of Sphinx shared your priorities. The reality is that while most residents of Sphinx are delighted that such an interesting new species has been identified-sales of treecat toys do well with both locals and tourists-the fact is, treecats aren’t considered very important.”
“Not important?” Dr. Whittaker nearly bellowed the words. “A sentient species and not important?”
“You forget, sir, one of the reasons you and your team are here is to help decide if treecats are indeed sentient and, if so, to what extent. No one disagrees that they’re tool users, but their lack of an apparent language remains a huge barrier to the acceptance of them as sentient.”
“But the elaborate platforms they build…” Dr. Whittaker protested.
“I can name you a dozen species of birds on Terra alone,” Ranger Jedrusinski replied, “that build nests as or more elaborate. Consider termite mounds or beehives or beaver dams-and those are only Terran examples.”
Predictably, Iwamoto spoke in favor of his specialization. “What about the stone tools? Surely those show intelligence.”
“Various Terran primates have been shown to make simple stone tools. Sea otters will carefully select and even reshape rocks they use for opening clams. Ursoid species on your own Urako, which no one claims are ‘people,’ make simple stone axes. Actually, we’re placing a lot of hope on you in particular, Mr. Iwamoto. The stone tools-and the nets-are some of the best evidence of treecat intelligence we have-the sort that convince all but the most hard-headed.”
“But what,” persisted Guyen, perhaps miffed that tools were being favored over language, “about using satellite look-down to map colonies?”
Ranger Jedrusinski sighed. “Sphinx is rich in wildlife-some of it quite large. Moreover, treecats are not the only native creatures to live in groups. Finally, quite simply, SFS doesn’t merit much satellite time. Our primary mission is viewed as managing wild areas for the benefit of the colonists, not taking away resources that are needed for other things. Remember, this is a colony world. We simply don’t have the infrastructure for what many consider luxuries.”
“I read,” Anders cut in, thinking someone should support the ranger, “how smaller thermal scanners can’t penetrate the thick leafy canopy, so even if you could get the satellite time, it might not be of much use.”
“There’s that,” Ranger Jedrusinski agreed cheerfully.
This question of technological options and priorities occupied the next leg of the journey. Anders half- listened-he’d heard a lot of similar discussions before, even between his mother and father about how government money “should” be spent. Instead, he studied the landscape, remembering the things Stephanie and Karl had taught him while they were hiking, about different trees and the zones in which they grew. He felt he was getting better at identifying different types.
Surely that was a grove of picketwood coming up. Those straight trunks were distinctive, even from a distance, even-maybe especially-from the air, where their odd connected patterns really stood out. With summer coming to an end-it could even be argued that the season was verging on autumn-a few rich, red leaves stood out among the green.
Anders had read that picketwood shed its leaves in autumn. He wondered if the treecats could stay as easily hidden in winter. Maybe that would be the time to try and map colonies or use thermal imaging technology. He was about to suggest it, but then he remembered the length of the seasons on Sphinx. Winter wouldn’t be here for fifteen months. By then, this expedition could be long gone.
He felt a little sad, then brightened. Maybe there would be a winter expedition. He’d be seventeen by then. If he studied hard, contributed something significant to this first expedition, maybe he could come back. Maybe, like Stephanie, he could serve as a sort of provisional ranger-or provisional grad assistant or something. Dad would never see him that way, but he bet Dr. Nez would.
When Ranger Jedrusinski brought them into the location of the abandoned treecat settlement, the buzz of excited conversation was general.
“This stand of picketwood borders on a more open area.”
“Look! That platform is nearly new. Even from here, I can tell they’ve used a substantial amount of lace willow. That differs from the samples Dr. Hobbard showed us.”
“That basket has quite a large hole in the bottom. I wonder if that’s why they left it. Maybe it was ceremonially ‘killed.’”
Anders could tell Dad was itching to get out and look around. When Ranger Jedrusinski was distracted answering Dr. Emberly’s question about the probable source for a hank of fur pinned to a picketwood trunk, Anders saw Dad glance at the air van’s directional readout, then make a few notes on his uni-link. Something about the way he then quickly leaned to take some pictures made Anders think Dad hoped no one had noticed.
After far too short a stay, Ranger Jedrusinski turned the air van in the direction of base. “Sorry, but I’ve got fire watch tomorrow morning at an hour when all of you will be snug in bed. I’ll check with Chief Ranger Shelton about when we might come back. After all, you folks are going to be here some months yet. There’s plenty of time.”
If Ranger Jedrusinski had known Dr. Whittaker as well as Anders did, she might have worried about how placidly he took this departure. Certainly, Dr. Nez gave his long-time boss a curious look, but he didn’t say anything.
When they got back to the ranger housing where they were staying, they found a message waiting.
“Hi. This is Marjorie Harrington. We’re having a fifteenth-birthday celebration for Stephanie. We thought that if you’re not in the field, Anders might like to come. Stephanie and Karl-who he’s already met-will be here, but it will give him a chance to meet some of the other local kids his age, in case he ever gets tired of people who think of nothing but treecats. Anders certainly doesn’t need to bring a present or anything, but I think Stephanie would be glad to have him here.”
She ended with giving a date and time, and offering her private contact number.
Dr. Whittaker looked nearly as pleased as he had when he’d learned he’d won the competition to head the project to Sphinx.
“Good, boy,” he said, pounding Anders between the shoulder blades. “If Dr. Harrington doesn’t think her daughter is at least a little sweet on you, I’m no anthropologist. I’ll certainly make sure we’re available to get you to that party. Maybe I’ll drop you off myself, just to show friendly…of course, I’ll turn down any offer to stay. Don’t want to cramp your style.”
Whistling, Dr. Whittaker went off towards the shower. Anders, slowly stripping off his own field clothes, wondered why his own reaction to accepting the invitation was so mixed. After all, his father wasn’t asking him to do anything worse than his mother did on a daily basis, right?
Gritting her teeth, Stephanie let herself out of the air car, then tugged her black-and-orange hang glider out of the cargo compartment. Lionheart leapt lightly out after the glider. He, at least, was clearly looking forward to today’s practice.
Stephanie wished that she was.
“Thanks for the ride, Dad,” she said.
“Unless something goes wrong,” Richard Harrington replied, “I’ll be back to get you no later than an hour after practice ends. I’ll com if I’ll be late.”
Stephanie nodded. “I brought my uni-link. If you’re late, I’ll go over to the cafe and do some homework.”
She saw Dad swallow a comment. She knew he and Mom wished that she’d use time in town to visit with people her own age.
Well, she thought glumly as she waved good-bye to her father, shouldered the hang glider, and trotted off toward the practice field. Today they’ll get their wish. Damn birthday party…
The late summer/early autumn weather was just about perfect for hang gliding, the winds light, with just enough variation to provide some challenge. Unlike those who had originally practiced this sport, Stephanie and her teammates had counter-grav units to make launching easier. So, instead of having to drop off a cliff or hope for a promising breeze, they could begin in an open field that air traffic control had isolated from any other vehicles.
But today, Stephanie thought, aware the image was just a bit melodramatic, I feel as if I’m walking off a cliff
