She stopped and peered down, then glanced at the HUD.
“What’s wrong, Jess?”
“I thought I saw something moving down there, but I’m not sure. The zoom on this junker is busted. Did you see anything?”
“No. I’ve got to admit, all this burned forest gives me the creeps, so I wasn’t really looking. Was what you saw large?”
“Like a hexapuma or something? No. Probably just a near-otter or like that. Steph would know.”
“Yeah.” Anders felt the familiar pang. “She probably would, and—if she didn’t—she’d want to go after it and get some images.”
“Well, we’ll leave the poor critter be,” Jessica decided. “This is our last stop. Then I want to get home. Mom commed that she has medicine for Tiddles but, if I know her, she’s going to have worn herself out. She’ll need help.”
And your dad’s pretty useless for that, Anders thought. A nice guy, but useless or your family wouldn’t end up eating weeds.
He wondered why the thought should make him so angry. Jessica had clearly thought the idea of “stealing” the rich man’s weeds had been pretty funny. He was still trying to come to terms with the strength of his reactions when Jessica touched the air car down. Valiant, who’d been drowsing, woke up. All at once, he stiffened, gave a demanding bleek, and tapped the window.
Puzzled, Jessica opened the door. Valiant was out in a flash, loping over the burned ground in the direction of something that lay in a heap on the dirt. Jessica ran after him, then called back.
“Anders! It’s a treecat. I think it’s dead!”
* * *
Dirt Grubber awoke feeling distinctly unsettled. He had been dreaming of his gardens, inspecting the three different plantings side-by-side, as he never could do in reality. The plantings that grew within the protected confines of Plant Minder’s transparent plant place were larger and healthier than those that grew either near Windswept’s clan’s home or those that grew near Damp Ground’s central nesting place. Waking and sleeping, Dirt Grubber considered how to help those plants that must grow strong outside the shelter of the transparent plant place.
In his dream, he was sorting through the difficulties. The plantings near the bog were troubled by insects. He was considering the best way to protect them when, to his utter astonishment, the strong plants in the transparent plant place lifted off the roof, reached over, and began to rip the other plants out of the ground. The other plants fought back. Faced with two opponents, even the stronger plants could not escape injury. The destruction was horrible.
When Windswept touched the flying thing down, Dirt Grubber awoke. He felt very happy when he realized his plants were safe, that their destruction had been only a terrible dream.
He barely had a moment to enjoy his relief before his mind—reflexively searching the area as he always did when they arrived at a new place—touched that of another Person. The mind-glow Dirt Grubber encountered was dark and violent. If mind-glows had come in colors, this one would have been the purple-black of thunderheads.
<Who? What is wrong? How can I help you?> Dirt Grubber reached for the other Person and felt himself repelled by the force of the other’s anger.
He tapped the flying thing’s transparent side panel and Windswept let him free of the confined space. When he landed on the bare earth, he felt the brittleness of cinders beneath his feet. Without pause, he ran in the direction from which he tasted the other’s mind-glow. Before he reached it, he came upon the body of another Person.
Dirt Grubber stood aghast, sending forth his query once more, this time not relying upon words, but instead projecting a heartfelt desire to give whatever help this stranger required of him.
<I am beyond help.> Pain and desperation now tinted the purple anger with lightning streaks of dark green and deep indigo. <My clanmate is dead. Our clan is doomed. There is nothing left for us but death. Keep away lest I number you among my enemies, Bright Water Person.>
<I am not of Bright Water,> Dirt Grubber protested, but the other was gone, his mind closed against hearing. Nor could Dirt Grubber tell in what direction the other had fled. People could easily trade information—entire life histories could be shared in moments. However, such as sharing took willingness on both sides. This angry stranger desired a privacy so complete that it made a mockery of sharing.
Dirt Grubber heard Windswept’s feet pounding on the ashy ground. Bleached Fur followed her a few paces behind. In a moment, they would see the dead Person. Would they realize the cause of that one’s death? Would they realize that, in defiance of custom, tradition, and common sense, one Person had killed another?
If they did not, could he keep them from realizing? Could he somehow hide this horrible crime from the knowledge of the two-legs?
* * *
Anders raced to where Jessica crouched next to the cream and gray figure that lay so unnaturally still upon the ground.
“I wonder how long he’s been dead?” He asked. “Not long, I think. I mean there aren’t any—well, there aren’t any bugs crawling on him.”
Jessica started to touch the still form, then drew her hand back. “No. We’d better handle it as little as possible. We don’t know what killed it, but if it was disease, we might spread whatever it was to Valiant.”
Certainly the treecat had retreated a good distance from the body and seemed eager to stay away from it.
“Good point.” Anders, however, was his father’s son, and he couldn’t resist trying to figure out a little more. Picking up a stick, he gently lifted the corpse’s head. “I’m not sure this guy died from disease, Jess. Look. There and there. Those look like bite or claw marks to me. I hate to say it, but it seems to me that something ripped this poor guy’s throat out.”
“There’s not a lot of blood,” Jessica protested. “Sure, there’s some on his fur, but not much anywhere else. Maybe he caught a disease that caused itching or hives or something and those marks are from him trying to get at it. My little sister Melanie-Anne had to wear gloves all the time when she had reesels while we were living on Tasmania or she might’ve left scars. Or maybe something shot him with a poison spine. The problem with Sphinx is that we know too little about what lives here. Most of what’s been recorded is because those creatures interact in some way—usually a negative one—with humans. There are zillions of small animals, plants, birds, and insects we don’t know anything about.”
“You’ve got a point,” Anders agreed, lowering the corpse’s head and gently manipulating the torso with his stick. “It’s hard to tell with all that fur, but the poor guy does look skinny. Maybe you’re right. Maybe he’d been sick for a while and couldn’t eat. Maybe he left his clan or was chased out to avoid contagion. I guess the question is what we do with him?”
“We could bury him,” Jessica said. “That way if he was sick, the sickness won’t spread.”
“We could take him to Dr. Richard,” Anders countered. “He could probably find out the cause of death.”
“I’m not sure,” Jessica said. “Mom mentioned he’s crazy busy. The Harringtons are getting ready to go away to Manticore so they can have a holiday before Stephanie’s graduation. Anyhow, I hate the idea of the poor ’cat’s body being poked it. I mean, it’s okay for humans to do that to humans, but we don’t really know how the treecats feel about their dead. I’d hate to do something that would make Valiant uncomfortable. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, but I can feel he’s pretty miserable.”
“I wonder if Valiant knew this guy?” Anders mused. “He seems pretty upset. How far can treecats communicate?”