered what Anders would think of her insight. As the son of an anthropologist, he probably had already thought of such things. Still, maybe she could ask him sometime.

The thought of Anders was the final thing Stephanie needed to give her spirit wings. She strapped herself and Lionheart (who had his own harness) into the hang glider and made her way over to where the rest of the club was assembling. She even managed to make “small talk” with a couple of the other kids.

Solo practice, especially acrobatics and targeting, went really well. A new girl in the club, Jessica Pheriss, was really good at some of the more complicated moves. Stephanie might have considered asking Jessica for some tips, but Jessica had firmly attached herself to the Trudy Franchitti faction and that made her off-limits.

Anyhow, anyone too dumb to see through Trudy was probably too dumb to teach anything. Jessica probably performed her maneuvers by instinct, like a Meyerdahl tree-bat flying in fog.

After solo acrobatics, Mayor Sapristos had arranged for a relay race. Stephanie set Lionheart down for this. It was one thing to have her solo performance affected by the treecat’s extra bulk, but she didn’t think it was fair to the rest of the team. Lionheart didn’t mind, especially when she gave him a stalk of celery. He scampered up a nearby spike thorn, deftly avoiding the ten-centimeter-long thorns in his quest for a perch from which he could both enjoy his snack and watch the race.

There was a close moment when Focus Camara closed in on Christine Schroeder, nearly snagging his wing with hers as he tried to intercept the flag Chet Pontier had tossed to Christine. Christine went into a sharp dive, saving her wing and grabbing the flag in a move that set the audience (hang-gliding club practice often drew onlookers, especially on days with warm, pleasant weather like this one) into loud cheers. After much maneuvering and a near drop of the flag they handed off, Stephanie’s Blue Team won the race.

After the race, Focus hardly stopped long enough to listen to Mayor Sapristos’ post-game analysis, probably figuring-rightly-that he wasn’t going to come in for much praise. He stayed long enough for manners, but instead of joining the usual chatter that followed a club meeting, he motioned toward town with a toss of his head.

“Hey, Stan, Becky, Trudy, c’mon. Let’s go grab something to eat. Somebody else can teach the bitty kiddies how to fold their wings.”

Since Stephanie was busy helping one of the littler club members do just that, she knew the taunt was intended at least partially for her. She knew she was supposed to feel bad that she hadn’t been asked along, but she didn’t care. The only thing that stung was knowing he’d wanted to hurt her.

Finishing with her “bitty,” Stephanie looked around. There was Toby, talking with Chet and Christine. She hurried over, knowing that her folks would take no excuses if she didn’t make at least a few invitations in person rather than over the net.

Etiquette, Stephanie reminded herself. Just another class.

“Hi,” she said, feeling suddenly shy. “Uh. Great move, Christine. I wish I’d been close enough to help.”

Christine, a tall, willowy girl almost a year older than Stephanie, whose fair hair was cut short in a crest that reminded Stephanie of some sort of exotic bird, grinned.

“I wasn’t sure I could do it,” she said, “but Focus makes me so mad. Ever since I turned him down, he’s been out to get even. As if I didn’t know he only asked me out because Becky was sick with some flu. Jerk!”

Stephanie, who had never been asked out by anyone, felt a momentary flicker of envy. She’d thought that maybe her figure-or lack of one-was the problem, but Christine was no more curvaceous. Of course, Christine was taller…

Stephanie spoke quickly, before she could lose her nerve. “Listen, my fifteenth birthday is coming up. My folks are… I mean, they insist… Anyhow, they’re having a party. Fifteenth birthdays are really big on Meyerdahl. Something to do with the mixed German and Spanish heritage.”

She realized she was babbling. Christine was smiling. Chet looked as if he was trying to swallow a laugh. Only Toby looked as serious as she felt. She realized that was because he probably was wondering if he was going to be included.

“Anyhow, I was wondering if you guys would come. If my dad doesn’t have any emergency calls, we’re going to have hang gliding first. Later, there’s going to be a formal dinner, with some other people.”

She waited to be turned down, but Christine nodded. “That sounds like fun. I’ve never been to a Meyerdahl party, but I’ve heard they’re great. Give me the date and time, and I’ll check with my mom.”

“Me, too,” Chet said. “I don’t have a tuxedo, though. My folks say I’m growing too fast for the investment. Would just nice clothes do? I mean, you did say ‘formal.’”

Stephanie nodded. “Not that formal. Just dress up, sit down, like that. Not a picnic or buffet.”

She was turning to make sure Toby knew he was included in the invitation when she realized that what she’d taken for a group of three-Toby, Christine, and Chet-had actually been four. Jessica Pherris had been standing where the height of the others, combined with the partially folded hang gliders, had hidden her from Stephanie.

Stephanie wrestled for a moment with her worse self, but, remembering how Frank’s deliberate “not-inviting” had stung, she knew she didn’t want to act the same.

“Toby, Jessica,” she said, “you’ll come, too, won’t you? I mean, if you’re free.”

Toby glowed. Jessica, perhaps having noticed Stephanie’s hesitation, paused.

“I’ll check with my folks,” she said. “We’re new to Sphinx, new to the whole Star Kingdom, actually. What’s formal wear here?”

Christine laughed. “On Manticore proper it would be a tuxedo, but this is a colony planet. Stephanie’s folks will probably be fine with anything other than your kick-arounds.”

Stephanie hurried to second this. “My folks just wanted to make clear this wasn’t just a hang-gliding outing. They love to cook. I think they’re planning a whole banquet built around symbolic foods.”

Jessica looked relieved. “Okay. Hey, thanks. That’s nice of you. Listen, I’ve got to run. I promised my mom I’d help her with her garden.”

That sounded interesting, but before Stephanie could ask more, Jessica had dashed off. Only after she was gone and Stephanie was collecting Lionheart from the spike-thorn tree did she remember something.

Frank hadn’t invited Jessica to go with him and the others, either. She’d thought Jessica and Trudy were tight, but neither Trudy nor Becky had asked her to come along.

Of course, Stephanie thought as she walked over to where she’d promised to meet her dad, they were two guys, two girls. Maybe Becky and Trudy didn’t want the competition. Jessica’s almost as well-developed as Trudy, though she doesn’t show it off the same way. Maybe Becky doesn’t want her around Frank. Christine implied…

Her brain spun as she tried to work out all these permutations. Calculus, she decided, was easier than human relations, a whole, lot easier.

From where he scampered along beside her, Lionheart responded with a heartfelt, “Bleek!”

The days leading up to Stephanie’s birthday went very well. Even with her doubts, Stephanie couldn’t help but be excited. Back on Meyerdahl, especially when Stephanie had been really small, birthdays had always been a big deal. She’d been ten, almost eleven when they’d moved to Sphinx, and that greater age, combined with separation from their usual circle of friends and family, and the fact that both her parents had been really, really busy had led to birthdays becoming family celebrations.

She’d been on Sphinx for almost a third of her life now, and had almost forgotten the big fuss Meyerdahl made at fifteen. The celebration was heavily influenced by the ancient Spanish quincea n era, with the emphasis being on reaching adulthood, rather than marriageability. However, a good many of Meyerdahl’s original colonists had been of German extraction. Like many of those who left their homeland, they kept to old traditions more faithfully than did those they had left behind. Germans, as Stephanie confirmed when she double-checked one of her mother’s passing comments on the net, had actually invented the individual birthday celebration, complete with cake and candles.

Over the last few days, several of her parents’ conversations had broken off when Stephanie had come into the room. Having no desire to ruin any planned surprise, she’d even taken to making sure she whistled or talked to Lionheart so they’d have warning.

Then, on very day of the party, the whole thing was nearly ruined. Over a mid-morning snack, meant to hold them all until lunch, Marjorie Harrington turned to Stephanie.

“I hope you don’t mind, dear, but I invited another couple of people to your party.”

“Oh?” Stephanie managed around a full mouth.

“First, I was delivering some autumn squash plants to one of the holdings and I saw a girl I recognized from your hang-gliding club. She looked so lonely, sitting there by herself, that I asked if she would like to come to your birthday party.”

Richard Harrington asked, “Which holding was this?”

“The Franchitti holding. The girl’s name is Trudy.” Marjorie saw the twin looks of surprise on her husband and daughter’s face and misunderstood. “I’m not crazy about that family in general and I know a Franchitti was responsible for the recent fire, but I didn’t think this girl could be blamed.”

Stephanie’s appetite vanished and she put her sandwich down.

“Trudy Franchitti is coming here. Oh, happy, happy birthday to me…”

“Stephanie!” Marjorie Harrington was shocked.

Richard Harrington cut in. “Stephanie and Trudy don’t get along. Never have.”

Marjorie Harrington blinked. “I had no idea.”

“You wouldn’t,” Stephanie said. “You never pay attention to what I say. I told you that the kids here were utter and complete nulls. You just decide I’m poorly socialized. Now I’m going to have to put up with Trudy and her constantly reminding everyone that her father was among the first native born children on Sphinx. Happy, happy…”

“Stephanie!” The snap in Richard Harrington’s voice made it clear he thought his daughter had overstepped. “Don’t speak to your mother that way. Maybe if you talked to her more often she’d have a better understanding. Instead, you universally condemn everyone as zorks and nulls. I only know how you feel about Trudy because I coach the hang-gliding club when I can-and because Mayor Sapristos told me that he ended up putting the two of you on separate teams because you wouldn’t play nice together.”

Stephanie ground her teeth at the phrase, “play nice,” but she could see her dad was really peeved. She knew he loved her, but he loved her mom, too, and hated when they butted heads. Besides, technically, the description was accurate-at least on Trudy’s side.

Richard Harrington continued. “Stephanie, one of the reasons fifteenth birthdays are a big deal-not just on Meyerdahl, but in a lot of cultures-is that especially in pre-tech civilizations, they marked the beginning of adulthood. I suppose your challenge on this birthday will be to act like an adult…even if Trudy, who is older than you, does not.”

He quirked the corner of his mouth in a little smile. “She certainly does act adult in some ways, but I must agree, in others, she is a zip in the brains department.”

Marjorie Harrington took a deep breath. “And I apologize, Stephanie. I should have asked first. I suppose my ‘warm fuzzies’ over this whole birthday celebration got ahead of me.”

Stephanie knew what was expected. Even though butterflies were churning around the bits of sandwich she’d eaten, she managed.

“Thanks, Mom. That’s nice of you to say. I’ll do my best. Honest.” She couldn’t resist adding, “But really, Trudy is a perfect example of evolution in reverse.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Marjorie Harrington hesitated. “I hope I haven’t screwed up again, but remember I said I’d invited some ‘people.’”

Stephanie nodded, thinking, Please, please, please not Stan or Frank…I could handle Becky, but not Stan or Frank…

“It’s not another girl,” Marjorie Harrington went on and Stephanie’s heart sank further. “It’s Anders Whittaker. His dad will be dropping him off sometime between hang gliding and dinner.”

Stephanie wouldn’t have believed the butterflies in her gut could get any worse, but now they were dancing and interweaving, this time in a happy bouncing dance.

“Anders?”

“I thought you and Karl got along with him,” Mom said, looking really anxious now. “I mean, you seemed to that day he came by to see the treecats.”

“Oh, Mom!” Stephanie wanted to hug her, but restrained herself. After all, she wasn’t quite sure why the idea of Anders coming was so great, but it absolutely was. She settled for bouncing in her chair and reaching for her neglected sandwich. “He’s razor sharp. Definitely not a null wit.”

“Or a zork?” Mom said, the teasing note in her voice not quite hiding her tension.

“Definitely not a zork,” Stephanie assured her.

She grinned and bit into her sandwich. Then a thought hit her that started a new set of butterflies up to join the others.

Anders was coming. Anders, who definitely wasn’t all the things she usually despised in Trudy’s crowd. Anders, who was actually good-looking and smart and had that great way of listening so you felt he really understood.

And this time he’d probably not even talk to her except to say “Happy Birthday.” Trudy would be there, and the guys always noticed Trudy. And Jessica, who was nearly as shapely. And Christine, who had lots of guys asking her out.

Anders was coming. But probably he wouldn’t notice her at all…