“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?”
Chapter Sixteen
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.’”