fact."
"Well, I didn't kill any of them." She leaned over me and peered at the row. "Did I?"
"They'll survive."
"Great." She glanced back to where the senior site botanist was still pacing back and forth and complaining to another of his colleagues. "Tell me, what did that raving maniac mean when he said I had a black thumb?"
"He meant you need to be assigned to another project." "Even better." She sniffed. "What would you recommend that I try next, Chief Linguist?" I gave the matter some consideration. "Working with something inanimate."
"Very funny."
I brushed the loose soil from my hands as I stood and checked the time. "We'refinished." She eyed the flat of seedlings left to one side. "But I—" I raised one hand, imitating one of her favorite habit
ual gestures. "You've done enough."
"Not yet," she said. "Hear me out."
She went on to explain the unusual circumstances regarding Alun Karas, the patient who had died at the FreeClinic the night before. He had evidently aspirated some resin after a collection device exploded, and she thought the sap might be responsible for the infection that had killed him. I agreed that it might help to visit the site where the botanist had been collecting samples.
She seemed to have no recollection of the vision we had shared on the day we met, for she showed no hesitation, even when I indicated she would have to enter the gnorra groves with me.
Her lack of fear would make what I wanted to do easier for both of us.
"1 am familiar with his work assignment. He was over in a section adjoining the south range." I kept my voice bland. "We can reach it from here on foot."
Cherijo was quiet as we made our way into the gnorra groves. I opened my mind, gathering in what I could of her thought images and feelings. Her emotions radiated over everything, and I sensed a distinct division in them—she felt despondency over the loss of her patient, and happiness over something completely unrelated and unidentifiable. She demonstrated little pleasure in sharing my company, so what was creating the warmth behind the sadness?
Perhaps she would tell me. "Thinking of pleasant memories?" "You're certainly interested in what I'm thinking all the time."
"Occupational hazard."
By that time we had left the fields and were walking through some dense growth into the uncultivated areas.
She wasn't paying attention to where she was stepping, however, and I had to catch her as she stumbled over a hidden tangle of roots. I stopped until she regained her balance.
Touching her strengthened the connection between us a hundredfold. I knew what she was thinking, and who had brought her here. Who made her happy and excited. It wasn't me.
It was another man. An alien.
I took hold of her other arm, then brought my hands to her wrists as she raised them in a defensive gesture. Her wrists, in front of my face—it was exactly as it had been in the vision. But I could not think of precognition or the connection we shared, not in that moment.
She had been busy making new friends. Friends who were male, and made her happy, and excited her. Friends who were not human. Friends who were not like me. I increased my grip.
"What are you doing?" she whispered.
I probed her thoughts, determined to know all of it.
"He was here with you."
"What?"
"The pilot, Torin." I saw his face in her mind. "He was here with you, wasn't he?"
I wanted to know what he had done to her, and what she had given him. If she would not tell me, I would locate the memories myself.
"How do you know—" She wrenched away from my hands, breaking the tentative connection between us. "What was that? What did you do to me?"
"I linked with you." And would again, as soon as I could put my hands on her.
Had she been intimate with the Jorenian ? How long had this been going on? "Linked?" She stepped back. "What the hell does that mean?" "I established a mental link with you, when I touched
you. I have tried before, but you did not
"Well, I didn't kill any of them." She leaned over me and peered at the row. "Did I?"
"They'll survive."
"Great." She glanced back to where the senior site botanist was still pacing back and forth and complaining to another of his colleagues. "Tell me, what did that raving maniac mean when he said I had a black thumb?"
"He meant you need to be assigned to another project." "Even better." She sniffed. "What would you recommend that I try next, Chief Linguist?" I gave the matter some consideration. "Working with something inanimate."
"Very funny."
I brushed the loose soil from my hands as I stood and checked the time. "We'refinished." She eyed the flat of seedlings left to one side. "But I—" I raised one hand, imitating one of her favorite habit
ual gestures. "You've done enough."
"Not yet," she said. "Hear me out."
She went on to explain the unusual circumstances regarding Alun Karas, the patient who had died at the FreeClinic the night before. He had evidently aspirated some resin after a collection device exploded, and she thought the sap might be responsible for the infection that had killed him. I agreed that it might help to visit the site where the botanist had been collecting samples.
She seemed to have no recollection of the vision we had shared on the day we met, for she showed no hesitation, even when I indicated she would have to enter the gnorra groves with me.
Her lack of fear would make what I wanted to do easier for both of us.
"1 am familiar with his work assignment. He was over in a section adjoining the south range." I kept my voice bland. "We can reach it from here on foot."
Cherijo was quiet as we made our way into the gnorra groves. I opened my mind, gathering in what I could of her thought images and feelings. Her emotions radiated over everything, and I sensed a distinct division in them—she felt despondency over the loss of her patient, and happiness over something completely unrelated and unidentifiable. She demonstrated little pleasure in sharing my company, so what was creating the warmth behind the sadness?
Perhaps she would tell me. "Thinking of pleasant memories?" "You're certainly interested in what I'm thinking all the time."
"Occupational hazard."
By that time we had left the fields and were walking through some dense growth into the uncultivated areas.
She wasn't paying attention to where she was stepping, however, and I had to catch her as she stumbled over a hidden tangle of roots. I stopped until she regained her balance.
Touching her strengthened the connection between us a hundredfold. I knew what she was thinking, and who had brought her here. Who made her happy and excited. It wasn't me.
It was another man. An alien.
I took hold of her other arm, then brought my hands to her wrists as she raised them in a defensive gesture. Her wrists, in front of my face—it was exactly as it had been in the vision. But I could not think of precognition or the connection we shared, not in that moment.
She had been busy making new friends. Friends who were male, and made her happy, and excited her. Friends who were not human. Friends who were not like me. I increased my grip.
"What are you doing?" she whispered.
I probed her thoughts, determined to know all of it.
"He was here with you."
"What?"
"The pilot, Torin." I saw his face in her mind. "He was here with you, wasn't he?"
I wanted to know what he had done to her, and what she had given him. If she would not tell me, I would locate the memories myself.
"How do you know—" She wrenched away from my hands, breaking the tentative connection between us. "What was that? What did you do to me?"
"I linked with you." And would again, as soon as I could put my hands on her.
Had she been intimate with the Jorenian ? How long had this been going on? "Linked?" She stepped back. "What the hell does that mean?" "I established a mental link with you, when I touched
you. I have tried before, but you did not
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