Treecat Wars (16 page)

There were still plenty of ways people could come to grief in the bush, however, and the overworked and undermanned SFS rangers couldn’t be everywhere at once. That was where the tourist escort program came in. The guides received a modest stipend for showing tourists the sights, answering questions, and forwarding special requests to the Rangers. They could also help with things like hunting or fishing permits and do a preliminary review of “new species” tourists were certain they’d discovered. And, in the wake of the Bolgeo incident—and the
Whitaker
incident, for that matter—they kept an eye out for potential poachers and for those visitors stupid enough to try to “pet the hexapuma,” as Frank Lethbridge put it.

And there would
always
be someone stupid enough to try to pet the hexapuma.

Or feed the swamp siren
, Anders thought now with a mental chuckle. Although, he admitted, it hadn’t seemed quite so funny at the time.

Actually, he was glad the guides program had been established. It kept Sphinx’s visitors from coming to grief, and the pay provided a little extra pocket change for Chet and Christine. Jessica wasn’t an official part of the program, but Dr. Whitaker had arranged for her to receive a retainer from the Urako University for assisting his expedition and making her own—and Dirt Grubber’s—expertise available to him on request. She’d argued against accepting it, initially, but Dr. Whitaker had convinced her to agree pointing out that the time she spent as his expedition’s liaison with the treecats was time she couldn’t spend doing anything else. That was certainly true, and Anders was glad his dad had thought of it, although he did wonder sometimes if part of Dr. Whitaker’s generosity wasn’t intended to give the Whitaker team first call on her time rather than the newcomers. Either way, though, it had created a welcome increase in the Pheriss family’s income stream. Jessica didn’t talk about that much, but Anders knew, and he was happy for her.

At the moment, the four young people stood toward the back of the group which had come to greet the new arrivals. Doctor Whitaker and Dr. Nez were up front to represent the Whitaker expedition. Probably Doctor Emberly should have been there, too, but Doctor Whitaker had insisted that work go on at the site.

Chief Ranger Shelton was present to represent the SFS, accompanied by Ainsley Jedrusinski, who’d been assigned as direct liaison between the new arrivals in the SFS. There were various other people Anders didn’t know, including the woman from the tourist office and a small cluster of people who he guessed had something to do with the Manticoran foundation which had arranged to have VIP treatment extended.

The first person off the shuttle was Dr. Sonura Hobbard of Landing University. She was an old friend and member of the unofficial “friends of treecats” group. Following her came a pert woman with tanned skin and obviously artificially red hair. She had a large button nose that gave her face a rather clownish look, but her dark eyes seemed to see everything.

“Doctor Cleonora Radzinsky,” Christine murmured without glancing at her uni-link. “Specialist in non-human intelligence, but obviously humanocentric in her analysis criteria.”

Next came a very tall, very thin man. His pale gray hair was bristle cut, an unfortunate choice in Anders’ opinion, given the way it emphasized just how much his ears stood out. He was carrying a bag in long, big-knuckled hands. Something in his manner dared anyone to touch it without his express permission.

“That has to be Dr. Hidalgo,” Chet said. “I bet he and your dad are going to have some good arguments, Anders.”

Anders nodded, but his gaze was fixed on the man who’d followed Dr. Hidalgo out of the shuttle. Dr. Russell Darrolyn was short and rounded, as if offering a direct contrast to the man in front of him. His hair was the defiant monotone brown of a bad dye-job, and his body language was lively and animated. Alone among the three senior members of the group, he was smiling widely as he debarked.

Each of these senior members had emerged from the shuttle in single file, as neatly spaced as if they were actors taking their places on stage. As soon as Dr. Darrolyn was clear, the remaining passengers came out in the more usual haphazard fashion. Occasionally, one or another would go over to join the group centered around Dr. Hobbard and Doctor Whitaker, but the shuttle held its usual quota of business travelers, families home for visits, and the like.

One of these days, I’ll be waiting for Stephanie to come out
, Anders thought.
But not for at least two more months
…

Eventually, the young people were motioned over to join the group. Needless to say, Jessica and Valiant attracted considerable attention right off.

Jessica handled the babble of questions with grace, becoming a trifle tart only when one of the assistants gushed, “Oh! He looks so soft! Can I pat him?”

“Only if he can pat you,” Jessica snapped. “Seriously. Would you pat a chow-wolv when you first met it?”

Chow-wolvs were native to Trebuchet where, Anders knew, Jessica had spent several years. They were also about the same size as treecats and equally fluffy.

The assistant blinked. “No! They’re known to be vicious.”

“Well,” Jessica said, “treecats aren’t vicious. However, it’s always a good idea to let any animal—even when it’s an herbivore—get to know you before you assume it’s pattable. There are quite a few animals here on Sphinx that would cheerfully take your arm off if they got the opportunity.”

The assistant—one Gretta Grendelson—scowled. “I
did
ask.”

Valiant patted Jessica gently on one cheek, then elongated himself from his position on her shoulder so he could sniff at Ms. Grendelson’s fingers. He bleeked and gave the woman’s hair a tug.

Ms. Grendelson squealed but didn’t seem unduly upset—in fact, she seemed delighted.

Dr. Radzinsky chuckled. “Well, now you’ve been patted by a treecat, Greta. That’s one for the records.”

She turned to the woman from tourism. “It’s very kind of all of you to come welcome us, but I think we’d like to go to our hotel. We’re staying in Yawata Crossing for the first few days, but I believe we’ll then relocate to Twin Forks to be closer to Doctor Whitaker’s group.”

“That sounds perfectly reasonable to me, Dr. Radzinsky. Please, come this way.” The woman from tourism motioned to Chet and Christine. “Come with us, if you would.”

The groups started breaking up. Anders looked at Jessica, then twitched his head after the departing new arrivals.

“Are you going with them?”

Jessica was frowning. “No. I don’t think so…I could, but I’m not needed for this stage. Later, when they do some of the longer landscape tours, I may go along. That’s what I was planning on, anyway. But now I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

They’d turned and started walking to where the air cars were parked.

“Why not?” Anders asked, and Jessica blinked as if she’d only then really become aware of him.

“I’m sorry, Anders. You need a lift?”

Anders shrugged. “I can ride with Dad and Dr. Nez, but they’ll probably want to talk about the new arrivals. I’d just as soon skip that.”

“I can give you a ride back to Twin Forks.”

“If I wouldn’t be in the way…”

Jessica shook her head. “No. I’d be glad to have you.”

Anders commed his dad, then they went along to Jessica’s faithful junker. Once they were aloft, Anders noticed the frown hadn’t left her face.

“What’s wrong, Jess? I thought you were eager to be part of all of this.”
And,
he added silently,
that you could really use the money
.

“I was,” Jessica admitted. “But Valiant…I’m not as good as Stephanie at filtering my reaction to his reactions…or at figuring out just what he’s reacting
to,
especially in a crowd like that.”

Anders shrugged. “You haven’t had as much chance to practice. So what about Valiant?”

“He didn’t like someone there—maybe several someones. My feeling is that he’d prefer to avoid at least some of them.”

“What didn’t he like? Being patted?”

“No. Despite my getting cranky, I think he liked that idiot Greta. He’s actually really good about patting. He even lets my little sisters comb him almost every night. Tiddles even put a bow around his neck yesterday, and he was nobly patient—although he took it off as soon as she fell asleep. No, it was more than that.”

She piloted in silence for a while, then sighed. “I suppose what I should do is spend more time with them so Valiant can isolate whoever it is he doesn’t like, but ’cats aren’t like us. Because of the telempathy, I think it’s sort of uncomfortable—almost painful—for them to be around someone they don’t like.”

“I remember Steph told me Lionheart would snarl and hiss when he sensed Bolgeo.”

“Right. Not that there’s any reason to think we have another Bolgeo here. I suspect there are many types of people Valiant wouldn’t like—the hyper-ambitious or manipulative sorts, y’know?”

“I think I do. You realize that group’s going to have a lot of that kind of personality? You’ve met my dad, so you know the type. Scientists working on the cutting edge of any field tend to be really competitive. Why not take it day by day?”

Jessica nodded. “That’s what I’ll do. Hey, thanks for listening.”

“Any time.” Anders grinned. “Any time at all.”

* * *

“So always remember that the most important thing whenever you first approach a potential crime scene,” Dr. Flouret said, standing in the middle of the holographic projection, “is to disturb
nothing
. The instant you begin interacting with evidence, you begin altering it.”

The broad shouldered, blond-haired professor regarded his students sternly. He reminded Stephanie of a character she’d seen in an old HD which had been set in what its producers had fondly imagined Old Earth must have been like before the Diaspora. That character had been a professor, too, and he’d worn something called “glasses” to correct some sort of vision problem. He’d worn them low on his nose so that he could peer over their tops at his students, and she was pretty sure Dr. Flouret would have done exactly the same thing. But even if he was inclined to be a bit fussy, he was also one of the smartest people she’d ever met.

He was an old friend of Dr. Hobbard’s, too, although Stephanie and Karl had been very careful to avoid even appearing to impose upon that friendship. Dr. Hobbard had told them they could turn to Dr. Flouret in case they had any serious problems, but neither of them was going to draw on what Karl had dubbed their “emergency hatch key” unless they really needed it. Not when it could have repercussions for Dr. Hobbard. Or for Dr. Flouret, for that matter.

They’d spent the last couple of weeks studying the theory of criminal forensics and the tools—from DNA sniffers to old-fashioned meter sticks—available to the criminal investigator. There were more of those than Stephanie had ever realized, but Dr. Flouret had emphasized over and over again that the most important tools of all were the human eye and the human brain behind it. All of the detection and measuring devices in the universe were useless, he pointed out, unless someone was able to combine their output into an
accurate
reconstruction of what had happened. This was the first time they’d examined an actual “crime scene” (or its holographic reproduction, at least), however, and Stephanie cautioned herself sternly against her normal tendency to rush in and take charge. She’d been working on developing what her mother called “more mature interpersonal skills,” and she’d discovered that several of the students who were older than she was resented the way she tended to charge ahead when something caught her interest.

“Bleek!” someone said in her ear, and that same someone’s whiskers tickled her cheek. One of the things Stephanie absolutely loved about Dr. Flouret was that, unlike any of their other professors here at the University, he actively encouraged her to bring Lionheart to class. She wasn’t sure if that was as a favor to his friend Dr. Hobbard or because of his own fascination with treecats, but she deeply appreciated his attitude. And it was another reason she wasn’t going to charge brashly forward and step on other people’s toes—not when she was already receiving “special privileges” by being allowed to bring her “pet” to class with her!

“Evidence must be collected so that it can be properly assessed and analyzed,” the professor continued. “And it must be collected and recorded in ways which can be reliably reproduced, not simply in the lab, but when the investigator’s conclusions are presented in an evidentiary format in court, as well. If an investigator is to present evidence convincingly, he must not only be certain of his own conclusions but be able to reproduce that evidence, to demonstrate the
basis
for his conclusions reliably, accurately, and in a fashion which educates the layman. All of those things are critical portions of what a forensic criminologist is and does, but it’s your responsibility to be as certain as humanly possible that the evidence you collect is accurate, honest, and unaltered. It’s your job to form
conclusions
, not to pass judgment, and you have a moral responsibility as well as a legal obligation to do so as impartially as you possibly can. So before you pass your sniffer over the first piece of evidence, before you take your first step into the crime scene, record every aspect of it from as many perspectives as possible in as much detail as possible. Know where every single piece of evidence comes from. Be able to place it in a detailed computer model of the scene, and be certain before you disturb
any
of it that at a later date you’ll be able to know and to demonstrate its physical relationship and proximity to every other piece of evidence you may examine.”

His expression and his tone were very serious, and heads nodded among the students seated in the lecture hall around the holographic stage. He gazed at them for several seconds, looking over the tops of those “glasses” he wasn’t wearing, then nodded.

“Very well,” he said, and glanced down at the “dead body” at his feet. “This is a re-creation of an actual crime scene. For obvious reasons, I’m not going to tell you what really happened here, or when, or even where. After all—” he raised his eyes, darting another look at the class, and Stephanie had the oddest sensation that he was looking directly at
her
“—we wouldn’t want any of you looking the case up to find out what the
courts
decided had happened.”