“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.”
“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 Roc, 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.”