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  Trudy took a step toward Stephanie, but her gaze rested on the males in the group.

  “There’s an important Star Kingdom tradition we haven’t followed for our birthday girl’s special day,” Trudy said, her voice filled with teasing laughter. “She hasn’t had her spankings.…”

  Something in the way Trudy said “spankings” made Anders feel she’d said something a lot more risqué. Maybe it was the way she winked at him when she said it.

  “In my family,” Trudy continued, “the guys hold the birthday girl and then the girls give the whacks—one for each year. If she can take it without crying out, then she’ll be lucky all year.”

  “My family doesn’t do that,” Christine protested.

  Karl looked uncomfortable, so Anders was willing to bet that his family practiced some variation of the rite. Chet was shifting restlessly from foot to foot. Clearly, Trudy might be overselling her point, but she wasn’t flat-out lying.

  “Well, you may have been born here,” Trudy said to Christine, “but your family is relatively new. Mine is tough, pioneer stock. We don’t have any use for wimps and pansies. I’m sure Stephanie doesn’t either. After all, she goes around slaying hexapumas with her bare hands, if we’re to believe the stories.”

  Stephanie looked both angry and somehow trapped. Lionheart, pressed against her leg, his ears canted in concern. Anders could see that Stephanie didn’t want to be taken as anything less than tough, but the idea of being held down and hit on didn’t appeal either.

  Trudy smiled silkily. “So, Stephanie. Are you up to showing you’re a real Sphinxian girl?”

  At that moment, Dr. Richard came to the door. “Are you all waiting for individual invitations? Soup’s on!”

  “Saved by the bell…” Trudy murmured softly. “But then our Stephanie is always getting saved, isn’t she? What a lucky girl.”

  No one replied, but more than one pair of eyes strayed to where Lionheart, his scars and mutilations all too evident, testified to the price of Stephanie’s “luck.”

  Anders noticed that Stephanie was the one who looked the longest.

  * * *

  As dinner progressed, Stephanie realized she was enjoying her birthday party more than she had thought possible. Yeah…Trudy was there, but so were Chet, Christine, Toby, and Karl. Jessica had surprised Stephanie by not sucking up to Trudy (who had already been there when Jessica arrived), but by making herself part of the general crowd. And, best of all, Anders was there.

  The weather for hang gliding had been great. Her folks had given her one of their gifts early—a modified harness that made Lionheart’s flight experience safer, while at the same time allowing Stephanie to “trim” the treecat’s weight more efficiently.

  She’d used it to pull off the spectacular dive that had gotten her around Trudy. She was still flushed by the exhilarating experience, enough that she just might have taken her “spanks” if Dad’s call to dinner hadn’t saved her the humiliation. Right then, she’d felt like she could take anything.

  Or was it the hang gliding that had her so high? Stephanie tried not to make her interest too obvious, but Mom had seated Anders Whittaker across the table from her, just one seat over. He looked really, really good in the green-and-cream tunic and trousers he wore, but even more admirable—because he couldn’t help being hot—he was doing a great job holding his own in a conversation with a bunch of near strangers.

  Stephanie had been given a great excuse to look at Anders a lot during the first course. This featured extra-long noodles in a sesame-oil sauce served over near-lettuce, a leafy plant native to Sphinx that tasted like Romaine lettuce with a light hint of onion. The taste combination was one of Stephanie’s favorites, but the extra-long noodles were a birthday tradition on the Harrington side of the family.

  “You need to eat the noodles without cutting them,” Richard Harrington explained as he expertly demonstrated how to twirl them around paired chopsticks. “The long noodles are symbolic of long life, so you don’t want to cut the noodles in case you cut off your own life! We’ve provided a variety of tools, so give it a try.”

  Everyone did, with lots of giggles and a few protests when a noodle seemed to develop a life of its own. Stephanie wished she was sitting next to Anders, so she could demonstrate, but watching him—he proved to be a dab hand with chopsticks—was nearly as good. He had great lips. She found herself wondering what they’d be like to kiss.

  As the noodle plates were cleared away, Irina turned to Anders.

  “Dr. Hobbard,” Irina said, “has already interviewed Scott and Stephanie, who are the only living humans to have been adopted by treecats. She took advantage of the proximity of the two treecats Richard kept here for rehab after that business with Bolgeo to collect even more information. What does your father hope to add?”

  Stephanie thought a lesser person than Anders would have been offended by the aggressive note that underlay the question. Stephanie knew she probably would have been, since it implied that the xenoanthropological team had nothing new to offer.

  Irina was a really sweet person, but she knew how wearing being continually cross-examined could be, and she was protective of both Scott and Fisher—and probably of Stephanie and Lionheart, too. Clearly, she saw the arrival of Dr. Whittaker as more trouble for her favorite people.

  However, Anders didn’t show the least sign of being offended by the question. He began by telling a bit about each of the specialists his father had brought with him, going on to explain how each individual would contribute something new to human understanding of treecats.

  “Dr. Hobbard,” Anders concluded, “has and had other responsibilities than the treecats. She’s Chair of the Anthropology Department at Landing University on Manticore, for one. Although she does have xenoanthropological experience, it would be too much to expect her also to be a linguistics expert like Ms. Guyen or a specialist in anthroarcheology like my dad.”

  Trudy’s voice, polite as could be, added when Anders paused, “My dad says the fact that Dr. Hobbard is associated with Landing University makes her biased. He says that Dr. Hobbard has too much invested in wanting Sphinx—and that means the Star Kingdom—to be the place where another intelligent life-form is discovered. Dad says that one reason he agreed to an outside team being sent in was because he felt a team from another system wouldn’t share that bias and so could look at the issues more clearly.”

  The ways Trudy inflected “he agreed” implied that without Jordan Franchitti’s approval, no such team would have been permitted to as much as get a sniff of a treecat.

  Stephanie saw a couple of the adults smile slightly at Trudy’s confident assertion that Sphinx politics revolved around her dad, but she didn’t think what Trudy said was at all funny. Trudy might have an inflated idea of her dad’s importance, but even a few months working with the SFS had shown her how much influence the First Families—especially those like the Franchittis, that held enormous amounts of land—wielded.

  Trudy directed the gaze of her big violet-blue eyes on Anders. “Your dad’s unbiased, isn’t he? He isn’t going to make any pronouncements about treecat intelligence without speaking to all sorts of people—not just the ones who already keep treecats as pets.”

  At the word “pets,” Stephanie stiffened. She started to say something, but Lionheart tugged gently on her ear, drawing her attention to where Scott MacDallan was very, very slightly shaking his head “no.”

  Anders looked appropriately serious. “My dad is unbiased. Sure, Dad would like to be head author on the report that announces to the universe that humanity has located another intelligent species, but he’s also aware that he’d look like an idiot if he made a premature judgement. Even before humanity left Terra, humans wanted to believe they shared the universe with other intelligences. More often than not, those who declared that we did found themselves mocked.”

  “I guess,” Trudy responded, “that would be interesting, but even if the treecats are intelligent, well,
they’re not ever going to be like us, are they? I mean, I’ve heard they use tools, but I don’t call a broken-off bit of rock a ‘knife’—no matter what label Dr. Hobbard and the SFS have put on it in a museum.”

  “Humans,” Scott MacDallan said very gently, “started out with stone knives. Treecats make nets, too, remember. And they build dens up in the trees.”

  Trudy shrugged, setting her assets jiggling provocatively. “My brother says those nets aren’t real tools. He says he’s seen spiderwebs more complicated than those ‘nets.’ Heck, he says that near-beavers make more complicated dams than any treecat ‘house’ he’s seen.”

  No one answered. Perhaps taking silence for agreement, Trudy turned her attention back to Anders. Stephanie felt sure that Trudy thought that if she could win Anders over, he would influence Dr. Whittaker in favor of her point of view.

  “I’m not saying that treecats aren’t really interesting and clever. I’d love to have one as a…” This time Trudy stopped before actually using the ill-advised word “pet,” and amended it. “Companion. I think treecats are marvelous, really marvelous. But they’re not humans and that’s just how it is.”

  More silence. Stephanie thought she knew exactly what was going on in the minds of those gathered around the long dining room table. The adults—all of whom except her mom and dad thought Trudy must be Stephanie’s friend or she wouldn’t have been invited to the party—were reluctant to argue and so ruin Stephanie’s fun. The kids, all of whom labored under no such illusion, were too polite to want to start a fight. Nonetheless, from the way his broad shoulders were shifting under his tuxedo jacket, Karl was definitely about to say something, and whatever he said wouldn’t be in agreement with Trudy.

  Stephanie guessed what Trudy would say to any opinion of Karl’s…Something like, “Oh!” Giggle. Giggle. Flutter of eyelashes. Bounce of assets. “But you’re Stephanie’s special friend. Of course you’d say that…”

  Trudy might even say “you’re Stephanie’s boyfriend,” and then what would Anders think?

  I mean, I can’t go to him later and say, “Listen, Karl’s not really my boyfriend, no matter what Trudy said. I mean, he’s my buddy, but he’s not my boyfriend, and I want you to know this because…”

  Feeling herself about to become embarrassed over a conversation that hadn’t even happened, Stephanie spoke into the uncomfortable silence. She had meant to take anything Trudy said with stoic silence, so her mom wouldn’t feel bad about inviting Trudy, but this was getting serious!

  She spoke in her sweetest, most reasonable tone of voice, the one she’d perfected in what seemed like millions of interviews. “Trudy, does ‘just how it is’ mean that even if Dr. Whittaker’s study ends up showing that treecats aren’t ‘intelligent’ or ‘sentient’ or whatever term they decide to use, you don’t think treecats have any rights? They were here on Sphinx before us. This is their only planet.”

  Trudy laughed, a loud, completely genuine laugh that was worse than any mockery could be.

  “Oh, come on, Stephanie. I’d never take you for a hypocrite. Look at this house you’re living in! Do you think the trees that got cut down to make it wouldn’t have preferred to keep living? What about all the birds and beasts that lost their homes so your family could have this great big house—and greenhouses and vehicle hangars and gazebos. You’re not telling me you’re going to take up living in a tent so you minimize your ecological footprint? If you do, remind me not to come visit you in the winter!”

  Stephanie found herself fumbling to explain. The problem was, Trudy clearly thought that the treecats didn’t have any more right than did a tree. And how could Stephanie explain that there were times she did feel bad when she considered the majestic crown oaks, near-pines, and rock trees that had died so that the space in which her family’s home now stood could be cleared? Trudy would probably laugh so hard that Scott would need to give her a tranquilizer to calm her down.

  To Stephanie’s surprise, it was neither Karl nor one of her adult friends who spoke out, but Jessica Pheriss.

  “Don’t be a moron, Trudy. Don’t you see? You’re making Stephanie’s point for her—or at least the Forestry Service’s point. Responsible settlers must pay attention to the local ecology. That protocol has been followed from the start of settlement here. I read speculations that one of the reasons humans didn’t find treecats sooner was because early biological surveys showed that picketwood trees might look like groves, but they’re actually one huge tree. Treecats—as I’m sure you know—prefer picketwood over other types of trees for their colonies, but since clearing picketwood was so destructive of a segment of the local ecosystem, humans tended to stay clear of them—and so the treecats stayed hidden.”

  “So…” Trudy sneered. “This means what?”

  “So this means,” Jessica continued speaking slowly, almost, but not quite, as if to a very small child, “that from the very start, colonization on Sphinx has been done with an awareness of the local ecology. That policy isn’t going to change. If the treecats are ruled sentient, that awareness will be adapted. I mean, we can’t just move in on the local residents.”

  Trudy rolled her eyes. “Wow, Jessica, you already know so much, and your family just got here. Well, let me tell you this. Humans, not treecats, are the ones who vote in the assembly. My dad and his friends aren’t going to let a bunch of cute mini-hexapumas be used to get around their rights.”

  Jessica’s intervention had given Stephanie a chance to organize her thoughts. Now she spoke up, striving with all her might to be reasonable when what she wanted to do was shout something like, “You moron! Maybe if Dr. Whittaker proves treecats are sentient, then they will get a vote. What would you do then?”

  Instead, she said calmly. “Trudy, I can send you files and files about what happens when humans start forgetting that we’re only one part of the local ecosystem—one part that can be destructive all out of proportion.”

  “Fizz on the files,” Trudy said, laughing dismissively. “Like I want to spend my time reading propaganda written by people who are only interested in taking away the rights of serious land-holders.”

  At this point, Marjorie Harrington interrupted, using her best “mom” voice, the one that held the snap of a starship commander beneath its reasonable tones.

  “I can see we have some quite varied opinions here. Perhaps we should stop before we ruin our appetites for dessert? I’ve made both chocolate cake and tanapple pie. I thought we’d move into the living room for dessert.”

  The Mom Voice—or maybe the prospect of dessert—stopped the debate, but Stephanie didn’t think Trudy’s mind had been changed one bit. In the general movement to clear away dishes and move into the living room, she noticed Trudy moving over to talk to Anders. From the way Trudy was pressing close to him, she, at least, hadn’t given up her campaign.

  “Ultra-stonishing,” said Jessica, speaking very quietly, but so the kids closest could hear. “Is Trudy obvious or what? I wonder if I should take a picture or two and e-mail them anonymously to Stan…”

  She was grinning mischievously, but Stephanie didn’t doubt she’d do it.

  “Don’t,” Chet said. He wasn’t grinning. “Stan isn’t nice. I mean, really isn’t nice. Trudy’s family seems to like to play with fire.”

  Christine nodded. “Yeah. Listen, Steph. You were great there. I mean, I’ve seen you lose it a whole lot more at practice when Trudy gets dumb. This was a lot nastier than blocking your glider.”

  Toby bounced in agreement. “You were great. I thought we were going to see you use Trudy’s head to mash the ice potatoes.”

  Stephanie laughed. “My folks would have killed me. They take hospitality seriously—and so do I. I saw Karl carrying the tanapple pie out. I hope you’ll try it. It’s his Aunt Irina’s recipe. It’s seriously wonderful, sour at first, but with a sweet note.”

  “Kinda like Steph herself,” Chet said, grinning. “Right, Christine?”

  “Absolutely,”
Christine said.

  “Bleek!” agreed Lionheart, scampering ahead to where a tray of celery had been put out for his and Fisher’s dessert. “Bleek! Bleek!”

  Chapter Seven

  Stephanie slid into the pilot’s seat of the government air car, belted herself in, and took a quick minute to familiarize herself with the control panel while Ms. Schwartz, the test administrator—a wiry woman whose jaded expression said she’d seen it all and expected to see worse—got in on the other side.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” Ms. Schwartz said, positioning her uni-link so she could take notes. “We’ll start with the vehicle on automatic. Then, if you pass the first part of the test, we’ll go through the same areas with the air car on manual so you can attempt to qualify for a provisional license. The route should be coming up on the HUD.”

  Stephanie noted where a neat shocking-green line was taking form on the heads-up display and nodded. She checked right and left, as well as behind and above, before taking the air car out of its parking space and into the streets of Twin Forks.

  Last night at the party, word had somehow gotten out that Stephanie planned on taking her test today. Everyone still there—Trudy, thank goodness, had left—had regaled Stephanie with stories about how the test administrators delighted in taking off points for the most minor infractions—one of which included relying on the HUD to the exclusion of visual checks.

  The course the shocking-green line guided Stephanie through included piloting at various elevations, through both urban and rural conditions. Stephanie had only limited real experience with street-level piloting, but she’d put in so many hours on the sims that she had to remind herself that this time it was for real.

  Eventually, she brought the air car back to their starting point.

  “You’ve a perfect score so far,” Ms. Schwartz said, managing to sound both pleased and miffed. “Are you sure you want to try the manual test? If you fail, you’ll lose even your learner’s permit. You can’t retest for another three T-months.”