this grove the treecats were actively using. Your father’s thought about fire-control features is an interesting one. If the treecats are intelligent-as most of us think they are-then they should have done something.”
“What can they do?” Anders asked. “They don’t have machines to pump water or anything. They certainly can’t fly in trained crews or dump hundreds of gallons of water mixed with fire suppressant chemicals.”
“I can tell you’ve been listening to the SFS rangers,” Dr. Nez said with a chuckle.
“Well, fire control is their favorite topic these days,” Anders said. “I heard that Chief Ranger Shelton was preparing an educational broadcast about the costs of fighting even a smallish fire like the Franchitti fire. He’s hoping that those who can’t be convinced to value the wild lands for themselves will think of fire control as a way to prevent a tax increase.”
“It’s a good approach,” Dr. Nez said. “As an anthropologist, I have to agree that more people are motivated by self-interest than by altruism.”
Thinking of his dad, Anders silently agreed.
They spent the next couple of hours working on their range estimate. As they did so, they listened to the chatter on their private uni-link channel. The bones Dr. Whittaker had found proved to be fish bones, lots of them. Anders knew that his dad-despite his claims to the contrary-would be taking samples. Well, hopefully the treecats didn’t think fish bones were sacred or something.
Virgil Iwamoto had found a couple of areas where lithics scatter indicated the treecats had been in the habit of making their stone tools. These “workshops” had him almost unreasonably excited.
“It proves the treecats didn’t just whack off a chunk of stone as needed for a job. These areas indicate that they probably had specialists, perhaps older ’cats, past their best hunting days, who continued to contribute to the community in this fashion.”
“And if they have one type of specialist,” Dr. Nez added, “they might have others. Weavers, perhaps? We know they make nets. I wonder if we can find evidence of a weaving ‘shop.’”
“I saw some lace willow near where we left the van,” Dr. Emberly supplied. “We should check to see if there’s evidence of a workshop near there. Of course, they could have chosen to move their materials elsewhere.”
“Still,” Dr. Nez replied, “it’s a logical place to check. Thanks for the information. Anders and I will go take a look.”
He reset his uni-link to “listen” mode and frowned. “Lace willow. Why does that bother me? Well, let’s go and take a look.”
Anders had been reading about local plants in the SFS guide Stephanie had given him out of self-defense, after he’d gone hiking with Stephanie, Karl, Jessica, and Toby, and had learned that even Jessica-who was relatively new to the planet-knew more than he did about common plant types.
“Lace willow lives mostly near waterways or marshy areas,” Anders recited. “It is relatively low-growing and bushy-at least for Sphinx, where really huge seems to be the size of most plants. It’s interesting because its leaves are pierced as an insect trapping mechanism.”
Dr. Nez started trotting.
“Waterways and marshy areas,” he repeated. “Open green spaces on a planet that has been experiencing drought. Fish bones…”
He started running. Anders, catching his urgency even before he figured out the reason why, pounded alongside him. They were closer than the rest of the team to where the air van had been parked, which was doubtless why Dr. Nez didn’t immediately call for assistance. The other reason, Anders intuitively knew, was Dr. Whittaker himself. Dr. Whittaker was in the midst of grand discoveries and would not want to be interrupted for anything other than a full-blown emergency.
They reached the bouncy area covered with what Dr. Emberly had informally dubbed “mat-portulaca.” Was it Anders’ imagination, or did his feet sink just a little as he ran?
Arriving at the van, they saw disaster in progress. The air van had sunk into the ground. Already the lower portions of the doors were covered. Anders could see the ooze moving up even as he watched.
“He parked on a bog,” Dr. Nez said, his tone as fierce as any profanity. “On a bog!”
He activated his uni-link. “We’ve got a problem here. The van is sinking, seems we accidentally parked on wetlands. Dr. Whittaker, I think you’d better call for help.”
There was a longer pause than absolutely necessary, then Dr. Whittaker’s voice came back. “Sinking? How deep is it?”
Anders could imagine the course of his father’s thoughts. Did they need to call for help? Maybe they could get the van out themselves. If they called for help, then the Forestry Service and Dr. Hobbard would know they’d been bending the rules.
“The bottoms of the doors are covered,” Dr. Nez shot back. “That means all the heavier parts are already under. I know we brought rope, but it’s a lot to expect seven people to pull out a vehicle.”
“Get inside and see if the engine will still run,” Dr. Whittaker snapped. “We’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Dr. Nez rolled his eyes. “It’s worth my job if I make the call, Anders, but if you do…”
He trailed off, not asking, and began picking his way over the ground nearer to the van.
Anders watched Dr. Nez’s progress while he activated his uni-link, trying to think of a solution that wouldn’t be directly disobedient to his father, yet would get them help. He agreed with Dr. Nez. There was no way seven people-one of them an old lady-were going to pull the van out of the bog.
Stephanie! he thought. I’ll call Stephanie, tell her what’s going on, and she’ll call the SFS. Even if they get here too late to save the van, we’re going to need a ride out.
Keeping an eye on Dr. Nez, who was using a branch as a makeshift crowbar in an attempt to force the van’s door, Anders requested the uni-link connect him with Stephanie Harrington.
“Cannot connect at this time,” the device replied. “Unable to sync with planetary net.”
“Huh?” Anders tried again, this time hand-keying in the information. The response was the same. He spoke into the device again. “Get me SFS headquarters.”
“Cannot connect at this time,” came the reply. “Unable to sync with planetary net.”
The chatter of excited voices told Anders that others were coming. Glancing over, he saw Virgil Iwamoto and his dad in the lead. Kesia Guyen and Dr. Emberly weren’t far behind. Dacey Emberly, a sketch pad still held in one hand, was looking anxiously after.
Dr. Whittaker thundered up. “Did you get the door open?”
“Electronic lock is jammed,” Dr. Nez said, his voice tight with effort. “I think the sensor is blocked. The override is on the inside.”
He didn’t ask if Dr. Whittaker had called for help. Anders wondered how much he had overheard of Anders’ attempts to use the uni-link.
Dr. Whittaker assessed the situation. “You’re not going to manage to pry it open,” he said. “Anders, run fast and grab a stone or something else hard. Maybe we can break a window.”
Virgil said, “I have a rock hammer with me.”
Anders dropped back a few paces to give the others room. Dr. Emberly had her uni-link out. Clearly, she’d assessed the situation for herself and didn’t fear Dr. Whittaker’s wrath. Anders felt relieved-until he saw a puzzled expression spread over her hawk-nosed countenance and her fingers move to input a command.
“Not working?” he asked softly. “Mine wouldn’t either. It’s strange. These should be fine. Dad ordered new models for the whole expedition.”
Behind them, there was a sound of breaking crystoplast.
“Got it!” Virgil crowed.
Anders looked. Virgil had bashed a hole through one of the large front windows and was now enlarging the opening with his hammer.
“Bradford!” Dr. Emberly called, her lack of formality a sign of her urgency-while working, Dr. Whittaker always insisted on titles. “My uni-link isn’t working.”
“Mine either,” said Kesia Guyen, her tone slightly embarrassed, as if hoping she wasn’t going to get yelled at for violating the tacit communication ban.
Dr. Whittaker frowned. “We’ll use the com unit in the van. Are you through yet, Virgil?”
Iwamoto pulled back. “I’ve got a good-sized hole.”
