Maeve by Jo Clayton Page A

woman?”
    â€œWho are you trying to convince?”
    The doctor shrank in on himself. “It has to be the forest male,” he muttered. “The others are cubs, though the woman might be dangerous. I don’t know.”
    â€œYour sexual preference blinds you to the obvious. Who was in the tree?”
    â€œThe woman.”
    â€œWho, then, was the prime mover?”
    â€œYou want me to say the woman. But wouldn’t the leader be on the ground directing the efforts of the others?”
    â€œYou’d be on the ground, I’m sure. Power, doctor. Information, doctor. Direct and immediate.” He rested a hand precisely on his knee, then positioned the other over it. “Have the natives given trouble before?”
    â€œWhy ask me?” the doctor burst out, forgetting caution. “You know the answer.”
    â€œPetulance, doctor?” With calm precision he moved his hands, placing the bottom hand on top this time. For a moment he contemplated the new arrangement, moving his fingers fractionally to achieve the most graceful pose. “Was the tree searched?”
    The doctor stared blankly.
    â€œWas the tree the woman fell out of searched for the instrumentation she used to cause the damage?” Manhanu said with terrible patience.
    â€œI … I think so. Engineer Han …”
    â€œIs not here. Does the woman have any internal injuries?”
    â€œNone.”
    â€œAnd you don’t find that odd?”
    Stubby fingers caressing his throat, the doctor muttered, “Odd things happen.”
    Chu Manhanu held up his hands and examined the backs with satisfaction. “Remove the casts.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œRemove her casts.” Manhanu said patiently. His voice sank to a whisper but the doctor quivered while the muscles in his face twitched out of control.
    Sinking heavily beside Aleytys, he rummaged in the case he had left against the wall and pulled out his vibrosnips. Setting the blade at one centimeter, he dug runnels in the stiff plastic. Then he took a small hammer and beat it sharply against the casts along the lines of cleavage. The casts fell off neatly.
    â€œRemove those.” A finger moved gracefully at the bandages underneath the cast.
    The doctor stared with disbelief as the bindings fell away, revealing pinkish skin with swiftly fading marks where the torn skin had been. He probed the flesh with shaking hands, not caring if he hurt her. Then he dug his thumb into her arm. “Gone!” he shrilled. He jumped to his feet, shaking all over. “She was injured, I swear it.”
    The Director’s nostrils twitched with distaste. “Calm down, doctor. Of course she was injured. Here.” He flipped a small black box to the goggling man. “Put this on her.”
    â€œPsi freak,” the doctor mumbled as he fumbled the box open. “A damn psi freak.” Inside the box he found a chain-mail collar with a massive, clumsy locklatch and a flat black disc with the Company sigil incised on the front. “What’s this?”
    â€œPut it on her. Around her neck.”
    The doctor stared at the Director’s smiling mask and crawled hastily toward Aleytys’ head. Ignoring her angry glare, he shoved her chin up, swearing as the metal collar slid through clumsy fingers. Finally he fumbled the end through the lock slot and pulled it taut.
    Aleytys gasped and began to choke.
    â€œNot so tight, fool. She has to talk.”
    Breath shrilling through his teeth, the doctor adjusted the collar. He started to clamber to his feet.
    â€œNot yet. Stay there. Here.” The director tossed a small hexagonal rod to the kneeling man. “Touch the red end to the lock. Good. Now touch it to the character on the disc. Ah! Now, bring the rod to me.” The doctor staggered to his feet and shuffled to Manhanu, holding the small rod in a shaking hand. Manhanu shoved it up one of his wide sleeves. “Now. Stand over by