Freedom's Challenge (23 page)

The KDL had been parked to the side of the refinery's double-ballpark of a landing site to allow other vessels to unload. Zainal had neatly maneuvered them close to one of the refinery's secondary gates, to allow access for his “equipment” to arrive without upsetting the regular traffic in and out.

“It's a good place to be,” Zainal had said in explanation. “Many ships come and go. It is also the last place where any Emassis would be found.”

With their cargo levels full, they waited for word from Kasturi. Kamiton fretted more than Zainal did and paced up and down the corridors, cursing at the com unit which did not utter so much as a burp. They waited two full days, until Zainal, too, showed signs of stress.

Both men were on the bridge when a low, sputtering ground vehicle came through the gates and trundled around behind the KDL.

“It has stopped,” Chuck said, swiveling around in his seat at the com board. He flicked on the exterior camera. “Three, two smallish, one not so small.”

Instantly Zainal and Kamiton were on their feet and pounding down the passageway to the cargo air lock.

“Prepare to take off,” Zainal called over his shoulder, and Gino hastily started the pre-flight checks as he had done from time to time as something to occupy them during the long wait. “And turn the ship slightly to starboard to incinerate the vehicle.” That came through over the intercom from the cargo level.

“Right ch'are, captain,” Gino muttered, fingers busy tapping in the necessary code and engaging the rear thrusters to be certain the object was reduced to an unrecognizable lump.

As they were at the refinery, their leaving would go relatively unnoticed. They lifted and were well above the atmospheric envelope of Catteni before Zainal and Kamiton came forward, both grinning broadly.

“We got them,” Kamiton said as Zainal motioned for Gino to move out of the pilot's chair. Kamiton, oddly enough dressed in a space suit, and carrying his helmet, positioned himself against the bulwark.

So as not to be seen, Kris thought, when Zainal had to make visual contact with the space station for clearance out of Catteni space. But why was he suited up?

“I'm parked right by net four,” Kamiton said as if he had heard her mental query. “Head slightly in that direction now.”

Contact was made, clearance was given, and Zainal said that he was going back for another load of the fine ores he had carved out of the space debris.

“Of course, they'll come after you again,” Kamiton said. “See you back on Botany,” he added before he put on his helmet and stumped down to the air lock. “Can you read me?” he asked a few moments later.

Kris stuck her finger harder than she needed to on the pad—her body didn't realize she was out of Catteni's depressing gravity—and gave him an affirmative.

Zainal made a small adjustment to his direction, seeming to head directly for the center of net four—large Catteni glyphs had been plastered on the net fabric—one could not miss “4” unless one was totally blind. He also slowed so that when the air lock lights came on, he was almost stationary. He allowed the KDL to drift a count of two hundred, because Kris was counting right along with him, before he gently reengaged the thrusters and pulled
away. Then he made a drastic course alteration and signaled to Gino to pour on the power.

There was a little time for Kasturi to meet the Human crew and for Bazil and Peran to get accustomed to the idea of Humans, and Humans who could speak their language and were not slaves. Kris almost wept at the condition of the two boys: they had come on board filthy, in clothing that was a shred away from being indecent, with many bruises on their limbs and visible through the remaining scraps of their tunics. Their ribs were showing and their faces had the gaunt look of the starved. What they asked Zainal for first—once they had recognized their father—was water.

“They wouldn't take anything from me,” Kasturi explained. “They did not show fright, Zainal. They have your blood and courage. In my opinion, many cruel and vicious things have been done to them.”

Zainal himself bathed the boys, carefully tending their hurts and seeming to count every healed scar. Kris handed him Botanical medications, and they had flinched, even from their father's very gentle touch. She was close to tears for how they had been treated…worse than even the Rassi she had seen so casually whipped to work.

All the time Zainal spoke softly to them, not gently, not as he would speak to Zane, but as an adult would speak firmly and reassuringly to a frightened animal.

Tubelin put his head around the door and both boys stiffened, their yellow eyes dark and wide with the fright of surprise, which his unexpected appearance provoked before they could conceal their reaction. Once they recognized Kamiton, they relaxed a little.

“I have clean clothes, Zainal. I'll space those rags if you'll hand them to me, Kris.” She did, holding the mess by the tips of her fingers and letting them all fall into the receptacle Kamiton offered.

“Have you any clear soup to give them, and perhaps some journey bread,” Zainal said as he gently pushed the boys ahead of him toward the galley. Coo and Pess were alone at the table but the boys merely glanced through them, as if the two Deski did not exist.

Well, Kris told herself sternly, they've probably been taught that Deski are little better than Rassi.

When Coo and Pess made to rise, Zainal gestured for them to remain where they were. Someone had already put some clear soup in the heater so all she had to do was pour it in cups and get out the travel bread. Zainal raised one finger to show he'd have some, too. Lord, those kids were messed up bad, Kris thought. How will we ever get through what they have been conditioned to expect? Or, having been roughed up so much, would they rough up her son?

Zainal sat opposite the boys, beside Pess, and dipped the bread into the soup, blowing on it to cool it. The boys did nothing, though Kris saw the tongue of the older boy, Bazil, protrude slightly between his cracked lips. Then Zainal put his bread first in Bazil's cup and then Peran's before he ate it as if to prove it was not only edible, but harmless.

“Eat. You need food. This is good.”

Peran, being the younger, could not contain his hunger at that invitation and nearly burned his tongue to get the bread into his mouth. Bazil gave him an almost contemptuous sneer, but he was no less quick to take his first bite.

When they had finished their meal, although their eyes darted back to the heater unit, which they knew still had soup in it, they waited. Peran's lids wearily descended over his eyes, but he shot bolt upright again as soon as Bazil pinched him.

“No more now, Bazil,” Zainal said in a neutral tone. “You need sleep, too. There will be more soup when you awaken. That I promise!” Zainal rose and, still not offering
them his hands as he would certainly have offered one to Zane, he pointed the way for them to go.

Coo leaned across the table and patted Kris' hands; Pess offered a square of fabric when she started to sniff and then to cry.

“Being Emassi not easy,” Coo said.

When Pess' thin arm came about her shoulders, Kris just leaned into the embrace and let the tears flow. She didn't even care if one of the other Catteni came in and saw her weeping.

So, by the time Zainal returned, she was over the worst of it. He knew she had been crying because her eyes always turned red.

“They have suffered much,” Zainal said. “That shall be considered when this is ended.” He reached for the Hooch bottle and poured himself a large tumbler full, taking a big gulp of it.

“Tubelin is a good Emassi but even he did not like what he saw when he visited the farm where they had been made to work like Rassi.”

“Is that why they were so dirty?” Kris heard herself asking with great indignation. “But why were they beaten? They're seven and nine? They've been starved, too.”

Zainal took the hand she was waving about in consternation and clasped it firmly.

“I had not thought Perizec capable but it may have been the idea of my brother's mate. She is such a good Catteni mate,” and his emphasis on “good” was sarcastic. “It will take longer than it should but they will learn much on Botany and want to know more.”

•   •   •

THEY FOLLOWED THE TORTUOUS COURSE INTO the maze of their infamous and rich asteroid belt and once again, while Nitin, Kasturi, Tubelin, and Zainal's two sons watched with varying degrees of consternation during the
twisting route, made contact with Kamiton at his hollowed-out asteroid.

Then Zainal poured on all the power at the KDL's disposal on the way back to Botany.

The two boys did not speak unless spoken to, and Tubelin, whom they knew almost better than their father, would tell them stories in a decidedly avuncular and uncharacteristic manner. Zainal put them on a feeding schedule of every two and a half hours, each time little meals until their cheeks began to fill out and flesh appeared over their ribs. He also taught them how to print their names in Catteni glyphs and then in English letters. What astonished Kris was their absolute obedience.

“It's been beaten into them to obey without questions, Kris,” Ninety said when she voiced her distress to the Humans. “We'll just be sure they never hear another discouraging word on Botany, that's all.”

Chuck tilted his head sideways. “I've seen whipped puppies a time or two. It's going to take a lot of patience to make that a happy pair again.”

“If they ever were,” Kris said glumly. “I don't think Catteni have happy childhoods. Or expect to.”

“Now, Bjornsen,” and Chuck Mitford patted her shoulder, “we'll all help.”

And so he contrived to make a checkerboard from a bit of stiff packing casing, coloring it in, and then neatly scissoring out the counters from another piece.

“What makes you think Catteni kids play games?” Gino asked when he saw the finished product.

“Ah, a zemgo board,” Kamiton exclaimed in surprise as he entered the mess room.

“What makes you think there wouldn't be something similar in such a warlike culture, Gino?” Chuck demanded, grinning at Kamiton. “Will Bazil and Peran know how to play…zemgo?” he asked in Catteni.

“Hmm. I shall soon find out. Or will you teach them since you made the board?”

“It might be good if I teach, and you tell them the moves at first,” Chuck said. “I wouldn't know the right words and they should learn the proper words.”

“I will return with them. A good idea, Sshuk,” Kamiton said and went to find the boys.

“They were on the bridge, standing watch with their father,” Kamiton said when he returned with them. He pointed at Bazil to sit at one side of the table next to Chuck and Peran to sit on the other. Then he sat beside Peran and asked if the boys knew the game.

Bazil managed the barest of negative head shakes. Peran just stared at the bright colors of the board and the round white counters on his side.

“This is a good game for Catteni to know,” Kamiton explained. “It teaches how to form your troops for battle and how to win against an equally matched opponent. You are white, Peran, you must start first.”

Peran kept his hands in his lap, his little body stiff with indecision.

“Why don't
we
play, Kamiton?” Chuck suggested.

“He is Emassi,” muttered Bazil, glaring up at Chuck.

“So he is,” Chuck said, amiably. “And so am I.”

Bazil darted a surprised look at Kamiton and received a confirmatory nod. Bazil sank in on himself in dismay.

“All on this ship are Emassi,” Kamiton said.

“Even the little one?” Bazil asked, his dull yellow eyes flickering with doubt. But his tone was more courteous.

“All,” Kamiton said.

“So we shall play, Emassi Kamiton?” Chuck asked as demurely as only a sergeant of marines could.

“Yes, let us show Bazil and Peran how this ancient game is played, Emassi Sshuk.”

•   •   •

THE TWO BOYS WATCHED CHUCK AND KAMITON play four games (ending in two wins each), every time explaining the moves and discussing the game so the boys would know why. Then Gino played Chuck and won, but when he played Kamiton, the Catteni won. The boys showed the first spark of interest. It wasn't until Zainal entered the room and saw that the boys only watched, making no move to play at all, that he pointed to the board and said in a hard voice: “Play! Need to know!”

He left the room and Kris followed, furious with his so-Catteni manner that she almost couldn't speak as she dragged him into the captain's quarters. She slid the panel shut and told him off, madder than she had ever thought she could be with him.

“Those boys have been so mistreated,” she railed at him, “could you not show a little give?

He listened, with his Catteni face.

“I've never seen such bruises, nor such constant brutality on boys so young. What were your folk doing to them? Systemically brutalizing them as punishment for what
you
did?”

“Yes.” And his quiet reply, and the sad look in his eyes, silenced her.

“Then why aren't
you
, their father, from whom they can expect some affection…”

He held up one hand. “Catteni fathers are not affectionate.”

“But you are with Zane!” She was flabbergasted, “How can you differentiate like that? All three are children and need love and kindness and care…” And when he opened his mouth to speak, she advanced on him so infuriated that he recoiled slightly, not trying to evade the hard finger she poked into his chest as emphasis to her
words. “And don't tell me Catteni children cannot expect such treatment, too.”

“From their mothers, not from their fathers.”

“And, I suppose, now you'll tell me that Bazil and Peran are too old to be with their mothers.” When he nodded, she made a sound of total disgust and frustration. She was so mad she couldn't think of what to say next. “If you ever…ever…take a Catteni line with Zane, I'll…I'll kill you!”