Beautiful Friendship by David Weber

Author:David Weber [Weber, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction, Young Adult, Adventure, Fantasy
ISBN: 9781451637472
Google: JhH3tgAACAAJ
Goodreads: 10894503
Publisher: Baen
Published: 2011-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

17

“Are you two finally ready to knock off for lunch? Or should Karl and I go ahead and eat without you?” Irina Kisaevna demanded.

Dr. Scott MacDallan looked up from the deep, green pool where his lure swam beguilingly along at the end of his fishing line, dancing its way seductively through the water in an effort to entice one of Sphinx’s leopard trout onto its hook.

So far, he’d had precious little luck in that regard. In fact, his expensive rod, his painstakingly hand-tied lure, and all his decades of crafty experience had failed to catch a single fish. Which was particularly irritating for a confirmed fishing fanatic such as himself when the still-slightly-damp treecat currently sunning himself on a flat rock a few meters away had done quite well for himself. In fact, at that very moment, Irina was ready to plop Fisher’s cleaned and scaled fish—all five of them—into the skillet as lunch’s star attraction.

“I’m sure it’s only a matter of a few more minutes—a very few more minutes—before I catch a veritable monster of the deeps to put Fisher’s miserable little fishies into proper perspective,” he replied, raising his voice to carry across the rush, chatter, and roar of the white-water cataract just upstream.

“Sure you will,” Irina shot back. “I’m sure you’ll manage that around the time my personal invitation to high tea with the king arrives.”

“Your lack of faith wounds me, woman!” MacDallan shook his head mournfully. “Betrayed! That’s what I am—betrayed by those closest to me!”

“Well, Mr. Betrayed, if you want to go on fishing, that’s fine with me. But poke Fisher awake. It wouldn’t be fair for Karl and me to eat up all of his fish while he sleeps right through lunch.”

MacDallan glowered at her, then laughed and conceded defeat. He reeled in his line and gathered up his tackle box, then crossed to the rock the treecat had turned into a comfortable snoozing spot.

“Hey, Fisher,” he said softly, reaching down and gently stroking the soft, sun warmed, cream-colored belly fur. “Time to wake up, little guy.”

The treecat named “Fisher” by his adopted human opened green eyes, blinked sleepily, then stretched and yawned.

“Come on,” MacDallan said with a grin. “Certain parties are about to put your fish on to cook, and if you and I don’t get a move on, they aren’t saving any for us.”

Fisher—he seldom thought of himself as “Swift Striker,” the name the People had given him, when he was among the two-legs—tasted the amusement in his two-leg’s mind-glow. He’d been working hard at understanding how the two-legs communicated, and it was obvious the mouth-sounds they made were the equivalent of the People’s mind-voices. But it was such a bizarre equivalent he was beginning to despair of the possibility of any Person ever truly wrapping his mind about it, though he had at least learned to recognize the sounds of the name his two-leg had given him. That didn’t mean he couldn’t understand his two-leg’s general meaning, though. There was enough contiguity through their bond for that .

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