by David Weber
“Okay,” he said more briskly, “I’m not going to ask you about what kind of ‘proof’ of treecat telepathy you’ve got. Mind you, I would, but it seems pretty obvious you really don’t want to talk about it. All right, I can accept that. But in that case, what is it you do want to talk about?”
“I’ve been thinking about this a lot, Frank. And I’ve been discussing it with Irina; she’s the only other person—two-footed person, anyway—who really knows about all of it. And it’s occurred to me that I need to find out everything I can find out about treecats as quickly as I can. I’ve got sort of an inside track here, and whether I like it or not, I think I’ve got a responsibility to look out for Fisher and his relatives. I don’t know that it’ll do any good in the end, but I’d rather stay at least a couple of steps in front of those ‘scientists’ of yours. Not Hobbard—although, to be honest, I’d just as soon not tell her anything I don’t have to—but the others.”
“And?” Lethbridge prompted when he paused again.
“And I’m thinking that probably the only person who knows as much or more about them than I do right this minute is Stephanie Harrington,” MacDallan admitted. “There’s a part of me that really wants to know what she may have turned up on her own. And from everything I’ve heard, she’s a pretty remarkable kid. But I may have heard wrong about that, and even if I haven’t, I don’t see how I can go and start asking her about what she knows without being willing to tell her about what I know. Which brings up the question of just how much I can trust her discretion. I think it’s pretty likely she’s already keeping her mouth shut about quite a few things—that’s why I want to talk to her in the first place—but will she keep her mouth shut about what I’ve found out?”
“That depends,” Lethbridge said, regarding him very steadily across the desk.
“Depends on what?”
“Depends on whether or not she thinks she can trust you to keep your mouth shut,” Lethbridge said flatly. “I think you’re absolutely right that she’s not beginning to tell everything she knows or suspects at this point. But I’ll tell you this—if she doesn’t think you’re every bit as determined to protect the treecats as she is, she’s not going to tell you a single solitary thing.”
“No?” MacDallan was more than a little surprised by Lethbridge’s certitude. He knew it showed in his tone and his expression, and Lethbridge chuckled. It was not a sound of amusement.
“Did Karl tell you about the two of us running into her, in a manner of speaking, on that Twin Forks trip?”
“Not me, no, but he has discussed it with Irina,” MacDallan said. “To be honest, what he said to her is one of the things inclining me towards going ahead and getting in contact with her.”
“Really? I’m not surprised,” Lethbridge said. “And I’ve always sort of trusted Karl’s judgment, too. He does see more than a lot of ‘adults’ do, doesn’t he? For example, I’ve talked to Shelton about her, and to be honest I think the Boss is underestimating her quite a bit. He doesn’t think she’s your typical fourteen-year-old, mind you, but I don’t think he’s even begun to guess just how atypical she is. And I know absolutely that there’s nothing—nothing in this world—that girl won’t do to protect her treecat. Lionheart, she calls him.”
“You sound pretty positive,” MacDallan said slowly, and his friend nodded.
“That’s because I am. You know the story—her hang glider crashed, a hexapuma came after her, and Lionheart fought it off until the rest of his tribe or clan or whatever we end up calling them got there. Right?”
MacDallan nodded.
“Well, that’s the official story. The only one she’s ever told, as a matter of fact. But Ainsley was the first ranger on the spot, you know.”
MacDallan nodded again. Ainsley Jedrusinski was Lethbridge’s partner. There were so few rangers, especially since the Plague, that even official “partners” often operated solo, but the doctor had become well acquainted with Jedrusinski since his arrival on Sphinx. He had considerable respect for her competence and judgment.
“Her parents had already lifted the girl and Lionheart out by air car,” Lethbridge continued, “so there was no rush, but Ainsley got the coordinates from the father and went out to take a look. By the time she got there, there wasn’t a lot left of the hexapuma. You know what the scavengers are like out there. But she found something very interesting when she examined the skeleton.”
“What?” MacDallan asked.
“The treecats may’ve pulled that hexapuma down, Scott,” Lethbridge said quietly, “but Stephanie Harrington had already killed it.”
“What?” MacDallan repeated in a very different tone, his eyes wide.
“Ainsley’s sure of it. She found the girl’s vibro blade where she’d dropped it. And examining the hexapuma’s skeleton, she also found where she’d used it before she dropped it. She got it into that hexapuma, Scott. Must’ve buried it all the way to the hilt, and she cut right through the left mid-limb pelvis. From the angle of the cut, she had to have gone straight through the major artery there. I don’t doubt that critter was still on its feet. I don’t doubt it could still have killed her and Lionheart without the other treecats, but it was already dead—it just didn’t know it yet. And Ainsley said it was pretty clear from the angle and the way the ground laid out that she hit it from behind—probably when it was ready to finish off Lionheart. How many twelve-year-olds do you know who’re going to go after a flipping hexapuma with nothing but an eighteen-centimeter vibro blade? You think somebody willing to do that, with an arm broken in two places and a leg she could barely stand on, to protect a treecat who might already have been dead for all she knew, won’t do whatever it takes to protect that treecat now?”
18
he replied, never taking his eyes from his person as she lay laughing in a deep patch of moss, covered in a pile of joyous kittens. The clan’s younglings found the two-leg’s mind-glow—and the welcoming delight which filled it—irresistible. he continued,
Sings Truly radiated her agreement, yet there was a hint of reservation in it, and he turned his head to look at her questioningly. He didn’t actually voice the question, but there was no need for one of the People to be that explicit. Especially not with another of the People who knew him as well as Sings Truly did.
Climbs Quickly lay silent for several long, thoughtful breaths. Then he twitched his ears.
he said,
Climbs Quickly’s eyes dropped once more to his two-leg, and a soft, possessive purr buzzed deep in his chest. He hadn’t given her that name; it had been bestowed upon her by the rest of Bright Water Clan, and it was well deserved. He might have been unconscious at the moment she earned it, but others of the clan had been close enough to see what she had done, and Sings Truly had sung the memory song of her actions to him. He had seen as if with his own eyes that wounded, frightened youngling attack the death fang to save his life. And if there could have been any doubt as to the reason she had attacked, he’d seen her stumble forward on her wounded leg to stand between him and the death fang. More than that—Sings Truly had been close enough to taste her mind-glow when she did it, and so Climbs Quickly knew his two-leg had fully expected to die . . . and that her only hope, the only thing for which she had fought, had been that she might kill the death fang before it could kill him, as well.
How often, even among the People, he wondered, can one truly know that another will die for one?
Now he listened to Death Fang’s Bane’s laughter, tasted her delight as one of the kittens burrowed its way up under her shirt while two more stalked the wind-blown curls of her brown hair. It was so good to taste her so, without the frustration and the worry which seemed to afflict her mind-glow so often of late. Climbs Quickly was frustrated by his complete inability—so far, at least—to learn the meanings of her mouth-sounds, especially when she tried to explain what was worrying her so and he found it impossible to fully understand. Yet he understood enough from what he tasted in her mind-glow to understand that much of her worry was similar to that of the clan leaders who feared to approach the two-legs too closely.
he said finally, slowly, to Sings Truly,
Climbs Quickly pointed out.
Climbs Quickly blinked. It was unlike Sings Truly to question her own decisions after the fact. On the other hand, this was the first time one of her decisions could have such far-reaching consequences for every Person alive or yet to be born, and he felt a sudden surge of sympathy for her. And a flicker of guilt, as well, since all of this stemmed from his own first, completely unauthorized encounter with Death Fang’s Bane.
* * *
Stephanie Harrington sat up, spilling treekittens off her chest and shoulders, as her uni-link warbled. One of the treekittens, ears pricked in delight, pounced on the fascinating new plaything, and she laughed as she gently shooed it away.
She was careful about how she did it. She’d discovered the hard way that treekittens’ claws had needle-sharp points, but at least they weren’t the ivory scimitars of an adult treecat, like Lionheart.
Her father found everything about the treecats endlessly fascinating. Stephanie was pretty sure there were at least two dozen xeno-biologists who would cheerfully have murdered Richard Harrington just to get their hands on the notes he was compiling, and one of the things he’d found especially fascinating was the structure of Lionheart’s claws.
They were very unlike the claws of a terrestrial cat. For one thing, they were extraordinarily dense, more like stone than horn. In fact, her father had told her they were more like a shark’s tooth than anything else he could think of from terrestrial biology. They were only between a centimeter and a centimeter and a half in length, but they were sharply curved, and the inner surface—the drawing surface—was scalpel-sharp. The claws retracted into wells that were lined in the same stonelike material to protect the treecats from their own claws’ sharpness, but it certainly helped explain how such diminutive, almost dainty creatures had shredded a massive hexapuma. And they h
ad four of them on each hand and foot—two dozen naturally evolved razor blades at their fingertips, one might say. When it came down to it, Stephanie thought, a treecat was far better (and more lethally) armed than anyone might ever think simply looking at one of them.
Fortunately, developing that sort of armament apparently took time. Which probably explained how treekittens lived to grow up! It certainly helped Stephanie’s clothing (and skin) survive their onslaught, anyway.
Now she managed to reclaim her uni-link from the curious treekitten and checked the caller ID. It was her father’s, and she accepted the call.
“Hi, Dad!”
“Hi yourself,” Richard Harrington responded. “Would it happen you’ve been keeping an eye on the time, young lady?”
“You know I have,” she replied. “I’m sure not going to mess up and get myself grounded! Again, I mean,” she added, and sitting in his office back at the freehold, Richard grinned.
“Well,” he said, “I’ve been monitoring the forecast, and it looks to me like that storm center’s moving in on the coast faster than anyone expected. I don’t think it’s going to cause any problems with your original schedule, but we’re going to be in for a lot of rain, and you’re probably going to be meeting stronger headwinds on the way back.”
“Yes, sir,” Stephanie responded. “I’ll pull in a direct weather feed on my uni-link and keep an ear on it, Dad.”
“Good,” he said. Then it seemed to Stephanie that he hesitated for a moment before going on. “You might want to think about heading back in a little earlier, anyway,” he told her. “We’re going to have dinner guests.”
“Not more scientists!” Stephanie didn’t quite groan, but it was close, and Richard chuckled.
“Nope, not tonight,” he said sympathetically. “We did promise Dr. Hobbard she could come out and talk to you and Lionheart on Thursday, though.”