by David Weber
Her mother seemed a bit more baffled by her plans than her father did, but she'd never tried to talk Honor out of them. A military career wasn't exactly high on the probable career tracks of upper-class Beowulfers like Allison Harrington, but unlike some star nations, Beowulf did regard it as an honorable profession. Uncle Jacques had served in the Biological Survey Corps, too, and despite its peculiar name the BSC, was one of the best special forces organizations in the Solarian League. Whatever anyone else might think of the military, her mom had always been a firm supporter of both the BSC and her father's Navy career.
No, Allison's bafflement had far more to do with how early—and how firmly—Honor had made her decision. And the amount of planning she'd already put into it. They'd discussed it more than once, and her mom had suggested that perhaps she might have waited at least until she was, oh, nine or ten before deciding what to do with the entire rest of her life. Ambition was a good thing, and so was clear thinking, forethought, and planning, her mother had pointed out, but most people seemed to wait just a bit longer before diving into such decisions. That seemed pretty silly of them to Honor. If you knew what you wanted to do with your life, then you ought to start working on it as soon as possible. That was only sensible. The female Dr. Harrington had muttered something about “forces of nature,” “stubbornness,” and “statistical outliers” (not to mention an occasional “just like her father!”), but she'd finally conceded the point. Which had simply proven to Honor how much her mother loved her . . . and that she was smart enough to recognize when discretion was the better part of valor. Perhaps she still hoped Honor might grow out of it, but if she didn't, Allison would be just as supportive as her husband.
Honor treasured knowing that, even if she didn't know what had originally sparked her interest in naval history. Maybe it was the way the Star Kingdom's dependence on the commerce pouring through the Manticoran Wormhole Junction made the Navy such a vital part of its life and prosperity. Maybe she was just fascinated by the thought of distant suns and planets, different people and cultures. Or maybe it was all just a romantic fantasy that she'd grow out of quickly once she experienced the reality. All she knew was that she'd read and viewed every scrap of naval history—all the way back to when warships had floated in water back on Old Earth, before humanity ever ventured beyond atmosphere the first time—she could get her hands on for as long as she could remember. And she knew—knew—she wanted a starship's deck beneath her feet in the service of her king. It was . . . important to her in some way she'd never been able to articulate clearly, even to herself.
But she would miss mornings like this one, she thought, looking around her and trying to absorb the essence of Sphinx through her pores. This was where she came from, this was who she'd grown up being, the place that would always be there at the center of her memories. She knew that even some of her fellow Sphinxians, far less people who'd been born and raised on Manticore, probably thought of people like her and her family as backwoodsmen. Rubes who weren't quite civilized, or they wouldn't let twelve-year-olds wander around the woods packing guns. Most of them came from cities, however, and Honor regarded anyone doomed to that sort of existence with a kind of bemused tolerance, even pity. People who thought that way shouldn't be allowed to wander around the woods where they might get hurt. That meant they would never enjoy a morning like this, though, and the loss was theirs.
Oh, stop it! she told herself with a grin. Yeah, you'll be headed off to the Academy in another four or five T-years. So what? It's only a few hours either way between Manticore and Sphinx, so it's not like you won't be able to get home for visits, now is it? And Daddy didn't exactly shake the dust of Sphinx forever from his feet when he joined the Marines, did he? Everybody grows up, and everybody has to decide where to go and what to do with their lives. At least you've already got a pretty good idea what you're going to do with yours.
She gave herself a mental shake and checked the GPS on her uni-link. Her father had insisted that she learn to find her way around with only a compass—uni-links, he'd pointed out, could be broken or lost, as could compasses, now that he thought about it, so while she was at it, why didn't she notice which side of the trees the moss grew on, too?—but she personally had no objection to knowing exactly where she was. And where she was happened to be a full three kilometers short of her destination, so she'd better get a move on.
* * *
Sharp Nose paused, the sensitive nose which had earned him his name pointed in the indicated direction. He cocked his head, looking very carefully, then twitched his whiskers.
Laughs Brightly's tail reached up to curl around a branch above his head and he swung himself up to a higher perch, gripping it with hand-feet and true-feet while one true-hand groomed his own whiskers.
Laughs Brightly replied after a thoughtful pause.
The older treecat's mind-glow was somber as he clung to the branch, looking out across the foam-streaked rapids at the foot of the towering waterfall. The stream was not huge at this point, little more than a triple hand of People lengths across as it raced down the narrow valley, but it ran deep and fast despite the unsual dryness of the season. Farther downstream it was broader and slower-flowing, especially when it reached the lake builders' dam and grew wide and very deep. The water there was rich with striped swimmers, many of them more than a People length long, although catching them could be an . . . interesting challenge. The fishing was easier here in the shallower water of the rapids, where the sheer height of the falls raised the continual cloud of fine mist which had earned them their name. It was ironic, he thought, that in a turning of such marked dryness, when the swift-darters were so few, the wet breath of Thunder Mist had watered these damaged trees so well.
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Laughs Brightly groomed his whiskers again.
Sharp Nose would have been happier if Laughs Brightly had not added that final qualifier, yet he felt a sense of satisfaction at having aided, if only by bearing his brother company, in discovering something important to the clan's well-being.
Sharp Nose looked in the indicated direction, and his tail kinked as he saw the young two-leg walking quietly through the forest towards them.
Sharp Nose glanced at him dubiously, then turned his attention back to the two-leg and reached out to touch her mind-glow. His ears rose slowly as the sheer strength of it washed over him, so powerful it was almost painful to sample it too closely. Yet Laughs Brightly was correct, he realized. That youngling was almost as well aware of the trees and mountainside about her as any scout.
he said to Laughs Brightly after a moment in a tone of profound respect.
Sharp Nose blinked in surprise, then looked back at the young two-leg. He had never really thought about it, but even if he had, it would probably not have occurred to him to think such a thing. Every kitten of Bright Water Clan grew up with the memory songs of Death Fang's Bane, of the bright, fearless taste of her mind-glow and the depth and richness of her bond with Climbs Quickly. It was one of the glories—and the deepest tragedies—of the clan, for with Death Fang's Bane's passing, Climbs Quickly had followed that glorious mind-glow into the darkness with her. She had lived a long life for a two-leg, but none of the People had realized then how short two-legs' lives truly were.
Yet now, as he sampled that approaching mind-glow more cautiously, he realized Laughs Brightly might actually be correct. It was as if the sun itself had come down below the golden-leaf and green-needle branches, blinding any eye that looked too closely upon it. Sharp Nose had never felt the least temptation to bond with one of the two-legs, even of Death Fang's Bane Clan, which was honored and loved by every clan of the People. Yet if he had ever felt the desire to reach out to that glory, bind himself to it forever, this mind-glow would have drawn him as a flame drew the night-flyers.
Sharp Nose twitched the tip of his tail in slow agreement, considering what his brother had said. Death Fang's Bane's mind-glow burned bright still in Bright Water Clan's memory songs, but this had been her world. Though she had left it upon occasion—and Climbs Quickly had accompanied her when she did, returning with mind songs of the two-legs' other worlds—she had always returned, for it had been the treasure for which her heart had hungered. Yet not all of her descendents had shared that heart hunger. Still . . .
He looked at Laughs Brightly speculatively, and the older treecat turned his head to return his regard, ears cocked as he tasted his brother's question.
Sharp Nose admitted.
It was true that he and Laughs Brightly were directly descended from Climbs Quickly, Sharp Nose reflected, yet that was true of many of Bright Water's People after so many turnings. And he did not think that was the sole answer. All of the scouts and hunters of Bright Water Clan kept watch over Death Fang's Bane Clan. Even those to whom no Person ever bonded were . . . family, to be cherished and guarded when they ventured into the clan's range, and Dances on Clouds was no exception. Alt
hough none of the People had bonded with her, many had shared the soaring flights which had earned her her name among them. Like Death Fang's Bane herself, she was one with the wind, never happier than when she launched herself into flight and gave herself to it with all her heart and mind. Who could share that wondrous moment with her, taste her joy and delight, and not take her to his own heart?
Yet there was a dark side, as well, and Laughs Brightly had placed his true-hand squarely upon it. The shortness of their lives had always made Death Fang's Bane's children even more to be cherished, for their natural span was less than half that of one of the People, and in the memory songs it often seemed as if they were gone almost before they had arrived. That lent an added poignancy to guarding them when they walked the clan's range, yet for all the care with which the clan kept watch over “their” two-legs, he did not think any of the others could have tasted what Laughs Brightly tasted now. Or thought he tasted, at any rate.