Read Online Fire Season-eARC by David Weber, Jane Lindskold - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: David Weber, Jane Lindskold
Tags: General, Science-Fiction, Action & Adventure, Juvenile Fiction, Fantasy & Magic, Science & Technology
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time, Climbs Quickly noted with amusement, there was no question as to who was operating the air car. Despite their traveling above the trees and at a high speed, Shadowed Sunlight slid down one of the transparent panels for Climbs Quickly without being asked, but Climbs Quickly did not enjoy the ride as much as he usually did. His thoughts were too full of the implications of change.
* * *
When Karl brought down the air car at the familiar SFS regional headquarters complex, Stephanie noticed that several vehicles were already parked in the visitors’ area.
“Dr. Whittaker and his team must already be here,” she said, gathering Lionheart into her arms and hugging him. Surely Dad wouldn’t mind if she carried him just a short distance.
“Ready?” Karl asked.
“You bet,” Stephanie replied.
Inside, they were immediately directed to a conference room off to one side of the building. The room was large—it doubled as a lecture hall—but today seemed quite crowded. It smelled strongly of coffee—the beverage favored by the hard-working SFS staff—but there were under-notes that promised other options. When Lionheart bleeked in delight and strained in the direction of the refreshment table set up to one side of the room, Stephanie suspected the presence of celery.
“Little pig,” she whispered. “You had some just last night!”
But she knew she’d give in. She suspected that Lionheart liked meetings as little as she did. She appreciated his company—and the support he gave her could go far beyond the comfort offered by a warm, furry body to hold.
She set Lionheart on the long table that bisected the room. Frank Lethbridge, one of the two rangers who had been assigned to train her and Karl, was the first to intercept her, but others quickly followed.
In addition to several representatives of the SFS, including Chief Ranger Gary Shelton himself, Dr. Sanura Hobbard was attending. Stephanie knew Dr. Hobbard all too well. At first she’d found the professor somewhat annoying, but now she had come to respect her devotion to careful and responsible study of other cultures. Eventually, they’d even come to a sort of compromise as to what Dr. Hobbard would and would not publish about the treecats.
Even as Stephanie politely greeted those she knew, sharing with Karl a mixture of ribbing and congratulations for their heroics during the fire the day before, she was very aware of the large group that clustered at one end of the room, clearly waiting to be introduced.
The group was dominated by an extremely tall, broad man. Somehow he gave Stephanie the impression of being made all of curves: the dome of his balding head, the arc of a budding gut, a round smoothness to his heavy, muscular limbs. This proved to be Dr. Bradford Whittaker himself.
When they were introduced, Dr. Whittaker shook Stephanie’s hand. He gained a point in her estimation by neither patting nor poking Climbs Quickly, but instead offering the treecat a little bow by way of greeting.
“This,” Dr. Whittaker said, “is my chief assistant, Dr. Langston Nez.”
Dr. Nez proved to be shorter than average, built along planes instead of curves. His most noticeable features were untidy brown hair that stood up in spikes, as if he ran his hands through it frequently, and bushy eyebrows from under which green eyes—darker than Lionheart’s but no less alert—watched like animals from a forest.
Dr. Whittaker went on. “This is our linguistics specialist, Kesia Guyen.”
No “doctor” in front of this one’s name, Stephanie noticed. A graduate student, then, but certainly one who was done with classes and now working on her dissertation.
Kesia Guyen had lovely rich chocolate-brown skin and wore her hair in swirling curls that framed a face that seemed to find seriousness difficult. She had a rounded figure with breasts that could do double-duty as platforms, and full hips. Her clothing showed a penchant for bright colors, sashes,
* * *
When Karl brought down the air car at the familiar SFS regional headquarters complex, Stephanie noticed that several vehicles were already parked in the visitors’ area.
“Dr. Whittaker and his team must already be here,” she said, gathering Lionheart into her arms and hugging him. Surely Dad wouldn’t mind if she carried him just a short distance.
“Ready?” Karl asked.
“You bet,” Stephanie replied.
Inside, they were immediately directed to a conference room off to one side of the building. The room was large—it doubled as a lecture hall—but today seemed quite crowded. It smelled strongly of coffee—the beverage favored by the hard-working SFS staff—but there were under-notes that promised other options. When Lionheart bleeked in delight and strained in the direction of the refreshment table set up to one side of the room, Stephanie suspected the presence of celery.
“Little pig,” she whispered. “You had some just last night!”
But she knew she’d give in. She suspected that Lionheart liked meetings as little as she did. She appreciated his company—and the support he gave her could go far beyond the comfort offered by a warm, furry body to hold.
She set Lionheart on the long table that bisected the room. Frank Lethbridge, one of the two rangers who had been assigned to train her and Karl, was the first to intercept her, but others quickly followed.
In addition to several representatives of the SFS, including Chief Ranger Gary Shelton himself, Dr. Sanura Hobbard was attending. Stephanie knew Dr. Hobbard all too well. At first she’d found the professor somewhat annoying, but now she had come to respect her devotion to careful and responsible study of other cultures. Eventually, they’d even come to a sort of compromise as to what Dr. Hobbard would and would not publish about the treecats.
Even as Stephanie politely greeted those she knew, sharing with Karl a mixture of ribbing and congratulations for their heroics during the fire the day before, she was very aware of the large group that clustered at one end of the room, clearly waiting to be introduced.
The group was dominated by an extremely tall, broad man. Somehow he gave Stephanie the impression of being made all of curves: the dome of his balding head, the arc of a budding gut, a round smoothness to his heavy, muscular limbs. This proved to be Dr. Bradford Whittaker himself.
When they were introduced, Dr. Whittaker shook Stephanie’s hand. He gained a point in her estimation by neither patting nor poking Climbs Quickly, but instead offering the treecat a little bow by way of greeting.
“This,” Dr. Whittaker said, “is my chief assistant, Dr. Langston Nez.”
Dr. Nez proved to be shorter than average, built along planes instead of curves. His most noticeable features were untidy brown hair that stood up in spikes, as if he ran his hands through it frequently, and bushy eyebrows from under which green eyes—darker than Lionheart’s but no less alert—watched like animals from a forest.
Dr. Whittaker went on. “This is our linguistics specialist, Kesia Guyen.”
No “doctor” in front of this one’s name, Stephanie noticed. A graduate student, then, but certainly one who was done with classes and now working on her dissertation.
Kesia Guyen had lovely rich chocolate-brown skin and wore her hair in swirling curls that framed a face that seemed to find seriousness difficult. She had a rounded figure with breasts that could do double-duty as platforms, and full hips. Her clothing showed a penchant for bright colors, sashes,
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