Treecat Wars

by David Weber

  “Tomorrow,” Irina told him with a firmness that brooked no argument. “It’s already past midnight. You had a full schedule this morning, and this is not the time to start doing autopsies.”

  Scott started to argue, but when a huge yawn interrupted him mid-phrase, he had to admit his wife was right.

  “Fine, tomorrow morning. First thing. I don’t think I have anything early at the clinic.”

  Irina glanced at her uni-link. “Not until noon, when Mr. Alvarez comes in so you can check that compound fracture.”

  Jessica cut in. “I’d like to stay and hear what you find out. I already have permission, and so does Anders. Would it be okay?”

  “More than okay. I wasn’t going to let you fly back this late.” Irina set aside her tray and got to her feet. “I always keep a couple of guest rooms ready.”

  Jessica rose and started carrying her tray to the kitchen. “I’ll just go say good night to Valiant. I’m sure he’s staying with the patient.”

  “Fisher, too,” Scott said. “I must admit, I’ll sleep better knowing Fisher will wake me the instant he senses anything going wrong. You folks sleep in as late as you want. I promise I’ll make sure we talk before I go in to the clinic.”

  After the dinner things had been cleared away, Irina showed Anders and Jessica to their rooms. “Each of your rooms has its own bath. I put towels and robes in your rooms, along with spare toiletries. When you’ve washed up, bring me down your dirty stuff and I’ll toss it into the wash so you’ll have clean in the morning.”

  Anders realized that he hadn’t even thought about any of that.

  “Thanks, Irina. I appreciate that.”

  “Are you sure it won’t be too much trouble?” Jessica added. “I’m betting you’ll be up early with Scott. I could stay up and do the wash, so you can get some sleep.”

  “It’s all automatic,” Irina assured her. “Between my pottery and Scott’s medical practice, we create a lot of laundry.”

  An expression that wasn’t quite envy flickered across Jessica’s face. Once again, Anders was reminded that her family probably did without a lot of the laborsaving devices he took for granted—and with all those kids, laundry was probably a constant chore.

  “Okay, then. If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure.” Irina gave Jessica a quick hug. “Stop worrying. If we’re not out in the morning, go into the kitchen. I’ll leave some breakfast stuff where you can find it.”

  * * *

  After he’d gotten cleaned up, Anders sat on the edge of his bed, trying to sort through the confusion of feelings raised by the day’s events. He started a new message to Stephanie, but when he found he couldn’t get beyond the first few sentences he erased the whole thing.

  What’s wrong with me? Am I just tired? Is it that I want to be able to give her a full report? Right now I’d just be speculating. Tomorrow, after Scott looks at the bodies, we’ll have a better idea what killed those ’cats. Sure. That’s it. It must be . . .

  But after he’d snuggled himself under the covers and turned out the light, images of Jessica flooded his mind. Jessica working over the injured treecat. Jessica sometimes talking, sometimes thoughtfully silent, during the long flight to Thunder River. Jessica in the kitchen, making a salad. Jessica, kneeling to gently dig a sample from the soil, her expression intent. Jessica . . .

  His lips shaped her name in the softly whispered plea, though he had no idea what he was asking.

  “Jessica?”

  16

  Anders thought he’d woken up pretty early, but when he washed up and came downstairs, he found he was the late riser. His cleaned clothing had been set inside the door to his room, so he’d guessed Irina was already up, but he was a bit surprised to find Jessica in the kitchen, already halfway through her breakfast.

  “Hey,” he said, trying hard to sound like his usual self. “I thought you’d take advantage of no kids jumping up and down on you and sleep in.”

  Jessica grinned. “I did sleep in—for me. Anyhow, even though I knew from Valiant that the injured ’cat was doing fine, I wanted to check.”

  “And he is? Fine, I mean?”

  “Well, for someone who was hurt that badly, he’s doing great. He’s been moved to a room around the back where he can see out the window.”

  “Is he nervous?” Anders moved to where Irina had left an assortment of cereals and poured himself a bowl.

  “Not really. I think Valiant and Fisher have reassured him he’s among friends.”

  “‘He,’” Anders said, bringing his bowl to the table. “Anyone give him a name? It’s sort of awkward calling him ‘he,’ or ‘the injured treecat.’”

  Jessica shrugged. “Scott’s calling him ‘Survivor,’ since it looks like he’s going to. That works for me.”

  “Me, too. Optimistic. Can I go see Survivor, or would it be better if I stayed clear?”

  “Scott didn’t say for you to stay out. If you want to see him, we could go in after breakfast. Valiant will let us know if we should stay clear.”

  When they went into visit Survivor, Anders knew immediately why Scott and Irina had chosen this room. A large curving bay window looked out into a tangle of late autumn shrubbery, providing not only privacy but an illusion of being up among the branches. Survivor was sitting on the padded seat beneath the window, flanked by Fisher and Valiant.

  All three treecats turned to look as the two humans entered, and the contrast between them made Anders gasp.

  “Oh, poor guy!”

  Jessica nodded. “Yeah. Scott had to shave a lot of fur to get at the injuries and make sure they were clean.”

  “Oh . . . poor guy . . .” Anders repeated. Knowing that treecats sensed emotion, he tried to project that he felt sympathy, not pity or revulsion or anything like that. Still, there was something pitiful about Survivor. His thick fur had been shaved in a wide band around his neck. Other areas along his back had been shaved, as well, as had one side of his face.

  “Whatever went for him went for the vitals,” Anders said thoughtfully. “Throat, spine, maybe an eye.”

  “You can’t see it from here,” Jessica added, “but there’s a big strip down his belly, too. Still, since Scott didn’t have to guess what medications to use, the wounds are already healing.”

  “I wonder how long until Survivor grows his fur back?” Anders asked, thinking about their discussion with Dr. Hidalgo. “I mean, we’ve still got months of autumn, but the nights are pretty cold already.”

  “Good question,” Jessica said. “I bet Stephanie and Dr. Richard have a good idea from when Lionheart was hurt. Dr. Richard might even have put it in his notes. I wonder, though . . . maybe we can get Survivor to wear a sweater?”

  Her lopsided smile made it clear that she, too, remembered Dr. Hidalgo’s disdain for the contamination of pristine cultures.

  A voice behind them spoke. “That’s an interesting idea,” Irina said from the end of the hall near the kitchen. “Scott’s cleaning up. Then he wants to talk. You two ate breakfast?”

  “We did,” Jessica answered for them both. “I put the bowls in the washer.”

  “Come on then,” Irina said. “I’ve put on water for tea and a pot of coffee. We’ll have our conference in the kitchen.”

  Scott was waiting for them. He looked tired and drawn. Even the red of his hair seemed duller. Irina sat close to him, her hand on his shoulder. Something about her posture reminded Anders of how he’d seen treecats offer support in emotionally stressful situations.

  “So, Scott,” Anders asked. “Do you have any idea what sort of creature did that to Survivor and the others?”

  The doctor bit into his upper lip, as if he wished he could keep back the answer, then spoke three words. “Treecats did it.”

  “Treecats?” Jessica’s hazel eyes opened wide in astonishment. “That’s not possible. Maybe there’s something the size of treecats . . . a natural enemy of some sort that we haven’t seen so far. Something that competes for
the same resources.”

  Scott shook his head slowly. “No. Treecats. I’m not a forensic pathologist, but out here in the boonies, there’s a lot of overlap. I know the basics.”

  He activated the portable holo-projector. “Some of these images are going to be a bit upsetting, but I’ve kept the focus tight so you can concentrate on just the injuries.”

  An image of something marbled pinky-gray and overlaid with red streaks appeared. Remembering Survivor, Anders realized that this was the shaved skin of a treecat. The pinkish areas were where light gray fur would have been, the darker gray the tabby barring. The red streaks were the wounds, cleaned of clotted blood, so that only the lines showed.

  “Look at this first series,” Scott said. “Here’s a neck wound. Now, here I’ve superimposed an image of a treecat’s true-hand. Look at how tightly it matches. This next image is a longer shot of the same body. See here and here . . . that’s where the attacker’s hand-feet and true-feet dug in. Unless you really want to see it, I’ll spare you the headshot. The attacker landed on his opponent’s back, dug in, and then went for the face with his fangs. The attack to the head probably provided the kill, though at least some of the back shots must’ve paralyzed the victim first.”

  Jessica shuddered. “I think we can skip the head view, but if Anders wants to look, I’ll close my eyes.”

  Anders shook his head. “I’ll take the doctor’s word for it. But, Scott, this isn’t absolute proof. I mean, most creatures on Sphinx are hexapedal. Couldn’t something like a treecat have done this? Near-otters are about the same size. They’re carnivores. Maybe they’re more adaptable than we realized.”

  “I want to believe treecats didn’t do this as much as you do, Anders.” The weariness was back in the doctor’s eyes. Now Anders recognized it as something like shock. “Remember, Fisher saved my life—saved it of his own accord, without any reason other than that he saw another person in trouble. We suspect that Lionheart and Stephanie were already bonded when he saved her from the hexapuma. Jessica and Valiant sort of saved each other, but Fisher was a stranger, and still he risked his life to save me. I’ve got more reason than anyone to think of treecats as the ‘good guys.’”

  “Sorry, Doc,” Anders apologized. “I just . . . I can’t believe this.”

  “Here’s more evidence,” Scott said. “Like I said, I’m not a forensic expert, but I know enough to check under fingernails—or claws, in this case. These images are magnified. I’ll show them to you unenhanced, then enhanced. See what I mean?”

  “That’s blood, isn’t it?” Jessica said quietly. “Blood and—” She made a little gagging noise, but went on, “Blood and flesh—I guess doctors call it ‘tissue.’ That’s easier. Blood and tissue.”

  “Right. Needless to say, I analyzed it. Treecat blood. Treecat tissue. Some treecat fur. All three of the dead ones show indications that they were fighting other treecats. I haven’t tried to type for specific individuals, and I’m not sure we need to.”

  “And Survivor?” Anders asked. “Was he fighting, too?”

  “Oh, yes. I’m afraid he doesn’t get a free pass. Survivor was fighting, and Survivor lost. My guess is that he was left for dead. He was close enough.”

  “Valiant must’ve heard him,” Jessica said. “That’s why he went tearing off. Survivor must’ve regained consciousness, been lying there calling for help, but no one came. No one at all.”

  Her voice choked up, and Anders had to bend his head to hide the tears that came hot and unbidden to his eyes.

  “Look,” he said. “I know the jury’s still out on the range of a treecat’s mental abilities. But I think all of us here agree that not only are they powerful empaths, among themselves, they’re probably telepaths. We’ve seen Valiant and Fisher—who aren’t related to each other or to Survivor—giving Survivor a huge amount of support, practically willing him to live. How could creatures capable of such compassion fight each other? Wouldn’t it be impossible?”

  “I would’ve thought so,” Scott said. “I thought that among treecats we’d finally found a sentient species that had no need for war. Why should they fight when they’re capable of perfect understanding?”

  “Yeah,” Jessica agreed. “So something has to have gone very wrong. We found the bodies near where the fires had been pretty bad. I wonder if the two things are related?”

  Scott nodded. “I wondered the same thing. Survivor and two others were very thin, as if they’d been on short rations. The other male wasn’t exactly robust, but he was in somewhat better shape.”

  “Oh!” Jessica said. “I hadn’t exactly forgotten, but I’d been waiting to bring this up until a better time. These three treecats weren’t the first dead ones we’ve seen. There was another one. He was pretty skinny, too.”

  “Another?” Irina looked startled. “Where? What did you do?”

  “We recorded images,” Anders said. “Then we buried it.”

  Quickly, bouncing the story back and forth between them, Anders and Jessica told about finding that first dead treecat.

  “We didn’t mention it,” Anders said, “because there wasn’t anything we could do. Also, because we didn’t want anyone—up to and including my dad—”

  “But especially those blackhole x-a’s,” Jessica added.

  “—taking the body back to some lab,” Anders finished. “I mean, the anthropologists might be arguing about their status, but as we saw it, the treecat was a person and deserved some respect.”

  “Can we see the images?” Scott asked. After he’d reviewed them, he went on, “It’s hard to tell from an image, but that ’cat does look on the skinny side. I’d like copies.”

  “Sure.”

  Jessica was clearly excited. “What if the fires have physically stressed the treecats to the point that they’re susceptible to some disease? A disease might affect their empathic abilities.”

  “Or just make them crazy,” Anders added. “One of Dad’s hobbies is looking at old legends in a medical context. There was a disease on Old Terra called rabies that made the victims become very violent and afraid of water. Animals could get it, too. There’s some evidence that hallucinogens and parasites on domestic crops contributed to outbreaks of belief in witchcraft. Stuff like that.”

  “So maybe the treecats are eating things they shouldn’t be,” Jessica said eagerly. “Maybe stuff they wouldn’t usually eat, but are eating now because they are extending their foraging range. We know they eat various fungi. Valiant even cultivates it on trees near our house. Maybe they ate some bad mushrooms.”

  “Or maybe,” Irina said quietly, “they’re just competing for territory or food. Let’s not rush too fast to assure ourselves that treecats have escaped our human failings. No matter how hard it is to accept, we need to keep that on our list of possibilities.”

  “So what do we do next?” Anders asked. “I mean, do we tell anyone? Do we try a food drop?”

  Scott considered. “How much right to we have to interfere? Fighting like this might be part of their natural life cycle.”

  Jessica snorted. “Valiant and Fisher didn’t seem to think Survivor should be left for dead. Remember, Valiant’s the one who showed us where to find him.”

  “But we’ve got to be careful, whatever we do,” Anders said. “I don’t think those x-a’s are up to any good. I’m sure they’d put this into the worst possible light.”

  He paused, then shrugged. “I’d like to ask Stephanie’s opinion.”

  Jessica frowned. “Me, too, but isn’t she in the middle of exams?”

  “Yeah, but I think she’d be furious if she knew something about treecat culture that might help us and we hadn’t asked her.”

  “I agree,” Scott said. “All of us are seriously committed to treecats, but I think Stephanie—well—thinks of herself as part of Lionheart’s family.” He bit his lower lip, clearly searching for a better way of expressing himself. “I’m certainly deeply attached to Fisher’s clan, but when Fisher and I
met, I was an adult. I wasn’t a lonely only child.”

  Jessica nodded. “I like Valiant’s people, but I have the impression he’s a bit of an oddball among them. I mean, he’s a gardener among ’cats who are mostly hunters. And I have lots of brothers and sisters. So, yeah, I’m with you, Anders. Let’s tell Stephanie and hope we don’t mess up her exams.”

  Irina smiled. “I think she’ll be fine. Maybe an A or two instead of an A++, but at her age, she can afford to lose a few percentage points.”

  * * *

  Usually, Jessica and Anders messaged Stephanie separately, but this time they sat side-by-side, so they wouldn’t forget anything. After giving the background, they moved to speculation.

  “There’s a lot we’re worried about,” Anders said. “Especially what caused this. Scott doesn’t leave any room for hoping that anything other than treecats did these killings.”

  Jessica took over. “Here our our theories: disease, insanity, eating something like bad mushrooms, competition over territory.”

  “That last has to include the possibility of war,” Anders said, “no matter how disgusting the idea is.”

  Jessica nodded. “Yeah. We’d love to hear if you have anything more to add.”

  “We’re attaching a bunch of images,” Anders went on. “Some are kind of grim, but you and Karl have been studying forensics, so we figure you’re up to them. One thing that’s bugging all of us is the dead female. From what you’ve implied and Scott has seen—”

  “And, me, too, with Valiant’s clan,” Jessica cut in.

  “—females don’t seem to hunt much. I know you were in bad shape when Lionheart’s clan came to help you, but were there any females? We’re trying to get any information we can that might help us find patterns, but for obvious reasons—”

  “Like those stupid x-a’s,” Jessica inserted.

  “—and my dad’s group,” Anders agreed with a rueful grin, “we don’t want to take this public. Too much of a chance the wrong person might get curious. We’re not even talking to Frank and Ainsley. Scott felt that wouldn’t be fair to them—put them in the middle.”