Fire Season

by David Weber

  He wondered at the difficulty they were having getting Windswept free. True, this youngling was more curved and bumped than his own Death Fang’s Bane. True, the tree had fallen on her, so it was to be assumed that even the tough material of her clothing had been pierced and snagged, but still her shape seemed all wrong, resisting extraction.

  At last, though, the two of them forced the mass free from beneath the green-needle, dragging it into the smoky air.

  Climbs Quickly had been peripherally aware that the smell of close-by burning had become that of sodden wood, but he had been so closely focused on his task, on trying to touch and hold the mind-glows of the captive two, that he had lost any sense of his surroundings. Now he emerged to find that two of the young fliers were playing streams of water over the fallen green-needle. Enough water saturated the air that, had he not known otherwise, he would have thought he was emerging into rain.

  When they were free, Shadowed Sunlight dropped the smouldering tree and came to help move the injured girl. Climbs Quickly was glad, for apparently Windswept had possessed the good sense to jump into the stream when she realized she could not escape the falling tree, taking the risk of being drowned rather than accepting the certainty of being burned. She was sodden, heavy with water.

  Climbs Quickly wondered fleetingly why Windswept—like Death Fang’s Bane—had not trusted to her suit. Was it because she had less experience? Had she given in to fear?

  He was turning to go seek after Dirt Grubber, when a cry from Death Fang’s Bane made him realize why Windswept had been so difficult to move. As Shadowed Sunlight helped Death Fang’s Bane to lift Windswept, the oddness in her shape was explained. At tremendous risk to herself, Windswept had torn open the front on her suit so that Dirt Grubber could be protected inside from the fire, held in her arms above the water.

  But had her sacrifice been sufficient?

  Once Shadowed Sunlight had helped move the injured pair clear of fire and water, Death Fang’s Bane ripped open Windswept’s suit, for its shredded fabric made amply clear that it could no longer provide any effective protection. Soon, Windswept lay limp on the muddy earth near the stream, her arms curled protectively around the sodden Person she had rescued.

  Death Fang’s Bane began poking and prodding the two in a manner that reminded Climbs Quickly of her father’s working over the injured. Raising her head, she made mouth noises in which Climbs Quickly recognized her name for him.

  “Lionheart…Jessica…Lionheart!”

  Climbs Quickly understood what his two-leg wanted to know only because he desired the same. He was sure Windswept and Dirt Grubber were alive, but that did not mean they had not been injured beyond recovery—or damaged beyond the ability to think. He placed his hands on the quiet pair, probing to see if sense lay beneath life. When he had learned what he could, he met Death Fang’s Bane’s anxious gaze and nodded, flooding their link with reassurance that the two lived.

  As he did so, he felt again the frustration that he could not tell her more.

  Climbs Quickly wished he could tell Death Fang’s Bane that he sensed both Windswept’s and Dirt Grubber’s mind-glows, faint but present, aware though encased in bodies too weak to communicate. He wished with all his heart that he could tell Death Fang’s Bane the other thing he felt—something he was certain that no one in the Damp Ground Clan had yet sensed. These two mind-glows were intertwined. Somehow, on the edge of death, caught beneath fire and within water, these two strangers had found in each other a reason beyond reason to fight for life.

  “Bleek,” he said, and nodded vigorously. “Bleek! Bleek!”

  Then he turned and indicated with gestures that the time for retreat had come. Would the Damp Ground Clan understand the battle was lost?

  As Climbs Quickly ran in the direction of the air cars what he saw awaiting him made his heart suffuse with a strange joy. Every member of the Damp Ground Clan who had not been able to join in fighting the fire—the females with kittens, the elders, the crippled,—now waited in the bed of the truck.

  As the two-legs approached—Shadowed Sunlight and the larger boy carrying Windswept, the tall girl holding the battered Dirt Grubber cradled in her arms—every single one of those gathered clan members held out their arms, offering without words to hold and succor the wounded, mutely expressing that they trusted the two-legs would carry them away to safety.

  * * *

  Knowing from experience how soothing treecats could be, Stephanie accepted the invitation that the injured two ride in the back of the air-truck. She climbed in first, directing Chet and Karl to place Jessica’s head in her lap. The treecats—among whom were doubtless relatives of the ’cat Jessica had rescued—took charge of their clanmate. As the males spilled in to join the females, young, and infirm, the back of the truck became quite crowded.

  “Where are we going from here?” Chet asked as he headed for the pilot’s seat of the truck. “I mean, the treecats seem to have accepted our offer of a ride, but where do we take them?”

  “Out of here first,” Karl said practically, from his own vehicle. “The main body of the fire is spreading from the southeast. So we head west. Steph, you let me know if the treecats get agitated or something, okay?”

  “Okay,” Stephanie said somewhat absently.

  Toby had brought her the enhanced first-aid kit from Karl’s car before going to join him. Christine was riding with Chet. Now, Stephanie focused on trying to figure out what was wrong with Jessica. The other girl was breathing raggedly, doubtless because in opening her suit to hold the treecat she had inhaled a lot of smoke. She was also soaked, so she might have breathed in water as well.

  Stephanie placed her hand against Jessica’s bare skin and was shocked to feel how cold it was.

  “Okay,” she muttered. “Hypothermia. Being surrounded by treecats should warm her up…Let me see what I can do for her breathing.”

  The med-kit contained a compact oxygen mask—Richard Harrington’s addition after the rescue of Right-Striped and Left-Striped. He’d insisted that if Stephanie and Karl were going to be out in fire territory, they needed to be prepared for the worst.

  “You might not need it,” he’d said when Stephanie had protested that she and Karl weren’t such zips as to forget to use their respirators. “But someone else might not be that lucky.”

  Stephanie fitted the mask into place and set the pressure low, watching carefully to see if Jessica started coughing. That would indicate water in the lungs. However, after a few breaths, Jessica seemed more relaxed. Her eyelashes fluttered slightly.

  “Take it easy,” Stephanie murmured, wondering if the thrumming of the surrounding treecats meant much the same thing. “You’re safe now. So’s the ’cat. We’re getting away from the fire as fast as we can.”

  Too fast, so it seemed. Stephanie heard Lionheart “bleek” for her attention, and looked up. The treecats clustered in the back of Chet’s truck were stirring uneasily. A few were looking over the side, as if contemplating jumping.

  “Slow down, Chet,” Stephanie said through her uni-link. “Seems that all treecats aren’t addicted to speed like Lionheart. I think some of your passengers are getting motion sick.”

  Chet slowed down immediately. “How about elevation?”

  “That doesn’t seem to bother them as much,” Stephanie said, “maybe because they live up in trees. Still, I think we’d better stay under the canopy.”

  Christine’s voice cut in. “We’re not going to be able to cover much distance if we stay low and slow.”

  “As long as we stay ahead of the fire,” Stephanie said, “and get out of the worst of the smoke, we’re doing good.”

  She listened to the feed over her uni-link. The SFS reported that containment of the northern fire was far from achieved, but that the fire had been diverted from the Hayestown. Water drops had succeeded in downgrading the fire in some areas from crown level to surface level. A few teams were now being diverted to where the southern fire still raged in
the mountains. However, the battle on either front was far from won. A call had gone out for volunteers to spell those who had been on duty since before dawn.

  “What time is it?” Christine said, then answered her own question. “I can’t believe it’s only a few hours past noon. I wonder if we’ve been missed?”

  “Check your uni-link,” Chet said practically. “If you don’t find a stream of messages from your mother, you haven’t.”

  “No messages. I guess if anyone has missed us, they think we’ve been diverted to another area.”

  Toby chuckled. “As we have been. We’re on the probationary rangers’ team. Hey, Steph and Karl, do you think we could qualify?”

  Karl’s reply was very dry. “Either you’ll qualify or Steph and I are going to be out of a job. SFS isn’t a military organization, but we’ve bent the rules. I’m guessing that the only reason someone isn’t worrying about what we’re up to is they have a lot more to worry about.”

  “Out of sight, out of mind,” Stephanie agreed. “Though the automatic messages you arranged to send were a good idea, Karl.”

  “Thanks. How’s Jessica?”

  “Coming around. She seems to be breathing easier. Since we’re out of the worst of the smoke, I’m going to work the mask off.”

  “How about the treecat?” Toby asked.

  “I think he’s all right. I mean, the treecats have all huddled around him, but they don’t seem anxious. I saw some patches of burnt fur, but I think Jessica grabbed him before much worse could happen.”

  “That was really brave,” Christine said, admiration in her voice. “I don’t know if I could have done it. I mean, I didn’t mind getting close to the fire because the suits kept out the worst of the heat and smoke. Opening up a suit when surrounded by fire…”

  Jessica obviously overheard. Even before she fluttered open her eyes she said in a very soft voice, “Brave or really dumb…”

  She coughed a few times. Stephanie patted her hand, then moved it so Jessica could feel the oxygen mask.

  “Don’t stress your voice. If you need more air, take a pull on this.”

  “Okay. Can Valiant have some?”

  “Valiant?” Stephanie realized Jessica must mean the treecat. “Sure. Take a drag and I’ll see if he wants any.”

  Knowing that Lionheart would likely be with Stephanie when she went on fire duty, Richard Harrington had shown her how to adjust the flow for treecats. She did so now, glad that she hadn’t been such a blackhole as to ignore good advice just because it came from her father. Dad had also included a variety of simple drugs—painkillers and stimulants mostly—that had been proven to work on treecats.

  “Lionheart,” Stephanie said holding out the mask. “You’d better show Valiant how to use this.”

  Lionheart took the device promptly. One of the females—an older one, Stephanie thought—hissed, but another treecat patted her and eased her back when she would have intervened.

  His wife? Stephanie thought. His mother? I can tell a kitten from an adult, but there’s so much I don’t know…

  The oxygen seemed to help Valiant. Lionheart then made a quick inspection of the other ’cat’s bedraggled fur. It was burnt in places, but the skin was badly blistered only in one area—a long streak down the left shoulder and flank.

  Stephanie took out some quick-heal and sprayed on a light application. In nature, burns healed best if kept clean and left to open air, but she wanted to do something for the creature’s evident pain.

  “Valiant got that,” Jessica said softly, “when he pushed me into the stream. I froze for a minute too long, then I stumbled and did something to my ankle. He could have gotten away, but he stopped…”

  Her voice choked with tears. “He’s going to be all right, isn’t he? I’ll just die if anything happens to him, especially because of me.…”

  Stephanie’s eyes widened. There was more here than just guilt or sympathy. She heard in Jessica’s voice the same pain she had felt when Lionheart had attacked the hexapuma in an effort to save her.

  She looked at Lionheart, wondering if he would confirm her guess.

  “Bleek,” he said, nodding. “Bleek!”

  Me and Lionheart. Scott and Fisher. Now Jessica and Valiant.…

  Stephanie shook her head in wonder, then realized she hadn’t answered Jessica’s question.

  “It’s just a burn. I gave him something for the pain and his family has him all warm. Next thing you know, they’ll be cleaning up his fur for him. You concentrate on getting well…Valiant’s going to need you, too.”

  * * *

  Anders awoke to screams of panic.

  He sat up, wondering who was sitting on his chest, then remembered it was the weight of the world—literally the world, all of Sphinx’s 1.35 gravity. Switching on his counter-grav unit to the minimum setting alleviated the pressure, but did nothing to still the screaming.

  It was Kesia.

  “Oh God oh God oh God…” the linguist was saying without pausing for breath. Then she began babbling in some language Anders had never heard before but which, from the fluency with which she spoke it, must be her native tongue.

  He glanced toward the forest, thinking that the fire must have reached the area. The picketwood grove, however, remained untouched. If anything, the smoke was lighter than before.

  Kesia was pointing a few meters away from the islet in the bog on which they had made their new camp, pointing, apparently, at one of the patches of mud. An eddy of motion focused Anders’ attention. He froze, for a moment believing that he was still asleep and that this was his worst nightmare yet. Then he had to accept what he was seeing was real.

  The mud was slowly crawling toward them. This mud had teeth, teeth between which it whistled as it moved, an eerie sound, soft and gentle, completely at odds with the horror before them.

  Other voices were joining Kesia’s incoherent babbling. With a small corner of his mind, Anders realized he was not the only one who had fallen asleep. Exhausted from their recent labors and poor diet—probably also from breathing the smoky air—they had all drifted off. If Kesia had not awakened when she had…

  Then Anders realized that Kesia’s waking had not been a complete coincidence. A cream-and-gray treecat, certainly one of the two he had spotted earlier, was standing next to her. One of its upper paws—one of the “hand” set—rested on her shoulder as if it had just shaken her, while the other still pointed in the direction of the mud monster.

  The latter was moving forward with more speed than Anders would have credited for something that lacked any apparent legs or even tentacles. Despite its lack of features—except for the teeth, those were all too evident—it must have had something that served as sound receptors, because Kesia’s keening had caused it to pause, rippling in place.

  …In thought? In anxiety? In contemplation of where to take its first bite?

  One of the above. Some of the above. All of the above, Anders thought frantically. Certainly it showed no sign of retreating, so although Kesia’s keening had disconcerted it, it wasn’t about to be scared off.

  And if the treecat had taken the risk to come out and warn them, then there was no way this thing wasn’t dangerous.

  Come out to warn them…Wonder filled Anders. As he got to his feet, he switched his counter-grav unit to compensate fully for the extra gravity. If they didn’t get rid of this thing, well, they’d have more serious problems than functioning under and extra .35 gravity.

  “A new species,” Dr. Calida was saying. She sounded almost as much excited as scared. “It looks as it dwells mostly in this sort of terrain, so it might be amphibious.”

  “We’ve got that single tranq rifle,” Virgil said tightly. “I don’t fancy taking on that thing with a short knife, no matter what Stephanie Harrington did to that hexapuma. Who’s a good shot?”

  Virgil was looking directly at Dr. Whittaker as he spoke, but Anders’ dad was shaking his head. “Since we were camping out,” Dr. Whittaker sa
id, “we were permitted to bring the tranq rifle, but I’m not a marksman. Our main defense was going to be a sonic perimeter. They’ve had a great deal of luck with those keeping off even hexapumas.”

  Dacey Emberly held out a hand. “Give it here. I haven’t shot anything for years, but Calli’s father and I used to go hunting.”

  Everyone watched, tense and uncertain as the older woman took careful aim and fired. Clearly the powerful darts hit, but they didn’t seem to have any effect.

  “I think,” Dr. Calida said, with detached scientific interest, “the darts embedded in the plants that grow on the thing. I wonder if it deliberately cultivates them as armor?”

  “Either way,” Dacey replied. “I’m not going to get through—and that was the last dart.”

  “This thing didn’t seem to like Kesia’s screaming,” Anders mused. “I sure wish we had that sonic thingie.”

  Virgil dove toward one of the bags. “I think I saw…”

  He raised an arm triumphantly. “Got it! I didn’t bother to set it up when we were in the trees because we were pretty safe. It should still have juice…”

  Anders had raced over to Virgil’s side. The sonic perimeter guard consisted of a series of slender rods connected by an almost invisible wire.

  “I have no idea how this works,” Virgil said, thrusting a couple of the rods at Anders, “but I glanced at the instructions before deciding it wouldn’t work well up in the trees. Set the posts in the ground, far enough apart that the wire is taut…”

  Kesia had fallen silent, but she wasn’t so far in shock that she couldn’t help set out the rods. As they worked, Dacey looked at her daughter.

  “Calli, remember that horrible campfire song you tormented us all with when you were eight?”

  Dr. Calida started, then grinned. Without a pause she started singing, “Oh! In the cave there was a bear!”

  The word “bear” was almost shouted, hitting one of those annoying minor-key notes that delight small children and make adults grit their teeth.