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species, but he had been with her for years, back before Memor became female. Veest was too smart not to be loyal.
    “Ah!” And there, her prey were in sight. That limping one was Tananareve. And those ropy things the probes had seen, now wriggling into one of the cargo cars in a magnetic train, were finger snakes.
    Treason! They must be assisting the escaping bipeds. Finger snakes were a useful species, but their adaptation to civilization had always been chancy.
    The car’s side closed. The whole train lifted, eased away from the docks, and moved into star-spattered space.
    Memor considered. She had the acceleration to catch the train. Could she shoot out the magnetic locking plates without harming those inside? But Asenath had forbidden that—and the primate Tananareve, Memor saw abruptly, was still standing on the dock.
    Tananareve had been the language adept of this band, with many sleeps spent acquiring the Folk language. Thus, the most important, for Asenath wanted a speaking primate, for reasons unknown. But … the creature seemed ready to fall over. How far could she get before Memor claimed the rest of them and came back for her? Perhaps she would not even be needed … but wait—
    “Veest Blad, land near the biped. Not too near. We don’t want her fried.”
    “Yes, lady.”
    So what was that about? Memor had countermanded her own decision. A moment’s brief look into her Undermind told her why. The abandoned female looked to be dying, and she was the one whom Memor had inspected, had trained, had grown to know. The others—perhaps they could be caught, perhaps they might all be killed by Memor’s overbuilt weapons, true—but they weren’t needed while Tananareve was here.
    *   *   *
    Tananareve wiped sweat away and watched the bulbous vehicle settle a good distance away, engines throbbing. Still teetering a bit, feeling woozy, she stood in the hot moist wash of rocket exhaust, waiting. Running wouldn’t help her. She’d seen the tremendous creature’s speed.
    Memor opened the great target-shaped window and rolled out. It looked painful: the rocket vehicle was cramped for her. Memor walked to Tananareve, huffed, and bent low, her eye to the woman’s eyes. In her own tongue she asked, “Where have they gone?”
    Tananareve groped for a lie, and it was there. Beth’s team had discussed destinations, and rejected—“They’ve gone to join Cliff.”
    “The other fugitives? The killers?”
    “Cliff’s team, yes.”
    “Where?”
    She said, “I don’t know. The aliens knew.”
    “The limbless ones? They are Adopted, but often rebellious. We must take action against them. Tananareve, how goes your adventure?”
    “We were dying for lack of weight,” she said. “Lost bone and muscle. What choice did we have?”
    Memor seemed to restrain herself. “No choice now. Come. Or shall I carry you?”
    Tananareve took two steps, wobbled, and fell over.
    She woke to a vague sensation, a hard surface with big ribs under it: Memor’s hands. She flexed her fists and shook her head, trying to get her mind to work. Now they were in the ship, her face close against a wall dotted with icons for controls. Something rumbled, vibrated. Language? And now the wall took on the appearance of a distant forest of plants grown in low gravity, like the place she’d escaped from. A creature like Memor stepped into view and flexed a million multicolored feathers.
    No way could Tananareve follow a conversation that was largely the flexing of feathers and silent subsonic tremors that shook her bones. Memor was holding Tananareve like a prize, and the other was snarling.…
    *   *   *
    Asenath the Wisdom Chief was not of a mind to be placated. “One! You have one, and it is dying!”
    “I will save it,” Memor said. “I will take it … her … down to the Quicklands, where spin gravity can restore her muscle and strengthen her bones. I know what she eats and I will procure it. This female is the one who