Freedom's Challenge (29 page)

A little girl caught her finger on something sharp and she came rushing over to them, sobbing. Anna's whole countenance altered to one of concern and sympathy.
Kris let her handle the consolation and first aid. For all her other faults, Anna was a very good mother and the children—at least the Botany-born—trusted her.

•   •   •

ZAINAL WAS IN THEIR CABIN WHEN SHE returned with Zane and their evening rations from the main mess hall. He was busy with lists and diagrams and a curious gadget on the table, which, when she picked it up, Kris recognized as an inhaler bulb. The sort she'd seen asthmatics on earth use to forestall an attack.

“Think you can get close enough to a Mentat to give him a dose of this?” she asked.

Zainal looked up, saw the bulb, and took it from her. He squeezed it.

“There's nothing in it,” he said as she instinctively swatted it away from his face.

Her heart pounding, she exhaled. “Don't scare me like that.”

Zainal chuckled.

“Baby got off all right? The Ix was still at it when I finished my shift.”

“They must have ordnance—that's the English word, isn't it—”

“Right on.” Kris grinned.

“Resupply vessels. Only a Mentat would continue like this,” he said.

“The Mentat, who once was your brother,” she said and when he nodded, she continued. “Is there any connection? I mean, would…the Lenvec personality have any influence on the Mentat?”

Zainal leaned back, idly sliding a pencil through his fingers, up and down on the surface of the table.

“It could, but I'm not certain how. The subsumation takes in the entire personality and then the dominant Mentat is in total control…” He paused. “Although it was the Mentat Ix, once my brother, who investigated
Ayres Rock and then seemed to be searching over the sea we were safely under…possibly for me.”

Kris began to assemble dishes and utensils to serve their meal. Zane was playing with his goes-inters—the shapes that Zainal had made for him to fit together. These afforded the child hours of pleasure. As she leaned over to put a glass before Zainal, she got a better look at the diagrams.

“Isn't that the space station?”

He nodded.

“When is the brave captain Venlik and his crew likely to set out for another mining expedition?”

Zainal gave a shrug. “First Baby has to return. Then we have to wait to see what Beverly finds out about the other drop planets.”

“There's a good deal of feeling that Botany's population is large enough right now,” she said.

“We know,” he said and jotted down something else in a combination of Catteni and English. He gave her a wry smile as she chuckled at the mish-mash. “It is difficult for me now to remember which language to think in for the words I need.”

The barrage of the Bubble continued but in nowhere near the force that had been first launched against it. All four Catteni found that amusing as well as reassuring.

“It takes time to call in sufficient Mentats and senior Eosi to deal with an obsession like the Ix's,” Zainal explained. “I will worry more when it stops.”

•   •   •

OVER THE NEXT FEW WEEKS, CERTAINLY while Baby was on her mission, Kris sensed that Zainal was hiding something. She couldn't think what because they had had no previous secrets from each other, and he was as willing as ever to talk about any subject: especially the upcoming forays. Several times Zainal was dragged out of bed in the middle of their sleep period to race to the hangar to speak to some of the Catteni dissidents
on the com link. He used a code that had proved successful. At least none of their group had been arrested by Eosi, or suspected by High Emassi supervisors.

The bombardment turned sporadic and occasionally a force tried to penetrate another point on the Bubble, or several at once, since they had failed to pierce it with all their might.

Kasturi, Tubelin, and Kamiton—not so much Nitin, though the older man, for all his pessimism, seemed to be a vital key in the subversive actions—were able, by means of careful codes, to be in contact with many of their adherents. What was being set up, Zainal did not say, or if even something was. Contact had to be made, though, especially with those dissidents in command positions on other Catteni-dominated planets.

“We have to be sure our people are warned, and ready, to take over. They must take control,” Zainal did tell her. “We could lose one or two but more would be disastrous. We've worked so long and hard to get our men where they are right now.”

“A good point. Have you someone on all the Eosi-controlled planets and installations?”

He shook his head. “Hardly. There are a great many more than we have personnel to cover but the most critical positions are.”

•   •   •

BABY RETURNED WITH THE HARVEST OF olkiloriti leaves. Raisha had reminded Chief Materu that this dust was a weapon of significant power so he helped to make it on that condition. Parmitoro had shown them how he preferred to prepare the powder and taken his turn at the mortar, working alongside the other Humans of the crew.

Although the back of the job had been broken on the way home, Leon had off-duty personnel from the infirmary helping to complete the manufacturing process.
There was also a small, very dirty, and scraped box of inhalers among the supplies Baby had had time to collect, but the bulbs had not been broken.

“We went all over the place,” Raisha said, presenting it with due ceremony to Leon. “I thought we'd have to scavenge from drugstores, where we could find any not already cleaned out. But we got in touch with the underground, and they found us these. Are they enough?”

Leon rubbed away enough of the mud to check the quantity. “Three dozen ought to be enough.”

“Enough for what?” Kris asked.

“For the job to be done.”

“There are a hundred Eosi,” she said.

“Catch 'em all in the same spot and that'll do it.”

“And here, we got the nose plugs in a scuba diving place Bert Put suggested.” And Raisha handed over a smaller rectangular box.

“For them who shouldn't breathe deeply,” Kris said, quite relieved to know that Zainal and his friends weren't going on some sort of a suicide mission, sacrificing themselves to get all the Eosi.

•   •   •

JOHN BEVERLY RETURNED WITH CHEERING news, having left behind some volunteers to help. And bad news, because two of the planets were inimical to Humans. Remnants of the usual Catteni crates and supplies had been found, bits and pieces of gnawed leather but no sign of a Human, even when they had done a low-altitude search for life signs. Nor any Deski, Rugarians, Turs, or other known “slave” species. On the other three planets that had been used as experimental colonies, people had made the best of what was available. Although on one, even the Human groups had widely separated and wished no contact with others, especially the other species. The other two had not turned to any form of anarchy or lawlessness but formed communities not unlike Botany's.

“Common sense prevailed,” John Beverly told those who assembled in the open hangar to hear him, “although they were very grateful indeed for some of the supplies we brought.”

“Did they give you any shopping lists?” Sandy Areson called out.

“Oh, yes,” John agreed. “Our compatriots on Dystopia…” some of the audience groaned, others laughed, “offered the most amazing amount of metals, gemstones, gold, silver, and stuff to purchase any spare ship we'd give them.”

“Do 'em no good unless they have an Emassi,” someone else said, and Kris smiled appreciatively at this oblique salute to Zainal.

Since Kris was privy to so many of the Head Council meetings, she knew that Dorado's attitude toward alien species made it low on the list of help. Dystopia and NoName (so called because no one had come up with a name that a majority could approve) were at the top for whatever could be spared of medical instruments and medicines that would supplement what the colonists had found useful and effective by the same sort of trial-and-error method the colonists on Botany had used. That meeting concluded that basic medications, part of the results of their raids on Catteni-held Earth, and what extra medical equipment could be spared should be delivered as soon as feasible.

“When we explained, they did say that they'd even consider working with an Emassi, if this is what resulted,” and he waved over at the G-ship. “So we got friendly neighbors, establishing the banners of Humankind. Kinda good to know.”

•   •   •

NATHAN BAXTER HAD BEEN ONE OF JOHN'S crew in his professional capacity as photographer. He had brought back pictures of the other planets, both from
space and on the surface, including some group photos of inhabitants and examples of how they had settled in. When these were developed, there were lines of those waiting to see the pictures up on the bulletin board outside the mess hall.

The infirmary actually treated more work injuries than diseases so, between what Kris had got on Barevi and others had found on Earth, they had enough to share. A second trip, and three cargo holds of wheat and dried rocksquat and loo-cow flesh, was planned. Microscopes, surgical tools, and other basic supplies were packed. Dystopia had only Humans while both NoName and Dorado had mixed populations. So some plursaw was sent along for the Deski inhabitants. The Turs had killed each other off in some sort of a bloody battle that had also taken many Human lives.

There had been no official census taken on any of the other planets but, during his flyby of the surfaces, John Beverly estimated that all three had more inhabitants than Botany.

“Basically, we're way ahead on the amenities,” he told the Council. “I'd suggest we try to set up some sort of a com link…”

“Not with the Catteni ships likely to make more drops,” Rastancil said.

“Which reminds me, John,” Ray began, “did you see much Catteni traffic in space?”

“We kept our com open all the time and there was a lot of chatter on the various channels, but I'd no really fluent Catteni speaker aboard. There was a lot of interference, too. Jamming, I think.”

“Possibly high-security messages,” Zainal said, after asking Kamiton a quick question in Catteni. To which Kamiton nodded. “Many?”

“Com officers logged them if you want to check the records,” John said.

Kasturi leaned forward eagerly. “Ask if they kept voice records?”

“Oh yes,” Beverly grinned toothily. “We figured you guys might be able to understand them.”

“You have them?” Kasturi stood up, eagerly holding out his hand.

The ex-air force general laughed as he reached for the sack that he had deposited on the floor at the beginning of the meeting and handed it over. “Every last one we caught.”

“We leave. We listen. Where?” Kamiton asked Ray.

Ray glanced at Kris, jerking his thumb toward his private office, and she pushed back her chair to lead the way. She stayed to help because while Kamiton had been learning English with almost the same speed that Zainal had, neither could write English without a lot of false starts. So Kasturi made the initial transcriptions and then she and Kamiton translated them.

“They
are
convening the Mentats,” Kamiton said suddenly, when they had gone through about half the recordings. He raised both arms, waving his fists with great satisfaction. He and Kasturi exchanged broad and gratified smiles.

“So how are you going to dust them?” Kris said, leaning back to rub the taut muscles of her neck and shoulders.

“Dust?” Kamiton asked.

She pantomimed inhaling and then fell to one side, twitching, as Kamiton had done.

“Ah, plant dust. Yes, we are thinking.”

That was the same answer that Zainal gave her later that night when they finally returned home. Once again she had had to leave Zane to sleep over in the crèche but instinctively her head had turned to where his crib was when they entered the door.

“He is safe,” Zainal said gently, circling her shoulders with one arm and drawing her toward the bedroom.

“I know that,” she said, almost peevishly. “Sorry,” she added instantly, rubbing at her neck again. “All that thinking in one language and writing down in another gave me a headache.”

His strong fingers pushed hers out of the way and he began a restorative massage, all the time easing her toward their room. She chuckled. But she was not at all unwilling. Especially when the fingers of his other hand began to massage elsewhere.

•   •   •

WHEN SHE WOKE THE NEXT MORNING, AND IT was morning, not dawn, so she had been very tired indeed, his space in the bed was empty. She allowed herself the luxury of a leisurely awakening. She needed a shower so she took that, since the solar panel would have warmed the cistern water by now. Her hair was growing out from its last crop but she'd have to endure that again for the KDL's next spurious trip back to Catten. It was while she was soaping herself that she noticed a bulge in her abdomen and felt it. Firm and…She stopped and didn't move until the water turned cold once the tank had emptied. Her mind rapidly did a series of figuring, taking into account the length of the Botany day, the number of days since her last period and when she had had it. Could she have been fertile on Catten? Could she be pregnant by Chuck Mitford? He'd been too drunk to…hadn't he?

But when she began to fasten the belt to her overall, she realized that she was buckling it two holes up from the usual one. She sat down heavily, as much because she needed to sit to put on her boots as to gather her stunned wits. Not that she would really mind having Chuck's child. But she hadn't been nauseated or had any morning
sickness and her breasts weren't that tender—yes, they were a tad sore, but last night could account for that.

“Stop fooling yourself, Kris Bjornsen,” she said out loud.