Worlds of Honor

civilized diplomatic relations that protected their little neighbors.

Whether or not the treecats had chosen him deliberately because of his genetic heritage, he couldn't be sure, and doubted that he or anyone else would ever know that particular truth; but he could certainly start finding answers to the questions posed by this crash. And he intended to begin with the air car itself, try to find out exactly what had caused that big cargo car to come down, not just assume it'd been downed by the storm. Just before he stepped out from beneath the last trees, he felt a familiar weight settle onto his shoulder and welcomed Fisher with a gentle hand. Then another weight dropped to his other shoulder and Scott found himself gazing into the brilliant grass-green eyes of his determined stray.

'Bleek!' It pointed toward the waiting crash team with stark emphasis.

'Oh, yes,' Scott agreed softly. 'We will, indeed!'

He broke cover into the clearing and rounded the bow of the misshapen wreck.

'Vollney! Keegan!'

The crash investigators appeared from two directions, one leaning out the open cargo hatch, the other jogging around the crumpled stern. 'Doc?'

'There's something bothering me about this crash. I've flown through thunderstorms dozens of times, trying to get to patients who needed a doctor, flew through one with a concussion, once, to get my friend, Fisher, here, and myself to a hospital. I don't know exactly what we're looking for, but whatever it is, it caused this air car to go off course several hundred kilometers and crash without sending out a distress call or beacon signal. I can't believe an experienced pilot caught in a thunderstorm wouldn't com his position or turn on his emergency transponder, at the very least. What've you found so far? Was their equipment damaged by lightning strikes, maybe, that prevented them from calling for help?'

Nick Vollney and Marcus Keegan exchanged startled glances. Then Vollney said, 'Uh, now you mention it, Doc, I haven't seen the kind of damage you'd expect from a lightning strike to their instrumentation. There's no characteristic popcorn denting from hailstones on the hull, either, although that's not definitive, since there are plenty of thunderstorms that don't produce low-atmosphere hail. But you've got something with the instruments, Doc, we've just been assuming the storm prevented them from calling out or setting their beacon, without really checking out how or why. I'll get right on it.'

Keegan added, 'If it wasn't lightning, maybe a violent downdraft while they were at low level sent them into the canopy? But that'd mean their anti-gravs were malfunctioning and I didn't even check those.' He frowned. 'This may take a while.'

Scott grimaced. 'I may be tired, Marcus, but I'd rather know what caused this crash. Get on it, would you?'

'Right.' The investigator crawled into the remains of the battered air car.

Scott was tired, so much so he'd have been happy to curl up on a picket wood limb, if it'd offered a quiet place to sleep. Instead, he rolled up his sleeves and dug out his surgical kit and mask, and got busy in the cargo hold of the rescue air car. He had three field autopsies to perform and the night wasn't getting any younger. The possibility that the killer had somehow drugged the victims was too great to ignore and might explain why they were so far off course and hadn't called in their difficulty. Unconscious or incoherent pilots wouldn't have been able to keep their car on course when the storm that must have masked the sounds of the crash from the Zivonik homestead had caught them somewhere between BioNeering's research facility and town.

Pine-green eyes burned in his memory as he set to work. At his side, a starvation-thin treecat watched as Scott began the grisly work of cutting open the remains of the poor stray's murdered friend. A stab of rage tore through him. This time it was all his own. The treecats were counting on him to prove that what he gazed at right now was murder.

Scott did not intend to let them down.

Dawn was breaking over the Zivonik farmhouse when the air car settled in the broad sweep of grass beyond the kitchen garden. Scott reeled out, eyes bleary from lack of sleep, and stumbled beside Aleksandr Zivonik and his oldest boy toward the house. All Scott wanted was a mattress under him and a long, hot soak in gallons and gallons of steaming water. The Zivonik children, blinking sleepily, met them at the door. Irina Kisaevna appeared a moment later as they approached, looking gloriously tumbled from sleep and wholesome enough to drive away the stink of horror clinging to his very skin.

'How's Evelina?' Aleksandr asked, voice rough with exhaustion.

'Sleeping. So's Lev.'

Aleksandr just nodded.

Irina kissed her brother's cheek and said, 'Go on to bed. I'll see to Scott.'

The big farmer made his apologies, then stumbled down the hall in the direction of his bedroom. Irina took Scott's arm and braved the stares of both treecats to kiss him, too, although not on the cheek. Irina tasted of home and warmth and sanity; Scott pulled her closer and just held her for a moment, not wanting to think about murders or autopsies or investigations yet to be made. Both treecats crooned anxiously where they rode his shoulders.

'You're exhausted, all of you, poor things,' Irina said softly, pulling away to smile up into his eyes. 'Come on, Scott, let me show you where there's a spare bed.' She led him down a short hall to an open doorway. The bed was wide enough to accommodate three, without risk of colliding with elbows or knees; it was more than roomy enough for one exhausted doctor and two bleary-eyed treecats.

'Thanks, Irina.' His own voice was hoarse with weariness. Scott stumbled into the darkened bedroom, groping his way out of his clothes and into bed, hardly registering the soft latch of the door as Irina closed it behind him. When he next opened his eyes, strong sunlight poured in through the windows and the smells of frying bacon and steaming coffee tickled his nostrils. According to the clock, he'd been asleep for five hours, not enough to catch up to himself, but better than none. He suspected it was the gnawing in his belly—and his little friends' bellies— that'd wakened him. Scott found a shower just off the bedroom and stood under it for a full quarter of an hour, just letting hot water sluice over him. He didn't want to remember the previous night, knew he couldn't run away from the grim responsibility waiting for him in this morning's blinding sunlight.

Today, he had to find a killer.

Someone—probably Irina, again—had laundered his filthy clothes while he slept. Scott greeted Fisher and the thin treecat, both of whom had curled up to sleep beside him, and reassured the stray with caresses and low murmurs, then dressed and headed for the Zivonik kitchen, accompanied by two ravenously hungry treecats. The oldest Zivonik girl was pouring coffee and the second-oldest boy was dishing up platters of eggs, bacon, and flapjacks. Irina, barefooted and wearing an apron, with stray tendrils of hair escaping the ribbon she'd used to tie it back with, was piling a stack of generously laden plates, bowls, coffee cups, and juice glasses onto an enormous tray, doubtless for her brother and sister-in-law. Bright smiles greeted him as he paused in the doorway.

'Good morning, Dr. MacDallan!'

' 'Morning. Mind if I wrap myself around a plateful of that?'

'Help yourself,' the tow-headed short-order cook grinned with a slight lisp. He was missing a front tooth. 'And I shredded some more of that turkey carcass for the treecats.'

'Thanks.' Scott smiled. He dragged out a chair and plowed into the food as Irina carried the heavy tray out.

'Eat up, Scott. I'll just take this down to Alek and Evelina and be right back.'

He nodded and smiled, mouth too full of fluffy flapjacks and crisp bacon to say anything. The treecats ate hungrily, as well, then bleeked in open delight when Stasya brought over a tray piled high with celery.

'I heard treecats like it.' She smiled shyly.

Both 'cats were already chewing in ecstasy, shredding the celery into a sticky, wet mass.

'They do.' Scott nodded. 'God knows why. I never did.'

The children giggled, tempting the treecats with more stringy, springy stalks. Irina returned and poured a cup of coffee for herself, then joined him at the table, blowing gently across the steaming liquid. 'Will you be going back to town today?'

'I'll have to. Mind if I borrow your computer before I go? I want to check a few things on the net before I leave.'

'Sure. I'll show you when you're done eating.'

Scott was aware of her close scrutiny as he finished off seconds. Irina knew him well enough to realize