David Weber: Fire Season

A new sound entered the complex of images as some part of the air car began laboring to cool the interior of the vehicle. An odor of smoke came where there had been none before. Aware from experience how neatly the air car usually sealed away any indication of the world without, Climbs Quickly felt panic rising.

He had possessed such faith in these two-legs that he had brought them here without thought for their safety, but what if in bringing them here he had doomed them all?

“I see him,” Stephanie shouted. “No! Them. There are two of them. Two treecats up in that bent-over near-pine!”

Spilling into the backseat, she grabbed her kit and slipped on the fire-suit that rested on top. This was an emergency model, made of fire-resistant fabric, basically a coverall with built-in boots and a hood.

An adult might have found donning this difficult in the confines of the air car, but Stephanie was a flexible fourteen-, almost-fifteen-year-old girl. Lastly, she netted her curly brown hair under the matching hood, slinging the breathing mask to cover her face. An earplug included in the hood put her in immediate contact with the air car. Goggles with an optional heads-up display covered her eyes.

Karl had been maneuvering the air car over toward the burning near-pine. He might not have managed, except that near-pine was among those breeds of trees that shed lower limbs as they grew, so the under-story was comparatively clear. Karl had a steady hand on the controls, but even with the guidance systems enabled, the updrafts of hot air were giving them a bumpy ride.

“Steph,” Karl said, the measured tones of his voice showing just how tense he was. “What are you planning?”

“Someone’s going to have to stuff the ’cats in the car,” she said tersely. “I’m sure Lionheart has been trying to tell them we’re here to rescue them, but I don’t think he’s getting through. How close can you get me?”

“To that large limb about two meters below the ’cats,” Karl said. “I think.”

“I have my counter-grav unit,” she said. “So whatever happens, I’m not going to fall.”

She didn’t need to tell Karl that while the counter-grav unit would assist her in rising and falling, it wouldn’t let her “fly.” Moving through the burning tree-for rising sparks were now igniting the needles of the upper branches-would be up to her.

When Karl had the air car into position, Stephanie opened the back side door. Smoke immediately gusted in, making both Karl and Lionheart cough and sneeze. Stephanie wished she’d thought to hand Karl at least the breathing mask from his kit, but she couldn’t delay now.

Lionheart did not attempt to follow her out onto the burning near-pine. As Stephanie stepped onto the limb, she could feel it bobbing. Part of this would be from her movements, but she thought more was due to the conflicting air currents of wind and thermal updraft.

Her goggles automatically adjusted for the available light, but even so, the conflicting brilliance of the flames warred with the darkening of the smoke. Even odder was the way her coveralls shielded her from the worst of the environmental changes. Stephanie knew she was walking through a rising fire, but she didn’t feel it-which didn’t mean she wouldn’t burn if exposed to enough heat for long enough.

Long ago, Stephanie had learned that she kept her head in situations that would turn most of her peers-even most adults-into gibbering idiots. As when she had fought the hexapuma in an effort to save Lionheart’s life, she now felt herself concentrating on the situation, fears pushed aside in the urgency of a need to act.

She’d gibber later.

Moving purposefully toward the trunk, Stephanie assessed the situation more closely. From a distance, she had seen two treecats huddled together. What she hadn’t been able to see through the smoke was that the lower one was holding the other in place, his limbs holding the upper treecat while his strong, prehensile tail anchored him to the near-pine limb. The upper cat was limp but breathing.

Stephanie’s original plan had been to grab the lower one, then see if she could get him moving towards the car. Now she adapted.

She touched the lower ’cat. Bleary green eyes opened and looked at her with surprising lack of panic. Stephanie guessed that Lionheart must have reached this ’cat at least. When she touched him, she could feel him trembling from the strain of maintaining his awkward hold on the other treecat. He hissed when he felt her touch, and she guessed why.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to pull you out from under your buddy,” she said, hoping the tone of her voice would soothe him and trusting Lionheart to do the rest. “Did he get a bad dose of smoke? Let’s see if I can move him.”

The hissing stopped as soon as Stephanie reached up for the other ’cat. This one’s ears flickered when she touched him, but his eyes did not open. Moving as quickly as she could without risking her precarious balance on the tree limb, she struggled to free his claws from their death grip in the tree bark. She managed more easily than she had thought possible, given that treecats had six limbs with retractable claws that could rip through even tanned leather and artificially reinforced fabrics-as Stephanie had learned to the detriment of her wardrobe in her early days with Lionheart, before he learned just how fragile her clothing was.

This ’cat was only holding on with his true-hands. The other four sets were badly burned, the grip of their claws easily released.

Stephanie winced as she worked the claws free, trying hard not to hurt the ’cat but very aware that a fate far worse than burned paws was awaiting him if she didn’t get him into the car as quickly as possible.

Karl had set a closed link between her fire-suit and the air car. Through this he had provided a steady update as to immediate conditions, his voice almost as impersonal as a computerized weather report.

Now a note of emotion entered his voice. “Steph, the flames are within a meter of your feet. The limb you’re standing on is starting to smoulder. It’s going to go up soon.”

“I’ve almost gotten this ’cat loose,” Stephanie replied. “I think the other one can move on his own. You’re not going to believe it, but he was holding the other one up.”

“I saw,” Karl said. “Hurry.”

So Stephanie did, pretending to herself that the tears that leapt hot to her eyes were from some trace of smoke that had gotten in past her mask, not because she knew she was causing the treecat considerable pain. Once he snapped as if to bite her, but stopped in mid-motion. She was relieved.

At last, well aware that flames were now licking around her feet, Stephanie got the upper treecat loose. He dropped into her arms, not as heavy as his bulky fur might suggest, but still a considerable weight that threw off her balance. For a terrifying moment, she teetered, then recovered.

“Steph!”

“I’m coming!”

To her relief, as soon as his burden was lifted, the lower treecat had uncurled himself from the awkward position he had adopted to hold the other in place. He was running now, scampering with odd, leaping jumps meant to minimize his contact with the burning tree limb. Despite this awkward gait, he flowed rapidly toward the open door of the air car. There he hesitated momentarily. The opening was bobbing alarmingly as the air car was tossed by the updrafts.

Lionheart poked out his upper body, true-hand and hand-feet extended, beckoning urgently, reaching as if to grab the other. Perhaps seeing how Lionheart’s missing limb made this a very precarious position, the other treecat jumped into the air car. Stephanie and her burden were only a few steps behind. Feeling the limb under her feet creaking alarmingly, Stephanie half-leapt, half-lurched through the open door.