“That’s what I get for assuming you checked these things, Jack,” Isabel said. “But I should have known better.” “Thanks,” Holloway said.

“You’re welcome, but I didn’t mean it like that,” Isabel said. “Other advanced animal life on this planet reproduces sexually, but there’s only one sex. The creatures produce haploid sex cells that can fertilize other cells but also have cloacal cavities where young can grow, either as eggs or live young, depending on the species.” “So they’re hermaphrodites,” Sullivan said.

“No,” Isabel said, and then caught Sullivan’s confused look. “If this were Earth, you would say that, because there are two sexes there. But animals on this planet never developed male–female differentiation. There has always been only one sex. Life here is unisexual.” She turned her gaze back to Holloway. “And I knew that, which is why I say I should have known better, Jack.” “So you’re sure our fuzzy friends are all ‘its,’ then,” Jack said.

“Pretty sure,” Isabel said. “Their sexual organs are similar to those of other large creatures.” “How do you know?” Holloway said.

“Quite obviously because I checked,” Isabel said.

“Oh, ick,” Holloway said.

“You would have made a shit biologist, Jack,” Isabel said.

“I have to side with Jack here,” Sullivan said. “That is pretty disturbing.” “Thank you, Mark,” Holloway said.

Isabel looked at the two of them sourly. “Are you two done?” she said.

“So are these all clones, then?” Sullivan asked, setting Baby down and looking at the rest of the Fuzzys. “Because they don’t look alike.” “They’re not clones,” Isabel said. “If they’re like other creatures here, their haploid cells have a protein coat that is different for each individual. The haploid cells won’t fuse with other cells that feature the same protein coat. The only way you get clones is in situations of environmental stress, when the body chemistry changes to create haploid cells without the protein coat. But that’s very rare.” “Now you’re just showing off,” Holloway said.

Isabel stuck her tongue out. “I wrote a paper on it,” she said. “If I recall, Jack, you once said you read it.” “I probably did,” Holloway said. “It doesn’t mean I understood it.” Isabel snorted and then motioned to the Fuzzys, who by this time had gotten bored and had walked off to do their own things. “It does settle one thing: The fuzzys are definitely of this planet. They have the same gross morphology as other vertebrate animals here, and they seem well adapted to their environment. I wasn’t really doubting whether they were native, but it’s good to have some biological evidence. I have genetic samples, which I’ll need to check back in the lab to confirm. Once I have that, I’m ready to move forward.” “Oh, boy,” Holloway said. “Here we go again.”

“Move forward on what?” Sullivan said, looking at Isabel and then at Holloway.

“Your girlfriend has it in her head that our little fuzzy friends are people,” Holloway said.

“People?” Sullivan said. He turned back to Isabel.

“Yes,” Isabel said.

“As in people people, not just ‘I think of my pets as people’ people,” Sullivan said.

“Is it that hard to believe?” Isabel asked.

“A bit,” Sullivan said. “They’re cute and friendly and seem pretty smart, and I already want to get one for my niece back in Arizona. But that doesn’t make them people.” “Thank you again, Mark,” Holloway said.

“Clearly this is a bone of contention between you two,” Sullivan said, looking at Isabel but nodding in the direction of Holloway.

“It is,” Isabel said, to Sullivan. “But unlike Jack here, I have something more to go on than the desire not to have the fuzzys get in the way of his payday. While he’s been off doing whatever he’s been doing—” “Almost getting eaten by zararaptors,” Holloway interrupted.

“—I have been spending time with the fuzzys and watching how they live their lives, recording them and taking notes,” Isabel said. “I’ve been here a week now. It’s not a huge amount of time, but it’s long enough to know there is no way these creatures are not sentient.” She turned to Holloway. “You almost got eaten by zararaptors?” “Yeah,” Holloway said.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Isabel said.

“By the time I called you, I was no longer in danger of being consumed,” Holloway said. “And I needed you to be worried about what I was going to do instead of what I had done.” “You still should have told me,” Isabel said.

“You’re not my girlfriend anymore,” Holloway said.

“As a friend,” Isabel said.

“Is this going to go somewhere?” Sullivan said. “Because as fascinating as the interpersonal relationship between the two of you is, I’d like to get back to this thing about these creatures maybe being people. I mean, that is why you had me come out here, Isabel, right?” “Sorry,” Isabel said. “Jack brings that out in me.”

“I’ve noticed he brings that out in a lot of people,” Sullivan said. “Noted. Let’s table it for now.” “All right, fine,” Isabel said, and shot one more glance at Holloway.

In spite of himself, Holloway had to admire how Sullivan was able to get Isabel back on track. It was one thing Holloway had never been able to do. Whenever he inevitably pissed her off, he ended up making it worse by trying to make it better. The two of them had been at loggerheads enough at the end that there was a constant state of irritation between them. Holloway should have been smart enough to navigate the arguments—he’d been a trial lawyer, and a damn fine one, until he popped Stern in the snout—but there was something about Isabel that just made him want to argue. It was not a great way to have a relationship.

“Wait,” Holloway said. Isabel and Sullivan glanced back over to him. “Isabel, you’re right,” he said. “I should have told you. As a friend. I’m sorry.” Holloway could see the various sarcastic responses of amazement that he had actually apologized for something and meant it bubble up behind Isabel’s eyes—and then stop there.

“Thank you, Jack,” is what she actually said. He nodded.

“The fuzzys?” Sullivan asked, prompting.

“Why don’t we go into the cabin,” Isabel said. “We’ll all sit down and have a beer and I’ll run you some of my recordings and notes, and you can both decide for yourself whether what I have to show you is convincing enough.” “Drinks and a show,” Holloway said. “I’m all for that. Hell, I’ll even buy.”

Isabel spent two hours showing Holloway and Sullivan excerpts of her recordings, showing them the various activities that, she was convinced, showed sentient intelligence, above and beyond mere animal intelligence. From time to time, while they were watching, one fuzzy or another would climb up and watch the recordings as well, only to leave a few minutes later. The creatures had gotten jaded about seeing themselves on the infopanel.

The video portion of the presentation done, Isabel called up her notes, cross-referencing the behavior of the fuzzys with behavior of human, Urai, and Negad sentients. Isabel was a good and careful scientist, and her work was checked, double-checked, footnoted, and referenced. By the end of the presentation, and despite himself, Holloway was almost convinced his little fuzzys were people, too.

“It seems thin,” Sullivan said, after Isabel was done.

“What?” Isabel said, disbelieving.

“I think you heard me, Isabel,” Sullivan said, not unkindly. “It seems thin to me.” “You have a strange definition of thin, then,” Isabel said.

“Actually, my definition of thin is very precise in this case,” Sullivan said. “The reason I think it’s thin is because these things don’t speak. If they’re not speaking to each other—and to us—then you’ve got a hard sell to make.” “Jesus, you sound like Jack,” Isabel said. Holloway smiled wryly at this. “Speech is only one criterion for sentience. Cheng versus BlueSky listed several others as well.” “I know that,” Sullivan said. “But while I’m a general counsel and not an expert on xenosapient law, I do know this: In the mind of the layman—which will include any judge this case would go in front of—the ability to speak is a prohibitive indicator of sentience. It’s not only prohibitive, it’s very nearly prejudicial.” Isabel looked at Sullivan sourly. “You’re telling me that if the fuzzys meet every single other criterion for sentience under Cheng, that it won’t matter simply because they don’t speak.” “What I’m saying,” Sullivan said, “is that to date, we have not discovered a confirmed sentient species that doesn’t speak. There are things humans do that Urai don’t. There are things Urai do that Negad don’t. Things Negad do humans don’t. And so on. What we all do, Isabel, is speak.” “It doesn’t mean it’s not possible,” Isabel said.