Текст книги "Fuzzy Nation"

Автор книги: John Scalzi

Соавторы: John Scalzi
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Chapter Seven

Holloway woke up to his nose being poked.

He swatted his hand in front of his face without opening his eyes. “Quit it, Carl,” he said. He immediately dropped back into sleep.

Poke.

Holloway grunted and turned in his cot, away from his offending and offensive poking dog.

Poke.

This time the poke was on the back of his head. Holloway grunted and attempted a swat but ended up mostly just waving his arm around.

Poke.

This poke to the head occurred roughly at the same time a thought penetrated the fuzzy cotton batting in Holloway’s brain: Since when does Carl, face-licker extraordinaire, poke?It took another moment or two for the implications of that thought to settle in.

At which point, Holloway hollered and levitated himself as far off his cot as possible, coming down badly into the space between the cot and the cabin wall. The half of his body still on the cot leveraged the thing down, toppling it and swinging the cot forward into his face. Only his flying pillow kept him from a gash on his forehead.

The cat thing, standing to the side of where the cot used to be, watched all of this with interest. When the carnage was done, it looked over at Holloway and blinked.

“Jesus!” Holloway said, to the creature. “How did youget in?”

How didit get in? Holloway glanced up at the window above where his cot should be; it was firmly closed, as were all the other windows in the cabin. The door was likewise closed. There was no way that fuzzy little bastard could get in, unless …

“Carl!” Holloway called, and looked out into the cabin from the sleeping alcove.

Carl peeked his head around the work desk, his best oh crap I better not make eye contactlook on display.

“You let this thing in, didn’t you?” Holloway said. “You went to your dog door and let him walk right through. Admit it.”

Carl offered an apologetic tail thump and hid.

“Unbelievable,”Holloway said. He glanced down at the cat thing again, which appeared serenely unconcerned about the entire domestic drama unfolding around it.

There was a ping. Holloway looked around the chaos of his sleeping alcove and found his infopanel on the floor next to his small nightstand. He’d been reading survey reports on it before he went to sleep. Now someone was calling him on it. Holloway picked up the infopanel and slapped it to life, audio only.

“What?” he said.

“Jack?” Isabel said. “Sorry. Did I wake you?”

“I was up,” Holloway said, looking at the cat thing.

“Jack, that video you gave me,” Isabel said. “Is it real?”

“What?” Holloway said.

“I mean, this is video you took, right? It’s not something you found on the network somewhere,” Isabel said.

“It’s mine,” Holloway said. “You should recognize the cabin, Isabel.”

“I know, sorry,” Isabel said. “It’s just … well. Jack. Whatever this thing is on the video, no one’s seen it before.”

“You don’t say,” Holloway said. By this time the cat thing, bored with watching him, had started walking around the cabin like it owned the place.

“There’s nothing like it in the archives, even,” Isabel said. “Which is admittedly not saying much; it’s not as if ZaraCorp ever does anything more than the absolute minimum required by an E and E charter, and they’re focused on sapience detection anyway.”

“Uh-huh,” Holloway said. The cat thing had wandered over to Carl and put a hand on Carl’s muzzle, stroking it. Carl thumped his tail and then glanced over guiltily to Holloway.

“That’s right, you traitor,” Holloway said.

“What?” Isabel said.

“Sorry,” Holloway said. “Talking to Carl.”

“What I’m saying is that even in the archives there’s no evidence of a creature like this,” Isabel said, continuing on. “We have data on a few mammal-like creatures, basically rodents, and one of the flying creatures here is mostly mammal-like. But nothing even comes close to this. How big was this creature, Jack?”

Holloway looked at the creature, which had made its way into the kitchen area. “It’s about the size of a cat, I’d say,” he said. “A big cat. Like a Maine Coon. If you stood the cat up on its hind legs.”

“So it was primarily bipedal,” Isabel said. “I mean, so far as you observed it.”

The cat thing was climbing up one of the chairs at the kitchen nook table. “I’d say so.”

“That’s unusual too,” Isabel said. “All the other mammal-like creatures here are quadrupeds. Except the flying one. Did you see it use its hands? Did it show any significant manual dexterity?”

The cat thing, by now on the seat of the chair, flung itself toward the kitchen counter, grabbed it at the edge, and deftly pulled itself up.

“Some,” Holloway said.

“Do you know how unusual this creature is, Jack?” Isabel said.

“I’m getting the idea,” Holloway said. The cat thing had by now reached its destination, which was the plastic bell Holloway kept his fruit under. Holloway maneuvered himself out of his sleeping alcove and walked toward his kitchen. “It sounds like you’re pretty excited about it, at least.”

“I am,” Isabel said. “A new, large mammal like this in a faunasphere that’s primarily reptilian in nature is a significant find. Reallysignificant. It just doesn’t happen that often.”

“Looks like you finally hit your big score,” Holloway said, intentionally echoing the words Isabel used with him the last time they’d seen each other. He’d reached the kitchen. The cat thing was looking at him, and then looking at the fruit bell, as if to say, Get that for me, would you.

“No,” Isabel said. She hadn’t noticed Holloway’s choice of words. “No offense, Jack, but your security camera video could easily be faked.”

“I didn’t fake it,” Jack said. He lifted the bell off the fruit.

“I know you didn’t,” Isabel said. “That’s not what I’m saying. What I’m saying is I can’t use it as evidence or proof. Video is too easy to tamper with or change. This isn’t a secure-grade recording. If I submitted this as evidence, I’d get laughed at.”

The cat thing reached into the fruit plate and lifted out the bindi, using both hands. “So what are you saying?” Holloway asked.

“Jack, do you think the creature is still in the area?” Isabel asked. “Somewhere close by, I mean.”

The cat thing walked the bindi over to Holloway and set it down in front of him.

“Probably,” Holloway said.

“I want to come out,” Isabel said.

“Excuse me?” Holloway said. This statement distracted him completely away from the cat thing. “For a second there it sounded like you actually said you wanted to come out here.”

“Yes,” Isabel said.

“You,”Holloway said. “Out here. Near me.”

Isabel sighed. “Jack,” she began.

“Wait, scratch that,” Holloway said. “Not nearme. Withme. Because you’d have to stay with me. Unless you fancied camping with the raptors.”

“Are you enjoying yourself, Jack?” Isabel said.

“Maybe,” Holloway said.

The cat thing reached over and poked Holloway in the side to get his attention. Holloway looked over. What?He mouthed silently to the creature.

The cat thing lifted the bindi again and set it down again, and then looked at Holloway with a look that betrayed impatience. Holloway suddenly remembered that the last time he’d given the thing some bindi, he’d sliced up the fruit. The animal was waiting for its slices.

“Pushy thing, aren’t you,” Holloway said. He reached into his drawer to retrieve a knife.

“I thought you might want to help me, Jack,” Isabel said. “Considering you gave me the video in the first place.”

Holloway realized Isabel thought that last comment was directed at her. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean that the way you took it.” He set down the infopanel and reached for the bindi.

“Look, Jack,” Isabel said. “I know we ended things badly, and I know you’re still upset with me about it. And I admit I didn’t help things at the end. But I thought we’d gotten over that enough that we can be friends. Actual friends, as opposed to the ‘polite in public’ sort of friends. Right? So I’m asking you as a friend if you’ll help me out with this.”

“As a friend,” Jack said. He quartered the bindi and offered the cat thing a slice, then set the rest of the fruit on the counter and washed his hands in the sink. The cat thing watched and seemed fascinated by the faucet.

“If it’s not too much to ask,” Isabel said. “This could be a really important find. And somewhat less importantly, it could be good for me. I’d like to think that still means something to you.”

While Isabel spoke, Holloway reached into his cupboard, pulled out a small bowl, and filled it with water from the sink. He presented it to the cat thing, which crouched down and drank from it, pursing its lips like a human, rather than lapping from it like a cat or dog.

“Well, they are definitely interesting creatures,” he said.

“So,” Isabel said.

Holloway directed his attention back to the infopanel. “Of course you can come out, Isabel,” he said. “I’ll be happy to see you. I don’t know where I’ll putyou, but I’ll be happy to see you.”

“Thank you, Jack,” Isabel said. “Don’t worry. You won’t even notice I’m there.”

Holloway cracked a smile. I doubt that,he thought to himself.

He glanced back over to the cat thing, which had finished its drink. Holloway had expected the creature to be eating its fruit, but what it was doing was taking a second slice of bindi and hefting it and the first slice under an arm. Then it sat, used its legs and feet to drag its fuzzy butt over to the edge of the kitchen counter, and jumped off. One of the bindi slices fell out of its grip when it landed; the cat thing collected it and then set off for the door.

“When do you want me?” Isabel asked.

“What?” Holloway said. He had been distracted by the cat thing.

“When do you want me to show up?” Isabel said. “I don’t want to get in the way of your schedule.”

“When do you wantto show up?” Holloway asked. By now the cat thing had completed its journey to the door, and stood by it, as if waiting for someone to open it. It coughed. Holloway picked up the infopanel and started to move to the door, but then Carl got up from where he was sitting by the work desk.

“I’d like to be there this afternoon, to be honest,” Isabel said. “But I have things I need to do here first.”

“I thought you said you didn’t have any work these days,” Holloway said. Carl had walked to the dog door and stepped through. As he went through, the cat thing slipped under Carl and out the door, the dog’s hindquarters following.

“I didn’thave any work,” Isabel said. “And then someone apparently found a huge sunstone deposit, and I’ve been told to prepare a biological impact report, double time.”

“Sorry,” Holloway said. He walked over to door.

“You should be,” Isabel said. “Because the biological and ecological impact is going to be huge. The exploitation office here has filed an ecological exception request with CEPA. They want to tear out that seam as fast as they can get to it. It’s going to make a huge mess of things, and they want me to sign off on it.”

“Are you going to?” Holloway asked.

“I don’t think I have much choice,” Isabel said. “The jungle flora and fauna in the area they want to exploit aren’t significant or unique. The biome scans and the robotic sampling I’ve done in the area don’t show any unusual species. ZaraCorp can argue that it’s not tearing up anything that can’t be replanted or couldn’t move back in from other parts of the jungle when they’re done. That it will still wreak havoc with the area regardless is sort of an aside.”

Holloway stepped through the door of his cabin and walked outside. Carl was sitting near the door, lazily thumping his tail. Holloway walked over to him and patted his head. The cat thing had walked over to the spikewood Holloway had seen it leave by on its last visit.

“Anyway, an eco exception request means extra work,” Isabel continued. “I’m getting through it as fast as I can, but I don’t see me being able to get out there for three more days at least, and more likely four.”

“Four days works for me,” Holloway said.

“All right,” Isabel said. “I’ll see you then, then. Don’t make any more major biological discoveries until then, okay?”

The cat thing looked up into the spikewood and opened its mouth. It gave another little coughing sound, as it had at the door. The leaves of the spikewood moved slightly, and out of the foliage four forms emerged, small, furry, catlike. They looked down at the cat thing and then slowly descended.

“I promise nothing,” Holloway said.

“You always were difficult,” Isabel said.

“I thought you liked that about me,” Holloway said.

“Not really,” Isabel said.

“You could have told me that earlier,” Holloway said.

“I’m pretty sure I did,” Isabel said.

“Oh,” Holloway said. “Sorry.”

By this time the first of the new cat things had made its way over to the creature Holloway knew. The two animals appeared to bump foreheads gently, and then Holloway’s cat thing took one of the bindi slices, broke it, and offered half of it to the new creature. It did the same to each of the creatures when they came up to it. Soon all the new creatures were munching quite contentedly on the fruit.

“I’ll forgive you this time because you’re being so nice to me,” Isabel said.

“Thanks,” Holloway said.

“I’ll give you a call when I’m ready to head your way,” Isabel said.

“Sounds good,” Holloway said.

“I know you bought supplies when you came to town, but is there anything you need from here?” Isabel said. “Something you forgot?”

By now the creatures had finished their food and were looking at Holloway and Carl curiously. Carl was waving his tail furiously at the new arrivals. Traitor,Holloway thought again. Carl’s mind-reading powers seemed to be suppressed for the moment.

“I could use some more bindi,” Holloway said.

“All right,” Isabel said. “How many do you want?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Holloway said, staring at his new guests. “You might as well bring a lot.”

Chapter Eight

They were fuzzy, and it seemed like they were family, so for lack of a better description, Holloway called his five visitors “the Fuzzy Family.” And over the next couple of days he got to know them very well, because the Fuzzys decided they were moving in. There were five of them in total, and Holloway gave them names based on what they did and how they reacted to one another.

His original visitor was Papa Fuzzy, because it was obvious he was the leader of the little clan, the one who did the initial foraging and exploring and who had given the rest of the family the “all clear” to come down out of the trees and meet the human and the dog.

Holloway knew that if Isabel were already there, she would gently upbraid him about his patriarchal assumptions, starting with the assumption that Papa Fuzzy was in fact male. Holloway admitted to himself that Papa Fuzzy could very well be female, or something else entirely. Not every life system or life-form tracked precisely with the sexual divisions humans were used to. Hell, they didn’t even on Earth; Holloway recalled Isabel lecturing him about sea horses, and how the males had a “brood pouch” which female sea horses deposited eggs into, which the male then fertilized and carried around until birth.

It was informative in its way, but fundamentally Holloway hadn’t cared much about sea horses and brood pouches and whatever. He feigned interest because it had been early on in his relationship with Isabel, and he was hoping that after the lecture, there might be study hall. Eventually Isabel would figure out his I’m not actually listeninglook. That was one of their earlier problems, which never did get resolved satisfactorily. Which was, Holloway supposed, why he was now alone.

Well, alone with a dog and five little creatures he was now willy-nilly assigning gender and social roles. Holloway figured there was a way to check to see who was male and who was female, but he didn’t figure that was actually hisjob. A biologist would be on-site in a few days. He could wait. And if he had guessed wrong, he could change his mind. Just ask Carl about that. He’d originally been named Carla, after Holloway’s aunt, until someone pointed out his new puppy’s plumbing in greater detail. Carl had been Holloway’s first dog. This was the excuse he gave when people pointed and laughed.

So: Papa (for now) Fuzzy, leader and patriarch. Holloway watched him interact with the other fuzzys and wondered again at the thing’s intelligence. He was damn smart, as far as animals went. Definitely smarter than Carl, whom he had apparently entirely coopted, given that the dog had now taken to following Papa around the treetop compound, tail wagging. It takes a certain kind of dog to willingly demote himself from alpha dog, and that dog was Carl. Holloway would have to speak to him about it, for what little good it would do, Carl being a dog and all.

Holloway rummaged through his brain to find an equivalently smart animal. If he had to guess, he’d say that Papa Fuzzy was about as smart as a capuchin monkey, a comparison Holloway was qualified to make because he had an acquaintance with one when he’d first landed on Zara XXIII. A “cap” had been the pet of Sam Hamilton, another surveyor, who worked the territory directly next to Holloway’s. The rumor was the monkey might have been smarter than Hamilton, who was rumored to have children’s reading primers on his infopanel so as to catch up for a lifetime of functional illiteracy.

Whether that was true or not, the monkey was clever as hell and also a little thief; Sam was repeatedly and apologetically handing back people’s keys and wallets, although the latter were often missing the printed ZaraCorp credit scrip that surveyors used to buy supplies and to gamble with. Credit cards were also occasionally found to have balances lightened. No one believed the monkey was responsible for that. Holloway had had to have a talk with Sam about it at one point.

Now Sam and the monkey were gone: Sam hadn’t taken care of his skimmer very well and had made an unscheduled hard landing on the jungle floor after one of his rotors flamed out. Sam had never bothered to get himself an emergency perimeter fence; by the time a neighboring surveyor had gotten to his location, the only thing left of Sam and his monkey had been a trail of blood leading into the jungle. Sales of emergency perimeter fences doubled in the next week.

The more Holloway thought about it, the more he figured that Papa Fuzzy might actually be smarter than that monkey. For one thing, he and his family were still alive in the same jungle that ate that monkey whole. He was also smart enough to realize that hanging out with Holloway might be an easier life than avoiding the predators in the trees and down on the jungle floor.

Next in the Fuzzy Family hierarchy had been the fuzzy who had first come down out of the trees to greet Papa. This fuzzy was slightly smaller than Papa, and lighter—golden-haired where Papa Fuzzy was more of a deep tortoiseshell coloring, but with a darker face. She (another assumption, Holloway realized) reminded Holloway of a Siamese or Himalayan breed of cat. This fuzzy was clearly Papa Fuzzy’s companion; the two of them were often close together and seemed openly affectionate, petting and nuzzling each other frequently. Holloway was mildly concerned that it might go further than that and then he would be an unwilling witness to fuzzy sex, or something. But the two kept it in their metaphorical pants, at least when he was around.

In any event, this fuzzy seemed friendly and trusting of Holloway and Carl, mostly, Holloway assumed, because Papa Fuzzy was friendly and trusting with them. Holloway, in a burst of no creativity whatsoever, called this one Mama Fuzzy.

Next up in the fuzzy hierarchy was the gray fuzzy who was as large as Papa Fuzzy, but was a bit more stout and perhaps a step or two slower, both in speed and, it seemed to Holloway, in the brains department. This fuzzy was affectionate toward Mama Fuzzy but in a different way from Papa Fuzzy. If Holloway had to guess, he’d say that this fuzzy was Mama Fuzzy’s own father, given how they acted and responded to each other. Again, a complete supposition on Holloway’s part; it might be that he used to be Mama Fuzzy’s mate before Papa Fuzzy came around, and now he was accepting some sort of secondary role. The ways of fuzzy society were a blank to Holloway, truth be told. Regardless, he found himself tagging this third animal as Grandpa Fuzzy.

Part of the reason Holloway found himself referring to Grandpa Fuzzy that way revolved around what appeared to be Grandpa’s primary job, which was herding the final two fuzzys and keeping them in line. These two fuzzys were smaller and acted younger—more impulsive and heedless, as exemplified by the tendency of one of them to go up to Carl and jump on his back, attempting to ride the dog like a noble steed. Carl did not appreciate this and at one point nipped the fuzzy. The fuzzy batted the dog on the nose and then ran squealing, thrilled, as Carl tried to eat him. Holloway figured this one had to be the fuzzy equivalent of a teenage boy. His fur was blotchy patches of gray and black on white. Holloway called him Pinto.

The final fuzzy, golden and color-pointed like Mama Fuzzy, was as high spirited as Pinto but less obnoxious about it. Rather than trying to ride Carl, she would pet him and groom him and try to hug him whenever possible. Carl was a good sport about this but found it only slightly less trying than being ridden; it appeared that even this most gregarious of dogs eventually needed his own space. When that happened, Carl would gently shake off this last fuzzy and retreat to the cabin; his dog door was still keyed to his radio transmitter, so the fuzzys couldn’t get through without his permission. He’d slip through the door and hide for an hour or two.

This littlest fuzzy did not seem offended or upset by the abandonment. She would simply turn her attentions to Holloway and whatever it was he was doing at the moment. She was not as affectionate to Holloway as she was to Carl but would stand close to him and pick up the objects he was working on or with. Holloway made a note to himself never to try to do a jigsaw puzzle with this particular creature around. For all that, he found her pleasant company and, frankly, adorable. He started to call her Baby Fuzzy.

Papa, Mama, Grandpa, Pinto, and Baby—they made a cozy little family unit. Holloway couldn’t decide whether he had adopted them or whether it was the other way around. Actually he suspected that the family had adopted Carl,and that he was just sort of a bonus: the best darn butler a little fuzzy ever had. Holloway found this idea unaccountably amusing, which was perhaps one of the reasons he had accepted the invasion of his home and life by the little creatures in the first place.

Which was not to say there were not adjustments.

Holloway experienced the first of these the morning after the Fuzzys had climbed down out of the trees. Holloway had woken up with a monumental backache; after a few seconds he realized it was because he was twisted like a pretzel in his cot.

The cause for this was four of the five fuzzys unequally distributed across his blanket, including one Grandpa, much to his consternation, hogging his pillow and snoring lightly in his face. While he was asleep, Carl had let the Fuzzys into the house and they had climbed into bed with him, and Holloway shifted in his sleep to give them room, resulting in his current contortionist position.

Holloway raised his head off the pillow and saw Carl lying on the floor next to the cot. Baby Fuzzy had nuzzled into his side and was sighing contentedly in her sleep. Carl didn’t look terribly comfortable, either. He noticed Holloway looking at him and gave him a look with his eyebrows that said, Sorry, man. I didn’t know.

“Idiot,” Holloway said, and then dropped his head back down on the pillow.

Later Holloway was trying to work out the kinks in his muscles with a hot shower in the cabin’s tiny lavatory when Baby Fuzzy pulled aside the curtain and got her first glimpse of naked, soap-covered man.

“Do you mind,” Holloway said, mildly. He was not an exhibitionist, but being watched by a fuzzy while he showered didn’t trigger any modesty concerns. It was like your cat watching you while you got dressed.

Baby turned her head and squeaked. Five seconds later, four other heads peeked into the shower, watching the funny hairless thing doing its incomprehensible water ritual. NowHolloway felt vaguely uncomfortable.

“Are you taking notes?” Holloway said, to his audience. “You could all use one of these, you know. You don’t smell as adorable as you look. Especially you,” he said, motioning to Grandpa. “I woke up smelling your furry ass. You need an intervention,my friend.”

Carl poked his head into the shower, as if to see what he was missing. Holloway turned the nozzle on the lot of them and smirked as they scattered.

Breakfast was likewise an experience. The Fuzzys, sitting on the kitchen table, appeared to be bored with their bindi and were far more interested in the massive sandwich Holloway was making for himself.

“Don’t even thinkit,” Holloway said to them, as he spread the mayo and mustard on his bread slices. He held up a slice to show them. “You see this? In a week it’ll be gone. Then I get no more bread until I go back into town a month from now. Therefore: My bread. Not yours.”

They all stared at the bread, entranced, including Carl.

“Besides, this is an all-Earth sandwich,” Holloway continued, not caring that they couldn’t understand him any more than Carl could when he spoke to him. “Wheat bread. Mayonnaise. Mustard. Smoked turkey.” He placed said turkey on the bread, and then reached for the cheese. “Swiss cheese. It would probably kill you or rupture your intestines or something else absolutely horrible. Trust me, I’m doing you a favor eating it myself. That’s the sort of selfless person I am.” He closed the sandwich on itself and turned to put the ingredients back into the storage cooler.

When he turned back, Pinto was standing in front of him, eyes imploring.

“Nice try,” Holloway said. “But you’re not the cute one.” He picked up the sandwich.

Baby got up, walked over next to Pinto, and employed that same look.

“Oh, come on,” Holloway said. “That’s completelynot fair.”

Baby walked over to Holloway and lightly touched his arm, eyes wide and pleading.

“Stop that,” Holloway said. “Your evil mystic cuteness has no effect on me.”

Baby wrapped her tiny fuzzy arms around Holloway’s arm and sighed, piteously and hungrily.

Two minutes later the sandwich had been sliced into six equal pieces, and each of the Fuzzys was enjoying its first smoked turkey and Swiss on wheat, chittering in delight with each bite. Holloway glumly looked down at his drastically reduced sandwich segment.

“Well, this sucks,” he said after a minute.

Sensing weakness, Carl walked up to his master, eyes full of hope.

“Jesus,” Holloway said. “Fine. Here.” He handed over the miniature meal, which went down Carl’s gullet in a single gulp. “I hope you choke on it. You’re all fur-bearing pains in my ass, you know that.”

Carl looked up, wagged his tail, and licked his lips happily.

*

Three days later a small, familiar skimmer landed next to Holloway’s larger one, and an equally familiar person stepped out of it, bearing a netted bag full of fruit.

“Hello,” Isabel said, to Holloway.

“Hello,” Holloway said. “Is that a huge bag of bindi, or are you just happy to see me?”

“Quite obviously, it’s a huge bag of bindi,” Isabel said, unslinging the bag. “You said to bring a lot.”

“I did at that,” Holloway said, taking the bag.

“I also brought a week’s worth of personal supplies and a tent,” Isabel said. “To make good on the promise that you won’t know I’m here.”

“You are allowed to sleep in the cabin, you know,” Holloway said. “The rainy season is about to start around here.”

“Modern tents are often waterproof,” Isabel said.

“I’ve heard,” Holloway said. “The offer stands if you change your mind.”

Isabel looked at him levelly. “You know I’m seeing someone,” she said.

“I heard,” Holloway said. “A lawyer or some such.”

“Yes,” Isabel said. “Just so we’re clear about that.”

“I said you could sleep in the cabin, not that you could sleep in the cot,” Holloway said. “Anyway, we can set Carl up as a watchdog. You’d be perfectly safe.”

Isabel looked around. “Where isCarl?” she asked.

“He’s in the cabin,” Holloway said.

“Are you keeping him in there so he doesn’t scare away those creatures?” Isabel asked.

Holloway smiled. “Not exactly,” he said. “Come on.”

He walked her over to the cabin window. “Look inside,” he said. “But move slowly and as quietly as possible.”

Isabel looked at him quizzically and peered through the window to see the Fuzzy Family on the floor, looking at an infopanel propped up by the books on the bottom shelf of the bookcase. Carl was lying next to Baby, dozing.

She drew back quickly, putting her hand to her mouth to muffle a gasp. Then she turned to Holloway. “Oh my god,” she said. “There’s an entire family of them.”

“Yeah,” Holloway said.

“Well, it mightbe a family,” Isabel said. “It could be some other sort of social structure.… What are you smirking about?”

“Nothing,” Holloway said.

Isabel carefully peered into the cabin again and frowned. “What are they doing?” she asked.

“I put on a movie to keep them occupied,” Holloway said.

“Do I want to know which one?” Isabel asked.

“An old science fiction movie called Return of the Jedi,” Holloway said, and shrugged. “It’s got some little furry creatures in it. Ewoks. I figured, what the heck.”

“Uh-huh,” Isabel said.

A small flurry of noises came from the cabin. The Fuzzys were hopping about excitedly.

“What’s that about?” Isabel asked.

“They like the scene where the Ewoks drop rocks on the bad guys,” Holloway said.

“You’re not at all concerned about teaching them bad habits, are you?” Isabel asked.

“They’re animals, Isabel,” Holloway said. “Really smart animals, but animals. I don’t think they’re going to make the leap from watching movement on an infopanel to dropping rocks on me from above.”

“It’s probably not a great idea for you to be domesticating them like this, either,” Isabel said. “You’re not going to be here forever, Jack. When you go, it’s not like you’re going to be taking them with you.”