Treecat Wars

by David Weber

  “We’ll keep you posted,” Jessica said, “but try and concentrate on those exams, okay? We’re counting on you not to disappoint us.”

  Anders nodded. “Yeah, Wonder Girl, do us proud.”

  They waved, signed off, and hit send.

  “I hope we did the right thing,” Jessica said.

  “Well, right or not,” Anders replied, “it’s done.”

  * * *

  “We’ve got to go home!” Stephanie said urgently.

  She and Karl sat on their favorite bench under the blue-tip, but there was no hot sun overhead. Instead, the light of Thorson, Manticore’s single moon, trickled down through a break in the overcast. The well-lit quadrangle didn’t need moonlight, and as always, it was well populated as the student body enjoyed the relative coolness before turning in for a good night’s pre-exam sleep. Not that Stephanie was enjoying it all that much at the moment.

  “We can’t, Steph.” Karl’s expression was grim.

  “We’ve got to!” Stephanie looked at him, as if unable to believe her own ears, and hugged Lionheart tightly. “If Scott’s right—if treecats are killing each other!—we need to get home and help Jessica and Anders figure out what to do about it!”

  “Steph, we’re here as rangers. We don’t have the option of just turning around and going home whenever we feel like it.” Anger sparkled in Stephanie’s eyes, but Karl looked at her levelly. “I’m not saying you want to go home on a whim, Steph! But we’ve got responsibilities right here, and Ranger Shelton stuck his neck out a kilometer or two to get us here in the first place. We owe him more than to cut and run before we’ve even taken our finals.” She opened her mouth, but he went on ruthlessly before she could speak. “Besides, how are you planning to justify it? A health emergency? Some kind of family crisis—with both your parents right here on Manticore? Or do you want to go ahead and send the chief ranger—or Frank or Ainsley—a copy of Jessica’s message?”

  Stephanie shut her mouth with an almost audible click and stared at him. He looked back for several seconds, then reached out and laid one big hand on her shoulder.

  “I understand what you’re saying, and I wish we could just hop the first flight home, too. But we can’t, for a lot of reasons. Not unless we want to drag all of this out into the open before we even know for sure what’s going on, and God only knows how people like the Franchittis are likely to react if they realize ’cats are capable of . . . of fighting some kind of war!”

  Stephanie felt her eyes brimming with unaccustomed tears, but he was right. She hated it, but he was right.

  “I don’t know if I can do this,” she admitted in a tiny voice, hugging Lionheart still tighter. “I don’t know if I can just pretend nothing’s going on at home.”

  “You’ve got to, at least as far as anyone else is concerned.” Karl squeezed her shoulder. “And it won’t be easy for me, either. But we can’t start just chucking our schedule out the window without raising all kinds of questions.”

  * * *

  Climbs Quickly suppressed an urge to squirm as Death Fang’s Bane’s arms tightened about him. It was uncomfortable, but not as uncomfortable as the stress and worry flooding from her mind-glow. He had no idea what was causing her distress, but he knew it had begun while she was watching the moving images from Windswept and Bleached Fur. And whatever it was, it was as frightening to her as anything he’d tasted from her since the day they’d faced the death fang together. It was greater even than her fear for Windswept when the burning tree fell on her!

  He crooned gently, patting her forearm with his remaining true-hand, trying to radiate calm, but whatever had her so frightened resisted stubbornly. And somehow, he knew, it focused on him, as well. The frustration of his inability to communicate clearly with her burned hotter than ever, but all he could do was snuggle more closely against her, purring loudly, offering her the physical comfort of his presence and wishing with all his heart he could make her hear his mind-voice as clearly as he could taste her emotions.

  * * *

  Stephanie looked down as Lionheart patted her arm encouragingly. He was purring so hard she half expected his bones to vibrate right out of his body, and he stared up at her intensely, green eyes gleaming in the light washing under the blue-tip’s branches from the quadrangle.

  She realized she’d been crushing him and eased her embrace, lifting him to drape him over her shoulder and run her hand down his spine. If only she could explain it to him! Even better, ask him if Scott and the others had it right. If only he could explain it to her!

  But he couldn’t. And in the absence of any ability to talk it over with him, she had to make the decision for both of them.

  Only there’s nothing to decide, really, is there? Because Karl’s right.

  “You’re right,” she told him bleakly, still stroking Lionheart, as if somehow she could comfort whatever was driving those other treecats back home on Sphinx to attack each other. “You’re right. But I wish you weren’t, and I don’t think I’m going to enjoy finals week very much after all.”

  “You’re weird, Steph,” Karl said, trying to lighten the mood. “Finals are to be endured, not enjoyed.”

  * * *

  Anders and Jessica were babysitting Tiddles and Nathan, Jessica’s two youngest siblings, when Scott MacDallan commed.

  “I’ve got a more detailed autopsy report on the three dead ’cats,” he said. “I went through their stomach contents very carefully and analyzed everything. Short answer is I think we can rule out hallucinogens as the reason behind the treecats fighting each other.”

  “Nothing so easy,” Jessica sighed. “There’s something more, though, isn’t there?”

  Scott flashed a quick grin. “Nothing so easily quantified, but I’ll offer it without any theory. Two of the dead ’cats—one of the males and the female—were very undernourished, as was Survivor. They weren’t starvation-thin, but they were already burning stored fat. I doubt they’d have made it through winter, and their stomach contents were eclectic, to say the least. Most of the treecat diet is meat of some sort. They eat other things, but more or less as a garnish. These two had been eating a diet that was at least half roots, tubers, leaves, dried berries, things like that. Their primary meat element appears to have been fish.

  “The third ’cat was better fed. He wasn’t plump and sassy, but he wasn’t to the point of burning stored fat, either. He’d have made it through the winter. Again, the proportion of nonmeat in his diet was a bit higher, but only by about twenty percent. He showed evidence of having eaten a good sized rodent—I’m guessing a chipmunk—not long before.

  “What do you two make of that?”

  Anders jumped right in. “I’d guess they were from different groups. Wait! Hear me out . . . ’Cat Three might have been just a better hunter, but from what we’ve observed of treecats, there’s no way one member of a clan would let two others get that starved down. If we’re right about their empathy, he couldn’t—he’d feel their hunger as his own.”

  “Then,” Jessica said, nodding agreement, “there’s the difference in proportions. If there was ever a ‘vegetarian’ treecat, I’m living with him. Valiant actually likes trying different plant foods. But he’s still mostly a meat-eater. Those other two ’cats wouldn’t have been eating that many tubers and seeds and things if they’d had a choice.”

  “And that means?” Scott said. “Go on.”

  “That means,” Jessica said, “that ’Cats One and Two came from a clan that’s having a hard time finding enough food. We found the bodies near one of the burned-out areas. I’m guessing they lost a lot of their range.”

  Anders took over. “’Cat Three, by contrast, shows more typical ’cat eating habits. I’m guessing he came from a clan that lost some of its range to fire but is still doing all right.” He grinned and poked Jessica in the ribs. “Or he’s just weird, like Valiant.”

  “I agree with you,” Scott said. “About two different clans—not about Valiant being w
eird. I’ll add that the proportion of fish in those two ’cats’ diet is also off. My friend Fisher, is a fanatic. Most ’cats, given the choice, eat a more balanced selection, but a river or stream would replenish more quickly than a burned forest, so that’s more evidence for that male and female coming from a territory hard-hit by the fires.”

  “And that brings us to the ugly conclusion that the treecats really are fighting over territory and resources.” Anders sighed. “Why don’t they share?”

  “Why wouldn’t human share in a similar situation?” Jessica retorted, her voice holding all her eloquent awareness of how often humans did not.

  “I know, I know . . .” Anders replied. “It’s just, I guess, I hoped they were better than we are.”

  “I think in some ways they are, most of the time,” Scott spoke up. “But these two clans have been badly stressed by the fires. Remember, they were extraordinarily bad last year. We shouldn’t be surprised that the side effects are just as bad.”

  “You’re right,” Anders conceded. “And all we know right now is that one group’s range seems to be in better shape than the other’s. We don’t know how much better, or how large each group is, or anything about their situations, really. Maybe they aren’t sharing resources because they don’t have enough for both groups.” He shook his head, his expression sad. “If they don’t, this may be the only way they can settle who gets to survive the winter.”

  There was silence for a moment, until Jessica broke it.

  “So, what next? Any ideas?”

  “I have a couple,” Anders said. “Why don’t you and I try to locate the Skinny ’Cat Clan? We’ve got some good clues. They’re probably near a river. They’re probably not too far—as the treecat runs—from where we found the bodies.”

  “And they’re probably using picketwood,” Jessica added. “I’m for it. We can fly to the general area, then hike. Valiant might be able to help us.”

  “I’m not sure how I feel about you two running loose in what might be a war zone,” Scott cut in.

  “We should be all right,” Anders said. “There aren’t any registered cases of treecats attacking humans without being provoked. Heck, even when they have been provoked—”

  “Like by that slime-sucker Tennessee Bolgeo,” Jessica inserted.

  “—they’ve shown a lot of restraint. And we’ll have Valiant.”

  “Okay. But you go armed,” Scott said, then paused. “You do know how to handle a gun?” he asked.

  “Anders does,” Jessica said, “and I have my stun gun and my sprayer. They might not faze a hexapuma, but treecats are a lot smaller than that.”

  “It’s not as if I could stop you,” Scott said, “so go with my blessing. That way I’ll know when you set out and you’ll have someone to check in with.”

  “We could look for the other clan, too,” Anders added. “But if their territory wasn’t so badly hit, finding them is going to be harder.”

  “Start with the Skinny ’Cat Clan,” Scott advised. “One step at a time.”

  “We’ll go tomorrow,” Anders said.

  “Weather permitting,” Jessica added practically, looking up at the clouds gathering overhead.

  “Bleek!” Valiant added, but whether the ’cat’s comment indicated enthusiasm or resignation—or simply a desire for lunch—Anders could not tell.

  17

  “Man, am I ever glad that’s over!” Jeff Harrison said emphatically, dropping into a chair across the table from Karl, Stephanie, and Lionheart in the LUM student union. “Hi, Lionheart!” he continued, handing over the stalk of celery with which he’d thoughtfully provided himself on his way past the salad bar.

  “Gee, thanks, Jeff,” Stephanie said, watching the ’cat pounce on the treat as if no one had offered him celery in the last decade or two. She knew she shouldn’t really indulge him the way she’d been doing for the past week, but her heart wasn’t in it. “That’s his ninth piece today,” she continued, doing her best to sound completely normal. “But, hey! Who’s counting?”

  “Sorry, Steph.” Harrison smiled in what looked like genuine apology. “It’s just that I’m not going to get many more chances to spoil the little guy before you and Karl—and Lionheart—head back off to the boonies.”

  “Let’s watch just exactly whose planet we’re going to call ‘the boonies,’” Karl suggested. His voice sounded a little unnatural to Stephanie, but Harrison’s smile turned into a grin.

  “If the shoe fits, buddy,” he said, then looked back at Stephanie. “I’ve got to admit I was sweating that final. But I suppose you aced it?”

  There was no malice or resentment in his teasing tone, and Stephanie managed to smile back at him.

  “Nope,” she said. “I did pretty well, and I figure I’ll get out of the course with a 4.0, but only because Dr. Flouret gave us that extra credit question. I checked my notes after I saved the final and mailed it in, and I blew the question about the Draper Precedent.”

  “You blew a question?” Harrison pressed a hand to his chest and goggled his eyes at her.

  “It happens . . . from time to time,” she told him, not mentioning that she’d performed at less than her best on at least three of her four finals. She wasn’t used to having something like that happen. Then again, she wasn’t used to being worried sick over what was happening back on Sphinx.

  “I suppose you got it right when you took the course?” she challenged after a moment.

  “Darn right I did.” Harrison elevated his nose. “It just happens that the Draper Precedent was critical to a case I had to analyze as part of my midterm research paper last semester. I had to practically commit the majority Bench opinion to memory word-for-word. Which,” he acknowledged just a bit complacently, “came in very handy for the final.”

  “Figures,” Karl said just a bit sourly.

  “Got you, too, did it?” Harrison asked more sympathetically. “I admit it’s tricky. But that reconstructive nanotech’s been critical to at least a dozen high-profile cases since 1487. Anyone who expects to be a career cop needs to understand when it’s admissible and when it isn’t. I’d, ah, been a little sloppy about that early in the semester; that’s why Justice Tibbetts assigned it for my research paper. I didn’t much enjoy it, but she did have a point about that.”

  “You’re probably right,” Karl acknowledged. “On the other hand, it’s not something we’re going to need all that often out in ‘the boonies,’ now is it?”

  “Probably not,” Harrison agreed. “Of course, I probably won’t need to know a hexapuma’s vital areas anytime real soon, either. And even if I did—”

  A server moved past their table, slapping Harrison’s beer down in front of him, and he took a deep, appreciative sip. Then he looked back across at Stephanie.

  “So, you guys are done now, right?”

  “Yes, we are.” She leaned back in her chair, gathering Lionheart in her arms as he swarmed into her lap. “Of course, the grades haven’t been posted yet.” She grimaced. “Dr. Flouret says they won’t be up until day after tomorrow, and Dr. Gleason’s probably won’t be up any sooner.”

  “What’s the rush?” Harrison’s eyebrows arched. “You’re that eager to run away from Manticore? I thought you guys were going to spend a week or so with your parents on the Bay before you went home!”

  “Well, yeah. Sure!” Stephanie produced another smile, hoping it looked more natural than it felt. “But Ms. Pheriss—she works with my mom, sometimes, you know—says there’s a problem that needs looking into. So we’ll probably be heading back a little ahead of schedule, and I hope you won’t take this the wrong way, but much as I know you love Manticore, I’m really missing Sphinx right now.”

  And that’s not really stretching the truth all that much, she told herself. After all, Jessica is “Ms. Pheriss,” and she does work with Mom sometimes.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Harrison said sincerely. “I’m going to miss you guys—and Lionheart. Let’s at least try t
o stay in touch, okay?”

  “Sure thing,” Karl agreed.

  “Hey!” Harrison cocked his head. “Does that mean you’re going to have to head home without addressing the Adair Foundation again?”

  “No.” Stephanie shook her head. “That’s scheduled for tomorrow night, and we can’t leave—that is, we don’t want to leave—” she amended, not entirely truthfully, “until grades are officially posted. So we’ve got plenty of time for it, and Earl Adair Hollow’s invited my parents, as well.” This time her grin came more naturally. “I’m looking forward to it, especially since they finally managed to get Lionheart invited, too!”

  * * *

  Dirt Grubber was aware of Windswept’s excitement the next morning as she tossed a variety of bags and bundles into her flying thing and motioned for him to jump in. He knew part of the reason for her happy mood was that they were going to get Bleached Fur. Even when Death Fang’s Bane had still been close, Windswept had clearly found Bleached Fur an attractive male, but Dirt Grubber had gradually come to realize that she had held back expressing her feelings because she felt that Death Fang’s Bane had a claim on him.

  That sort of confusion would not have arisen among the People, given their ability to taste one another’s mind-glows, but he admitted that there were still many things he did not truly understand about two-legs. For example, he was far from certain how they chose their mates. There were pairs he had met who behaved outwardly like bonded pairs. Inwardly, however, each was indifferent to the other. Sometimes parts of an apparent pair even despised each other. That was troubling enough, but this question of conflicting claims on one person—this uncertainty and pain when there was no indifference in any of them—would not happen among the People.

  Not for the first time, Dirt Grubber wished he and Windswept could talk Person to Person. Since they could not, he settled for watching the landscape passing in a blur which was still mostly green beneath the flying thing. Even with the clear partitions closed, Dirt Grubber could tell that once again they were over one of the areas where the fires had been very bad, for the green shifted to blacks and browns. He thought it might even be near the area where they had found Keen Eyes. That reminded him of their last meeting.