Fire Season

Chapter Seven

Stephanie slid into the pilot’s seat of the government air car, belted herself in, and took a quick minute to familiarize herself with the control panel while Ms. Schwartz, the test administrator-a wiry woman whose jaded expression said she’d seen it all and expected to see worse-got in on the other side.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Ms. Schwartz said, positioning her uni-link so she could take notes. “We’ll start with the vehicle on automatic. Then, if you pass the first part of the test, we’ll go through the same areas with the air car on manual so you can attempt to qualify for a provisional license. The route should be coming up on the HUD.”

Stephanie noted where a neat shocking-green line was taking form on the heads-up display and nodded. She checked right and left, as well as behind and above, before taking the air car out of its parking space and into the streets of Twin Forks.

Last night at the party, word had somehow gotten out that Stephanie planned on taking her test today. Everyone still there-Trudy, thank goodness, had left-had regaled Stephanie with stories about how the test administrators delighted in taking off points for the most minor infractions-one of which included relying on the HUD to the exclusion of visual checks.

The course the shocking-green line guided Stephanie through included piloting at various elevations, through both urban and rural conditions. Stephanie had only limited real experience with street-level piloting, but she’d put in so many hours on the sims that she had to remind herself that this time it was for real.

Eventually, she brought the air car back to their starting point.

“You’ve a perfect score so far,” Ms. Schwartz said, managing to sound both pleased and miffed. “Are you sure you want to try the manual test? If you fail, you’ll lose even your learner’s permit. You can’t retest for another three T-months.”

Stephanie had thought the penalty was ridiculous, but now, considering Trudy and her blackhole friends, Stephanie thought she understood. Cockiness-especially when someone was handling something as potentially lethal as an air car-was not to be encouraged.

“I’m sure I want to try, ma’am,” Stephanie said.

“Then switch to manual,” the administrator replied, reaching forward to activate something on her override panel, “and follow the line.”

The second pass went smoothly until they were outside of Twin Forks. As they were passing over one of the many streams that fed the Mankara River, a freak squall blew up. Solid as the air car was, the vehicle bucked enough to rattle Stephanie’s teeth. Ms. Schwartz gasped aloud and leaned toward her override panel.

Here, Stephanie’s hours of hang gliding, as well as those spent practicing with Karl, paid off. Before Ms. Schwartz could activate the override, Stephanie had compensated for the turbulence, anticipated where the wind was headed, and moved the car into smooth air without diverting too far off the pre-ordained route. As soon as she judged weather conditions were safe, Stephanie brought the air car back on course and finished the test route.

Ms. Schwartz said nothing until the air car touched down outside of the government center and Stephanie had performed the shut-down routine in perfect order. Then she leaned over and clapped Stephanie on the shoulder.

“Good job, Ms. Harrington,” Ms. Schwartz said, beaming. “I’d heard you had a cool head. I’m glad the stories were true.”

“Does that mean I passed?”

“With a perfect score. I’ll be sending the results in to headquarters, and the official license should be on record before it’s time for you to fly home.” Ms. Schwartz gave an impish grin. “Be sure to ask your father to let you pilot.”

Stephanie grinned back. She knew her dad would, just as she knew he’d be nervous about actually letting her be in charge. Even the best parents were funny that way.

Because Lionheart had come into town with them, and treecats weren’t allowed inside without special permission, the doctors Harrington had waited outside the administration building for Stephanie.

“Lionheart has been ‘bleak bleaking’ in obvious glee since you brought the air car back from the second pass,” Mom said, laughing as Stephanie ran up to them, “so don’t bother to tell us you passed. We know!”

“This calls for a celebration,” Dad added. “I’ve called Eric Flint and reserved a table for us at the Red Letter Cafe. Fortunately, they’re open for late lunch.”

The Red Letter Cafe was one the businesses that had pioneered a “treecat friendly” policy. That-and the fact that it served desserts to die for in very large portions-made it a favorite of the Harrington clan. After they’d stuffed themselves with both lunch and enormous ice-cream concoctions, Stephanie looked at her parents.

“Dad, Mom, the woman who gave me my test said that I should ask you if I could fly home. Please?”

Richard Harrington sighed theatrically. “Well, at least I’ll die well-fed. Why don’t you go bring the car around? I know we usually walk here in town, but maybe you’ll get pulled over and I’ll be spared a terrifying ride.”

Giggling, Stephanie leapt to her feet and motioned to Lionheart.

“Not this time,” Mom said. “Let’s have your maiden voyage be with as few distractions as possible, all right?”

Stephanie didn’t protest. Lionheart was rather soggy, since his idea of a terrific dessert involved shredding massive amounts of celery. If he stayed with her folks, he’d have a chance to mop up.

They’d parked over near the administrative center, but Stephanie didn’t mind the walk. In fact, it was all she could do not to skip. She was considering comming Karl and sharing the good news when she heard familiar voices coming from a couple of businesses that had already closed for the day.

She couldn’t see the speakers-they must be around back-or make out what was being said, but one voice definitely belonged to Stan Chang, Trudy’s beau and someone Stephanie disliked, if possible, even more than she did Trudy. Another was Stan’s good buddy, Focus Camara. Normally, Stephanie would have just hoped they wouldn’t see her, but as she drew closer, she heard Toby Mednick speak.

“No, guys, really. I can’t. I’m late already.”

“Awe, c’mon, Toby,” Focus said. “If you’re already late, then what does it matter if you’re later?”

“But, guys…”

Toby’s voice held notes of defeat rather than protest. Stephanie knew the prudent thing would be to keep going or at least get some backup, but remembering how Stan and Focus had gotten Toby into trouble at least once already, she couldn’t. Not only was Toby younger than her, but-remembering how much fun they’d had at her party the day before-Toby was her friend. Stephanie had gotten so used to thinking of herself as friendless-at least when it came to kids her own age-that the thought hit her with almost physical force. But it was true. Toby was her friend and she could no more leave him in the lurch than she could Karl…or Lionheart.

Again, Stephanie considered comming for help, but something in the tone of the voices made her think there wasn’t any time to waste.

Stan was saying, “You know, Toby, from how you’re acting, you’d think you didn’t want to be pals with us. Here we’re offering to share some really expensive, really good stuff with you and you act like we’re trying to give you dog shit. Now, here, take just a little, then you won’t care how late you are. You’ll be flying without a glider.”

“Well…” Toby was saying when Stephanie peeked around the corner.

The three boys were standing in a little garden that backed the shops. Toby was backed up against a round table, and Stan was all but shoving an amber-colored capsule toward his face. Focus hulked to one side, blocking Toby’s avenue of escape.

Thinking fast, Stephanie considered her options.

Should I confront them directly? Stan did back down that time last year, but what if he didn’t this time? And exactly how would that solve anything? All that would happen is that Toby would probably get beat up next time they got him alone…and I’d have to watch my back. No. There has to be another way.

An idea hit her. It wasn’t the best, maybe, but Toby was already reaching for the capsule. Feigning a delight she didn’t feel, Stephanie rounded the corner at a run, talking as fast as she could.

“Toby! Is that you? Toby! I did it! I passed!”

The three boys stared at her, Stan and Focus in astonishment, Toby in something like awe and amazement. He wasn’t so startled that he didn’t catch her hint.

“You did! Steph, that’s absolutely hexy!” He looked at the Stan and Focus, both of whom were now openly gaping. “Did you hear, guys? Stephanie just passed her air car test. Did you get the provisional licence?”

“I did,” she said, not bothering to hide her pleasure. She turned and beamed at Stan and Focus. “I heard Toby’s voice and I just had to tell someone. I’m so glad you guys are here, too. Great news, huh?”

She grabbed Focus by both hands and swung him around as if they were dancing-incidentally creating an opening for Toby. Focus stumbled a little, and his skin was so clammy that Stephanie had to resist an impulse to drop his hands as if they were a couple of dead fish. Clearly, he was already a bit “outta focus.”

Flabbergasted at the interruption, Stan had dropped the arm that held the amber capsule, cupping his hand around it protectively. Stephanie wouldn’t be surprised if Stan had already sampled its twin or something like it because he was clearly having trouble processing the changed situation.

On the other hand, it might be just because Stan wasn’t very smart. But he was very mean. As much fun as it was seeing them gawping, it was time she and Toby got out of this too-quiet corner and onto a more public street.

“My folks said I could fly us home,” Stephanie babbled, “and I’m going to get the air car from over at government central. Want to come with me?”

She made the invitation general, but wasn’t surprised to see the two older boys shake their heads. The last thing they’d want was to do was go over by government central-which housed the police-in their currently impaired condition.

“I’d love to,” Toby said. “Bye, fellows. See you in the sky.”

Toby and Stephanie hurried out of the small park with perhaps a little too much haste for good manners, but Stephanie wasn’t going to let the older boys reconsider letting them go.

Toby didn’t say anything until they were well clear of the other two. When he spoke, his voice was tight. “You must think I’m as much of a blackhole as those two.”

“No. I think you were in a bad spot, that’s all. I thought you were staying clear of them.”

“I was,” Toby said, “but my dad asked me to take a late delivery over to that boutique before it closed. The owner was just leaving, but she opened up, then made me wait. Focus’s dad owns the eatery next door. I think he and Stan do some cleaning up after hours. I guess he and Stan saw me coming in, because when I came out with the boutique owner, they called me over, saying they had some news about the club. I couldn’t say no without it seeming strange to Ms. Bond, then, well…”

“I get it,” Stephanie said, and she did.

“I was so glad when you came six-legging it around the corner,” Toby went on. “I owe you, big time.”

Stephanie grinned at him. “Hey, no problem. I mean, what are friends for?”

Climbs Quickly slipped out the window into the autumn night. The day following the big party had been very busy. Despite the activity of the day, Climbs Quickly found himself unable to settle in to sleep. Change was in the air-and not just because of the events in Death Fang’s Bane’s life. The seasons were stirring.

Stretching out his body in an easy, ground-covering lope, Climbs Quickly made his way a distance from the houses. When he came to a particularly stately golden-leaf that had become one of his favorite lookouts, he left the ground. Scampering high up along the trunk, he came out above most of the leafy canopy. Then Climbs Quickly spread his whiskers and let the wind fingers tickle his fur.

Closing his leaf-green eyes to slits, the treecat let ears and nose keep watch while he concentrated on more subtle, less easily read signs.

Yes. The weather was changing. Up here, away from where all the two-legs’ machines and enormous nests created interference, he could feel it more certainly. The winds were moving with purpose, yet the restless clouds they carried were not heavy with the rain the land craved, but thin and starved. There was a friction in the air, a prickly sensation that made his fur feel itchy.

Fire weather. Every treecat knew of it. It didn’t happen every season’s turning, nor every hand of turnings, but once felt it was not to be forgotten. When Climbs Quickly had been half his current age, such fire weather had come. Bolts of blue and white light had forked from the skies, too often striking trees like this very golden-leaf, trees that might seem to flourish but which felt brittle beneath the claws from lack of moisture.

His ears caught a swoosh of faint noise far closer than the uneasy crackle of the building storms. Hunkering close to the branch he had chosen for his perch, Climbs Quickly caught the shadow of a death-wing passing over him, two sets of claws spread to grasp at the exposed treecat, downy wings spread wide so that it might glide without making any more sound than absolutely necessary.

But Climbs Quickly was no adventurous kitten and he had chosen this watch stand well. A branch protected him from above, while not interfering too greatly with the wind currents he had sought to read. Even so, death-wings were too dangerous to taunt. He had confirmed what he had already suspected-his current uneasiness had only a little to do with Death Fang’s Bane and her rioting emotions, but was tied into something far more primal. He scampered down to safer levels, considering what he had learned.

The changing from summer into autumn always brought storms, as cooler air argued with warmer. However, this season those storms would not bring much moisture. Instead, they would bring destruction. Destruction the elders always told them was needed for the forests to be healthy, but destruction nonetheless.

Memories of fleeing masses of the People racing ahead of the hungry tongues of flame, of the mind-screams of those who could not run fast enough, of mothers who would not leave their kittens, these and more flooded into Climbs Quickly and made his heart beat fast.

Fire weather was coming and with it blazes that would make the one from which they had rescued Right-Striped and Left-Striped seem little more than the contained blaze the two-legs lit to warm their dens in winter.

Fire weather.

He ran back to where Death Fang’s Bane slept, wishing it were possible to run from knowledge as simply as one fled a death-wing.

Anders hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. He’d been in the bathroom hanging his robe on the hook behind the door when his father and Dr. Nez had come into the suite.

The two men were in the middle of a conversation that was one step away from being an argument. If either had even glanced at the bathroom door, they would have seen it was ajar and therefore assumed the bathroom wasn’t in use, that the suite was obviously empty.

If they had come in a few minutes before or a few minutes after, the suite would have been empty. That morning, Anders had not elected to go with the team to another of their interminable meetings. Instead, Anders had-with his dad’s enthusiastic encouragement-taken up an invitation from Stephanie to go with her and Karl on a hike. Jessica Pherris and Toby Mednick had joined them.

Jessica clearly liked the outdoors and seemed quite interested in the local plants. Toby’s reasons for joining them were a little more complex. After watching the dynamics, Anders was pretty sure Toby had a crush on Stephanie-or if not a proper crush, at least a major case of hero worship. The way he’d hovered near her, asking questions about everything from the ecology of the Copperwall Mountains to the handgun she wore in a businesslike holster, gave him away.

Amusingly, Stephanie seemed completely unaware of how Toby felt. For someone who could be so sophisticated when talking to adults, she was amazingly naive in other areas.

It had been a good day. Anders had come back to shower and change. He was then going to grab his reader, head down to the dining room, and, over a heavy snack, download some files Stephanie had sent him on the local ecology. One of these was an SFS ranger guide that wasn’t usually circulated. Another was an unpublished manuscript of her mother’s.

Stephanie had gotten permission to loan him both, she assured Anders, “But it might be better if you don’t pass them on to any of your dad’s staff without checking first.”

Now he stood behind the bathroom door, wishing that the first words out of Dr. Nez’s mouth hadn’t made it pretty much impossible for him to step out and let them know he was there.

“I wouldn’t say this in front of the rest of the team,” Dr. Nez said, “but I feel I must say to you that I don’t approve of your plans, not in the least. You’re violating the trust that both the SFS and Dr. Hobbard have invested in us-and for what reason? So we can see a site a few weeks earlier than we might otherwise.”

Dr. Whittaker put on his “more in sorrow than anger” expression, one Anders knew all too well. His dad never yelled at anyone if he thought he could make them feel guilty instead. Dr. Nez had to know that, too, since he’d been Dad’s grad assistant for years before he got his own degree.

“Langston,” Dr. Whittaker said gently. “I don’t see this as a violation of trust. You heard me ask Dr. Hobbard today whether we were free to take a look at public lands, as long as we didn’t bother treecat colonies. She said that was fine.”

“You implied,” Dr. Nez said implacably, “that we wanted a chance to examine a picketwood grove or two, so we would have baseline data about how they develop without the influence-or contaminating factor-of treecat dwellings. You didn’t say anything about planning to go to that abandoned nesting site.”

“True,” Dr. Whittaker smiled. “Sometimes it is easier to ask forgiveness than permission. You’ve heard the arguments at some of these meetings. For a while there, I thought we were going to be blocked even from reviewing the tapes made by the SFS of the recovering and relocated treecats. That Jordan Franchitti is pretty canny. His argument that the actions and reactions of a ‘captive population’ might bias our interpretations of a wild population was very convincing.”

“You have a point,” Dr. Nez said reluctantly. “Still, I’d be happier if we weren’t being so ‘creative’ in our interpretation of Dr. Hobbard’s permissions.”

“Langston,” Dr. Whittaker said, “I would agree but for one very important consideration. Every day we wait, the physical artifacts on that site are deteriorating. I want to get pictures before they do. I’d remove items if I didn’t think that would create trouble. However, fresh images, temperature and moisture readings, as well as investigations of fecal materials before they fully deteriorate, are all things that must be done sooner, rather than later.”

Anders couldn’t see Dr. Nez’s expression, but he must have looked at least somewhat persuaded, because Dad’s voice warmed.

“I see you understand. Moreover, although the data are scarce-humans haven’t known about treecats very long and so haven’t had enough cycles of the longer Sphinxian year to confirm initial impressions-there are indications that treecats do most of their migration in the summer and early autumn.”

“Because,” Dr. Nez added as if thinking aloud, “those are the times when there are surplus resources. Winter travel is further complicated by snow. Spring-especially early spring-is a lean time. What you’re saying is that if we don’t look at this site, we might not locate another so fresh for an entire Sphinxian year. Couldn’t we bring that up to Dr. Hobbard and have her ask the SFS for permission? Surely they’d see our desire is only reasonable.”

“Dr. Hobbard would,” Dad said. “She’s an anthropologist. I’m not so certain about the SFS. They’re overly protective of the treecats-even if our confirming the species’ obvious intelligence is the best protection the ’cats could have. The Forestry Service is also over-reacting to this ‘fire season.’ I can’t believe how much of their staff is simply sitting around waiting for a fire. I actually resent it when I think about how pre-Bolgeo researchers were given such accommodation-even though they hadn’t been hand-picked as our team has been.”

“You can’t really blame the Forestry Service for their priorities,” Dr. Nez protested. “They get their funding from the human citizens. They need to show they’re doing something for human interests-not just for the native ecology.”

“An ecology,” Dad countered, “that many of the locals would just as soon do without. I’ve had a couple of very good chats with Marjorie Harrington when I’ve dropped Anders by the Harrington place. She admits to having no trouble getting funding because everyone wants her to develop hybrids that will enable humans to have all the comforts of home here on a colony planet.”

“Humans are funny that way,” Dr. Nez agreed. “Over and over again, they go to new planets, then try to make them just like the places they left behind.”

Dr. Whittaker nodded. “Now, Langston, if you’re uncomfortable with my plans, I’ll offer you an ‘out.’ I don’t plan for this to be a long jaunt. If you or any other member of the team feel uncomfortable with my intentions, then you can stay behind. You, especially, won’t have any problems justifying that. Xenobiology and exotic botany are not your specializations.”

Anders knew none of the other team members would refuse to go. Both Kesia Guyen and Virgil Iwamoto required Dr. Whittaker’s approval before they could take that final step forward to the grand day when they could put Ph. D. after their names. Dr. Emberly was an xenobiologist and would not miss this opportunity.

Dr. Nez knew this too. There was a note of resignation in his voice when he next spoke.

“I’ll consider your offer, Bradford,” he said, “but I think I’ll come along. I’m no less eager than you to see a newly abandoned treecat settlement. I simply wish we could go about it more directly.”

“So do I,” said Dad, “but when it’s a matter of etiquette or science, science must always come first.”

And where it’s a matter of making sure you don’t go overboard in your enthusiasm for science, Anders thought, I guess I’m the only one who doesn’t have his career to worry about, so I’d better make sure I go along, too.

Stephanie’s wild excitement over getting her provisional license (rather than the dreaded learner’s permit) was somewhat dampened when it became clear that Mom and Dad planned to let matters go on much as before. The Harringtons owned three vehicles. One was Dad’s Vet Van-equipped not only with a portable lab, but with what amounted to a complete surgery. Mom had recently traded in her sedan for another tailored van, this one equipped with racks to hold plants of various sizes and shapes. Stephanie had hoped the family air car would be hers to use.

Stephanie had, in moments of fantasy, even imagined that her birthday gift would include an air car of her very own. She’d known that was unlikely, but both Chet and Trudy had cars of their own, and they didn’t even live as far away from Twin Forks as the Harringtons did. She’d felt a slight letdown when, a few days after she had passed the air car license test, no car materialized.

A couple days after she got her license, Dad had said at breakfast, “I’m actually available to coach at hang-glider practice today. I don’t think you have Forestry Service duty, either. So, if I don’t have any emergency calls, we should have a nice relaxed time.”

“I don’t have ranger duty,” Stephanie replied, “but SFS is really stretched thin with fire-watch. I was thinking if I could get out to the ranger station, I could free someone up. Maybe I should take the car and fly over after practice?”

Richard Harrington flashed a quick grin that told Stephanie without words that he saw through her ruse.

“I don’t think so. You tend to get carried away when you get involved with your SFS work. Remember, legally, your license is only good when conditions are visually safe: dawn to dusk, and no bad weather.”

Stephanie knew better than to try to get around Dad when he had that look. Better to wait and see what other approaches she could come up with.

Dynamics within the hang-gliding club had changed in the couple of days since Stephanie’s birthday party. Trudy had been heard to say quite loudly-obviously not caring that Dad was close enough to hear-that the only reason she’d gone to that boring party was that her folks hadn’t wanted to offend the doctors Harrington.

“They’re so necessary, you know,” she drawled to Becky Morowitz. “I mean, vets and botanists…We must be polite.”

Stephanie had felt Lionheart pressing against her leg, offering support if needed, but she was surprised at how little Trudy’s comments bothered her.

Anders told us when he went hiking the other day that he had thought Trudy was a complete zip. I knew he wasn’t dumb enough to get blinded by her physical charms. I wish he hang glided…I bet he’d look like an angel against the sky.

Another change was that Jessica Pheriss was definitely “out” of the Trudy circle. She came in for more than a few catty comments, mostly about her clothes. Stephanie had never noticed before, but Jessica did seem to have a more limited wardrobe than the rest of them.

I guess if I even noticed, I thought she didn’t choose to vary what she wore for hang gliding-and most of the time, I’ve seen her in her flight coveralls anyhow.

To say Jessica was indifferent to the teasing would have been wrong. Her cheeks burned when Frank Camara made a particularly nasty comment about how Jessica had to wash her panties each night or go without-and implying that he had first-hand knowledge to confirm.

However, Jessica ignored the comments and went on chatting with Christine and Chet-who were, now that Stephanie bothered to notice, definitely on the way to being a “couple”-as if someone else was being grilled.

I wonder, Stephanie thought as she adjusted her counter-grav and spread her wings to take advantage of a rising air-current, who the zip really is-all the rest of them or me for being so deliberately blind?

“Bleek,” said Lionheart softly from his new harness, but whether his comment was in reaction to her thoughtful mood or in anticipation of the coming flight, Stephanie couldn’t know. The warmth that came through their link made her pretty sure she was being teased.

Later on, Richard Harrington came trotting across the field to where Stephanie and the other members of the Blue Team were discussing their strategies for the obstacle course relay race that would end the day.

“Steph, I just got a call. The Lins’ herd is showing signs of something nasty. I can’t wait. I hate to pull you from practice, but Mayor Sapristos says he has a meeting this evening, and your mother is hours away working on planting a field of that new range-barley hybrid she’s been working on.”

Stephanie knew her dad already had the Vet Van with him-he never went much of anywhere without it, which was why she’d thought her using the family air car wasn’t unreasonable. However, this was not the time to try and score points.

Dad was really worried. The Lins’ herd was crucial to the future of Sphinx’s dairy industry. On such a heavily forested planet, grazers didn’t flourish-there simply wasn’t enough open land. The Lins’ capri-cows were a new strain of browsers, based largely on goats, but with genes that enabled them to give creamy milk that didn’t pick up the flavors of the strong-tasting leaves of the native plants.

Immediately, Stephanie started shrugging out of her glider, but before she could get more than a few straps undone, Jessica Pheriss cut in.

“Dr. Harrington,” Jessica said very politely, “I have my folks’ car. I’m supposed to do some grocery shopping after practice, but if you don’t mind my doing that, then dropping the stuff off, I could take Stephanie back.”

“Your parents won’t mind?” Richard said.

“I’ll call,” Jessica said, taking out a uni-link that Stephanie-with her new insights into Jessica’s probable economic level-realized was an older, refurbished model. “Right away.”

In less time than it would have taken Stephanie to stow her glider, Jessica had confirmed that it was fine if she took Stephanie home-as long as she dropped off the groceries first. Richard Harrington thanked her and, after giving Stephanie an abstracted kiss on the forehead, hurried off to do his best for the Lins’ capri-cows.

The Blue Team lost the relay race by a few points. However, Stephanie didn’t feel too bad about it. Trudy and Stan had pulled a few moves that were definitely outside of the rule book. To Stephanie, at least, that made their victory pretty hollow. From the look on Mayor Sapristos’ face as he did his post-game analysis, he agreed, but didn’t feel he had enough evidence to register a complaint.

“I’m parked over there,” Jessica said when they’d finished going over the game with their teammates. She indicated a strip off to one side, partially sheltered by some particularly thick spike-thorn bushes.

When they reached the vehicle, Stephanie guessed that Jessica had chosen the parking space deliberately, so as not to draw attention to the air car. It wasn’t a wreck. In fact, when Jessica started it up, the engine caught smoothly. But even an effort at a plaid pattern couldn’t disguise that the seats were patched with fabric-tape. And nothing would ever hide that it was definitely an older model.

Jessica fitted their two hang gliders into the trunk with an ease that spoke of lots of similar experience.

“We’ll stow the groceries in the backseat,” she said. There was a forced casualness to her words that told Stephanie she was embarrassed.

“You’re lucky to be allowed to fly the family car,” Stephanie said as she got in on the passenger side. “I know I only got my provisional license a couple of days ago, but nothing’s changed at home.”

Jessica brought them around smoothly. Stephanie had always figured they were close in age, but now she wondered if Jessica was actually a bit older.

“You’re a really good pilot,” she said. “I mean, you fly like you’ve been doing this for years.”

Jessica laughed, but there was something painful underneath the sound. “I have been. Trebuchet, the last system we lived in, had a much lower age requirement. My folks both work and I had to do a lot of the routine piloting, like today. Then my mom got me a job where she was working. Trebuchet is known for a remarkable number of plants with proven medicinal properties. However, some of them have to be harvested by hand. They’re just too fragile for anything else. I went to some really out-of-the way places on that job.”

“By yourself?” Stephanie asked.

“Oh, no!” Jessica laughed. “I took a couple of my younger brothers and sisters. They could help with the picking, but they weren’t old enough to pilot.”

She sighed as she brought them down by a big warehouse Stephanie had seen but never been in. It didn’t look in the least like a grocery store. When they went inside, she realized it wasn’t. Instead, it was a storehouse for damaged goods. Jessica’s mother had apparently already done most of the purchasing over the net, but Jessica negotiated for a couple of boxes of ice-potatoes that were going brown around the edges.

Stephanie frowned to herself as she helped load the groceries into the car. She’d seen her mother throw out vegetables in a lot better condition than these, but then the Harringtons did have extensive greenhouses. Maybe she was a bit spoiled by all that bounty.

“Mom’s going to be thrilled with these,” Jessica said as she loaded the boxes of ice-potatoes. “We’ve planted near-lettuce. The house we’re renting has a good stand of near-pine with the nuts coming on, but we haven’t been here long enough to get anything like ice-potatoes in.”

Stephanie tried to think of something to say, but she simply was too honest to rejoice in partially-rotted vegetables. As she got into the air car, she finally found what she hoped was a safe comment.

“How will you cook them?”

“Mashed,” Jessica said, as she set the car to rise and entered in navigation coordinates. “We’ll cut out the bad parts first, of course. Mom uses almond oil instead of butter to bring out the natural nutty taste of the ice-potatoes themselves.”

“We use sesame oil for the same reason,” Stephanie said. She wanted to be a good guest-after all, Jessica was doing her a favor-but she really didn’t know what was polite to say. “Were you born in the Trebuchet system?”

Jessica shook her head, sending ripples through her masses of curly light-auburn hair. “No, in the van Mook system. But we didn’t stay there long. We moved to the Sankar, Tasmania, and Madeleine systems. And we moved a lot on the planets, too. My dad…”

She paused, then sighed. “You might as well hear it from me. Trudy’s sure to bring it up one way or another. My dad is what might be politely called a drifter. He’s not a bad man. He doesn’t get drunk or stoned or anything-at least not more than most people. But he’s a dreamer. There’s always something better over the next hill, on the next planet, in the next system.”

“And your mom?” Stephanie asked.

“She’s…Well, I think at first she wasn’t much different from dad except that she was interested in different things in these new places. She really loves plants-animals, too, but plants are her thing. She always hates leaving her gardens, but she comforts herself with the idea that she’s leaving something beautiful behind her. And, then, she’s also lured by the idea of what new thing she’ll find.”

“I should have known that,” Stephanie said, “from the way she chooses to cook ice-potatoes. Lots of recipes are for how to make them taste more like Terran spuds. She appreciates the difference. But you said ‘at first.’ What changed?”

“Us,” Jessica said. “Me and my siblings. I’m the oldest of seven.”

“Wow…” Stephanie said. “I think that’s even bigger than Karl’s family. And your family keeps moving at that size? I’d think liner fees would be prohibitive.”

“They are,” Jessica agreed, “but Dad’s learned a lot as a drifter. He’s a real jack-of-all-trades and often gets a job aboard-nothing involving engines or anything, but as a steward or porter. Mom is always in demand on liners because she’s a wizard with hydroponics. I even had a job on our last trip, assistant in the kiddie entertainment lounge. I think I’m going to swear off kids…”

She laughed when she said this, but Stephanie didn’t doubt there was a grain of truth in the words. She remembered the entertainment lounges on the liner her family had taken from Meyerdahl to Sphinx. The relentless cheerfulness had driven her to their family’s cabin where at least she could read in peace. The adult lounges had almost been worse. No one seemed to value quiet or conversation.

Jessica went on. “When Mom heard about the incentives for settlers who would come to Sphinx, she talked my dad into coming here. We’re zero-balancers, so we don’t own any land or anything. In fact, the house we’re renting is owned by the Franchittis. That’s how I met Trudy. She was really nice at first, even loaned me a hang-gliding rig she wasn’t using when she learned I knew how to glide. But lately…I don’t like Stan. I think he’s a bad influence, not just on Trudy, but on the planet. I don’t like even breathing the same air as him.”

Stephanie nodded. “Stan’s come to practice high more than once. I don’t know why Mayor Sapristos doesn’t call him on it.”

“Because,” Jessica said with a cynicism that told Stephanie volumes about her life, “Stan is connected. Not only is his family friends with the Franchittis, but they have connections back on Manticore. If my dad smokes a little too much wonder weed and is late to work, then he gets his pay docked, but if Stan takes something a whole lot stronger, he’s going to have to crash his glider before Mayor Sapristos does anything. Part of being mayor is knowing how people expect to be treated.”

Stephanie wanted to disagree. After all, she liked Mayor Sapristos and he was one of her dad’s closer friends. But she couldn’t. In the four T-years she’d been living on Sphinx, she’d learned a lot about the social and political hierarchy. It would be nice if a relatively newly opened colony world was egalitarian, but so far as she could tell the truth was that such environments attracted the ambitious, and the ambitious often wanted recognition and power as much or more than they wanted new lands or a chance to discover.

“There’s my house,” Jessica said, pointing and bringing the air car in for a smooth landing. “And my mom coming out to meet us with some of the kids.”

Ms. Pherris proved to be a very nice lady. She invited Stephanie and Climbs Quickly in for a tumbler of a sweet-tart punch made with the flowers of a plant related to spike thorn. Stephanie loved it, but Climbs Quickly clearly would have preferred something else.

“I checked, and both flowers and fruit were listed as edible,” Ms. Pheriss said, “but too sour to be really enjoyable. Well, that sort of thing is a challenge to me and we have hedges of the stuff on the property.”

On the way home, Stephanie tapped out a quick message to her mom and dad, asking if Jessica could stay for dinner.

“She has a full license, so she’ll have no problem getting home.”

The reply was almost instantaneous. “Definitely!”

Dad didn’t make it back for dinner. The situation with the Lins’ capri-cows was still critical, so he was planning to camp out in the Vet Van while waiting to learn whether the medications he had given had worked.

Over dinner, Stephanie encouraged Jessica to talk about her mother’s interest in plants. As Stephanie had hoped, Marjorie Harrington, who had frequently bemoaned the fact that she had trouble getting assistants who were not either overqualified (and thus tried to run the show for her) or underqualified (and so ruined delicate experiments) was immediately interested.

“You say she’s working, though,” Mom said.

Jessica nodded. “In child care. The advantage is she doesn’t need to pay to leave the little ones anywhere. The job lets her keep them with her. That’s useful, since Nathan is still nursing.”

Mom looked thoughtful, and by the time Jessica had to leave-“I usually try to be home to help wash up the kids and stuff some of them to bed”-a plan was clearly in the works.

After seeing Jessica off, Stephanie went into the kitchen to help clean up.

“Thanks for letting Jessica come at such short notice, Mom.”

Marjorie hugged her. “I’m proud of you for taking initiative.”

Stephanie grinned. “I guess not all the kids here are total losses. Jessica is interesting. I bet she’d be almost up to my study levels if her family hadn’t had to move so much.”

Quickly, hoping she wasn’t betraying a confidence, Stephanie shared what Jessica had told her about her father and the Pheriss family’s many moves.

“Mom,” she concluded, “even if things don’t work out when you interview Ms. Pheriss, I was wondering. Jessica was really glad today to buy some ice potatoes you would have tossed on the compost. Could we, I mean, when you cull the greenhouse, could I take some of the stuff over to the Pheriss house?”

Marjorie Harrington nodded, but her expression was serious.

“Charity is a difficult matter, Steph. Sometimes it backfires-like my trying to be nice to that horrible Trudy.”

Stephanie nodded. “I understand. We might hurt the Pheriss’ feelings. Still, sometimes good comes out of even that sort of thing. I mean, if Trudy hadn’t come to the party and been such a know-it-all, I might not have found out that Jessica had a mind of her own. Even if she’d been friendly at the party, I would have thought it was just because she was a guest, but when she spoke out that way…”

“Good point. We won’t know unless we try, but let’s be cautious about how we go about it. It will be easy enough if Ms. Pherris works out as an assistant. I can just tell her to help herself-that there’s too much for three humans and one treecat.”

“Bleek!” protested Lionheart, although his comment could have been because Stephanie was pulling a casserole dish away before he’d completely scoured the cheese and meat sauce off the ceramic.

“Well, then,” Stephanie said. “I’ll just have to hope Ms. Pheriss is qualified.”

Snuggled under the covers that night, listening to the night noises through the open window, Stephanie watched Lionheart scamper out. She hoped he wasn’t too lonely for other treecats. Now that she was making human friends, it seemed even more important that her best friend not be deprived of similar companionship.

“You okay, Lionheart?” she called after him.

“Bleek,” he assured her, his warmth and affection flowing back to her stronger than any sound. “Bleek. Bleek. Bleek.”

She had to hope those sounds meant, “Yes. Absolutely and unquestionably, yes.” not, “I’m miserably lonely, but I’ll stick by you.”