by David Weber
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 Ground 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,
The comforting mind-glow replied,
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.
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.
Valiant replied. Somewhat reluctantly, he shared with Swift Striker what else they had found that day.
Swift Striker admitted.
Dirt Grubber said soberly.
* * *
It was very late when Scott and Irina emerged from the surgery.
“We think we’ve saved him,” the doctor said immediately in response to the unspoken question Anders knew must be visible in both his and Jessica’s eyes. “One can never be completely sure, but his vital signs are good. I’m grateful that Richard Harrington updates my treecat biology files every time he learns something new. It was the next best thing to having him available to consult.”
“Valiant’s staying with him, right?” Jessica said.
“Valiant and Fisher, both.” Scott sank wearily into a deep, soft chair. “I’m absolutely certain they were doing everything they could during the surgery to keep our patient calm and relaxed. Richard says fear is one of the greatest enemies a veterinarian has to face, since a panicked animal may harm itself. At least we can be confident that won’t be a factor here—and that means I don’t need to risk added tranquilizers.”
“What was . . .” Anders began, then realized how tired both Irina and Scott looked. Sure, they were both used to medical emergencies, but Scott was accustomed to human patients, and Irina wasn’t even a doctor.
He began again. “Why don’t you two get comfortable? I can play butler or whatever. We had a pretty good chance to scout out your kitchen, and I think I can manage to find whatever you’d like.”
Irina, who’d resisted sitting to this point, now heaved a great, relieved sigh.
“Anders, that would be wonderful. The blue-green container on the middle shelf has a nice ice potato and cream soup. There’s some roasted prong-buck in the meat drawer and a loaf of dark bread. We could have soup and sandwiches.”
“And a salad,” Jessica added impishly. “Don’t forget your vegetables.”
“And a salad,” Irina agreed. “If you two can handle that, Scott and I will collapse in front of the fire in the living room. The chairs in there are more comfortable.”
“Can I take Valiant and Fisher some celery?” Jessica asked. “I won’t bother the patient. Promise.”
Scott heaved himself to his feet with some effort. “I’ll take your promise. Tell the guys not to drip all over the patient.”
“I’ll do my best,” Jessica pledged.
In the kitchen, Anders set the soup to warm, then started slicing prong-buck. With both of his parents out as often as they were, he’d become a pretty good cook early on. These last months on Sphinx had provided ample opportunity to add to his skills, since Dr. Whitaker was likely to forget to eat unless his son reminded him.
He cut the bread into thick slices, then layere
d meat, cheese, greens, thinly sliced onions, and a nice spicy sauce. At another counter, Jessica put together a huge salad, using a beautiful handmade pottery bowl that Irina had assured them had been created for the purpose.
“I don’t make pottery just to put it on a shelf,” she’d explained. “You’ll find soup bowls and plates that go with the salad bowl. Anything that’s in the kitchen is meant to be used.”
Anders couldn’t help but think how pleasant it was working with Jessica this way. Maybe because of her higher metabolism, Stephanie was a picker. He’d often teased her that by the time she’d finished making a meal, she’d eaten one already. Jessica, by contrast, occasionally sampled something, but only to check whether it would go well with the items she’d already put into the salad bowl.
I like Jessica, Anders thought, wondering why the thought should come as a revelation. Hadn’t he always known he liked Jessica? If he didn’t like her, why would he have spent so much time with her since Stephanie left for Manticore?
I like Jessica . . . a lot. Too much. I—
“Did you say something Anders?”
Anders looked up and found Jessica staring at him. Had he said something? He swallowed hard. He hoped he hadn’t.
“No, I don’t think so. I was muttering at the sandwiches. I think I got carried away and made them too thick. They keep falling over.”
Jessica laughed. “They look good to me.”
Relief washed over Anders. He hadn’t given himself away.
“I’ll take them out and come back for the soup.”
“Great.”
When the first edges of hunger had been taken off—although they’d been given permission to raid the kitchen, both Jessica and Anders had been too shy to do more than nibble—Anders decided to ask the question that had been nagging at him ever since they’d found the injured treecat.
“Scott, do you have any idea what did that to the treecat?”
“I have some ideas,” Scott said, “but I’d prefer to keep them to myself until I’ve had a chance to look at the bodies you brought with you.”