by David Weber
“All right,” Mayor Sapristos said over their helmet coms. “I know there’s not much wind here at ground level, but once we clear the trees at the edge of the field, it’s going to pick up pretty sharply out of the southwest. I want you guys to spread out before you bring up your counter-grav—let’s make sure there’s enough spacing we don’t get any mid-airs before we’re able to build speed-over-ground. Shoot for about seventy meters for your initial altitude.”
He waited for each glider’s individual response, then nodded.
“Let’s go!”
* * *
Stephanie put her black and orange, tiger-striped glider into a steeply diving left bank, listening to wind drum across the taut fabric and whistle around her helmet, and laughed as she heard Lionheart’s high-pitched, gleeful bleek. This was the first time she’d really put her glider through its aerobatic paces, and she was sure she could literally feel his delight as they soared cleanly across the heavens.
No one was trying for any personal records today, but she was actually surprised by how much she’d enjoyed jockeying to maintain formation with the others. Maybe this idea of team hang gliding actually had something to recommend it after all! And after an hour or so of that, Mayor Sapristos had cleared them for a half-hour’s free flight. Stephanie was uncomfortably aware that she’d proceeded to succumb to the opportunity to “show off” in front of the other kids, but she didn’t really care. She’d spiraled up to several times their initial altitude—more than high enough to make her grateful for her heavy jacket, despite the season—and spent almost twenty minutes dancing with the wind.
They’d drawn quite a crowd, too, she realized, looking down. In fact, for a dinky little place like Twin Forks it amounted to a huge crowd. There must be thirty or forty people down there, shading their eyes with their hands while they watched the hang gliders swooping and dancing above them.
Well if they’d come out to see the show, maybe she and Lionheart should go ahead and give them one!
She steepened her dive, simultaneously tightening her turn, and swooped towards the athletic field from which they’d launched like a stooping, four-winged Sphinxian mountain eagle. She was going to have to flare soon to lose the velocity she was building, but she found herself whooping in exhilaration as the ground swept dizzily around below them.
* * *
Climbs Quickly slitted his eyes against the buffeting wind as they went slicing across the sky and he heard his two-leg’s joyous mouth-sounds mingling with his own high, ringing bleek of excitement. To think he’d once been nervous about this! It was wonderful—almost as wonderful as cluster stalk! No, maybe it was as wonderful as cluster stalk!
He knew he’d flown much faster and higher in the metal flying thing, but this—! This must be what a bird experienced, one of the great hunting birds of the upper peaks! He felt his tail streaming behind him, felt the wind whipping through his fur and plastering back his whiskers, and understood exactly why his two-leg took such joy from moments like this.
She shifted her weight again, and Climbs Quickly could see how that adjusted the angle of their flying thing. He had little idea yet why any particular angle adjustment affected their flight, but he’d quickly figured out how she controlled their course, and he wasn’t surprised when their speed fell off abruptly. They slowed still further, and he saw the ground reaching up for them. Then they were scarcely moving—compared to their earlier speed, at least—and her feet dropped down and found the grass. She ran forward, laughing and breathless, until she could absorb the last of their velocity and come, at last, to a stop, and he leaned forward, patting the back of her helmet with his remaining true-hand.
* * *
Stephanie laughed again as she felt Lionheart patting her helmet. She heard a spatter of applause from the spectators who’d gathered while they were aloft, but it was that pat on her helmet and the sheer joy behind it that she truly treasured.
“Not so bad, huh?” she asked, stripping off her helmet and turning her head to smile at him as she went to one knee and rested the glider frame on the ground. “Liked that, did you?”
“Bleek! Bleek, bleek, bleek!” he replied, and she laughed yet again as she tucked the helmet under her left arm and reached up to stroke him with her right hand.
“Oh, he’s adorable!” another voice said. Squealed, really, Stephanie thought as she turned her head and saw Trudy Franchitti standing there.
Trudy and Stephanie were the two best female hang-gliders of the group. In fact, Stephanie thought they were both better than Stan Chang, who obviously thought he was the hotshot glider of all Sphinx. And equally obviously thought Trudy was as deeply smitten by his manly accomplishments as he was.
For all Stephanie knew, Trudy was, too. They spent enough time hanging around (and sneaking off) with each other. And their personalities, she thought darkly, were a perfect match for each other.
The fact that she and Trudy were both good hang-gliders and happened (for now, at least) to be assigned to the same team didn’t necessarily translate into any glowing friendship. Nor was it likely to. Despite Trudy’s undeniable proficiency in at least some areas of athleticism, Stephanie had come to the conclusion that she’d been badly shortchanged in terms of neural synapses. Hers just didn’t seem to work very well. Although Trudy was almost a full T-year older than Stephanie, Stephanie was three semesters ahead of her in terms of coursework. Of course, looking at the two of them side by side, Trudy looked like she was at least two (or even three, Stephanie thought glumly) T-years older, judged by her steadily—one might almost have said explosively—blossoming figure. Stephanie wasn’t prepared to admit just how much she resented that, since she figured it was a pretty silly thing to be resenting. Didn’t feel that way sometimes, though. And she really hated the way Trudy had taken to standing artfully posed to emphasize her new . . . attributes.
Especially when there was any even marginally attractive male of the species in the vicinity.
And double-especially when the male in question actually fell for it, she thought, glancing in Stan’s direction. The absolute mindlessness behind his eyes was almost frightening. Not that there really was that much mind behind them, now that she thought about it. And not that she would have wanted Stan—yuck!—looking at her that way, but still . . .
Despite that, Stephanie thought she could probably have actually liked Trudy if she’d only had a functioning brain. Or something remotely resembling a sense of maturity. Or (little though Stephanie wanted to consider the possibility) if Trudy had been just a little less popular with the “in crowd.”
Not that Stephanie cared anything about the “in crowd’s” opinion, of course. She had more useful things to do with her time than worry about that.
“He’s so cute, Stephanie!” Trudy gushed, coming closer as Stephanie began unbuckling her harness. “Oh, I’ve got to get one of my own! Doesn’t he—Lionheart, I mean—doesn’t he have, you know, a friend you could introduce me to?”
She batted her eyes with a giggle. Undeniably, it was a giggle, Stephanie thought disgustedly. And wasn’t it amazing how all of a sudden Trudy had gotten so friendly? Or perhaps what was truly amazing was that Trudy could think for an instant that Stephanie was stupid enough not to realize why the other girl had so unexpectedly developed a desire to be her friend.
“I don’t think so,” Stephanie replied as pleasantly as she could. “I mean, I’m sure he’s got friends, but I don’t think most of them are as eager as he seems to be to ‘take up with humans,’ as my Mom puts it. Personally, I think that just shows they’ve got better sense than he does!”
She said the last sentence as humorously as she could, hoping to turn it off as a joke, but Trudy wasn’t prepared to be diverted.
“Oh, come on,” she said. “Nobody’s ever seen one of them before, and the very first one you meet decides he does want to ‘take up’ with you?” She pouted and shrugged her shoulders. “How hard can it be, really? Once you get the opportuni
ty, I mean.”
“I’m afraid it’s not quite that simple, Trudy.” Stephanie tried—she really tried—to keep the exasperation out of her tone. She’d known how the null wits like Trudy were going to react to this, she’d just known. “Just finding them is tough enough, unless you luck into it by accident the way I did. And nobody knows exactly why Lionheart decided to hang around with me in the first place. Not yet.”
“Well, I know that,” Trudy said a bit tartly. “But now that we all know they’re out there, I expect we’ll be seeing more of them around town.”
“Trust me,” Stephanie laughed, “nobody’s going to see a treecat unless he wants them to see him!”
“Oh?” Trudy cocked her head and her smile took on a slightly fixed look as she watched Stephanie finish unbuckling.
“Oh,” Stephanie said with a nod. She shucked off her own harness and began unbuckling Lionheart, who reached out to her with his remaining true-hand and both hand-feet. He swarmed into her arms as she finished unstrapping him, then whisked around to take his proper position on her shoulder.
“You seem to have found them,” Trudy observed with what sounded remarkably like a hint of petulance.
“Maybe.” Stephanie shrugged. “On the other hand, like I already said, it was sheer luck I met Lionheart here the first time. And the second time . . . well, let’s just say I’d recommend a less traumatic way of making friends with somebody.”
“Yeah, we’ve all heard about you and the hexapuma.” Trudy rolled her eyes. “My dad says anybody who really ends up face-to-face with a hexapuma’s gonna get eaten.”
“He said that, did he?” It was Stephanie’s turn to cock her head, and she realized her own tone had become cooler.
This wasn’t the first time she’d heard similar remarks, although it was the first time someone had said them directly to her . . . and deliberately implied that it hadn’t really happened. It was the first time they’d come from someone her own age, too, and she was surprised by how much more infuriating that made it. Why in the world was she letting Trudy Franchitti, of all people, get to her?
“He’s hunted hexapuma, you know,” Trudy said, and if Stephanie’s tone had cooled, Trudy’s had sharpened. “He says anybody a hexapuma catches on the ground without a gun or something is dead meat.”
There was a certain undeniable relish in the way he Trudy said the last two words, and Stephanie made herself pause before she fired back at the other girl.
She supposed she couldn’t blame people for being astonished by her survival. For that matter, she was still astonished by it, and she knew Lionheart and the other treecats were the only reason she was alive today. Still, she wasn’t accustomed to people doubting her honesty. Besides, the Forestry Service had been out and photographed the carcass exactly where her parents had told them they’d find it. So just how did Ms. Trudy Franchitti think that hexapuma had ended up dead?
“Well, I didn’t have a gun,” she said after a moment. “Guess I was lucky Lionheart and his friends came along when I needed them, wasn’t I?”
“I guess,” Trudy said a bit snippily, then shook herself. “But that’s my point. If they ‘came along’ for you, then why shouldn’t they come along for somebody else?”
“Like you?” Stephanie could have bitten her tongue as soon as the two-word question was out of her mouth, but it was too late, and Trudy’s blue eyes flashed.
“I don’t see why not. I mean, I’ve made lots of pets. I’ve got two chipmunks and a near-otter right now!”
Stephanie’s jaw muscles tightened. It was moments like this when she was convinced Trudy was really only about nine T-years old, whatever her birth certificate (or physical assets) might claim. She knew all about that near-otter of Trudy’s, and if she could have figured out a way to liberate the poor creature, she’d have done it in a heartbeat. And she also knew Trudy hadn’t captured the beast in the first place; that had been her older brother, Ralph, who ranked even lower on the intellectual food chain than she did.
Hard as it was at this moment to believe that anyone could plumb such deep and dark ocean depths.
“Lionheart isn’t a pet, Trudy,” she said as calmly as she could.
She began collapsing her glider, hoping Trudy would take the hint and go elsewhere. She didn’t expect to be that lucky, though, and her heart sank as she realized most of the others had landed by now and quite a few of them seemed to be gathering around her and Trudy. Stan Chang, Becky Morowitz, and Frank Câmara had ranged themselves behind Trudy, which was hardly surprising, given Stan’s attitude where Trudy was concerned and the fact that all four of them were buddies. Chet Pontier and Christine Schroeder were trying to pretend they weren’t eavesdropping on the conversation, as well, but they weren’t very good actors. Worse, at least some of the spectators seemed to be edging closer to listen in as well.
“Oh, sure, we all know he isn’t a pet,” Trudy said, rolling her eyes much more dramatically than before. “He just looks like a pet, right?”
Walk away, Stephanie, a little voice which sounded remarkably like her mother’s said in the back of Stephanie’s brain. Walk away. The last thing you need is to get into this kind of a discussion with a mental featherweight like Trudy.
“Really?” she heard herself say instead, glancing up from the glider she was folding in upon itself. “That’s what he looks like to you, is it?”
“Of course it is!” Trudy grimaced. “My dad was born on Sphinx, you know, just like me. We’ve been here forever . . . unlike some people. And he says it’s ridiculous to think anything as small as that”—she jabbed her hand in Lionheart’s direction—“has enough body mass to support a real brain. Everybody knows that.”
“Then I suggest your dad point that out to all of the xeno-biologists and xeno-anthropologists who’re lining up to meet Lionheart,” Stephanie replied. “I don’t think most of them share his opinion.”
“Are you calling my father stupid?” Trudy demanded with one of those dazzling shifts of subject Stephanie had never understood. “Is that what you’re saying? That my father doesn’t know what he’s talking about?”
“No, I’m not calling your father stupid,” Stephanie said. After all, her parents had always taught her to be polite. “I’m just saying he hasn’t had the opportunity to actually meet Lionheart. If he’s relying on what other people have told him, they might’ve gotten some of it mixed up.”
“They certainly did not!” Trudy snapped. “We’ve talked to the rangers, too, you know. And if they’re so smart, why did so many of them get killed last month? Didn’t sound very ‘smart’ to me!”
A flash of pure, distilled rage went through Stephanie. She felt it singing in her blood, quivering in her muscles.
“It wasn’t the treecats who weren’t smart, Trudy,” she heard herself say. “It was humans. It was that Dr. Ubel and her stupid experiment! If she’d had—”
Stephanie chopped herself off, shaking her head sharply, and Trudy sneered.
“If she’d had as many brains as you do? Is that what you were going to say?” she demanded, and laughed scornfully. “You do think you’re such hot stuff, don’t you? You think everybody thinks you’re so special, you and ‘Lionheart.’ Well you’re not. My dad says he’ll be happy to get me a treecat of my own if I want one!”
“And just how does he plan to accomplish that?” Stephanie demanded, turning on Trudy with a fierce frown. The anger Trudy had already managed to fan roared suddenly higher, fanned into a furnace by the suggestion of a threat to the treecats.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Trudy shot back with a nasty smile. “Let’s just say he and Ralph have been hunting here on Sphinx longer than your entire family’s been on Sphinx.”
“And never even saw a treecat in all that time, did they?” Stephanie fired back with a sweet smile that was even nastier than Trudy’s. “Doesn’t say much for their tracking skills, does it?”
“They’ll find them now that they know what to look fo
r!” Trudy’s eyes glittered. “Now that you’ve found them, I’m sure other people can, don’t you think?”
A torrent of pure, white fury boiled up inside Stephanie, and she felt her right hand balling into a serviceable fist. The possibility that someone who wanted to hurt the treecats might follow up her own experience, figure out where to find them from some clue she provided, was her worst nightmare.
“After all,” Trudy continued, not even trying to hide her pleasure at having provoked Stephanie’s anger, “a real hunter knows how to find any dumb animal he’s hunting for. I guess the trick would be figuring out how to bring one back alive instead of just shooting or poisoning it. But practice makes perfect, and I’m sure they’ll get it right . . . eventually.”
* * *
Climbs Quickly tasted the red-fanged fury as it boiled up in his two-leg’s mind-glow. His inability to make any sense out of the mouth-sounds going back and forth was maddening, but he didn’t have to be able to understand the sounds to realize from the echoes that at least part of them concerned him, somehow. Or that much of his two-leg’s anger stemmed from her desire to protect him. Yet there was more to it, as well, and he didn’t have to understand everything to know at least generally what was going on.
The People were no strangers to the sudden, often irrational anger to which younglings of a certain age were prone. In fact, it was almost reassuring to discover the same thing happened among two-legs. It made them seem less alien and strange, somehow. Of course, two-legs were mind-blind, and he realized now that that could be an advantage, as well as a weakness. It wasn’t unheard of for two of the People in a confrontation like this one to find themselves trapped in the other Person’s mind-glow. Fury could feed on fury, and being able to taste the feelings behind someone else’s anger often only made one’s own, answering anger even worse. When that happened among the People the result was almost always ugly, sometimes even deadly, unless someone else (usually one of the clan’s memory singers) managed to separate them first.