Treecat Wars

<Why would they do that?> asked Sour Belly, who was not in the least happy with the prominence young Keen Eyes had recently acquired. <Why would they not just ignore you?>

am counting on basic curiosity,> Keen Eyes replied. <But if that is not enough, I have other tactics in mind.>

Sour Belly sniffed as if he did not believe this was the case, but he did not ask for details. Keen Eyes did not volunteer them, either. He was committed to this course of action and though he thought he had some good ideas, he did not want Sour Belly’s nasty comments to undermine his confidence.

<What help do you need from the clan?> Bowl Shaper asked. In the absence of a fully-trained memory singer, she seemed to be taking on some of the leadership role that would have belonged to Wide Ears.

<I could use a couple of strong hunters to come with me to help carry my captive if he will not come willingly,> Keen Eyes responded promptly. <I had thought about asking Hard Claw and Firm Biter if they can be spared from the hunt.>

<There is nothing to hunt,> Hard Claw replied promptly. <Red Cliff was life-partner to my own littermate. I would be happy to capture the one who killed him.>

Anger flooded Hard Claw’s mind-glow, showing how dangerous his “happy” cooperation could be. Keen Eyes had suggested Hard Claw and Firm Biter because, like him, they were among the Landless Clan’s unbonded males. Now he wondered if he had been unwise.

<We are not seeking revenge,> Bowl Shaper cautioned. <We are seeking a place where we have a hope of surviving the winter. All hope will be lost if you use your much-storied claws out of turn. You do realize that?>

<I do,> Hard Claw replied. His mind-glow brightened, although not all the anger left it. <Perhaps making this killer see what he has done will be a better revenge than death’s quiet. You can count on me. I will follow Keen Eyes’ commands and do my best to make sure his plan succeeds.>

<Thank you,> Keen Eyes said, flooding his mind-glow with the tremendous gratitude he felt. He was relieved to feel honest pleasure balancing Hard Claw’s anger. <I will ask you and Firm Biter to stay to sun-rising of me, out of the range where your mind-glows could be easily detected. I will also ask you to concentrate on muting your mind-glows as much as possible.

<Our plan will work best if the one we seek to trap believes me alone. I will bait the trap. When I call to you that we have our captive, you will race forward and help me bear him away as quickly as possible.>

<But this captive is sure to call for help,> Sour Belly sneered.

This time Keen Eyes was not even tempted to offer any further explanation. <I think I have a way to keep him from calling.>

Knot Binder fluffed her tail in a nervous fashion. <Keen Eyes, you keep speaking of “he,” as if you are certain you will face a single opponent. How can you be so sure?>

<I am not sure,> Keen Eyes admitted, <but I plan to do what I can to make matters go the way I wish. First, I will direct my mind-voice to one and one alone. I had thought to try to call Nimble Fingers, because he seemed more sympathetic than his uncle. Nimble Fingers also seemed quite junior to me. I will go out at a time when it is likely his senior will be taking his ease…I was thinking of the hours when night is giving way to dawn and neither the day-prey or night-prey are active. That is when a senior hunter would rest.>

<And if your cleverness does not work?> Needless to say, this came from Sour Belly.

<Then I must rely upon courage,> Keen Eyes returned levelly. <As Bowl Shaper said, winter will remove all our choices. We must act while choice remains.>

* * *

“We’re running out of time, Gwen,” Oswald Morrow pointed out a bit diffidently across the table. The two of them were dining in an expensive restaurant whose clientele were prepared to pay inflated prices in return for guaranteed privacy as they dined. “They’ve only got another week or so before they head back to Sphinx.”

“Really?” Gwendolyn Adair’s response dripped irony. “Do you know, Ozzie, I do believe I read something about that somewhere already!”

“I’m not the one joggling your elbow,” Morrow pointed out. “It’s Frampton. She’s getting impatient.”

Gwendolyn started to snap at him, then stopped. Angelique Frampton, Countess Frampton, was the granddaughter of a first shareholder whose son had improved upon his father’s originally fairly modest position through a lifetime of aggressive (some would have said unscrupulous) financial maneuvers. Over the course of his and Angelique’s lifetimes, the Framptons had moved into the uppermost ranks of the Star Kingdom’s wealthy, and as part of that climb, they’d acquired a huge portfolio of Sphinxian land options and leveraged it for all it was worth worth. At the moment, those land options were valued at “only” four or five hundred million dollars. Over the course of the next thirty to forty T-years, that value would at least triple, and the bankable value they already represented had been used as security for loans totaling just over a billion dollars. Those loans were critical to the Earldom of Frampton’s solvency, and their terms required full payment or refinancing within the next ten T-years. Repayment would be difficult or even impossible; refinancing would be a routine transaction…as long as the options’ value was maintained

That would have been cause enough for Angelique to seek proactive means of protecting their worth, yet that was hardly her only motivation. Nor was the sizable stash of options in Gwendolyn’s portfolio her only motivation. True, both she and the countess stood to lose heavily in purely financial terms if they were invalidated or even simply declined in market value, although Framption stood to lose far more. But the countess also possessed a vindictive streak at least a kilometer wide. Those were her land options. No stinking clutch of misbegotten, rat-like little aliens was going to take what was hers! She would probably survive financially if she lost the options, but her fortune would be brutally reduced…and she was just the sort of person to use what was left of it taking vengeance on whoever had allowed—or caused—that to happen.

On someone like Gwendolyn Adair, for example.

“I imagine she’s not the only one who’s feeling impatient,” Gwendolyn said after a moment, instead of biting Morrow’s head off, and he snorted.

“All of them are getting antsy, if that’s what you mean.” He shook his head. “For someone who’s only gotten off campus twice—aside from her visits to the Adair Foundation, anyway—Harrington and that little monster have attracted an awful lot of favorable press. Every time I think about that puff piece the Landing Observer did on her I want to throw up. Even Harvey’s in her corner now! He says she’s one of the best students he’s ever had, and the last time I talked to him, he went on forever about how smart her treecat is, too.”

“I know.” It was Gwendolyn’s turn to shake her head. “She’s more personable than I’d hoped, and she’s got those idiot friends of George’s eating out of her hand at the Foundation.”

Stephanie and Karl had visited the Adair Foundation five times now—three times to meet with the Foundation’s directors, who also happened to be its most generous donors. There wasn’t much doubt what sort of impression she’d made on them, unfortunately. Not that it had come as much of a surprise to Gwnedolyn.

“It was your idea to invite her,” Morrow pointed out.

“Yes, it was. And if I hadn’t thought of it, someone else would have—probably George himself.”

Gwendolyn’s tone was acid. Her cousin George Lebedyenko took his position as Earl of Adair Hollow—and CEO of the Adair Foundation—seriously. Usually, she found that more useful than not, but there were times (and this looked like one of them) when his personal interest could become more of a hindrance than a help.

“The treecats are exactly what the Foundation was set up to protect,” she continued. “That’s one reason Angelique sent you to me in the first place on this one, Ozzie. At least by issuing the invitation I was in a position to control how much contact young Stephanie actually had with them.”

“Granted.” Morrow shrugged. “But Frampton would be a lot happier if we could’ve at least managed to give the ‘oh-aren’t-treecats-cute’ lobby a bit of a black eye while we had them here on Manticore.”

“Oh, I haven’t given up on that,” Gwendolyn assured him. “In fact, I have good news for Stephanie and Karl. The management at the Charleston Arms has finally agreed to allow Lionheart not just on the premises, but into the private dining room.”

“What?!” Morrow stared at her across the table. “I thought we’d agreed that the last thing we wanted—”

“—was the Foundation’s membership getting a chance to meet the little monster personally and fall under his spell,” Gwendolyn finished for him, and waved one hand impatiently. “Of course we did. But I was in two minds about that from the beginning. And since George has decided he wants Lionheart admitted to the next Foundation meeting, I decided it would probably be less than desirable for him to find out I’ve been the one discreetly dragging my heels on that from the beginning. Especially when he’s actually going to be able to be present for the next meeting instead of delegating to his faithful proxy cousin.”

“Well, that’s the game,” Morrow said gloomily. Unlike Gwendolyn, he hadn’t personally met Lionheart, but he’d watched quite a bit of covertly obtained long-range imagery of the treecat, and he had met Stephanie. “Once they see the two of them together, they’re going to jump right on the treecat bandwagon.”

“Oh, grow up, Ozzie!” Gwendolyn looked at him irritably. “That was going to happen no matter what we did! What? You expected the Foundation to come down in favor of exterminating all treecats? And that doesn’t even count George! It’s been a given that they’d feel compelled to come to the little beasties’ rescue.”

“So you decided to get behind and push them in that direction? Is that it?”

“Exactly.” Gwendolyn smiled at Morrow’s expression. “The best we’re going to be able to do with them is get them to sign on for the reservation option, Ozzie. George will be inclined in the direction of ‘protecting them from human contact’ no matter what—it’s going to be an automatic reflex on his part—and the Foundation’s Board almost always follows his lead. You know that as well as I do. What we need to do is to steer George in the direction he’d take anyway…and do it in a way which will push the Board even more strongly into supporting him.”

“And giving them an opportunity to actually meet Lionheart is going to do that?” Morrow looked skeptical. “You’ve read Dr. Radzinsky’s reports, and we’ve both watched the vids of Lionheart scampering around the campus with her. They’re sentient, Gwen, and you know it. In fact, they’re probably even smarter than we were afraid they were! If the Board gets a chance to spend any time in Lionheart and Harrington’s presence, a lot of them—I’m thinking of Turner and Fitzpatrick, especially—are going to see this as some kind of healthy symbiotic relationship between two highly intelligent species. And it’ll be the first time humans have ever managed anything of the sort, too. If they decide that’s what’s going on on Sphinx, they’re almost certain to vote in favor of some act granting the treecats the legal status of full sentients!”

“First, Turner and Fitzpatrick are going to do that anyway. Second, anybody with half a brain who’s actually listened to how Harrington and Lionheart met ought to realize treecats can be dangerous. Third, dangerous aborigines need to be isolated, both to protect them from corruption—not to mention the sorts of reactions that interaction with the threats and challenges of a high-tech society are likely to provoke—and to protect innocent bystanders from injury if something triggers their fight-or-flight mechanism. And fourth, Ozzie, who ever said Harrington and her little friend were actually going to get to the next meeting?”

Morrow had opened his mouth to reply. Now he shut it very slowly, eyes narrowed in speculation at her across the table, and her knife-sharp smile was cold.

Chapter Fourteen

Hard Claw and Firm Biter helped Keen Eyes position the net trap where any Person trying to reach Keen Eyes must trigger it. Then they retired to the agreed-upon distance. Keen Eyes concentrated on Nimble Fingers, focusing on the sense of the other Person he had gained during their brief encounters. Then he shaped his mind-voice into notes of anger and pain. He let himself remember Red Cliff as he had been when they had last met, half-mad with grief over his beloved Beautiful Mind, weak in body because he kept insisting that his share of the food be given to either his mate or their kittens.

Keen Eyes shaped the images into mockery. <I suspect whoever slew Red Cliff thinks himself a hero, protecting the home territory. What sort of hero gives death when comfort is needed?>

Making his memories into a coherent mind-voice image was painful in and of itself. Keen Eyes let that pain intensify the message. He showed the listener where he was, how he sat within Trees Enfolding’s own territory.

At first, Keen Eyes thought his plan to lure Nimble Fingers to him had failed. He let his despair come forth to color his mind-voice. Perhaps this last was what made Nimble Fingers finally hear.

Nimble Fingers spoke to Keen Eyes, mind to mind.

<What do you mean by this insult?> Nimble Fingers said indignantly. <If your clan brother is dead, we did not have anything to do with it. If this Red Cliff was as weak as you say, perhaps he fell victim to a young death fang or a flock of death-wings.>

In reply, Keen Eyes sent a detailed image of Red Cliff’s body as he had found it, claw-slashed and bloodied but with no indication that any part of it had been eaten, as surely would have been the case if the killer had been either of the fearsome predators suggested. He focused on showing how those wounds were very like those made by a Person’s claws.

Nimble Fingers’ reply was not so much a statement as a sense of uncertainty, a hint that perhaps Keen Eyes was not providing the full tale.

As he shaped his own reply, Keen Eyes also sensed the first hints of the other’s mind-glow. In it he tasted no indication that Nimble Fingers had yet called for help from others in his clan. Whether this was because Nimble Fingers was young and impulsive or because what Keen Eyes had accused Trees Enfolding of having done made him uncertain, Keen Eyes could not be sure.

Keen Eyes kept projecting his own anger and grief, his certainty that his clan mate had been slain by another Person and that the killer belonged to Nimble Fingers’ own clan. He kept his mind-voice narrowly focused, so that what he said would be heard only by Nimble Fingers. He sought to disorient Nimble Fingers, so the younger ’cat would hurtle forward, leaping from point to point without thinking very hard about what he might meet at the end.

Keen Eyes knew his own mind-glow would reflect his current state of mind. To the approaching Nimble Fingers, Keen Eyes would be a vibrant emotional storm in which his current intense anger and grief would dominate less immediate emotions. Keen Eyes knew his own excitement that his plan seemed to be working would blend into the storm. In such a situation, excitement and tension were only natural. Indeed, he had to fight not to attack when Nimble Fingers at last burst from the cover of the sheltering trees. Instead, Keen Eyes shifted his position so that when Nimble Fingers took his next leap he would land squarely in the trap prepared for him.

Nimble Fingers leapt. The spread net snapped shut into a ball with Nimble Fingers caught on the inside.

Before Nimble Fingers could call for assistance from his clan, Keen Eyes bombarded him with a shout of command.

<Hold and listen!>

With the swiftness of thought, Keen Eyes hammered into Nimble Fingers the one part of his discovery of Red Cliff that he had withheld to this moment—how when he had found his murdered friend’s body he had been taunted from afar by Swimmer’s Scourge. Keen Eyes had considered sharing this memory from the start, but he had chosen not to because he had worried that rather than racing forward in indignant defense of his uncle, Nimble Fingers might have chosen to confront Swimmer’s Scourge.

Now the memory, perfect in every detail, hit Nimble Fingers like a blow. He stopped struggling against the tightly knotted mesh and hung limp.

<Swimmer’s Scourge said that to you?> The statement held no doubt as to the accuracy of Keen Eyes’ reporting of the event, only shock and pain that a Person Nimble Fingers thought he knew so well could be capable of such cruelty. <I knew Swimmer’s Scourge was ferocious beyond measure in his desire to protect our clan’s territory. He has said that the fire’s invasion was enough for us to bear. He would not tolerate another invasion. Yet…that he could kill your Red Cliff and then brag of it to you—return to the clan and reveal nothing….>

<He said nothing to the members of Trees Enfolding?>

<Nothing. Of course we could all tell he was overwrought and excited, but so have we all been. There has been much argument in the clan of late. There are two factions regarding where we should locate our winter central nesting place. There are those who believe we should let your clan pass through our lands, and others who believe with equal certainty that we should chase you from where you currently den. There are many other, smaller, arguments, as well, so that our memory singers and mind healers are worn out trying to mediate them.>

Nimble Fingers could easily have shared all the details of these clan quarrels fully with Keen Eyes. However, he clearly felt he had no reason to trust the other. Nonetheless, although Nimble Fingers could conceal details, he could not conceal the confusion and pain that now dominated his mind-glow.

Keen Eyes carefully tasted that mind-glow, but he saw no indication that Nimble Fingers was about to call for help. Soon, however, Nimble Fingers would get over his initial shock and call for someone—perhaps the senior memory singer. Therefore, Keen Eyes could not delay his next move, no matter how much sympathy he felt for the younger Person’s confusion.

<If Swimmer’s Scourge did not tell your clan what he did,> Keen Eyes said, abating some of his anger and replacing it with a thoughtfulness that came easily because it was more natural to him, <then perhaps I should tell them. Perhaps Swimmer’s Scourge doubts that the rest of the Trees Enfolding clan would agree that he took the right course in killing Red Cliff. Perhaps he feels ashamed at how he added to my pain at the death of my clan mate through the cruelty of his taunts. Perhaps Trees Enfolding clan needs to hear this.>

<No! Don’t…It would…I told you, we are already….>

The younger Person’s thoughts muddled into frantic incoherence. Keen Eyes hurried to offer a compromise.

<Perhaps I will wait…But if I agree, then you must promise not to call out for help. I want you to come with me to see my clan. I want you to be able to testify how severe our need is. Thus far, you of Trees Enfolding have kept your distance. You have been able to consider our plight as if it was merely a question of your convenience. I want an end to such denial.>

Keen Eyes opened himself to the younger Person, letting him see without reserve that Keen Eyes meant him no harm, that he could be set free this moment—but that Keen Eyes was equally sincere about carrying out his threat.

Nimble Fingers did not offer an answering openness, but remained thoughtfully silent for a long moment. When his reply came, it was lit with sincerity.

<I will come with you, Keen Eyes of the Landless. I promise that I will take back to my clan what I learn about your own. In return, will you spare my uncle?>

<For now. I do not see how the truth can be withheld forever, but I also do not see how causing more conflict within your clan will help my own.>

<Fair enough. You may take this net off of me. I will run with you of my own free will.>

Keen Eyes accepted his promise. Mind-voices might be able to withhold some aspect of an event. In such a manner, Swimmer’s Scourge might have disguised his own emotional state as merely a reaction to the strain of current events. However, it was impossible for a Person to be dishonest to another Person when they stood close enough to read one another’s mind-glows. He saw no indication that Nimble Fingers was anything less than vibrantly interested in doing what he could to preserve his clan’s internal peace—and if that would also help the Landless Clan, then that was good, as well.

Keen Eyes spoke to Hard Claw and Firm Biter, sharing with them what had passed. Then he said, <I will take Nimble Fingers back to our clan’s current nesting place. You two should patrol this border and send warning if anyone misses Nimble Fingers and comes seeking him. Do not cause a confrontation. That might undo all we have managed to this point.>

The two hunters agreed. Reassured that their backs were being watched, Keen Eyes led Nimble Fingers toward a meeting that they both hoped would change the fates of their clans.

* * *

Keen Eyes called ahead to the members of his clan that he was bringing Nimble Fingers in with him.

<He is a young Person, still very much in shock over the news of what Swimmer’s Scourge has done. If you have it in you, be gentle with him. Even if you do not have much patience left, remember that our clan’s fate may rest on how this Person sees us.>

He wondered what Nimble Fingers would see. Even in its prime, Swaying Fronds had been only a moderate-sized clan, for the mountains were not hospitable to the largest sized clans. Yet they had also been prosperous and well-fed. The mountains gave them good stone for their tools. They had strong stands of green-needle and gray-bark from which they harvested the seeds. The females with small kittens tended stands of golden-ear and other such bark-growing plants. Both seeds and bark-growing plants were kept against the thin days of winter, when hunting and fishing became more difficult.

Now they were poor beyond measure. Even thickening coats could not hide that most of them were growing gaunt. Moreover, many members of the clan had perished in the fires, others soon after it, for it took great need and support from the clan for the survivor of a bonded pair to carry on once one of the pair had died.

To make matters worse, many of the survivors were the very old, the very young, and the infirm. Swaying Fronds Clan had started its evacuation with these. Younger, stronger members of the clan had remained behind to salvage what they could of the stored food and tools—a task that had been viewed as especially important because even then the clan’s elders could tell that the fires would destroy much of their territory and they would need every advantage if they were to make it through the winter.

It was a decision which had cost them dearly when the winds swirled suddenly, driving the flames before them like a tempest.

He was desperate to know how Nimble Fingers saw them. Would he see their need, or would he see a group of refugees—too many young, too many injured, too many elderly to be anything but a burden to Trees Enfolding clan? Keen Eyes was certain this was how Swimmer’s Scourge had viewed them. Was it too much to hope his nephew would be any different?

Silently, Nimble Fingers passed among the members of the Landless Clan. Very few spoke to him, but their mind-glows were eloquent of their hope and need. Only the kittens—who had only heard tales of winter—were less eloquent of their desperation, but even they were scarred with grief and loss.

Keen ears paced behind Nimble Fingers, ready to protect him if any of the Landless Clan forgot that he was there as a guest, not an enemy. He tasted Nimble Fingers’ mind-glow carefully, hoping for a clue as to how he would judge them. Surely there were the echoes of sympathy, of shared pain. Surely, Nimble Fingers was seeing them as they saw themselves—wounded but not beyond healing and growing strong again.

Hope was budding in Keen Eyes’ heart when a sudden loud cry reached his mind. It came from Long Voice, a scout who had stationed himself where he could relay messages from Hard Claw and Firm Biter.

<They come! They come! Trees Enfolding has tracked Nimble Fingers. They come to his rescue and intend our doom!>

* * *

Any Person old enough to be accepted as an adult by the clan had heard the memory songs that recalled those rare and horrible times when People fought each other. Such times were rare, and the memory songs preserved from them were old, faded, yet still dreadful in their intensity. But Keen Eyes soon discovered that even their savage intensity fell short of reality.

Fangs and claws were the least of the weapons brought to bear. For clan to fight clan, the empathy that connected even People of different clans must be washed away in a tide of emotion so strong and fierce that it eliminated the awareness of the others as People, transforming them into Enemies.

So it was among the members of Trees Enfolding who descended upon the temporary nesting place of the Landless Clan. Their mind-glows were one loop of fury, of rage that their kindness had been met with cruelty, of fear for Nimble Fingers, of visions that horrible torments had been visited upon him. The attacking mass of People were beyond reason, for if they had been capable of reason, they could have reached for Nimble Fingers’ mind, discovered that he lived, learn from him what had actually happened.

But reason was gone. All that remained were fangs and claws.

Already ravaged by their own many losses, by starvation, by dread of the coming winter, the Landless Clan rapidly mirrored Trees Enfolding in senseless rage. Elders swept panicked kittens into hiding, mated couples swept forth in terrible battle pairs, their linked mind-glows intensifying their shared fears into a berserker rage.

Caught as he was between these two emotional storms, Keen Eyes struggled to maintain some slim thread of reason. He felt Nimble Fingers striving to do the same. He heard as Nimble Fingers shouted at the top of his mind-voice that he was well, that there had been a mistake…that there was no need to fight.

But Trees Enfolding was deaf to reason. The tide of fear had risen beyond the triggering cause for this attack. As their grouped minds now perceived matters, the Landless Clan must be wiped out, eliminated before they could threaten Trees Enfolding further. Glimpses of the vision within their mind-glows showed Keen Eyes the Landless Clan not as it was, but as a combination of the cold, white power of winter and the cramping constriction of lands suddenly seen as too small to support them.

And in this image, Keen Eyes thought he smelled one mind more mad than all the rest—the stress-corrupted mind of Swimmer’s Scourge.

Struggling to retain his own identity, Keen Eyes stretched his mind-voice to touch that of Nimble Fingers. <Hide yourself, for if you die there is no hope! Hide!>

Then he bunched his muscles for a great leap, seeking with all his power to separate the voice of Swimmer’s Scourge from the mind-glow storm that swirled in many-colored emotions around him.

He found the mind-glow he sought. Swimmer’s Scourge was wild with glee as he tore into Tiny Choir’s mother, battering her not only with fangs and claws, but with a determination that she understand that neither she nor her kittens deserved to live, anathema as they were in a land strained beyond the ability to support them.

<You should have died! Died! Flesh and bones turned to ash. Fertilizer to feed the damaged forest. Die now! Let blood heal the wounded earth!>

The images were nearly more than Keen Eyes could bear. He leapt forth, stretching his limbs to their utmost, six sets of claws extending to rend and tear. He hit his mark, felt blood flow, drowned in insanity beyond his comprehension.

Yet Keen Eyes struggled to retain a thread of sanity, fought for his clan but also for Trees Enfolding Clan, fought for the hope of the reconciliation that had seemed possible a bare moment before.

His mouth wet with a Person’s blood, matted with fur, Keen Eyes felt Swimmer’s Scourge’s voice fade down the dark trails towards unconsciousness. Yet the reverberations of his insanity could not be so easily quieted. The battle storm raged around where they were entangled.

Keen Eyes did not know who hit him, whether one or many. His pain was a wind howl within a storm of fear and suffering.

The blackness that took him would have been welcome, but for the regret that he had failed.

* * *

“I think Mom’s gotten to depend on us to make this run,” Jessica laughed as she picked Anders up. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“I really don’t,” Anders said, sliding into the air car next to her and presenting a piece of celery to Valiant by way of greeting. “Ever since the x-a’s arrived, Dad’s whole team’s been incredibly focused. It’s not that I don’t like anthropology, but there are times I seriously need a break.”

Valiant bleeked thanks to Anders and hopped into the back seat where he could eat his celery without dripping all over Jessica. Jessica set the car on course and leaned back in her seat.

“Mom asked if I’d expand my collecting zone. She wants samples of plants from the surrounding area to compare with those in the regrowth regions.”

“That makes lots of sense,” Anders replied. “Want to start today? The weather’s really nice.”

“You wouldn’t mind? I don’t want to bore you.”

“Hey, Jess, take it easy. You never bore me.”

“I…” Jessica leaned forward and made an unnecessary adjustment to the air car’s controls. “I guess I’ve wondered…Worried. I mean, you’re used to Stephanie. She’s so much more interesting. I mean, look at this class she’s taking, the people she’s meeting…I’m just not in that league.”

Impulsively, Anders reached out and laid a hand lightly on Jessica’s shoulder. “Jess…Stephanie is great, really great. I have a lot of fun with her, but she’s pretty intense, too. You’re interesting, but you’re not as intense.”

“I get it,” Jessica replied, and there was no ignoring the bitterness in her voice. “Stephanie’s like a strong, sparkly jazzberry soda. I’m sort of like warm milk.”

Anders was all too aware that his hand was still on her shoulder, but he felt that if he pulled it away, she’d take it as a rejection. He left it there, trying not to think about how nice it would be to slide over little closer, to put his arm around her. Jessica was taller than Stephanie and usually seemed so balanced and mature. Right now, she seemed small and delicate, very much in need of reassurance.

He drew in a deep breath. “Jessica, you’re not like warm milk. I don’t like warm milk, and I do like you. So, just stop it.”

Jessica gave an unsteady laugh. “Sorry, I guess. I shouldn’t be fishing for compliments from you of all people. It’s just been a hard time with Tiddles sick. Did I tell you Dad almost got himself laid off again? He stayed home to take care of Tiddles and sort of forgot to call in. There are times I don’t know why Mom puts up with him.”

She sighed. Valiant bleeked from the backseat, then leapt gracefully up to pat his human comfortingly on the cheek before sliding down into her lap. Anders decided that the treecat had given him a good excuse to remove his own hand and did so, but he was amazed at how reluctant he was.

It can’t be because Stephanie’s been away. I mean, it’s not like I’m that desperate. It’s just that Jessica is…She’s really so sweet. She’s always doing stuff for other people. I’d like…I’d like to do something for her, something to show her she’s appreciated. Her dad doesn’t appreciate her, and her mom relies on her too much to really appreciate….

His thoughts spiraled off into an uncomfortable muddle, not helped in the least by the fact that he thought Valiant was eyeing him in an amused fashion. Anders knew he was reading human expressions into that furred face, but still, there was something in the angle of the whiskers and cant of the ears….

He realized the silence had been going on uncomfortably long and grabbed for the first thing he could think of.

“I guess your mom puts up with your dad because she loves him. Love makes people do some really incredible things. I mean, I sometimes wonder why my mom stays with my dad. He so obsessed, and it’s not as if being married to a college professor does anything for her career. But when he got into trouble, she was right by his side, fierce as a neo-tiger. I’m pretty sure he’d have gotten into a lot more trouble with the University without her connections.”

“Love…” Jessica said musingly. “It makes as much sense as anything. I can’t figure out why people love each other. Sometimes it seems like a pretty lousy way for a species to perpetuate itself. People in love make the dumbest mistakes. Mom should have married a nice man who could have given her stability. People who like plants need to put down roots.”

“But maybe,” Anders countered, thinking of how Buddy Pheriss had confronted Duff DeWitt, “maybe what your mom wanted was someone who’d keep her from getting—well, like pot-bound. You know how they say ‘opposites attract.’”

Jessica laughed without any tension this time. “Well, my folks could be the illustration for that one. I don’t think I’m like my mom, though. I don’t want someone I’d always have to worry about. I want someone who’s steady in a crisis, someone who isn’t well, a charming mercurial flake like Dad.”

She said the words so firmly that Anders almost asked if she had anyone specific in mind. He swallowed the question before it could come out, realizing he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer.

And why not? Shouldn’t you help her out? Maybe you could act as a go-between. Or is it that you don’t want to know because you’re afraid of the answer for some other reason?

Now Anders was sure Valiant was studying him quizzically and realized he was blushing. Bad enough that he could barely shape a coherent thought without some alien running private commentary.

“Well,” he said a bit lamely, “at least you think your dad is charming. That’s better than hating him for what he’s put your family through.”

“Good point,” Jessica said. “Tell me about your mom. You’ve got the advantage on me. You met both my parents. I’ve only met your dad.”

Anders was grateful for the change of subject, even if he suspected that once again Jessica was displaying her talent for thinking of others, this time to his advantage. He launched in, determined to be amusing at least.

His stories of his mother’s rise in politics and how she’d made an effort to be an attentive mother despite the demands of her career kept them occupied for the rest of the trip. He was finishing up his story when the autopilot shifted to landing mode.

“So there’s Mom at this function for the foreign ambassador, but with her mind on my birthday. When they struck up the national anthem, she started singing the Birthday Song, instead. She lucked out, though. Turns out it was the ambassador’s wife’s birthday and everyone thought Mom had been really up on her research. She told us the truth later though….”

Jessica brought the car around to a landing in their usual spot at the edge of the burned-out forest. “She sounds great. You must miss her a lot.”

“I do, but…Well…” Anders got out of the car and headed to help Jessica unload equipment. “It’s not like my family’s ever been like yours or Stephanie’s. If we eat a meal together, it’s maybe once a week, and that’s scheduled. I’m used to scattered contact.”

Jessica nodded understanding. “Want to take the images? Coordinates are preloaded if you have any doubts as to which plant we want. I’ll do the soil samples and moisture readings.”

“Right.”

They did the first set of readings, then moved to a new area, closer to the tree line.

“We’ll go into that stretch of forest when we’re done,” Jessica said. “I spotted a clearing from the air where we can land. That should be a good place to get the samples Mom asked for.”

“Good with me.”

They hadn’t even set down in the new location when Valiant showed every evidence of great agitation.

“I wonder if he smells a predator or something?” Anders asked, reaching nervously to make sure his handgun was where it should be. “We’re high enough we could be in the lower parts of peak bear territory. Hexapumas are all over this area.”

Jessica shook her head. “It doesn’t feel like that. Valiant’s eager but apprehensive. That’s not how he reacts when he smells something dangerous.”

She settled the air car on the ground and Valiant sprang out as soon as she opened the door. He bleeked urgently at Jessica, then sprinted off.

Jessica tore off after him, not even pausing to shut the door. Anders did so, thinking of all the nasty Sphinxian wildlife that otherwise might come in to investigate. Then he rushed after.

They were in a picketwood area, so the understory was mostly open, without a great deal of scrub growth. Anders followed the flashes of blue and yellow that were Jessica’s shirt. About a hundred meters into the forest, she cried out.

“Anders! Get my med kit from the car. We found another treecat. This one’s badly hurt, but still alive!”

Chapter Fifteen

Anders found Jessica and Valiant crouched on the ground next to a bloodsoaked treecat. Valiant was making loud, rough purrs, but Anders thought the ’cat was anxious, not happy.

“This ’cat’s hurt, badly hurt,” Jessica said, accepting the med kit without looking up from her patient. “But he’s not dead.”

“What can I do?” Anders asked.

“Not much, right now,” Jessica said, her hands already busy pulling out a spray anesthetic. “Cover us. Whatever did this might still be around.”

Anders obeyed. He found himself wishing that Stephanie or Karl were there. Not only would they have a better idea what type of creature might have done this, but Lionheart might have something to offer. Valiant certainly wasn’t much help. He remained crouching by the wounded treecat as if his thrumming purr might help the other hold on to life.

And it might, Anders admitted to himself. I have no idea how treecats work.

A flick of motion ahead and to the left caught his attention. For a moment, he thought it might have been caused by another ’cat. Then he realized it was nothing so large. Some sort of bugs were darting over a huddled shape on the ground. He pulled out his binoculars. What he saw made him gasp.

“Jessica! There’s another treecat about ten meters to the east. I think this one’s dead for sure.”

Jessica continued her frantic labors. “Take a look? Or do you want to wait until I can go with you?”

“I’ll go,” Anders said. He un-holstered his gun, slung the binoculars around his neck, and marched toward the still figure. The bugs scattered when he got close, but he saw that they’d been clustered on a gaping hole in the treecat’s thick throat fur.

“Definitely dead,” he called back. “And definitely not disease. Something tore his throat out.”

Her response was calm and resigned. “This one’s been attacked, too. Do you suppose they went after a hexapuma—like Lionheart’s clan did to rescue Stephanie—only this time they weren’t so lucky?”

“Maybe,” Anders agreed. “I’m going to scout around a bit, see if I can find a body or something.”

He did, but the body he found was not that of a hexapuma. Instead, it was another treecat, this one a brown and white female, very slender and incredibly pathetic in death. A few steps further, he found another body—this time a male.

Anders might not be an expert tracker like Stephanie and Karl, but his time with his father’s anthropological crew had made him sensitive to detail.

“Jess, I think you might be right about the treecats going after a hexapuma or something. There’s a lot of damage here, both on the ground and up in the trees as well. The area gets more torn up the further I go.”

“Did you find what they were fighting?”

“No sign. Maybe it got away. Maybe these ’cats weren’t as good at fighting as Lionheart’s clan. How’s your patient?”

“I think I have been stabilized, but he needs more help than I can give him. Normally, I’d take him to Dr. Richard, but—”

She shrugged and Anders bit his lip. What a time for Stephanie’s parents to be off Sphinx!

“I don’t know if we should take him to the clinic,” he said. “Dr. Saleem is good, but I’m not sure how much he knows about treecats. He’d have the files, but I don’t think he’s done much hands-on work. Dr. Richard always handled the treecats himself. What about Scott MacDallan? Stephanie told me Dr. Richard’s been sharing all of his notes with Scott, and he treated Fisher himself after the two of them first met. Is your car up to a flight to Thunder River?”

Jessica nodded. “It’ll take a bit longer than it does in Karl’s car. My junker just can’t go as fast. I’ll have to com Mom, though. What should I tell her?”

Anders noticed that without having discussed it, both of them were already agreed that the injured tree cat—and three dead ones—were not matters for general discussion. The x-a’s would probably insist on seeing the injured treecat and poking it, no matter how hurt it—no, he—was. Heck, Anders couldn’t even be sure Dad would keep off!

“Stephanie’s a big fan of telling the truth,” he said, “just leaving out the awkward parts. Let’s do that. Tell your mom we found an injured treecat and that we think Scott would be the best person to treat it. Ask her to keep it to herself.”

“I think she’d do that,” Jessica agreed, “especially given how those x-a’s were looking for dirt on Valiant. She’d understand the need to protect this one.”

Naomi Pheriss did indeed understand. “Take your time, Jessica. Call if you decide to stay the night in Thunder River, all right?”

Anders called his dad, too, but Dr. Whitaker was—as usual—too distracted by his work to worry about why his seventeen-year-old son might not be home until late or the next day. “Have fun with your friends,” he said.

“I suppose,” Anders said after he’d disconnected “we should call Scott and warn him we’re coming. We should probably have called him before we called our folks.”

“Yeah, and given Scott a chance to tell us to take this poor fellow to the clinic in Twin Forks, instead,” Jessica added.

But MacDallan made no such suggestion. Instead, the redhaired doctor asked Anders and Jessica for any details they could give and viewed images of his future patient over the uni-link.

“I’ll have a treatment room ready,” he promised. “Call again when you’re about fifteen minutes out.”

“We will,” Anders promised. “And thanks for helping out on such short notice.”

When Anders disconnected, he helped Jessica clear a spot in the rear seat of the air car and settle in the wounded treecat.

Then he said, “I think we should bring those bodies along. I noticed you had some tarps in the trunk.”

“Mom and I always carry some in case we need to wrap a root ball or something,” Jessica said. “I’ve got boxes, too. Do you think the other treecats will mind?”

“I don’t see anyone making funeral arrangements,” Anders said brutally. “Let’s do this like last time, let Valiant see what we’re doing. If he protests or the other treecat wakes up and gets upset, then we stop and settle for images. Otherwise, we bring the bodies, too. We’ll take the same precautions as last time, handle the bodies as little as possible, and disinfect afterwards.”

Jessica nodded and, when Valiant showed no signs of being upset, they carried out their grisly task as quickly as possible.

“I suppose we could have buried these like we did the other one,” Anderson said, “but I’m edgy about all of this.”

“You, too?” Jessica said. “I thought Valiant’s worry over the other ’cat was making me nervy.”

“It’s not just you,” Anders assured her. “It can’t be a coincidence that we’ve found four dead and one injured treecat all in the same region. What if something’s hunting them—some predator displaced by the fire, maybe? I’d like to see if Scott can make a guess at what got them. Then maybe the SFS can do something.”

“Good idea,” Jessica agreed, tucking a tarp to secure the load packed in the air car’s trunk. “We’ll call Scott on the way and tell him what to expect. Now we’d better fly.

* * *

Keen Eyes realized the pain had gone away. He still felt very weak, but it was a delicious sort of weakness. He felt cared for, protected, relaxed in a manner he hadn’t felt for a long time—certainly not since the fires destroyed his clan’s home range, perhaps not since he’d been a kitten.

His lids were so heavy that he could not open his eyes, but he did twitch his nose. The odors around him were very strange. He was certain he had never smelled them before, yet they were not completely alien…He let his mind drift. That, at least, was easy. And in the depths of memory, Keen Eyes found the connection he sought. He had never smelled these things, not with his own nose, but he had experienced them in one of the memory songs Wide Ears had given to the scouts.

The song had been at several removes, but Wide Ears had been a strong singer. Moreover, she had been showing them these particular memories to help them in their scouting. For that reason, she had been even pickier than usual about making sure the various sensory details were as refined as possible.

The song was from the memory of two young People from the Damp Earth Clan. They had been trapped by one of the earlier fires in the past fire season—one in the lowlands, near the large central nesting place of the two-legs. These two—Right-Striped and Left-Striped—would certainly have been burned alive had their cries for help not been heard by Climbs Quickly of the Bright Water Clan, companion of the young two-leg called Death Fang’s Bane.

Without help, Climbs Quickly could not have saved them, but he had managed to make his two-leg companions understand that they were needed. After they were rescued, Right-Striped and Left-Striped had been taken to Death Fang’s Bane’s nesting place. Her sire, Healer, had treated their burns.

Some of the smells from that memory were what Keen Eyes was smelling now. Medications. The odor of the interior of one of the two-legs’ flying things. And, not at all in the least, that of several two-legs. He was very tired, but as a scout he was good at sorting through scents. Many of the two-leg scents were older. Those who had left them were not present. However, there were two sharper scents, strong enough to indicate that those who had made them were close by. Keen Eyes registered another scent, as well; that of a male Person of some years. Now that he had this focus, Keen Eyes realized he had been aware of this Person’s mind-glow since he had awakened. Its calm, comforting presence had a great deal to do with the feeling of being protected and relaxed that had been wrapped around him.

Tentatively, Keen Eyes spoke, <I thank you…I am Keen Eyes of the Landless Clan. You are?>

The comforting mind-glow replied, <I am Dirt Grubber of the Damp Ground Clan, although now I live with the two-leg called Windswept and her clan. The ones you smell are Windswept and Bleached Fur. We are in their flying thing, up in the sky.>

The mind-voice was accompanied by images. Keen Eyes recognized both Windswept and Bleached Fur from the background of Right-Striped and Left-Striped’s memories. However, he had had no idea that yet another Person had chosen to bond with a two-leg. He felt lost and confused. Dirt Grubber immediately moved to reassure him.

<There is no reason you should have known. My clan lives in the lowlands. Perhaps your memory singers have been too busy to share songs with another clan.>

<We have no memory singers.> Keen Eyes did not try to hide his pain and bitterness. His mind was muddied, perhaps from whatever had taken away the pain, but he managed to share something of the Landless Clan’s history since the fires. He deliberately held back its problems with Trees Enfolding Clan, for he had no idea whether or not Dirt Grubber or his clan was friendly with Trees Enfolding. They might even be related clans.

<You have had a bad time,> Dirt Grubber replied. <I would ask more, but you are very weak. Windswept has given you something to help with the pain. She is taking you to Darkness Foe, who will help you, but it is a long journey. I think you should try to rest.>

Keen Eyes wanted to protest, but he really was very tired. Dirt Grubber started purring, his mind-glow filling with slow, easy images—of plants unfolding their leaves, of sunlight warming fur, of eyes heavy with sleep after a good meal.

Keen Eyes did not resist, but gave himself over to sleep.

* * *

Scott MacDallan’s red hair shone like a landing beacon as Jessica brought her air car down behind the house he shared with his wife, Irina Kisaevna.

Fisher had been on his customary perch on Scott’s shoulder, but as soon as the car landed, he came racing across, waiting with obvious impatience until Anders opened the door. Flirting his tail in a gesture of thanks, Fisher leapt inside, where he joined Valiant.

Valiant had sat cuddled up next to the wounded treecat for the entire flight and now he made room so that Fisher could join him.

It takes absolutely no imagination at all, Anders thought, to figure out that something more than a group hug is going on here.

In the background, he could hear Jessica speaking to Scott: “Anders and I just lifted the hurt ’cat in, but do you think we should use a stretcher or something getting him back out?”

“I’ll give him a first exam here,” Scott said, shoving head and shoulders into the back of the air car. “Then we’ll decide. Move over, guys. I realize you’re helping him, but I need to take a look and I can’t do with you in the way.”

Valiant and Fisher moved aside as one, leaping to frame the doctor from new perches on the back of the seat.

“Stars above,” the doctor said softly a few moments later. “He’s really been slashed up. Some of those claws went deep. Internal organs might’ve been perforated. I don’t think there’s any bone damage, but….”

He activated his uni-link and spoke without pausing. “Irina? I’m going to need a small stretcher.”

“Coming.”

Feeling as if he was going to jump out of his skin if he didn’t do something, Anders turned and ran back toward the house, meeting Irina as she emerged. He took the compact stretcher and sprinted back to the car.

Scott was pulling himself out of the enclosed space. His worried expression momentarily brightened when he saw Anders and Jessica holding the stretcher ready.

“Okay. Slide it over here. Now I’ll lift a little…Good…”

Within a few minutes, they had the injured treecat in the room already prepared as a surgery. Scott frowned.

“I hate to do this,” he said, “but I’m going to insist you two stay out unless you have some surgical experience. Irina, scrub up.”

“What about the ’cats?” Irina said, for Valiant and Fisher had resumed their posts next to the patient.

“I’m going to let them stay,” Scott said. “Jessica? Do you think Valiant would wear a surgical mask? And put up with a sterile spray-down?”

“Sure,” she said promptly, “if he sees Fisher doing it. He’s used a respirator, and he’s seen Dr. Richard—and me—spraying wounds to disinfect them. He may not understand why we do it, but he knows it’s part of making them better.

“Good.” The doctor paused. “We’ve emptied a cooling unit. Put the bodies in there. I’ll look at them after I’ve done what I can for this guy.”

“Right.”

As Jessica and Anders left the surgery, Irina called after them, “Make yourselves free of the house and grounds. Patients don’t normally call here at the house. If anyone shows up, tell them the doctor’s unavailable because of an emergency.”

“Right.”

When the door closed firmly after Irina, Anders was aware of a tremendous sense of relief. He’d been terrified that the treecat would die during the long flight to Thunder River. If he had, he knew he and Jessica would never have forgiven themselves for not taking the shorter route to Dr. Saleem, even if Scott did have far more experience with treecat injuries.

“I think,” Jessica said, sinking down on a cushioned bench in the entryway that was the closest available seat, “I’m going to start either blubbering or screaming.”

“Delayed shock,” Anders reassured her. “This has been a blackhole of a day. You really kept it together. I won’t think the worse of you if you start crying.” He gave a crooked grin. “I might even join in.”

With a funny little choked noise, Jessica bent forward slightly, her long hair curtaining her face. For a moment, Anders thought she was laughing. Then he realized that Jessica’s shoulders were shaking with an effort to contain her sobs. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to reach over and hold her, to let her press her face against his chest while he stroked her back.

“There, there,” he said inanely. “You did great, really great. It’s going to be all right.”

After a while, she pulled away. “I’m sorry. I just…I just…I’ve always been really good at keeping my head when something’s wrong, but afterwards…Mom says I always pay twice what I would if I just admitted how I felt, but I can’t help it.”

Anders nodded. “What’s wrong with crying? You know, it would’ve been okay even if you’d broken down when we found that hurt ’cat. I mean, it was scary.”

Jessica grinned ruefully. “I bet Stephanie never cracks up. I love her like a sister, but she’s always so, so…intellectual. Weighing the odds, figuring out the angles.”

“I think,” Anders said, feeling a bit awkward, “that Stephanie does crack up. She just does it differently. She loses her temper instead of crying. Anyhow, she told me she cried her eyes out when Lionheart got hurt saving her. I bet she’d understand. I really do.”

“You’re right.” Jessica scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Stephanie’s one of the best friends I’ve ever had. I don’t know why, but I’m always measuring myself against her and feeling like I come up short.”

“You’re several centimeters taller,” Anders said, trying to make a joke out of it, then stopping when he saw that Jessica looked hurt. “No, seriously. I know what you mean. Stephanie’s pretty extraordinary, but what makes her that way is that she has lots of heart to go with the brains and the talent.”

“Yeah…” Jessica’s expression turned wistful. “Anyhow, thanks for letting me sob all over your shirt. I’d offer to return the favor, but maybe we should raid the fridge instead. I think I read somewhere that food is a good antidote to shock, and we’re not done today. Not by a long shot.”

* * *

While Darkness Foe worked on the unconscious Keen Eyes, Swift Striker and Dirt Grubber did what they could to help the other Person remain comforted.

<What do you think happened to him?> Swift Striker asked.

<I am afraid he was injured by another Person,> Valiant replied. Somewhat reluctantly, he shared with Swift Striker what else they had found that day.

<Three other People dead? And one of them a female? This is not good….>

Dirt Grubber added.

<What reason would they have for that?>

<This is not the first dead Person they have found near that place.> Dirt Grubber showed Swift Striker his memories of that other day. <I am certain the mind I touched that day was Keen Eyes, although he fled quickly, before I could do more than get the faintest glimpse of his mind-glow. Still, I tasted enough to tell he was upset…and to feel he was not personally responsible for that death.>

> Swift Striker’s sorrow was acute. His confusion and pain are bright in his mind-glow, complicating his ability to lead his body heal. Some part of him believes he should die because he was doing harm.>