A Beautiful Friendship-ARC (14 page)

“Screen Stephanie,” he said in a voice he
made
come out clear and crisp.

Then he waited, right forefinger and second finger drumming anxiously on the com’s wristband, and his face went bleak as the seconds oozed past with no reply. He waited a full minute, a minute in which his eyes became agate and the last expression leached from his face, and Marjorie caught his upper right arm. She squeezed tightly, but she said nothing, for she, too, understood what that lack of reply meant.

It took a painful act of will for Richard Harrington to accept the silence, but then his forefinger moved again. He keyed another combination, and inhaled sharply as a red light began to flash almost instantly on the uni-link display. In one way, the light was almost worse than the total lack of response had been; in another, it was an enormous relief. At least it gave them a beacon to track—one which would guide them to their daughter. But if her emergency beacon was working, the rest of the unit should also be functional. And if it was—if it had produced the high-pitched buzz which was guaranteed to be audible from a distance of thirty meters—then Stephanie should have answered it. If she hadn’t, there had to be a reason, and neither Harrington had the courage to voice what that reason might well be.

“Grab the emergency med kit,” Richard said instead, his voice harsh. “I’ll get my car back out of the garage.”

* * *

Stephanie Harrington couldn’t hear the signal from the lost uni-link that hung on the stub of a limb in the middle of a wreckage trail more than fifty meters above her and almost a hundred meters behind her. Nor was she even thinking about uni-links, for she was surrounded by over two hundred treecats. They perched on branches, clung to trunks, and crouched with her on the wet leaves. Two actually sat pressed against her sides, and they—like all the rest—crooned a deep, soft harmony to the bloody, mauled ball of fur in her lap.

She was grateful for their presence, and she knew those scores of guardians could—and would—protect her from any other predators. Yet she had little thought to spare them, for every scrap of her attention was fixed with desperate strength on
her
treecat, as if somehow she could keep him alive by sheer force of will. The pain of her arm and knee and ribs and her residual, quivering terror still filled her, but those things scarcely mattered. They were there, and they were real, but nothing—literally
nothing
—was as important as the treecat she cuddled with fierce protectiveness in the crook of her good arm.

Her memory of what had happened after the other treecats poured down from the trees was vague. She recalled switching off the vibro knife, but she hadn’t gotten it back into its sheath. She must have dropped it somewhere, but it didn’t matter. All that had mattered was getting to her treecat.

She’d known he was alive. There was no way she could
not
know, but she’d also known he was desperately hurt, and her stomach had knotted as she fell to her good knee beside him. Her own pain had made her whimper whenever she moved, yet she’d hardly noticed that as she touched her protector—her
friend
, however he’d become that—with fearful fingers.

Blood matted his right side, and she’d felt fresh nausea as she saw how badly his right forelimb was mangled. The blood flow was terrifying—without the spurt of a severed artery, but far too thick and heavy. She had no idea how his internal anatomy was arranged, but her frightened touch had felt what had to be the jagged give of broken bones, and his mid-limbs’ pelvis was clearly broken, as well. She’d cringed at the thought of the damage all those broken bones could have done inside him, but there was nothing she could do about them. That shattered forelimb needed immediate attention, however, and she plucked the drawstring from the left cuff of her flying jacket. Tying it into a slip noose with only her teeth and one working hand was impossibly difficult, yet she managed it somehow, and slipped it up the broken, bloodsoaked limb. She settled it just above the ripped and torn flesh and drew it tight, bending close to use her teeth again. Then she worked a pocket stylus under the improvised tourniquet and tightened it carefully. She’d never done anything like this herself, but she knew the theory, and she’d once seen her father do the same thing for an Irish setter who’d lost most of a leg to a robotic cultivator.

It worked, and she sagged in relief as the blood flow slowed, then stopped. She knew that cutting off all blood from the damaged tissues would only damage them worse in the long run, but at least he wouldn’t bleed to death now. Unless, she thought, fighting a suddenly resurgent panic, there
was
internal bleeding.

She didn’t really want to move him, but she couldn’t leave him lying on the cold, wet ground. He had to be in shock after such traumatic injuries. That meant he needed warmth, and she lowered herself to the ground to sit beside him and lift him as carefully as she could with only one hand. She flinched when he twisted with a high-pitched sound, like the mewl of a broken kitten, but she didn’t put him back down. Instead, she tucked him inside her unsealed flying jacket and tugged the loose flaps closed around him as well as her single working arm could manage. Then she leaned back against the tree he’d been flung against, whimpering with her own pain, holding him against her and trying to fight his shock and blood loss with the warmth of her own body.

She didn’t think about her missing uni-link, or her parents, or her own pain. She didn’t think of anything. She only sat there, cuddling her defender’s broken body against her own, and thought of nothing at all.

That was all she had the strength to do.

* * *

The elders of Bright Water Clan sat in a circle about the young two-leg. All of them, even Song Spinner, who had come after the others for the sole purpose of berating Sings Truly for her incredible folly in risking herself in such a fashion. But no one was berating anyone now. Instead, the other elders watched in confusion and uncertainty as Sings Truly and Short Tail crept closer to the two-leg. The chief scout and the clan’s second-ranking memory singer crouched on either side of the two-leg, quivering noses scarcely a handspan’s distance from it. They sniffed it carefully, and then reached out to touch the link between it and Climbs Quickly.

Sings Truly’s ears went flat in shock that, even for her—even now—was honed by disbelief. Despite the alienness of the two-leg, Climbs Quickly’s link to it was
at least
as strong as that of any mated pair she’d ever encountered. More than that, the link clearly had yet to reach its maximum strength. It couldn’t possibly happen—not with a creature as obviously and completely mind-blind as the two-leg. Yet it
had
happened, and Sings Truly’s mind whirled as she tried to imagine the ramifications of that simple fact.

The rest of her clan’s adult fighting strength sat or crouched or hung behind and above and all about her and the two-leg. As she, they’d watched the youngling, tasting its pain like their own as it dragged its gravely injured body to Climbs Quickly. As Sings Truly, they had tasted its fear for him, its tenderness and frantic concern. Its . . . love. And, as Sings Truly, they had watched the youngling—surely no more than a kitten itself—tighten the string which had stopped Climbs Quickly’s bleeding before he died. And then they’d watched the two-leg gather him against itself, hugging him, giving of its own body heat to him, and the music of the clan’s soft, approving croon had risen about the two-leg.

The clan had reached out, able to touch the two-leg—albeit indirectly—through its link to Climbs Quickly, and their massed touch had calmed the youngling’s fear and pain and eased it tenderly into a gentle mind haze. The People of Bright Water took its hurt upon themselves and soothed it into something very like sleep, and it was safe for them to do so, for nothing that walked the world’s forests could threaten or harm Climbs Quickly or his two-leg through their watchful ring of claws and fangs.

Sings Truly saw all that, understood all that, and deep inside, wanted—as she had never wanted anything before—to hate the two-leg. Climbs Quickly might live. His mind-glow was weak, yet it was there, and even now she felt his awareness creeping slowly, doggedly back towards the surface. But he was terribly hurt, and those hurts were the two-leg’s fault. It was the two-leg which had drawn him here. It was the two-leg for which he’d fought his impossible battle, risked—and all too probably lost—his life. And even if he lived, he would have only one true-hand, and that, too, was the two-leg’s fault.

Yet badly as Sings Truly wished to hate the two-leg, she knew Climbs Quickly had
chosen
to come. Or perhaps not. Perhaps the strength of his link to this alien creature had left him no choice
but
to come. Yet if that was true, it was equally true that the two-leg had been given no choice, either. They were one, as tightly bound as any mated pair, and Sings Truly knew it . . . just as she knew her brother, as she herself, would have fought to the death to protect his mate.

And so would this two-leg. Youngling or no, despite broken bones and legs which would scarcely bear it, this barely weaned kitten had attacked a
death fang
single-handed. Climbs Quickly had done the same, but he had been an adult—and uninjured. The two-leg had been neither, but it had risen above its wounds, above its broken bones and terror, to fight the same terrible foe for Climbs Quickly. No youngling of the People, and all too few of the People’s adults, could have done that. And without the two-leg, Climbs Quickly would already be dead, so—

The question came from Short Tail, and though it was directed to Sings Truly, the chief scout had thought it loudly enough to be certain all of the elders heard him.

Broken Tooth replied sharply, before Sings Truly could.

Short Tail asked bitingly, and the People’s ability to taste one another’s emotions was not a useful thing at the moment. Broken Tooth felt the scout’s searing contempt as clearly as if Short Tail had shouted it aloud—which, indeed, he had in a way—and his own mind-voice was hot when he replied.

<
Climbs Quickly
chose
to come here!
> he snapped. <
He was told to stay away from the two-legs—that Shadow Hider would have that duty—yet he disobeyed. Not content with that, he summoned the clan to save the two-leg from a death fang, despite the danger. Many of us might have been killed or hurt by such an enemy, and you know it! I am sorry for his wounds, and I wish him no evil, but what has happened to him stems from his own decisions. Our task is to safeguard our entire clan, and to do that we must be far away when the other two-legs arrive. If that requires us to leave Climbs Quickly to his fate, it cannot be helped
.>

<
It was not Climbs Quickly who summoned the clan
,> Song Spinner observed with frigid disapproval. <
Or not directly. It was
you,
Sings Truly, and you knew he was trying to protect the two-leg!
>

<
It was, and I did
.> The calmness of Sings Truly’s reply surprised even her. <
Oh, I did not
know,
but that was only because I had declined to ask him. So, yes, senior singer. I knew what Climbs Quickly desired. Perhaps I was even wrong to give it to him. But even if I was wrong
, he
most certainly was not
.>

The other elders stared at her in consternation, and she turned from her contemplation of the young two-leg and her brother to face them.

<
Climbs Quickly and this two-leg are linked
,> she told them. <
I have tasted that link, and so can any of you, if you doubt me. He was defending . . . not his “mate,” precisely, but something very close to it. This is his two-leg, and he is its. He could no more have failed to protect it than he could have failed to protect me or I him
.>

<
Prettily said
,> Song Spinner said acidly when none of the males would meet Sings Truly’s eyes or refute her words. <
Perhaps even true . . . for Climbs Quickly. But Broken Tooth speaks for the
rest
of the clan.
We
have no link to this two-leg, and surely this is only fresh proof of the danger of hasty contact with them. Look at your brother, memory singer, and tell me risking further contact with these creatures is not the path of madness!
>

<
Very well, senior singer
,> Sings Truly said, still with that same astounding calm and clarity of mind-voice. <
If you wish, I will tell you exactly that. Indeed, what has happened here is the clearest proof that we must seek out
more
contact with the two-legs, for we must learn if more of the People can establish such bonds with them
.>

bonds?
> Broken Tooth gasped.

He and Digger gawked at her in horror, but Song Spinner stared at her in shock too profound for any other emotion. Short Tail, on the other hand, crouched beside her radiating fierce agreement, and they were joined—albeit with less certainty—by Fleet Wind, the elder charged with the instruction of young scouts and hunters, and by Stone Biter, who led the clan’s flint shapers.

<
More bonds
,> Sings Truly replied levelly, and Broken Tooth hissed—not in anger, for no male would ever show challenge to a senior memory singer, whatever the provocation, but in utter rejection.

<
No, hear me out!
> Sings Truly commanded. <
Right or wrong, I
am
a singer. You
will
hear me, and the clan—the
clan,
Broken Tooth, not simply the elders—
will
judge between us on this!
>

Broken Tooth reared back in astonishment, and Song Spinner twitched in even greater shock. As the clan’s second-ranking singer, Sings Truly had every right to make that demand. Yet by making it, she had in effect challenged Song Spinner’s own position. She’d appealed to the entire clan, seeking the judgment of the majority of its adults, when all knew Song Spinner opposed her. If the clan chose to support Sings Truly,
she
would become Bright Water’s senior singer, while if the clan chose to reject her, she would be stripped of all authority.