Ashes Of Victory

she could see, and then she shook herself.

'I envy you,' she repeated more naturally, 'but tell me this: am I also right in believing that your link to Nimitz hasn't been impaired by whatever keeps him from making Samantha `hear' him?'

'I think you are,' Honor said cautiously.

'And is it only emotions you feel?' Allison asked intently. 'What I mean is, can you two communicate more than feelings or broad impressions?'

'Yes, we can,' Honor said quietly. 'Whatever's happening, it's still in a state of change, and we seem to get bigger changes in moments of extreme stress.' She smiled without humor. 'If stress is a factor in its development, I suppose it's not surprising that there've been changes over the last ten or twelve years!'

'I'd say that was probably at least a two or three thousand percent understatement,' her mother said wryly.

'At least,' Honor agreed. 'But what I meant to say was that it started out as simple, raw emotion, but we seem to have learned how to use the emotion as a carrier for more complex things since. We're still a long, long way from the sort of things two 'cats can communicate to one another. I know we are, because I can just feel the edges of it when Nimitz and another 'cat `talk' to each other. Or I could,' she added bitterly, 'before that bastard crippled him.'

She paused and drew a deep breath, then squared her shoulders and returned resolutely to her mother's question.

'What we seem to be able to communicate most clearly, after emotions, are mental pictures. We're still working on that, and getting better at it. We can't seem to get actual words across the interface, but visual images are something else, and we've gotten a lot better at reading what the other one wanted to get across from the images.'

'Ah! That's exactly what I hoped to hear — I think!' Allison announced, and wrinkled her nose as Honor cocked her head once more. 'Sorry. I didn't mean to sound cryptic. It's just that I think I may have come up with a way for Nimitz to be able to communicate more than just emotions to Samantha.'

'You have?' It was Honor's turn to sit fully upright. She turned to face her mother squarely, and it was hard to keep her inner tumult out of her own expression. She could taste Allison's concern over how she might react. She knew Allison would never have broached the subject if she hadn't genuinely believed she might have an answer, but she also knew Allison was fully aware of how terribly it would hurt if she raised Honor's hopes and then was unable to carry through to success.

'I have. Back before we learned to correct things like deafness and myopia on a routine out-patient basis — for that matter, it was before we ever even got off Old Earth — there was something called the sign language of the deaf. There was more than one version of it, and I'm still researching it. That was one reason I wanted to come home to the Star Kingdom, to take a look in the archives here. Even if I can manage to find a complete dictionary for it, we'd have to modify it a good deal, I suppose, given that 'cats have one less finger on each true-hand than we do. But I don't see any reason we couldn't work out a system that would work for Nimitz and Sam.'

'But—' Honor began, and then bit her lip as the precursor of bitter disappointment flowed through her.

'But no one has ever succeeded in teaching a 'cat to read,' Allison finished for her, and chuckled. 'We've just finished discussing the fact that the 'cats may have been a bit less than fully forthcoming with us as to the extent of their abilities, dear! And, no, I don't think that was the only problem. I can't quite picture a race of telepaths using language among themselves the way we do, and without some form of communication which would be at least a close analog to the language we use, I'd think the concept of an organized, written version of it wouldn't make a lot of sense to them. And, unfortunately, ours is the only one we can teach them, since we're not telepaths and don't have a clue as to how to `speak' theirs.

'On the other hand, no one's tried to teach a 'cat to read in over two hundred T-years, Honor, because everyone agrees that it's been conclusively demonstrated that you can't. That's been one of the sticking points for the minority which continues to insist that treecats aren't truly `intelligent'—in the human sense, at least.

'But none of the people who tried earlier had your sort of link. And unless my impression is completely wrong, the 'cats' ability to understand spoken English has improved dramatically since Stephanie Harrington's day. They have to have mastered at least the rudiments of semantics, syntax, and the rules of grammar, because if they hadn't, anything we said to them would still just be mouth noises as far as they were concerned, and that clearly isn't the case, now is it?'

'No,' Honor admitted.

'What I'm hoping is that the 'cats' increased facility in understanding spoken English indicates a fundamental improvement in their ability to understand the concepts of a spoken — or written — language... and that the unique nature of your link with Nimitz may give you an edge that will let you take those concepts that tiny bit further needed to teach him to sign.'

'I don't know, Mother,' Honor said slowly. 'It sounds logical... assuming your basic read on the process is accurate. But even if you're right about Nimitz and me, I'd have to be able to teach it to Sam for it to do any good.'

'No doubt. But I'd be extremely surprised if Nimitz is the only 'cat in the universe who could tap into whatever it is the two of you do. I don't mean you could get the idea across easily or completely, but neither Nimitz nor Sam is stupid, Honor. In fact, I suspect they may be brighter than even you and I would be ready to believe, even now. More to the point, they're a mated pair, and they both know you very well indeed. Success certainly isn't guaranteed, but I think you'd have a shot at it. Probably a good one, especially once the two of them figure out what you're trying to do. Even I can see how badly it hurts Sam to be unable to `hear' anything Nimitz says. If she catches on to the notion that you're trying to teach them a way to fix that, however imperfectly, compared to outright telepathy, I think you'll find she's as motivated a student as you could hope for.'

'It would be wonderful to find a way for him to actually talk to her again,' Honor agreed almost wistfully, and her mother laughed.

'Honor, you ninny!' she said as her daughter looked at her in surprise. 'You're not thinking clearly,' she scolded. 'Of course the immediate object is to give Nimitz and Sam a way to talk to one another, but hasn't it occurred to you that if you teach them to sign, you'll have to learn how, too? And that if they can communicate with each other that way, they can also communicate with you?'

Honor gawked at her, and Allison laughed again, eyes dancing.

'Not only that, but they're telepaths, Honor... and there's nothing at all wrong with Sam's `transmitter.' So if you teach her, I imagine she'd have an excellent chance of teaching other 'cats. And if she does that, while you and I teach their humans...'

Her voice trailed off. She pulled off her sunglasses, and the two of them stared at one another as Manticore-A began to slide finally and completely below the horizon.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

'Good morning, My Lord.'

'Mr. Baird.' Samuel Mueller nodded to the dark-haired, dark-eyed man in his study and then waved at a chair.

'Please be seated,' he invited, with much more congeniality than he showed most people who visited him in the middle of the night. Of course, most people hadn't managed to pump nine million traceless austens into the Opposition's war chest. He had to be careful how he spread those funds around lest too much money in any one spot get questions asked, but it freed up his legitimate contributions enormously. It was too early yet to predict the full impact of the media blitz he and his fellows were planning, but so far their closely coordinating candidates were on a pace to outspend their less organized opponents by a margin of almost two to one.

'Thank you.' Baird settled into the indicated chair and crossed his legs. He seemed to have become considerably more comfortable with Mueller since their first meeting. Indeed, he hadn't even turned a hair over