Freedom's Challenge

 

by: Anne Mccaffrey

 

Synopsis:

 

The colonists from "Freedom's Landing" and "Freedom's Choice" have made

a new home for themselves on the planet where they were abandoned by the

warlike Cattani.  Now they possess the technology they need to go back

to war with the deadly Eosi--with a surprise strike at enslaved planet

Earth itself!.

 

Also by Anne McCaffrey

 

Restoree

 

Dragon flight

 

Decision at Doona

 

Alchemy &

 

Academe (Compiled by Anne McCaffrey)

 

The Ship Who Sang

 

Mark of Merlin*

 

Dragonquest

 

Ring of Fear*

 

To Ride Pegasus

 

Out of This World Cookbook

 

A Time When

 

Kilternan Legacy*

 

Dragonsong

 

Dragonsinger

 

Get Off the Unicorn

 

The White Dragon

 

Dinosaur Planet

 

Dragondrums

 

Crystal Singer

 

The Coelura

 

Moreta, Dragonlady of Pern

 

Dinosaur Planet Survivors

 

Stitch in Snow*

 

Killashandra

 

The Girl Who Heard Dragons

 

The Year of the Lucy* Nerilka's Story

 

The Lady (aka The Carradyne Touch)*

 

Dragonsdawn

 

Renegades of Pern

 

Sassinak (with Elizabeth Moon)

 

The Death of Sleep (with jody-Lynn Nye)

 

Pegasus in Flight

 

The Rowan

 

All the Weyrs of Pern

 

Generation/Warriors (with Elizabeth Moon)

 

Crisis on Doona (with Margaret Ball) Damia

 

Damia's Children

 

Lyon's Pride

 

Freedom's Landing

 

Dragonseye

 

Freedom's Choice

 

*not science fiction--fantasy

 

Freedom's

 

Challenge

 

ANNE mCCAFFREY

 

AN ACE/PUTNAM BOOK Published by G.  P.  Putnam Sons a member of Penguin

Putnam Inc.

 

New York

 

An Ace/Putnam Book

 

Published by G.  P.  Putnam's Sons Publishers Since 1838 a member of

Penguin Putnam Inc. 200 Madison Avenue New York, NY 10016

 

Copyright 1998 by Anne McCaffrey

 

All rights reserved.  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced

in any form without permission.

 

Published simultaneously in Canada

 

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

 

McCaffrey, Anne.

 

Freedom's challenge / by Anne McCaffrey.

 

"An Ace/Putnam book."

 

ISBN 0-399-14397-1

 

(acid-free paper)

 

PS3563.A255F72 1998 97-44884 CIP

 

8IY.S4--dc2I

 

Printed in the United States of America

 

13579108642

 

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

 

Book design by Jennifer Ann Daddio

 

Dedicated to the memory of Joe Mulcahy 1980-1997

 

Don't look back in anger, I hear you say.

 

No longer mourn for me when I am dead Than you shall hear the sullen

surly bell

 

Give warning to the world that I am fled ....

 

SHAKESPEARE

 

Acknowledgments

 

I HAVE, AS USUAL, ACKNOWLEDGMENTS to make for some of the material used

in Freedom's Challenge.

 

Especially helpful was Dr.  Susan Edwards, Ph.D., social cognitive

psychologist, author of Men Who Believe in Love, who helped me with the

social and trauma techniques, which have been used so successfully to

help the victims of catastrophes, both personal and public (such as

hostage situations) in recovering their personalities and

self-confidence.

 

Margaret Ball, bless her heart, had all the Swahili and hunted down

information about the customs and traditions of the Maasai tribes of

East Africa.  Fortunately, she also speaks Swahili, though I didn't have

to use that much, since so many of the tribal chiefs are fluent enough

in English.

 

I also wish to thank Georgeanne Kennedy for her careful copyediting and

invaluable suggestions of what she wanted to know "more about" in this

story.  What errors a spell-check, even the most advanced ones, do not

catch, the sharp eye of the intelligent reader does.  And !  give my

spell-check a lot of hard names to cope with.  Thank goodness it can't

complain ...  ALOUD!

 

Freedom's Challenge

 

WHEN THE CATTENI, MERCENARIES for a race called Eosi, invaded Earth,

they used their standard tactic of domination by landing in fifty cities

across the planet and removing entire urban populations.  These they

distributed through the Catteni worlds and sold them as slaves along

with other conquered species.

 

A group rounded up from Barevi, the hub of the slave trade, were dumped

on an M-type planet of unknown quality, given rations and tools and

allowed to survive or not.  A former marine sergeant, Chuck Mitford,

took charge of the mixed group, which included sullen Turs, spider-like

Deski, hairy Rugarians, vague IIinish, gaunt Morphins, with humans in

the majority.

 

There was also one Catteni who had been shanghaied onto the prison ship.

Though there were those who wanted to kill him immediately, Kris

Bjornsen, lately of Denver, suggested that he might know enough about

the planet to help them.

 

He remembered sufficient from a casual glance at the initial exploration

report to suggest they move under cover, and preferably rock, to prevent

being eaten by night crawlers, which oozed from the ground to ingest

anything edible.

 

Installed in a rocky site, with cliffs and caves to give them some

protection. Mitford quickly organized a camp, utilizing the specific

qualities of the aliens and assigning tasks to every one in this unusual

community.

 

However, the planet was soon discovered to be inhabited by machines,

which automatically tended the crops and the six-legged bovine types.

After being caught by the Mechs, Zainal, the Catteni, with his scout

party, not only escape but rescue other humans trapped by the Mechs in

what proves to be an abattoir.

 

However, human ingenuity being rampant among the mixed group, they soon

learned how to dismantle the machines and design useful equipment.

 

Zainal, in a conversation with one of the Drassi drop captains, gets not

only a supply of the drug which will keep the Deski contingent from

dying of malnutrition, bu also aerial maps of the planet.  And discovers

a command post, presumably built by the real owners of the planet. While

it has obviously not been used, a mechanically inclined member of their

scouting party launches a homing device.

 

Both the Eosi overlords looking for Zainal and the genuine owners of the

planet note the release of the homing device.

 

The search to bring Zainal back to face the consequences of his

delinquency continues.  But Zainal manages to lure the searchers into

the maws of the night crawlers and acquires their scout vehicle.

 

Meanwhile, six more drops of dissidents from Earth and a few other

aliens have swelled the population of Botany, as the planet is now

called, to nearly ten thousand folk: some of them with skills that

benefit the colony and improve conditions.  Zainal, now with a constant

companion in Kris Bjornsen, and others explore this new world.

 

What Kris slowly discovers from her "buddy" is that Zainal wants to

implement a three-phase plan: one that will end the domination of his

people by the Eosi and, incidentally, bring about the liberation of

Earth.

 

Following this agenda, Zainal explains to Mitford and other ex-naval,

air force, and army personnel how he means to proceed: by capturing the

next ship which drops more slaves on Botany.  This plan necessitates

some alteration when the next ship turns up in such poor condition that

only quick action saves it from blowing up.  But the captain has sent

out an emergency message and looks forward to being rescued from the

planet.  By a clever plot, the rescue ship, which is a new one, is

captured by Zainal and "other Catteni" staff, thus giving them two

operational ships, 131.s the bridge equipment of the one they have now

cannibalized for parts.

 

Because Zainal was dropped on Botany, his brother Lenvec has had to take

his place, becoming subsumed as a host for an Eosi.  The Eosi is

somewhat amused by his host body's violent hatred of his brother.  And

soon becomes obsessed with finding the runaway.

 

An immense ship does a flypast of Botany and replaces the machines,

which the colonists have salvaged to provide themselves with useful

vehicles and equipment.  At this reminder that they live on Botany on

sufferance, the entire colony decides that they should show goodwill to

their unknown landlords by leaving the farmed continent on which they

were dropped and moving to a smaller, unused continent across a small

strait.  They are in the process of moving when the Mentat Ix, hosted in

Lenvec's body, does a search of the planet to find the missing Catteni.

Without success.

 

No sooner does this inspection tour end than the real owners of the

planet, who accept the appellation of Farmers, arrive in unusual form.

 

They seem able to give personal messages to all they meet: the important

news is permission for the colony to remain.  They also protect it with

a most incredible device, a Bubble, which surrounds the entire planet

while still permitting the sun's rays to filter through even as it

impedes the exit of the Eosi ship.  Once free of the obstacle, the

Mentat orders its ship to fire on the Bubble, which has no effect on it.

The impenetrable protection of this planet infuriates the Mentat who

decides that the shield must be broken and the recalcitrant colony

disciplined.  To this end, the Mentat retires to its home world to

accumulate an armada.  And also to probe the minds of human specialists

to see what knowledge they must possess.

 

The two ships owned by the colony are able to leave the protection of

the Bubble, while the two Eosi satellites are on the other side of the

world, and succeed in raiding Barevi for much needed fuel, supplies, and

more plursaw for the Deski's diet.  Kris, who had already learned enough

Barevi to deal with merchants, and others accompany Zainal.  While

there, they learn of the plight of Humans whose minds have been wiped by

the Eosian device with which they had enhanced the basic intelligence of

the Catteni race.  From Barevi, Zainal makes contact with dissident

Emassi who are also pledged to end Eosi domination.  Having found slave

pens full of the mind-wiped Victims of the Eosi, the Botanists are

unable to leave their compatriots to sure death in slave camps.  So they

contrive to take over yet another ship.  Between the two, they are able

to rescue several thousand Victims, irrespective of the problems this

might cause the colony.

 

Zainal's first two phases have been successful: the planet is safe and

they have ships with which to seize additional supplies.  But will he be

able to talk the colony into supporting his third-phase plans?  And

liberate not only Earth but also the Catteni from Eosi domination?

 

Chapter One.

 

WHEN ZAINAL HAD ORGANIZED THE data he wanted to send to the Farmers via

the homing capsule, he let Boris Slavinkovin and Dick Aarens fly it down

to the Command Post for dispatch.

 

"You have a nasty sense of humor, Zainal," Kris said when the hatch of

the scout vessel Baby closed behind the messengers.  She had been

surprised by his choice of Aarens, considering the man's behavior on

their first visit to the Command Post.

 

"Well," and Zainal gave a shrug of one shoulder and an unrepentant grin,

"Aarens has had experience sending one off.  Let him do it official this

time.  As a reward for his improvement."

 

"What improvement?" Kris still had little time for the self-styled

mechanical genius who had deliberately launched a homing capsule without

authorization on their first trip to the Command Post.

 

They both stepped back from the takeoff area, as much to avoid the fumes

as the wind, although Boris lifted the little craft slowly and

cautiously.

 

They watched as it made an almost soundless vertical ascent before it

slanted forward and sped off, disappearing quickly in the dusk of what

had been a very long and momentous day.

 

The wide landing field that stretched out level with the immense,

Farmer-constructed hangar could accommodate a half dozen of the K-class

ships that had arrived today.  They now were out of sight, within the

vast hangar.  At the far end of the landing area grew small copses of

the lodgepole trees: young ones in terms of the age of the mature groves

above and beyond the hangar.  In the nearest of those groves the cabins

of the colonists were being constructed, out of brick or wood, in

separate clearings to allow the privacy that everyone preferred. Further

up the slope were the infirmary, which today was crowded, and the huge

mess hall, which served food all day long and well into the long Botany

night.  The largest building that faced Retreat Bay was the

administration, where Judge Iri Bempechat held court when necessary,

with the stocks just outside as a reminder that offenses against the

community would be publicly punished.

 

The building also held the living quarters for the judge and other

members of the body known as the Council, which included those with

experience in management and administration to run the affairs of the

colony.  In the earliest days, when Master Sergeant Charles Mitford had

taken charge of the dazed and frightened First Drop colonists, he'd kept

records on pieces of slate with chalk.  Now the admin building posted

weekly work rosters and the community services that all were required to

perform.  (It still shocked Kris to see Judge Iri washing dishes, and he

did it more cheerfully than many.)

 

Ex-Admiral Ray Scott had elected to live in a small room behind his

office in the hangar complex.  It was he, disguised as a Catteni Drassi,

who had insisted that the Victims be rescued from the fate to which the

Eosi had condemned them: working until they died as mindless slaves in

the appalling conditions that existed in the mines, quarries, and

fields.  There had been no way that those of his crew who had been among

the first dropped on Botany would have allowed those battered people to

be transported to their deaths.

 

Considering the excitements of the day, the unloading of the victims of

the Eosian mind-wipe experiment, which had occupied a good third of

Botany's settlers, the field was now abnormally quiet, peaceful.  Kris

sighed and Zainal gave her a fond look.

 

"ZAINAL?  KRIS?" Chuck Mitford's parade ground voice reached their ears

over the muted sounds that Baby was making.  They looked back to the

hangar and saw Chuck urgently waving to them.  He was talking to someone

who had just pulled up in a runabout.

 

"Oh, now what?" The testy demand left Kris' mouth before she could

suppress it.  She was tired and she earnestly desired a shower and a

long sleep.  She'd even arranged with the crche to keep Zane overnight

since she knew herself to be stretched to the limit after the tense

voyage home and the stress of landing all the pitiful mind-wiped people.

 

"We'd better see," Zainal said, taking her hand in his big one and

pressing it encouragingly.

 

"Don't you ever get tired and just...  have too much, Zainal?"This was

one of those moments when his equanimity bordered on the unforgivable.

 

"Yes, but it passes;' he said, leading her to where Chuck Mitford waited

for them with the passenger of the runabout.

 

It wasn't a long walk but long enough for Kris to get her irritation and

impatience under control.  If Zainal could hack it, so could she.  But

when would she get a shower?  She stank!  Well, maybe her body odor

would encourage whoever this was to shorten their errand.

 

"What's up, sarge?" she asked, noticing that he was talking to a woman

she vaguely recognized from the Fourth Drop: as much because she managed

to look elegant in the basic Catteni coverall.  Kris wondered if she'd

taken it in at crucial spots to make it look so fashionable.  She was

fleetingly envious of such expertise.

 

"Dorothy Dwardie who's heading the psychology team needs some of your

time, and right now," Chuck said and had the grace to add, "though I'd

guess another meeting's the last thing you two need right now."

 

"It is," Kris said without thinking but she smiled at the psychologist

to take the sting out of her candor.

 

"It is important?" And Zainal's question was more statement than query.

 

"Yes, it is, quite urgent," Dorothy said with an apologetic smile.  "We

need to know more about that mind-probe before we can proceed with any

sort of effective or therapeutic treatment."

 

"Why don't you use the small office?" Chuck said, gesturing to that end

of the immense hangar.

 

Zainal squeezed Kris' hand and murmured: "This won't take long.  I know

very little about the probe;'

 

"I was hoping you'd know something, if only the history of its use among

your people," Dorothy said ruefully and then looked about for a place to

park the runabout.

 

"I'll take care of it for you," Chuck said so helpfully that Kris

smothered a grin.

 

Dorothy Dwardie gave him a warm smile for his offer.

 

"We've had a bit of outrageous luck," she said as they walked to the

right-hand side of the enormous hangar where other small offices had

been constructed.

 

"We could use some," Kris agreed, struggling for amiability.

 

"Indeed we could, though I must say that hijacking all those poor people

out from under Eosi domination is certainly their good luck.  And you

deserve a lot of credit for that act of kindness:'

 

What she didn't say rang loud and clear to Kris.  There were some who

weren't sure she and Zainal deserved any credit?  As well for them that

Ray Scott had loudly declared that he took full responsibility for the

decision to save the damaged Humans so no one could blame that on Zainal

or her.

 

Actually the guilty were the Eosi but too many people failed to make a

distinction between overlord and underling.  Kris' mood swung back to

negative again.

 

"But until we..." and Dorothy's hand on her chest meant all the

psychologists and psychiatrists on Botany who would now take charge of

the mind-wiped, "understand as much as possible about the mechanism...

ah, here we are..." and she opened the door to the small office and

automatically fumbled for a light switch on the wall.

 

Kris had seen the cord and pulled it.

 

"Oh .  .  .  I suppose I'll get used to it in time," Dorothy said with

an apologetic grin.

 

"You're Fourth Drop, aren't you?" Kris replied as neutrally as possible

while Zainal closed the door behind them.  There were several desks

against the long stone wall but a table and chairs made an appropriate

conference spot by the wide window.  There was nothing but darkness

outside, since the hangar faced south and there were no habitations yet

beyond the field.

 

"You said you had a bit of outrageous luck ?"

 

Kris asked when they were seated.

 

"Yes, not everyone in the group you brought had been mind-wiped."

 

"Certainly the Deskis, Rugs, and Turs weren't," Kris said.

 

"Nor all the Humans," Dorothy said, smiling over such a minor triumph.

 

"They weren't?" Kris asked, exchanging surprised glances with Zainal.

"Yes, some faked the vacuity of the mindless .  .  ."

 

"Faked it?"

 

Dorothy smiled more brightly.  "Clever of them, actually, and they got

away with it because those in charge weren't keeping track of who had

been...  done."

 

Kris let out a long whistle.  "All us Human look alike to Eosi?  Proves,

though, doesn't it, that the Eosi aren't all that smart after all.

Clever of us Humans to run the scam."

 

"They're also able to give us names for many of the people who no longer

remember who they are." Dorothy gave a little shudder.  "I've dealt with

amnesia patients before, of course, and accident shock trauma, but this

is on so much larger a scale...  and complicated by not only emotional

but also physical shock and injury.  We have established--thanks to Leon

Dane's work with injured Catteni---that there are more points of

similarity than differences between our two species since both are

bipedal, pentadactyl, and share many of the same external features, like

eyes, ears, noses.  We can't of course cross-fertilize," and to Kris'

surprise, Dorothy ducked her head to hide a flush.

 

"As well," Kris said dryly.

 

Dorothy flashed her an apology and continued.  "Internally, though the

Catteni have larger hearts, lungs, and intestinal arrangements, Leon

says that the main difference is the density of the brain matter.  It's

also larger though similarly organized as ours are, as far as the

position of the four major lobes is concerned.  Leon was amazed at what

damage a Catteni skull could take without permanent injury.  I think,"

and she paused, frowning slightly at what she did not voice, "that the

initial injuries to the prisoners were attempts to recalibrate the

instrument to human brains."

 

"Initial injuries?" Kris asked.

 

"Yes," and Dorothy seemed to wish to get over this topic very quickly,

"though they would have been dead before their nervous systems could

register much."

 

"Oh?"

 

"Yes, and leave it at that, Kris," Dorothy went on briskly.  "Will

Seiss-mann should not dwell on the details although he seems to want

to...  a part of his trauma."

 

"Will Seissmann?" Kris asked.

 

"Yes, he and Dr.  Ansible ..."

 

"Dr.  Ansible?" Kris shot bolt upright.  "But he's--was, rather--at the

observatory.  Only I think he was away on some sort of a conference when

the Catteni took Denver:'

 

"Yes, he was and took refuge at Stamford," Dorothy replied, nodding.

 

"He tried to argue others he knew to follow Will's example.  I don't

know whether or not the dogmatic scientist has an innate martyr complex

but only a few would resort to the trick to save themselves;' She broke

off with a sigh.  "At any rate, we are able to put names to most of the

Victims.  But I need to know whatever details you may have, Zainal. They

will be so helpful in correcting the trauma...  if, indeed, we can."

 

Zainal shook his head.  "I know little about such Eosi devices." Then

his expression changed into what Kris privately termed his "Catteni

look," cold, impassive, shuttered.  "I do know--it is part of the

Catteni history--that they have a device that increases and measures

intelligence."

 

"Oh?" Dorothy leaned forward across the tame in her eagerness.  "Then it

could possibly extract information, too?"

 

Zainal blinked and his expression altered to a less forbidding one.  He

gave a slight smile.  "It would seem likely since I only know of the one

device.

 

The Eosi used it on the primitive Catteni to make them useful as hosts."

 

"Really?" Dorothy's expression was intensely eager as she leaned

forward, encouraging Zainal to elaborate.

 

"Yes, really.  Roughly two thousand years ago, the Eosi discovered

Catten and its inhabitants.  We were little more than animals, a fact

the Eosi never let us forget.  About a thousand years ago, my family

started keeping its records for our ancestor was one of the first

hundred to have .  .  .  his brains stimulated by the device.  Each

family keeps its own records--how many males it has delivered to the

Eosi as hosts and details of children and matings."

 

"A thousand, two thousand years to develop into a space-going race?

 

That's impressive," Dorothy said.

 

"Humans did it without such assistance and that impresses me," Zainal

said with an odd laugh.  "But that's how the Emassi were developed.  To

serve the Eosi."

 

"They didn't use the mind thingummy on the Drassi?" Kris asked.

 

"To a lesser degree," Zainal replied and turned to Dorothy.  "There are

three levels of Catteni now...  Emassi," and he touched his chest,

"Drassi who are good at following orders but have little initiative or

ambition: some were rejected for the Emassi ranks, but are able to be

more than Drassi--ship captains and troop leaders.  Then there're the

Rassi, who were left as they are."

 

"Rassi?" Kris echoed in surprise.  "Never heard of them."

 

"They do not leave Catten and are as we all were when the Eosi found

us."

 

"So you, as a species, did not evolve by yourselves?  But had your

intelligence stimulated?" Dorothy asked.  She turned to Kris.  "The Eosi

evidently never heard of the Prime Directive."

 

Kris giggled.  A psychologist who was a Trekkie?

 

"The Prime Directive means an advanced culture is not supposed to

interfere with the natural evolution of another species or culture/'

Kris explained to Zainal.

 

"The anthropologists will have a field day with this/' Dorothy added,

jotting down another note.  "Was one...  application sufficient to

sustain the higher level of intelligence?" she asked Zainal.

 

He shrugged.  "I do not know that." Abruptly his expression again

changed to his "Catteni look/' impassive, expressionless, shuttered.

"When I had my full growth, I had to be presented to the Eosi, to see if

I was acceptable as a host.  And what training I should be given."

 

"And?" Dorothy prompted him when he paused.

 

"I was passed, and I was to be trained to pilot spaceships;' Then his

grin became devilish and his "Catteni look" completely disappeared.  "My

father and uncles had worried that Eosi would find me too curious and

unacceptable."

 

"Too curious?  Why would that make you unacceptable?" Dorothy asked.

 

"Eosi tell Emassi what they need to know.  That is all they are supposed

to know."

 

"Before you start training?  Surely you had basic schooling?" Dorothy

asked, surprised.

 

Zainal gave a snort.  "Emassi are trained, not schooled;'

 

"But didn't you learn to read, write, and figure before you were

fourteen?"

 

Dorothy was having difficulty with this concept.  "Surely you've had to

learn mathematics to pilot spaceships?"

 

Zainal nodded.  "Emassi males are taught that much by their fathers..."

 

He grimaced.

 

"The hard way?" Kris said, miming the use of a force whip.

 

"Yes, the hard way.  One tends to pay strict attention to such lessons."

 

"And yet you were curious enough to want to know more?" Dorothy asked.

 

"Because it was forbidden," Zainal said, again with the twinkle in his

eye.  He must have been a handful as a youngster.  Kris was also

immensely relieved that his intelligence, which she suspected was a lot

higher than hers, was natural, rather than artificially stimulated.

 

"So the device assessed you.  Can you give me any description of it?"

 

Zainal looked down at his clasped hands as he organized his response.

 

"I was taken into a very large white room with a big chair in the center

and two Eosi, one at a control desk.  I was strapped into the chair and

then the device came down out of the ceiling to cover my head."

 

"Could you see what it looked like?" Dorothy asked, and Kris realized

how eagerly she awaited details.

 

Zainal shrugged.  "A large shape/' and he made a bell form with both

hands, "with many wires attached to it and dials."

 

"It covered your head or just your face?"

 

"My head down to my shoulders.  It was heavy."

 

"Did you see any blue lights?" Dorothy asked, scribbling again.

 

"I saw nothing."

 

"And the sensations?  What were they like?" She turned to Kris as Zainal

once again considered his answer.  "We're trying to establish if any

invasive probe is used: Needles or possibly electrical shock.  We need

to know whether the brain itself has been entered and damaged: whether

or not there has been physical damage--rather than just memory,

emotional, and fact erasures."

 

"There aren't any scars on the Victims?" Kris asked, and Dorothy shook

her head.

 

"Not visible ones, certainly.  Which is why Zainal's recollection is so

vital to us."

 

"Like electricity," Zainal said, putting his hands to his temples and

moving them up to the top of his broad skull.  "And here;' and he

touched the base of his cranium.  "But no blood.  No scar."

 

"Oh, yes, that's interesting, very interesting;' and Dorothy wrote

hastily for a minute.  "No pain in the temples?"

 

"Where?" Zainal asked.

 

"Here," and Kris touched the points.

 

"Oh.  Not pain, pressure."

 

"Isn't that where lobotomies are done?" Kris apprehensively asked

Dorothy.

 

She nodded.  "Anywhere else?  Pressure or pain or odd sensations?  I'm

trying to discover just which areas might have been...  touched by this

device.

 

If they coincide with what factual, emotional, and memory centers humans

have," she added as an aside to Kris.  "There are more parallels than

you might guess."

 

"A sort of stabbing, very quick, to the..." and Zainal put his hand to

the top of his head, "inside of my head."

 

"Quite possibly a general stimulation," Dorothy murmured.  Then, with a

kind smile, went on.  "So you were assessed and passed.  Then what

happened?"

 

"I was told who to report to for training." Then he grinned.  "I know

that my uncles were disappointed that I was acceptable.  My father was

relieved.

 

More glory for our branch of the family."

 

"How old are you now?" Dorothy asked, a question which Kris had never

bothered to ask.

 

Zainal hesitated and then with a grin and a shrug, "Thirty-five.  I have

been exploring this galaxy for sixteen years:'

 

"Sixteen?" Kris was surprised.

 

"That would make only four years of formal training?  Of any sort?"

 

Dorothy asked, surprised.

 

"Three.  I have been here two years now.  Two Catteni years." And he

grinned at Kris.

 

"Pilot training is all you had?"

 

"I learned what I needed to know to do the job which the Eosi ordered

for me.  I worked hard and learned well," Zainal said with a touch of

pride.

 

"Amazing," Dorothy murmured as she made more notes.

 

"But you know a lot about a lot of things," Kris protested.

 

Zainal shrugged.  "Once I am officially a pilot," and he gave Kris a

mischievous look out of the corner of his eye, "it was no longer wrong

for me to learn what I wish so long as I pilot well.  The Eosi," and his

face slid briefly into Catteni impassivity again, "require their hosts

to have been many places and seen many things."

 

"Then you don't have any knowledge about your own body?  No biology?"

 

Dorothy asked.  '.

 

"Bi-o-lo-gy?" Zainal repeated.

 

Dorothy explained, and he laughed.

 

"As long as my body does what I need it to do, I do not ask how it does

it."

 

Both Dorothy and Kris smiled.

 

"When I compare what our astronauts went through to qualify as space

pilots..." and Dorothy raised one hand in amazement.

 

"The earliest aviators flew by the seat of their pants," Kris remarked.

 

"Seat of their pants?" Zainal asked, frowning so Dorothy and Kris took

turns explaining the meaning.

 

"I did that, too, when training did not cover all I needed to know.  So

I made those who build the spacecraft show me how everything worked,"

Zainal said.

 

"And those...  engineers...  were also trained by families who were

engineers?"

 

Dorothy asked, and Zainal nodded.  "Very restrictive educational system.

Only a need to know.  However did they manage?"

 

"The Eosi do the manage part;' Zainal said in a caustic tone.  "Emassi

follow orders just like Drassi and even the Rassi:'

 

"It's amazing even the Emassi can do what they do," Kris remarked,

regarding Zainal with even more respect.

 

"Yes, it is," Dorothy agreed, "and we tend to rely on the educational

process .  .  .  or the genetic heritage," and she gave Kris a look.

"Depending on which school of thought you adhere to." She gave another

sigh and then said more briskly, including Kris.  "Are there any special

aptitudes which Catteni have which Humans do not?  For example, the way

the Deski can climb vertically and have extraordinary hearing?"

 

"Night vision," Zainal said promptly.  "Our hearing is more acute but

not as good as the Deski.  We can last longer eating poor food...  or is

that body difference, not brain?"

 

"Metabolic differences certainly," Dorothy said, having written "eye"

and "ear" on her pad.  Kris could read such short words backwards.  Then

the psychologist spent a moment doodling.  "Could you possibly draw me a

sketch of the device used on you?" She turned to Kris in explanation.

 

"Those that got a good look at it can't talk, and those who can talk

didn't see it."

 

"Zainal's very good at drawing devices," Kris said, with a touch of

pride.

 

"Yes," and Zainal complied, using the pen with the quick, deft strokes

that Kris had seen him use in delineating the mechanicals.  "There!"

 

Dorothy regarded the neat sketch and hmmmed under her breath.

 

"Hmmm, yes, well it looks like something an evil scientist would

create."

 

She sighed.  "Considering who the Eosi chose to brain-scan, they seem to

have been on an information hunt.  But why?  Their level of technology

is so much more sophisticated than ours.  Or were they just trying to

strip minds that could possibly help foment riot and rebellion?  Or

maybe reduce humans to the level of your Rassi?"

 

Zainal made a guttural noise and his smile, while it did not touch his

eyes, was evil.  "Ray Scott said that he recognized some of the people

as scientists.

 

So the Eosi are looking for information.  If they were wiping minds to

make you like Drassi, they would start with children and block

learning."

 

He grinned.  "The Eosi look for ideas.  They have had very few new ones

over the past hundred or so years."

 

"Really?" Dorothy remarked encouragingly.

 

"Maybe they need to stimulate their own brains," Kris said.  "Or would

it work on them?"

 

Zainal shrugged.

 

"Will Seissmann and Dr.  Ansible felt that the Eosi were taking a

vicious revenge on humans by destroying minds in a wholesale fashion/'

Dorothy said in an expressionless voice.  "There seemed to be no reason

to include some of the individuals--TV reporters and anchor men .  .  .

and women...

 

"Really?  Who?" Kris asked in astonishment.

 

"Who?  Anchor men and women?" Zainal didn't understand the term.

 

"Oh/' he said, when Kris explained, and added, "information would be the

first thing Eosi want to control.  All your satellites and communication

networks were destroyed in the initial phase of the invasion."

 

"Did you know they were choosing Earth?" Dorothy asked.

 

Zainal shook his head with a rueful grin.  "I am exploring on the far

side of this galaxy.  I had stopped at Barevi for supplies and fuel

when..."

 

And then he shrugged as if both women knew his history from then on.

 

"Zainal picked a fight/' Kris said, answering the querying look on

Dorothy's mobile face, "killed a Drassi and went on the run.  I saw his

flitter crash and went to see whom the Catteni were after this time.  I

had no idea what I was rescuing.  If I had," and she gave Zainal a mock

dirty look, "I might have thrown him to the wolves.  Then I decided I'd

better get him back to Barevi.  Only we both got caught in one of those

gassings the Cat-teni spray to quell rebellion." Kris knew that Dorothy

would be familiar with that tactic which was often used on Earth.  "And

ended up here on Botany."

 

"For which many of us are exceedingly grateful/' Dorothy said sincerely.

 

"Will, Dr.  Ansible, and a formerTV reporter, Jane O'Hanlon, were able

to bring us up to date with the situation on Earth, by the way.  Which I

can give you without benefit of sponsors or commercials/' Dorothy said

in a droll tone of voice.  "I think there was probably more than one

reason for the Eosi to resort to extracting information from human

beings.  Not only have we here on Botany produced a new wrench in the

works with the Bubble but resistance is increasing on Earth despite

their attempts to control or contain it.

 

"I gather that there will be an effort made to support activities on

Earth now that there're three spaceships at our disposal?" And she

looked at Zainal for comment.

 

"We haven't heard of any," Kris said and added "yet." Zainal had been so

busy getting pictorial proof to send the Farmers that they hadn't

discussed any future plans.

 

He shrugged.  "Three ships are too few against as many as the Eosi

have."

 

"Not even for a teensy-weensy hit," and Dorothy left a very tiny space

between her forefinger and thumb by way of illustration, "just to serve

notice on the Eosi?"

 

"I think we've just done that," Kris said with a droll grin.

 

"They will try to penetrate the Bubble," Zainal said.  "They will have

to figure out what it is and how it is maintained.  That will annoy them

seriously."

 

And he was patently delighted.  "We must hope that it remains.  The Eosi

have other weapons that destroy planets."

 

"Do they?" And Kris felt a twinge of fear under her bravado.

 

"If they cannot possess, they do not leave it for others to have."

 

"Oh!" Kris had no flippant reply for that.

 

"Does the Council know?" Dorothy asked, concerned.

 

"I will tell them," Zainal said, nodding solemnly.

 

"Well, then, that's all I can bother you with," Dorothy said, beginning

to gather up her notes.  Then she paused, tilting her head at Zainal.

"You don't have any idea where the Eosi came from, do you?" When Zainal

shook his head, she managed a self-conscious laugh.  "From a galaxy far,

far away?"

 

Kris chuckled, delighted that Dorothy was not only Trek oriented, but

could also quote from Star wars.

 

"Thank you, Zainal.  You've given me valuable information."

 

"I have?"

 

Dorothy smiled.  "More than you might think.  I do apologize for

besieging you after what has been a very difficult day but we needed

this input." She held up the notes.  "We can design appropriate

treatment now.

 

In so far as our resources permit, that is."

 

Zainal opened the door, and they stepped into a moonlit night.

 

"Over here, Dorothy," Chuck said, flipping on the runabout's light.

 

"Oh, thank you, and thank you again, Zainal, Kris." She hurried over to

the little vehicle, murmuring her thanks to Mitford before she turned it

northward.

 

"I've one of the flatbeds and there's room on the boxes for you two to

ride back to your place," Chuck said.  "Don't want any night crawlers

grabbing you."

 

"Thanks, Chuck," Kris said, only too grateful for both the offer and the

sentiment.  She was really dragging with weariness right now.  Sitting

down for a spell had not been as good an idea as it had seemed.  It only

emphasized her fatigue.

 

"Over here," and Chuck reached the flatbed and turned on its light to

guide them.

 

Kris was already climbing on the cargo before she realized that the

boxes didn't resemble anything she had purchased on Barevi.

 

"What's all this, sarge?" She couldn't see the printed labels in the dim

light.

 

"It's the books we found," Zainal astonished her by saying.

 

"Books?"

 

"Yes, books," Zainal repeated calmly.  "Ray saw them.  As trading

captain of the KDI, I thought such paper stuff would be good for packing

material."

 

He grinned.  "The Drassi did not argue, glad to be rid of the stuff."

 

"But there must be fifty boxes here?  They're not all the same book, are

they?"

 

"Nope," Chuck said.  "Catteni looted libraries, too.  We've got some

former librarians just drooling to catalog what we managed to

'liberate." This is only part of what we unloaded.  Our kids won't grow

up ignorant, though they might have some rather interesting gaps in

their education."

 

"Books," Kris said and suddenly realized that she had missed books...

 

certainly the availability of books.  "Wow!  That was a real coup:'

 

"Books?" Zainal asked.  "Schoolbooks?" His tone was sly though Kris

could not see his expression in the dim light.  "Bi-ol-o-gy?"

 

"Don't know yet," Chuck said, "though that's a possibility.  Why?"

 

"Zainal has just acquired a need to know," Kris replied drolly.  Oh,

well, she'd had good grades in biology though just how much human

biology would expand Zainal's understanding of how his body worked was a

moot point.  And she was too tired to inquire.

 

All three were silent for the rest of the journey.

 

Once Zainal closed the door behind them, Kris gave up the notion of a

shower as being too much work and a ruse to keep her from getting

horizontal, and asleep, as soon as she could make it to the bed.  She

did take her boots off, as Zainal was doing, but that was all she

managed.

 

THE K-CLASS SHIP, which arrived at bay forty-five to collect a shipment

of slaves for an ice planet's mining operation was furious to discover

that someone else had taken them.  The Drassi lodged a protest about

that, and then another one that he had been forced to wait eight days

before sufficient slaves could be assembled.  So insignificant a report

went unread.

 

The costs submitted against a ship with a KDI identification code were

duly registered although it was later noted that this ship had

supposedly been listed as "lost."The charges were paid and the anomaly

forgotten.

 

Chapter Two.

 

IT SHOULDN'T HAVE SURPRISED KRIS that by the next afternoon many people

were aware of the substance of their discussion with Dorothy Dwardie.

Rumor circulated the settlement as fast as a Farmer orbiter.

Fortunately, it worked more in favor of Zainal than against him.

 

The Catteni were, however briefly, also seen as Victims of Eosian

tactics, more to be pitied than feared.

 

A quintet of anthropologists, while loudly deploring the forced

evolution of the Catteni, requested most politely for Zainal to take

some tests to evaluate his "stimulated" intelligence.

 

Kris was furious and Zainal amused.  In fact, Kris was so incensed that

she was even mad at him for agreeing.

 

"They cannot do me any harm," Zainal said in his attempt to placate her.

 

"It's the whole idea of the thing...  as if you were no better than a

laboratory mouse or rat or monkey," she said, pacing about the house

while her mate and her son regarded her with surprise.

 

"They are also testing the Deski and the Rugarians." He grinned at her.

 

"I would like to know how I rate."

 

"How can they possibly evaluate you fairly?  In the first place," she

said, waving her arms about as she paced, "lots of the questions require

a similar cultural background .  .  .  and history and things you've

never had a chance to study:'

 

"So?" Zainal reached out and stopped her mid-stride as she was going

past him.  "You are annoyed for me?  Or with me?" he asked at his

gentlest, a gleam in his yellow eyes.

 

"With them!  The nerve, the consummate gall"' and she tried to struggle

out of his embrace.

 

"Sometimes, Kristin Bjornsen, you protect me when I do not need it;' he

said, smoothing her hair back from her face.  "As you would Zane:'

 

"Nonsense;' Kris snapped, trying to push him away.  "You don't know when

to be insulted.  I am insulted.  For you."

 

Zainal laughed and easily resisted her attempts to break free.

 

"It is difficult to insult an Emassi;' he said.  "I think it is better

for them to find out that I am very, very smart.  It will solve other

problems."

 

That mild remark stopped her struggling.

 

"What problems?" she demanded, suspicious.

 

"The ones I must solve."

 

"Which are?"

 

"How to free us .  .  ." and he gestured himself and then to her, "and

your people from the Eosi:'

 

"But we need the Farmers' help for that and we have no idea when we'll

have a response--if any--to that report you sent them.  What are you

planning, Zainal?"

 

"This time you, too, must wait and see," he said, giving her a final

squeeze before he released her.  And she got no more out of him.

 

He went off to the session with the anthropologists while she fumed and

fretted as she did the household chores.  She was not due for her shift

until late afternoon.  She couldn't even find satisfaction in taking

care of Zane, which she usually enjoyed thoroughly.  She all but pounced

on Zainal when he returned a few hours later.

 

"Well?" she demanded as soon as he entered the cabin.

 

His grin was a partial reassurance but she insisted on details.  "They

say I am very smart.  At the top."

 

"How could they figure that out?  What did they ask?  How did you

reply?"

 

"Carefully"' he said, pouring himself a cup of water.  "Thirsty work."

 

Kris let out an explosive "oh" of total frustration.  "You'd drive a

saint to drink."

 

"Saint?  More of that God stuff?"

 

"What sort of questions?" She would not be diverted.

 

"Logic ones which I am well able to answer.  Sorrell told me that they

used some of the Mensa tests?  That you would know what those are?"

 

Kris nodded, obliquely reassured.  "And?"

 

"I passed;' he said and then bent to lift the lid on the pot over the

fire.

 

"We eat here tonight?"

 

"Yes, it's the stew you like.  How high did you pass?"

 

Zainal's grin was malicious.  "Very high.  They were surprised and..."

 

he paused to let his grin broaden, "they were respectful."

 

"Well, it's about time."

 

He turned and put his arms about her, drawing her close to him so that

he could look her in the eyes.  "One earns respect.  It is not just

given:'

 

"But you've earned it twenty times over, Zanal," she said, not quite

willing to be totally placated by his proximity but she did let her arms

creep around his neck.  "When I think of how lucky we were that you got

dropped..."

 

"I was very lucky," he said, burrowing his head in her hair.  "Very

lucky;' They remained in that embrace, enjoying the simple pleasure of

touching and being together until Zane, waking from his afternoon nap,

disturbed their communion.

 

"So, what have you been planning in that devious stimulated Catteni mind

of yours?" Kris asked.

 

"I think we have to go to Earth," he said so casually that she nearly

dropped her son.

 

"Just like that?  Go to Earth?  How?  Why?  Can you?  Will they agree?"

 

"It is safer right now than it will be..." he began, taking Zane from

her to dandle on his knee, which had the boy chortling with delight,

while she tasted the stew.

 

"Oh?" The stew needed a pinch more salt, which she added.

 

"Yes, because it will take time for the Eosi to discover that the

Victims did not get to the intended destination.  They will also be

thinking of a way to break through the Bubble.  They do not like such

defenses."

 

"So?  What good would a trip to Earth do?"

 

"Now I think there may be other Catteni, who have had enough Eosi," and

he grinned at her.  "I am not the only one who thinks for himself.

 

Who is smarter than the Eosi want us to be.  I know of five who are like

me.  I need to know where they now are.  I need to know if there are

more now)'

 

"Five?  Against how many Eosi?"

 

Zainal considered as he tickled Zane's toes while the little boy

giggled, withdrawing his feet and then presenting them again.

 

"I think there are no more than one hundred."

 

"Because that's all the Catteni they upgraded?  Don't they reproduce or

something?"

 

Zainal shook his head.  "Not that we know of."

 

"We?"

 

"The others of like mind I told you about.  We have met, in small

groups, from time to time, to exchange knowledge)'

 

"You mean, you've been plotting against the Eosi for a long time?

 

What would have happened if you had to be subsumed?"

 

"A risk all Emassi take," he said with a shrug.  "Yes, I do believe that

we have been looking for some way to shake Eosian domination.  Your

people have shown a resistance no other species has.  That's good)'

 

"As far as it goes and look what happens to Humans who resist..."

 

and Kris's gesture included the planet.  "How many worlds do the Eosi

dom-Mate?

 

I mean, there're the Deski, the Rugarians, the Turs, the Morphins, and

the Ilginish...  How many others?"

 

"The Eosi control fifteen star systems that have at least one

intelligent race: another ten where they take metals and materials."

 

Kris laughed.  "You honestly believe a rebellion has a chance against

such a setup?"

 

"If we have the Farmers' help..."

 

"Boy, oh boy, oh boy, are you an optimist!"

 

"It is a start.  It is more than we have ever had."

 

"With two spaceships and a scout, we can go up against that sort of

opposition?"

 

"it is a start."

 

"I've got to hand it to you, Zainal.  God loves a trier," Kris said,

shaking her head at the impossible task he had proposed.  And yet...

"Have you mentioned any of this to any one else yet?"

 

"I talked to Chuck.  I will speak to others.  We need to go to Earth as

soon as possible.  Earth needs to know that Botany is!"

 

"Let's eat first, shall we?" Kris said as brightly as she could, trying

to assimilate the magnitude of his vision.

 

DOROTHY DWARDIE'S TEAM spent the first week assessing the condition of

the mind-wiped and divided them into various arbitrary groupings,

according to the perceived severity.

 

As she said in her initial discussion with her aides, there were two

levels of healing: one, the physical trauma of assault on the tissue

and/or function of the brain, and two, the psychological trauma of

assault on the psyche or self.  She expected that some trauma would be

time-limited.

 

"The mind has gone into functional frostbite," she said, "and when it

thaws after the trauma, returns to normal function without help.  Since

most of these people were trained scientists, it's possible that many

will sim ply reestablish old neural pathways.  There may be some loss of

factual memory: maybe even a great deal.  Even then much may return over

a period of time.

 

"Right now, they need reassurance, interaction: music, smells, kindness,

encouragement, gentle exercise.  As normal a routine as we can manage.

 

Talk to them, about anything and everything: help them reestablish

themselves.

 

Where we know the name, repeat it often.  When we know something of

their background, refer to that as frequently as possible.  Help them

reacquaint themselves with themselves."

 

Kris had three women, all in their late fifties: two had been research

physicians in a drug company--Peggy Ihde and Marjorie Flax; the third

they called Sophie because Sarah McDouall said she thought she looked

like a Sophie.  Kris was to supervise their meals.  Just putting a spoon

or a fork in their hands stimulated self-feeding.  She read to them from

Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, which they might even have read in

their younger days.  She took them on quiet walks in the lodge-pole

copse, or sat with them above the bay where benches had been placed for

meditation.

 

"Pleasant surroundings are extremely important after the holding pens

they've been in," Dorothy said.  "Soft, kind voices, gentle handling

will reassure even the most damaged."

 

There were a few whose condition was clearly catatonic but Dorothy was

serenely confidant that, in time, even these would recover.

 

"There's something about this place," she said, spreading both arms out

to include the entire subcontinent, "that will generate healing.  The

smells are good, the food is fresh and tasty, and the vibes ..." she

smiled at using the vernacular description, "are good because we've made

them so.  Beauty is a natural stress-absorber, you know.  It reassures

on a nonverbal level that they are now safe.

 

"You see," she went on in her soft voice, "we've decided to use a

multi-modal treatment of this stress.  The right hemisphere--which

thinks in pictures--can't tell time: therefore it needs pictures to

counteract the negative images of the trauma.  The left hemisphere

stores rational thought processes in thought and ideas.  The two

hemispheres interact and each approach can help the other side.  We need

to maximize good input and involve as much as possible in terms of brain

resource utilization.  Many of our friends here may never recall exactly

what happened.  That would truly be a blessing."

 

"But won't we have to explain something of how they got here?" Sarah

McDouall asked.

 

"Oh, yes," Dorothy said with a smile, "and by then we'll probably have a

coherent answer for them.  They are, to all intents and purposes, on a

holiday from their own minds right now."

 

"We could always tell them they're in Oz," someone at the back of the

room quipped.

 

"And no red slippers in sight," someone added.

 

Dorothy's expression was droll.  "We're all in Oz."

 

"The Eosi are the wicked witches..."

 

"Let's leave the analogy there, shall we?" Dorothy said in the firm tone

of she-who-must-be-obeyed.

 

Kris felt her shoulder muscles relax.  She had been readying herself to

protect Zainal.  Really, she had to stop doing that.  He had made his

own position here on Botany and was firmly entrenched.  She didn't need

to fret over possible snide remarks and animosity.  She devoutly hoped!

 

THAT EVENING WHEN ZAINAL CAME HOME from the construction site of the new

units for the Victims, he very carefully put a book down on the table.

 

"That's for kindergartners," she said in surprise, recognizing the

title.

 

"Kindergartners?  It is for learning to read," Zainal said and gave it a

little shove with one large and very dirty thumb.

 

"Please wash up, dinner's nearly ready," she said, because she really

couldn't tell Zainal not to handle the book-which might be the only one

of its kind-with his dirty hands.

 

"I learn to read," he said and gave it another, almost angry push.

 

"You?"

 

Zainal scowled and Zane, who was seated in the high-seated chair his

adoptive father had made for him, began to whimper in apprehension.  He

was very quick to sense moods.  Immediately Zainal turned a smiling face

and diverted the child by tickling his feet until he was hilarious with

tickle laughter.

 

"I need to read to use computers."

 

Kris blinked in surprise, having forgotten for the moment that Botany

now possessed working computers...  which were being put to all kinds of

good use.  There had been several uninterrupted sessions to develop

adapters for the units to run on solar power.

 

"Oh, yes, of course you would," Kris said.  "Dead easy for a man with

your smarts."

 

Zainal turned his smiling face from Zane and gave the little book a dark

scowl.  "Not when all those...  squiggles...  make no sense at all."

 

"Are there many--" and Kris thought swiftly for a less insulting

description than "kids' books"--"primer books in what we got?" She

hadn't had occasion to look in that section of the hastily assembled

"library."

 

"This was given me.  I wash my hands...  and Zane's feet..." he added

pointing to the oily smears now marking the child's bare feet.

 

ONCE ZANE WAS IN BED, she took, not the book, but a pad and pencil and

wrote out the alphabet in upper and lower case, as large as she could

lengthwise across the page.

 

"But I brought the book to read..  :' he said, pulling it toward him

with now clean hands.

 

"First you must know the...  squiggles that spell the words we use.  Too

bad we didn't have a book on English for second-language speakers...

although come to think of it, that wouldn't do you much good.  Now, this

is the first letter of the alphabet ...  'ay." Which can also be

pronounced 'ah'...  just to confuse you.  It is a vowel.  B, which is

usually just 'bee' is the second letter and a consonant."

 

He had repeated "vowel" and now spoke "consonant." Zainal had no trouble

committing the sequence of the alphabet to memory--nor of naming any of

them when Kris drilled him.  His concentration was incredible.

 

He kept her going until even such words as "Spot" and "Jane" were

blurring her eyes.  He had also read through the book nine times and had

it memorized.

 

"No spot and jane on the computers," he said.

 

"We'll work on computer language tomorrow," she said, rising stiffly

from the chair in which his need to learn had pinned her for hours.  She

yawned.

 

"I work more now," he said, looking at her expectantly.

 

"Okay, see how many words you already know that rhyme with Spot...  like

dot, and tot, and Scott...  or with Jane, like mane...  no not drain...

ah, try run, fun, gun, stun..."

 

"Oh," he said, delighted at such an exercise.

 

She went to bed.  When Zane woke her in false dark, hungry, Zainal had

filed pages of similarly sounding words, not all of which were spelled

properly but she had to give him an A for effort.  Spelling would come

later.

 

What did astonish her as she fed Zane by candlelight was the computer

manual she found under a pile of his laboriously hand-printed sheets. He

had underlined all the unwords...  ctrl, del, esc, Pgdn, Pgup, num,

menu.

 

"He can't have read the manual," she murmured and smothered a laugh.

 

"He may be one of the few who ever did before they turned on a

computer."

 

She and Zane had gone back to sleep again before full daylight and, by

then, Zainal had gone off to work.  In a neat pile on the mantel he had

left all but the primer.  Doubtless that had gone back to the library

shelves for something more challenging.  The manual was still there but

then, there had been plenty of those in the packing cases they'd brought

back from the marketplace at Barevi.  But why this sudden need to

understand computers .  .  .  ah, yes.  It probably had something to do

with Zainal's master plan.  Maybe it was plans since he intended not

only to free Earth but destroy the Eosi and release Catten from slavery.

Did he also plan to use the mind stimulator on everyone?  To equalize

the Catten race?  Ooops, she sort of thought that might be a bad idea.

Zainal was a most unusual Catteni.

 

Still, there might well be similarly motivated Emassi among those whom

he was going to enlist to help.  But the Drassi...  and the Rassi...

though she despised herself for generalizing...  were different:

especially since they were such big people with lots of muscles and not

much common sense.

 

She had an early shift this morning so she and Zane started off in the

fresh morning air to the day care center.  He was crawling around

everywhere, even trying to climb, and spent more time falling down.  But

she let him fall...  and let him get up.  He rarely hurt himself.  On

the advice of other mothers, she had put extra padding on the knees of

his trousers, saving him scratches if not bruises.  Actually, Kris

thought, Botany's new generation was generally sturdy and few mothers

had the time to pamper their children.  With the notable exception of

Janet and Anna Bollinger.  Their kids, however, had enough rough and

tumble at the day care center to have developed allergies to maternal

fussiness.

 

No television, no Coke, or chocolate--though sometimes Kris' craving for

a chocolate bar was almost overwhelming--was all to the good.  She did

miss caffeine and, while the experiments with beer and other spiritous

liquors had been successful, there was as yet no tobacco substitute.  As

soon as the children were able, they were put to little tasks and chores

that would make them as self-sufficient as their parents had learned to

be.

 

Raisha Simonova was checking in the children at the day care center this

morning.  Zane toddled firmly off to the room that catered to his age

group.  One of the Deski children, Fil, was on its way (gender in Deskis

developed later) so he waited for Fil.  Another plus for Botany--no

racism.

 

Well, not to fret over, because the few who had trouble assimilating

with the Rugarians and Deskis were gradually losing their sense of Human

superiority: difficult to maintain when a Deski walked up a wall to

carry slates to the roof.  Or a Rugarian easily hefted weights that took

two or three Humans to manage.  Both races were also becoming more and

more fluent in English, though they had trouble with past tenses of

verbs.  Who didn't?

 

And a good couple of dozen Humans were attempting to master their

languages.

 

Almost, Kris thought, as she stopped by the library to pick up the day's

reading, it would be a shame to have to open Botany up.  It could easily

ruin the harmony that had been achieved.  And yet...

 

All three of her charges were sitting in their bedside chairs, an aura

of anticipation about them.

 

"They know to the minute when you're due, Kris," Mavis Belton said.

 

"That's good, isn't it?"

 

"You don't know how good," Mavis said with a deep sigh, slightly turning

her head toward one of the "difficult wards" where the worst of the

Victims were kept.

 

"Good morning, Marjorie," Kris began, initiating her morning routine by

touching the arm of each in turn, "Good morning, Peggy.  Good morning,

Sophie."

 

"Why do you call me Sophie?  That's my middle name.  My Christian name

is Norma," the woman said with a hint of petulance.  "Norma Sophie

Barrow.  Miss Barrow."

 

"I do apologize, Miss Barrow;' Kris said sincerely, holding her hand now

for the woman to shake.  'I'm Kris Bjornsen, the nurse's aide."

 

"Of course, you are.  We've been expecting you," Miss Barrow said almost

tartly.  "Aren't we?"

 

Marjorie and Peggy nodded.

 

"In that case, let us walk up to the dining hall," Kris said.

 

Behind the newly restored Miss Barrow, Mavis was almost in tears with

joy at the breakthrough.  It was a very mixed blessing.  Miss Barrow was

stunned to find herself in such rural, primitive surroundings.

 

"Rustic, !  should say," she remarked as they entered the log-built main

hall.  "I would certainly never take my vacation in such a setting:' She

wanted coffee and refused to drink the herbal tea which was all that was

served.  She wanted white bread toast and butter and did not like the

berry preserve, which did service as a spread.  Nor would she eat the

hot oatmeal.  Porridge was for children or invalids.  She wanted an egg,

boiled, three minutes.

 

Although Marjorie and Peggy were hungry enough to eat what Kris served

them, they began to falter as Miss Barrow's complaints jarred their own

memories of breakfasts or homes or what they had once been accustomed

to.

 

Just as Kris was beginning to think she wouldn't be able to cope with

this sort of insurrection, Dorothy Dwardie slid in beside Miss Barrow.

 

"I am so glad to see you looking so well, today, Miss Barrow."

 

Miss Barrow recoiled from Dorothy, a hint of fear contorting her

features.

 

"Surely, you remember me, Doctor Dwardie?"

 

"Doctor?" Miss Barrow was only slightly reassured while Kris admired the

friendly but not intimate tone Dorothy used.

 

"Yes, Doctor Dwardie, I'm in charge of your case."

 

"I've not been well?" As Miss Barrow's fragile hand went to her chest

and her expression became even more confused, Dorothy nodded, still

smiling with great reassurance.

 

"Yes, but nothing life-threatening, I'm happy to report.  The tests have

all come back negative.  You may not remember things in the detail you

used to but we're positive that you will make a complete recovery."

 

"I was working very hard," Miss Barrow said, running one nervous finger

along the edge of the table and watching its progress, "the merger, you

know."

 

"Yes, exactly, the merger.  One of the elements of your convalescence

has actually been a change of diet to a very bland one.  A change to

flush the toxins of fatigue out of your system.  If you just look at

Marjorie and Peggy, you'll see how healthy and fine they are.  And

you're very much improved."

 

"Toxins .  .  .  yes, there were toxins," Miss Barrow said.  "Some of

them .  .  ." She closed her lips and gave a weak smile.  "I'm not

allowed to talk about my work, you understand."

 

"Yes, yes, Miss Barrow, we do.  Miss Bjornsen is the soul of discretion

but as I have a top security clearance, perhaps if we had a quiet little

chat in my office, I could relieve your mind, and we can figure out just

what other therapy will speed your recovery."

 

Gently Dorothy got Miss Barrow to her feet and led her out of the dining

room and toward her putative office.

 

"She'll be all right, won't she?" Marjorie said, her eyes wide with

fright.

 

It was also the first time Marjorie had said more than yes, no, and

maybe.

 

Peggy stared from one to another and then back to Kris for reassurance.

 

"She'll be fine;' Kris said firmly, smiling and nodding her head.  "But

I think we'd better finish our breakfasts.  Then we'll find a quiet spot

for me to finish reading Pride and Prejudice."

 

"I read that once," Peggy said in a vague tone, frowning slightly.

 

"I like Kris reading," Marjorie said.

 

"Why, thank you, Marjorie;'

 

"You know you don't have to be so formal, Kris.  I don't mind if you

call me Marge like everyone else."

 

Then she grimaced, looking down at the table and, with furtive glances,

gradually looked around the room.  Peggy, however, held up her cup for

more tea, which Kris instantly supplied.

 

"Some of your friends aren't here with you, Marge;' Kris said, thinking

some explanation should be offered before Marjorie's returning awareness

caused her dismay.

 

"They aren't?"

 

"More tea?" Kris offered and Marge shook her head.

 

"Doesn't really taste like tea to me."

 

"It's part of the bland diet to reduce the dose of toxicity you had,"

Kris said.

 

"But you're drinking it, too.  Did you get a dose?"

 

"No," Kris replied, "but we aides thought it wasn't fair for us to drink

something you aren't yet allowed."

 

"Oh!" Marge accepted that.

 

Kris tried not to wonder what else would happen today or who would have

a breakthrough but the rest of her eight-hour shift went without any

further incident, other than Marge making comments about beautiful

scenery and the lovely fresh air.  Peggy said nothing more and seemed to

be deep in her own thoughts.  And Kris certainly hoped she was having

some.

 

She got her two charges back for their afternoon nap and, for once, they

lay down in their beds immediately and were asleep in moments.

 

Mavis beckoned her into the nurse's office.

 

"That Miss Barrow's a pisswhistler," she murmured in rather

unprofessional language.  "And that's exactly what brought her around."

 

"How so?"

 

"She ran a huge lab for Erkind Pharmaceuticals and everything, but

everything had to be precisely in place and exactly done."

 

"Oh!  And suddenly her neurones meshed and nothing here was as it should

be in her neat little mind?"

 

"Exactly/'

 

"Has she realized where she is now?"

 

Mavis cocked her.  "She's fighting it but with every twitch of

disagreement, she's remembering more.  She's more than halfway back to

sanity:'

 

Kris grimaced.  "If precision and order are her sort of sanity, she

could be a real pain in the arse."

 

Mavis shook her head this time.  "No, we'll let her manage our lab when

she's fully recovered.  It'll be the envy of .  .  ." Then Mavis

giggled.  "We couldn't actually ask for someone with a better

background/'

 

Kris thought of Leon Dane, of Thor Mayock's hooch, and the easy, if

effective, way the hospital facilities had been run, and wondered.

 

"You'll see," Mavis said.  "How're the other two?"

 

"Some speech from Marge...  she prefers that...  and one sentence from

Peggy but that one's been thinking hard all day long/'

 

"Good," and Mavis made notes on the day pad.  "We'll see if we can

improve on your start.  You're mid-shift tomorrow?"

 

Kris nodded and then another group returned to the dormitory and Mavis

went to help settle them for their rest.

 

ON HER WAY TO COLLECT ZANE, she wondered just how the prim and proper

Miss Barrow would view the Deski and Rugarians with whom they shared the

planet.  And how she could react to Zainal's presence when she saw him.

Once the Victims started being people again, they would have to see, and

become accustomed to, the one Catteni since he was the one who had

organized their rescue.

 

Zane was having a late nap and Kris looked rather enviously at all the

small bodies, all curled up under their blankets on the mats that had

been woven for the purpose.

 

"Go grab some zzz's yourself;' murmured Sheila who was in charge.

 

She was also working on a detailed map of the eastern coast of this

continent, from measurements Kris's exploratory team had brought back.

"I'll never get used to the long days here.  Not to mention the long

nights.  I'll wake you when Zane's up.  I always say, leave sleeping

dogs and chilluns lie."

 

There were bunks for the nighttime staff, two of which were already

occupied, so Kris climbed as quietly as possible into an upper one and

very shortly fell asleep.

 

A SLOPPY WET KISS WOKE HER: the donor being her dearly beloved son, who

had managed to clamber up the ladder at the head of the bunk.

 

He giggled, delighted with his accomplishment, though Kris was only too

relieved he had escaped unscathed.  She'd take ladders away the next

time she slept here.

 

"Hey, love, you don't know how to climb ladders yet," she said,

alternating between being frightened at the risk he had taken and proud

that he had tried.

 

"Ahh, Mummy."

 

Kris threw back the blanket, jumped lightly to the ground and held up

her hands for him.  Quick as could be and without a moment's hesitation,

he flung himself down at her, giggling when she caught him neatly.

Ssssh-ing him, they left the sleeping room.  Two beds were still

occupied.

 

Zane was in great form and, as it was snack time, they went hand in hand

to the dining room, which was crowded with others.  With such long days,

four or five meals were frequently offered.  A hearty breakfast, a mid

morning sandwich, a three-course dinner midday, a mid-afternoon fruit

and sandwich, and then a good supper.  Late-night snacks were leftovers

of bread, cake, and sandwiches, whatever needed to be eaten up and

usually was.  The herbal tea and, with spring now leading into summer,

fruit juices were available all day long.  Caterers worked in several

short shifts but nevertheless worked a twelve-hour day.  Food

preparation was as often as not a punishment detail for minor

infractions of colony laws, but everyone took a turn at those chores.

The big difference here on the new land was that the food didn't also

have to be picked, dug, fished, or gutted: other working groups had

already processed it for cooking.

 

On the northern wall of the dining room were the listings of jobs and

rotas so that there was no excuse for anyone to miss assignments. Diners

customarily checked before or after they ate to see what their duties

were for the next day or the next week.

 

Zainal was listed as working with ex-Admiral Ray Scott, Bull Fetter-man,

Bert Put, John Beverly, Chuck Mitford, Jim Rastancil, Salvinato, Gino

Marrucci, Raisha Simonova, Boris Slavinkovin, Hassan Moussa, Laughrey,

Ayckburn, Peter Easley, and Worrell.  These week-long meetings were

scheduled at the hangar.  Considering that most of these men were

ex-service of one country or another, Kris had no problem figuring out

that Zainal was probably talking up his master plan.  Whether the others

would go for it or not was debatable.  Certainly there were significant

absences from that list, such as the odious Geoffrey Ainger, the Brit

naval commander, Beggs, who had been Scott's gopher, and Sev Balenquah,

who had so nearly blown their disguises on their sneak trip back to

Barevi to obtain the supplies which were making all the difference in

the efficiency and productivity of the colony.

 

And if all those with experience in flying the Catteni craft, including

Raisha, were there, she wondered just what escapade was being planned.

 

And why wasn't she included?

 

SHE AND ZANE HAD THEIR SNACK, a hot rolled sandwich with a sort of

sausagey filling, the constituents of which she did not wish to know but

the result tasted good.  Zane licked his fingers so hungrily that she

found a small extra one to give him.

 

"We've our garden to tend now, love," she said, and he hopped and

skipped alongside her as they returned to their cabin.  She got out the

hoe and his little weeder prong and they finished that chore by the time

they saw Zainal being dropped off from the flatbed, still occupied by

those living farther up the way to the main administrative area.

 

"Daddy, daddy!" And Zane made a wobbly beeline to his father who heaved

him up so high that Kris caught her breath, even though she knew

perfectly well that Zainal would never drop the boy.

 

"And what might I ask are you and all the high, low, and middle brass

doing at the hangar these days?"

 

"Heard one of your old girls remembered who she is," he replied.

 

"Ah, how good the gossip system is here;' she said drolly.  "First,

please, the answer to my question?"

 

"Those who played...  doggo?" and Zainal's yellow eyes twinkled as he

looked for confirmation on his use of the slang, "knew a lot more than

they thought they did:'

 

"That's good.  About what did they know more?"

 

"I believe Scott calls it 'the state of the nation.""

 

"And?"

 

"We're mounting an expedition." He did not meet her gaze, but threw the

delightedly squealing Zane up in the air again.

 

"Soon?"

 

"Quite likely."

 

"Who all's going?"

 

"That's what's taking so long to decide," and Zainal gave a heavy sigh.

 

"Just think how much more time that gives you, my dear, to learn how to

operate computers."

 

"That is the only reason you find me in such good fettle."

 

Kris burst out laughing.  Zainal knew just how to get her into a good

mood...  proving that he'd mastered yet another Terran expression.

 

"Can we eat here tonight?  Kurt Langsa--well, however you pronounce the

rest of his long name--said he would come?"

 

"I'm not good enough?"

 

He had Zane safely ensconced on his shoulders now and pulled her against

him, kissing her cheek.  "I read nine books during the talking," and he

wrinkled his nose.  "I need someone who uses computers all the time to

show me what the manual says.  It uses words I know but not the same

way;'

 

"I know exactly what you mean, Zainal.  I'll go get some food from the

Hall."

 

"No, Kurt brings.  I would like you to go over the words I have learned

so that I pronounce them correctly.  The spelling is always different

and yet the words sound alike." He sighed now in exasperation.

 

"I don't imagine it's any consolation to you, Zay, but we had to learn,

too, as kids."

 

"In Catteni, the sound is always the same..."

 

"If you're accustomed to gargling, yes, they would be," Kris agreed

affably, remembering how hoarse she had been when she'd had to talk to

the Catteni scout ship before they captured it.  "I do speak some

Catteni," she added, slyly glancing at him.  "More Barevi."

 

He gave her a sideways look, so that she couldn't really see the

expression in his eyes.

 

"That is known," he said at his blandest.  "But you must learn to

understand more."

 

"When do the classes start?" she asked in an equally bland tone,

determined to find out.

 

"Soon."

 

"Ah, then let us continue teaching you antonyms."

 

Hane was busy in his play corner with the blocks and the miniature

vehicles that Zainal had fashioned for him.  He was mimicking the solar

panel hum as he played, oblivious now to the adults.

 

She had no sooner reached for the list than there was a knock on the

door, and Zainal called out "Enter!"

 

Kurt Langsteiner peered cautiously around the door, a thin-faced man

with an expression of perpetual anxiety.  He smiled, which altered his

face considerably to a pleasant appearance, and stepped inside,

carefully closing the door with one foot as both hands were full.

 

"Name plates would help," he said.  "This is the third house I've tried

in your neck of the woods."

 

"Let me help," Kris said, rising to take the basket from one hand.  She

immediately exclaimed with real pleasure at the three long loaves of

bread that stuck out around the stew pot.  "Rocksquat..."

 

"What else?" Kurt said with a droll laugh, "but they put some salad in

as well and something for young Zane." He stepped up to the table now

and placed on its surface the six large bottles of beer that had been

tied at the neck and clanked against each other.

 

"Remnant of my student days when I found that beer made the studying go

more easily." He put the bottles down, and he shook his creased fingers

to circulate blood to them.

 

First Kris brought three glasses to the table.  They were still sort of

odd shaped, with uneven blemishes from the not-quite-expert glass

blowers.  In fact, some said that the glasses, with their slightly

skewed sides, looked half-drunk.  A new guideline had been formulated:

if a drinker was asked if his glass was straight and he answered "yes,"

you had proof he had had more than enough to drink.  She was setting out

plates and utensils as Kurt started pulling out notepads and books from

the various pockets of his ship suit.  It still looked new, by which

Kris figured he must have been in the Sixth Drop.  She didn't know that

group of arrivals as well as she did those from the other five.

 

"What is the worst trouble you're having, Zainal?" Kurt asked as he made

an orderly pile of his materials.

 

"It is the words that sound the same that are not the same," Zainal said

with considerable asperity.

 

"Quite understandably.  They're bitches to get right at any age." Then

he turned to Kris.  "I used to teach computer in junior high school

before I got rounded up so Mitford thought I'd be the best candidate to

do both jobs on Zainal," Kurt said to her as he organized his teaching

materials on the table.  "And Zainal here," and Kurt nodded at him,

"said he'd teach me how to read and write Catteni."

 

Now Zainal grinned at Kris and pointed to the third chair.  "You will

learn, too."

 

Obediently Kris settled down.  Leave it to Zainal to throw her a real

curve ball.  Oh, well, she had only herself to blame.

 

"You learn a lot better on an full stomach .  .  .  and it gives you a

base for the beer.  Zane, please wash your hands for dinner," she said,

using hot pads to lift the stew kettle to the table.

 

The three males obediently went to wash their hands as she finished

setting the table.  Kurt must be well liked by the caterers for a whole

cake had been carefully tied between two baking tins to keep it from

being damaged by the hot stew pot.  And so had a good portion of salad

greens, though the heat from the stew had wilted some of them.

 

THEY MADE A GOOD MEAL, with Zainal beginning his part of the teaching

bargain by using the Catteni words for everything on the table.

 

Even Zane tried to repeat them, giggling as easily at his own mistakes

as at his mother's but had the good sense to cover his mouth when Kurt

had trouble.  Though Langsteiner certainly seemed to get the guttural

sounds more easily.

 

"German was my first language," he said in an aside to Kris.

 

"You'd never know it to hear you speak English," she replied.

 

"My parents spoke both," he explained.

 

"We really should make Zane learn Catteni, too," Kris said, leaning

toward Zainal.

 

"And Rugarian and Deski," Zainal said at his blandest.

 

"Them, as well, of course," was her quick, equally bland response, and

Kurt laughed.

 

"And what a hodgepodge they'll all be speaking," he said.

 

"It will be helpful," Zainal said, "when we free Rugar and Deski, too."

 

Kurt's eyes bulged at that, and he looked quickly at Kris to see her

reaction.

 

"Why settle for freeing just ours?" she said with a diffident shrug

though this was the first she'd known of that facet of Zainal's master

plans.

 

"Besides, Zane already speaks some Rugarian and Deski at day care."

 

"Really?" Kurt was startled.

 

"Gets a bit like the Tower of Babel in there some days," Kris said,

dipping the ladle into the stew pot to offer second helpings.  The pot

had been graciously full.

 

They all had two pieces of the excellent nutty-flavored cake that had a

topping of thick sweet blue-colored berries that did not at all taste

like blueberries, nor had similar seeds.

 

As was often the case with young Zane, he was ready to go to sleep with

his stomach nicely full so Kris prepared him for bed while the two men

cleared the table.  When she returned, she rather thought the humorous

glint in Kurt's eyes was for the accustomed manner in which the Catteni

had performed the KP duties.

 

The beer helped a great deal as the two Humans struggled with the

guttural, harsh Catteni words, first jotting them down phonetically and

then in the Catteni script.  This was a cross between runes, Kurt's

definition, and glyphs, which was Kris' notion.  By the time the beer

had run out, the two of them knew how to count to five hundred in

Catteni, and Zainal could now spell all the words that had bothered him

as well as understand all the computer abbreviations which had so

baffled him.  They set a time for the next lesson, and then Kurt got

into the runabout and made a slow but competent turn to head back to the

main settlement.

 

SINCE THE MIND-PROBE had discovered very little useful information

-apart from some shady dealings among the former administrators and

administrations of the planet's political divisions--the Ix had

abandoned the project: bored even by the occasional scientific theories

that had yet to be proven.  Most of these were already in use by the

Eosi: and far more sophisticated usage than the silly Humans had ever

thought to employ.

 

Unfortunately the obsession to destroy those protected by the Bubble had

become so entrenched in the Ix Mentat's mind that it thought of nothing

but the means to do so.  Where the Bubble had come from and what

comprised the amazingly invulnerable material was almost a secondary

consideration.

 

The Juniors--which was not how they were called in Catteni but the

translation was close enough to their actual position and authority

within the Eosi context had repeatedly tried to divert the Ix with other

matters.  Lest the Ix be provoked by their counter-arguments into

another seizure, they had no choice but to proceed with the Mentat's

latest plans: to organize the greatest force the Eosi had ever

assembled, even larger than the one with which they had assaulted a

planet that many High Emassi wished they'd left strictly alone.  But it

had seemed such a useful place: with a population density that would

provide other, less desirable locations with an endless supply of

workers needed to produce and refine the raw materials that kept Catteni

ships in space.  There was also the added fact that the Eosi were

committed to extending their control of this arm of the galaxy as far as

they could--and as fast as they could.

 

So the orders were sent out to the naval shipyards and the plants and

planets that produced the materials needed to build more AA-ships, and

devise heavier, more devastating missiles to launch at this mysterious

Bubble.

 

The Ix Mentat was approached by one of its peers and tactfully asked why

one small, insignificant world was its target.

 

"Because it's there," the Ix replied, glowering and seething with rage.

 

"Because it defies us!"

 

"Defiance is not permitted," the Le Mentat agreed and that was the end

of that.

 

Chapter Three.

 

MARGE BECAME MORE VOCAL BUT struggled painfully for sentences or words

and would often burst into tears.  Peggy would watch her, lean over, and

pat her shoulder or her hand, then immediately go into what Kris called

her "meditative" state.

 

When discussing her charges with Dorothy, the psychologist advised her

to suggest words, if she could, to Marge or show pictures.  Peggy was

obviously aware of what was happening about her, and that was a very

good sign.

 

"Miss Barrow," and Dorothy gave the mischievous smile that made her seem

much younger, "wants to take charge of our laboratory.

 

She is naturally appalled at its primitive facilities and amazed that we

aren't all down with something fatal.  Leon, Thor, and the others need

her skills so much that they're willing to put up with her .  .  .

disorientation:' Dorothy sighed.

 

"Miss Barrow will not be pleased when she accepts that she's on another

planet entirely and will never get more than the equipment we have."

 

"I wouldn't bet on that, Dorothy," Kris said with a grin.

 

"What do you know that they haven't told me?" Dorothy asked, eyeing Kris

with mock annoyance.

 

"I'm not sure they've told me any more than you will have heard, too.

Like they are going to try to get back to Earth.

 

"They couldn't bring my shopping list with them, could they?"

 

the psychologist asked in a wistful tone, then added more briskly, "I am

encouraged, though.  We're getting almost daily breakthroughs now.

Though how we'll fit some of these people into Botany I haven't a clue.

I mean, an as-trophysicist who was on the Hubble team and a

meteorologist when the weather here is already controlled-Do we even

have a clue how that's done?"

 

"Zainal thinks that huge square block we discovered on the seashore has

something to do with it.  There are four others in sort of a pattern."

 

"Any idea of when the Earth trip will take place?"

 

"We've a lot of studying to do first," Kris said and rose, not wanting

to spread more gossip, even to someone as discreet as Dorothy was,

professionally or personally.

 

KRIS FOUND HER NAME up on the roster board for a late afternoon meeting

with the Central Council.  She checked in with the day care to be sure

that the day's manager knew that she wouldn't be in to collect Zane at

the usual hour.  Sarah McDouall had already been informed.  Zane did not

notice his mother, since he was involved in some complicated game with

Fek's child and two Rugarians whom Kris didn't know.  The Rugarian

babies were born with as much body fur as their parents, and it really

was difficult for humans to tell them apart without going through the

list of names until the yaya (which was Rugarian for the unadult)

answered to the right one.  A Deski young one was called a slib.  Some

of them were easier to identify since their skin had different tones.

 

Zainal caught up with her in the dining hall where they were both eating

a quick meal.

 

"What's this all about then?" she asked him.

 

"Plans have been made.  Discussion now."

 

She knew him well enough to know that she would get no more out of him.

Then she noticed Miss Barrow threading her way to an empty table.  She

wore a look of disdain, as if wrapping herself carefully away from the

reality of an ambience she could not escape.  Unlike everyone else

garbed in the ubiquitous ship suit, she wore a dress, severely cut, in

one of the dark greens, which Kris had brought back from her excursion

to the markets of Barevi.  The dress was long-sleeved and buttoned up to

a high collar, with a hemline at calf-length.  To Kris' astonishment,

Miss Barrow did incline her head graciously as she registered Kris'

presence, but she straightened into consummate distaste as she

recognized that Kris was seated with a Catteni.  She turned her face

haughtily away.

 

"Poor woman," Kris said, shaking her head.

 

"Why?

 

She was saved the mines."

 

"One day, she'll find out.  I hope," Kris added as an afterthought, "the

notion that she is beholden to you doesn't throw her."

 

"She is good in lab, they say," Zainal remarked.  "So she is.  We'd

better go."

 

Kris saw the biggest of the flatbed vehicles draw up to the dining hall

and heard it toot its horn.  Half the diners immediately made their way

to the door and climbed on the transport.

 

THEY WERE DELIVERED tO the immense main hangar where the scout ship and

the two transports lurked in the shadows cast by the one work light left

on in their area.  Not for the first time, Kris wondered what the

Farmers had used this vast area for, so neatly carved from the

mountainside.

 

In the center of some of the unused space, chairs and benches had been

set up, facing five large mounted slates that were still the best Botany

solution for large displays.  She could see that one held the diagram of

this system and another of Earth.  The other two were probably the

systems in which the Barevi planet and the home planet of the Catteni

were situated.

 

The fifth held lists and names.

 

So, thought Kris with a surge of anticipation, we are moving outside

again.

 

There was a table to one side of the slates with chairs crowding around

it.  Judge Iri Bempechat was seated in the center and was obviously the

moderator for the meeting.  Kris liked the old man enormously for his

wit, his humor, and his vast store of judicial wisdom.  So far no one

had contested any of his decisions and she hoped the situation would

remain that way.  On his right was Ray Scott, on his left two men who

were vaguely familiar to her: they also had the gaunt look of Victims

despite two weeks of restorative treatment and therapy.  Even those who

had played "doggo" showed the effects of their incarceration in the

brutal open pens where the Eosi had contained them.  Dorothy Dwardie sat

beyond those two men.  The rest of the Council, from Chuck Mitford to

Leon Dane, occupied the other spaces.  Raisha and Gino sat together,

trying to look unconcerned and anonymous at the end of the right side.

 

Two seats were still unoccupied and, as Kris and Zainal entered, he gave

his head a slight tilt toward the table, indicating those chairs were

for them.

 

Kris was quite glad to join him there.  That gave her a chance to see

who else had been invited.  Mostly those who were technically skilled in

one way or another, including Dick Aarens, and a great many of those who

had been in the Fifth and Sixth Drops.

 

Well, she thought, we won't have to contend with Anna Bollinger and

Janet.

 

Ray stood up and whatever private conversations had been going ceased.

 

"Zainal has proposed several plans of action since we cannot be sure

that the Farmers will answer our latest message to them, nor when. We've

been fortunate enough to have the latest information of Earth from those

we rescued from the Barevi slave pens.  Zainal?" Ray sat down and Zainal

stood, going to the slates.

 

"First, we need to know who or what is watching Botany outside the

Bubble," he said.  "This is the point where the Eosi tried to ram their

way in:' Someone had drawn in cartoons of the debris.  "They left enough

behind so that I believe the scout ship can poke her nose outside the

Bubble and have a look."

 

"What about the geo-synchronous satellite up there?" Aarens asked,

jumping to his feet to forestall the others who more politely raised

their hands to signify that they had a query.

 

"It may or may not be able to see the scout's nose among the rubble,"

Zainal said, "but by the time the report is sent back, Baby will no

longer be there.  The records will show only what has been seen before.

Unless the film is sent to a very high-ranking Eosi, it will be

considered what you call a glitch.  In order to get out of the Bubble,

we need to calculate the speed and direction of the new satellite that

the Eosi have put in place.  We can then figure out where to leave the

Bubble without being detected."

 

"Yeah," Aarens said in a dubious tone of voice, "but that sat would see

the scout's ion trail, wouldn't it?"

 

"Not if the speed of the scout is sufficient to get it behind one of the

moons.  Its direction would be unknown."

 

"What about if there's a fast ship just waiting for us to try something

like that?"

 

"There are ways," Zainal said with a grin.  "That scout is much faster

than anything but another scout.  Such ships are never used as

watchers."

 

Aarens shrugged and sat down.

 

"That is the first step," Zainal said.

 

"If you're going back to Barevi, I've a long shopping list," someone

said and received a chuckle.

 

"No, Barevi would be too hot for us right now," Zainal said.  "We go to

Earth and we use two ships; the scout and the KDM which will renamed and

altered to look as if it had been hit by space...  stuff."

 

"That metal'll be hard to dent," Gino said, shaking his head.  "You

Cat-teni make a good hull."

 

"It'll be camouflaged;' Hassan Moussa said and grinned.  "I'm a past

master at that."

 

"But going back to Earth?" Aarens asked, stunned.

 

"Last place they will expect us." And Zainal turned to one of the

Victims who nodded agreement.  "Ricky Farmer here was senior air

controller for O'Hare airport while there was still Human air traffic.

When all your planes were grounded and he was victimized, he took notes

on Catteni routes and procedures.  He has code words--though his Catteni

is about what my English once was;' and that rated some chuckles from

the audience, "and these will help us get into some of the landing

places now used by Catteni transport ships.  I understand from Jeff

Fawcett," and he gestured to the other Victim, "that large amusement

areas have been built around the landing sites for the crews.  These

would be useful places for us to find out more information."

 

"You mean, that cool as a cucumber, we're going to reinvade Earth?"

 

Lenny Doyle said.

 

"We also intend to..." and Zainal had the merest smile on his lips,

"invade Catten."

 

That provoked a widespread eruption from the audience, more an elated

one than fearful, although quite a few faces bore skeptical expressions.

 

"Hey, ain't that pushing our luck?" Lenny Doyle asked, raising his voice

to be heard above the babel.

 

"Only volunteers," Zainal said with a sly grin.  "And mostly to learn

what would be impossible to learn on your planet.  More codes are needed

and Catten is the only place to go for that;'

 

Kris waited for someone to ask what was so obvious to her: if Zainal was

going to contact Catteni dissidents.  She didn't know how many people on

Botany--besides Chuck Mitford--knew anything about that facet of his

grand scheme.  Surely Zainal would have confided in Ray his hopes that

he could muster assistance on his home planet to help overthrow the

Eosi.

 

"We got to have information we can't get any other way," Ray Scott put

in.  Kris heaved a small sigh of relief.  Ray did know and seemingly

ap"We're also going to ask for volunteers to remain on Earth and con-the

resistance groups."

 

"I don't know all of them;' Jeff Fawcett said in a voice still hoarse

from .  recent ordeal.  "But enough for us to get the word spread.

 

"Jeff's also going to need a volunteer to go with him;' Scott said, '

from the First or Second Drops..  ;'

 

The number of hands that shot into the air gave Kris a thrill of pride.

 

most eager had jumped t°their feet, to establish their willingness: Joe

Latore, both the Doyle brothers, Mack Dargle, Bart Lincoln, Matt Su, and

/ Areson were those she recognized first in the show of hands.

 

"Thank you very much;' Zainal said.

 

Granfyng, most graufymg, Ray satd, holding up his hand, too, as did all

the other military men seated at the table.  "More than the ships can

?hold."

 

"Some must speak and understand Catten," Zainal said.

 

"We're learning;' quipped someone.

 

"You will learn harder;' Zainal said with a wry expression.

 

"What about the Farmers?" Jay Greene asked when the laughter at (that

threat died.  "Shouldn't we wait for their response?  And their advice?"

 

"No, the time to move is now;' Scott said.

 

Zainal stood.  "The Eosi will try very hard to break through the Bubble.

That is their way.  Run shod roughly over any opposition with the force

ii of their weapons.  We must leave before they reinforce their

warships.  They have many:'

 

"But they haven't been able to penetrate the Bubble, and we know they've

tried;' Jay said.

 

"They will keep trying until they have;' Zainal said.  "That is why they

tried to discover new information in the minds of your specialists)'

 

Dick Aarens jumped to his feet, his expression angry and obstinate.

 

"And what happens to those of us left here when they do break through

the Bubble?  Have you contingency plans for that--if you're taking all

three ships away with you?"

 

"We move quickly and not where they expect us to go and learn what they

plan and how to .  .  ." Zainal looked down at Kris for the word he

needed.

 

"Counteract;' she murmured.

 

"Counteract their plans."

 

"We're still fleas on a dog's back/' Jay said, "with all the ships you

said they have.  I was talking to Rick Farmer, and he says they've got

hundreds in their navy.  What if they use all of them against the

Bubble?"

 

Judge Iri Bempechat raised his hand and was given precedence over others

who wanted to add their comments.

 

"Zainal, such a fleet is widely dispersed, is it not?" And when Zainal

nodded, the Judge went on, still looking at Zainal, "and it would take

weeks, even months, to direct them all here.  So we have some leeway if

we make our moves quickly.  Admiral Scott believes that they would try

to install a battery on the moons that are outside the Bubble.  To do

so, they must bring in machinery, material--and life support systems for

whichever unfortunate species is drafted for such an undertaking.  I am

also of the opinion, with which our military and naval representatives

concur/' and, with one hand on his chest, he bowed his head to the right

and left, "that the Farmers must have placed some sort of sentinel to

monitor our protective Bubble.  They made it clear, in that one

regrettably short interview with various groups of us, that they intend

to preserve us.  I believed in their sincerity as well as their interest

in us...  even if it should be the interest of a scientist watching ants

to see how they contrive--"

 

"Now, wait a bloody minute..." and Geoffrey Ainger jumped to his feet.

Kris had not noticed him, seated at the back, and wasn't happy at his

presence.  "What is all this going to do for us?  Except put the colony

in more danger?  Simply because one..  ;' and his pause was pregnant

with his distrust and animosity toward Zainal, "...  person wants to

pursue a private revenge?"

 

"First duty of a captured soldier...  sir..  ;' and it was a stern

Mitford whose parade ground voice dominated the shouted reactions from

an angry audience, "is to do his best to escape and return to his unit.

Mine is on Earth.  And if Zainal wants to see his people freed of the

Eosian domination, we sure as hell do, too, cause it means we'll get out

from under 'era.

 

Militarily, a combined assault has many advantages;'

 

That speech set the cat among the pigeons, Kris thought, struggling to

keep from cheering.  Or maybe the night crawlers after live meat.

 

Ray Scott, with help from Peter Easley and udge Bempechat, finally

restored enough order to continue the meeting.  Easley had been

discreetly seated to one side where Kris had not noticed him.  Not too

far, as it turned out, from Ainger.  Not far either from Beggs, whom she

saw sitting by the British ex-naval officer.  Had Pete sat there to keep

an eye on those dissidents?

 

Quite likely, she thought.

 

"You gave me the impression, sergeant, that you had no wish to leave

Botany now;' Ainger could put a wealth of venom in a seemingly casual

comment.

 

"I don't, but I'll do a great deal to preserve what we all have made

here.

 

So I can enjoy what I've--we've--worked so hard to achieve." Satisfied

with the applause to his answer, Chuck sat down again.

 

"There are risks," Ray said, once more taking charge of the proceedings.

 

"Most of you can figure them out without much help but, if our people on

Earth knew that there was an organized space resistance to the Cat I

mean, the Eosian overlords--it would give them heart and purpose against

the tremendous odds they've had to deal with.  Especially if we can also

prove that we've rescued the ones the Eosi were brain-wiping."

 

"Speaking of tremendous odds, admiralre" And Ainger was again on his

feet.  "Just how large a fleet exists?  That's pertinent even if getting

the entire naval arm of the Catteni here would take time:' He looked

directly at Zainal for the answer.

 

"Some of the oldest ships in service are slow and their equipment

obsolete;' Zainal replied.  "There are only four of heavy--new in

service dreadnoughts, did you call them, Ray--" And when Scott nodded,

he went on, "that much information Admiral Scott and I learned on

Barevi.  Until just recently spaceship builders have been concentrating

on producing ships like the KDL and KDM, to replace those no longer

space-worthy, like the first ship we attacked."

 

"So what sort of ships and weaponry do they have to bombard those of us

left behind on Botany?" Ainger asked.

 

Boy, thought Kris, that Ainger has a bad negative attitude.

 

"Only the four of the dreadnoughts but there are .  .  .  ships of the

line...  which are able to destroy satellites, small moons, and large

asteroids.

 

To my knowledge, which is now not up to date, there are thirty of them.

They are assault vessels, which supported the kind of large transport

that landed on your planet.  They are larger than the two K-class we

have here;'

 

Ray Scott leaned over the table toward Ainger.  "Zainal has given us a

list of the types of spacecraft used by the...  urn...  navy.  We've

also been able to get a fair translation of the data from the scout

ship, so we have useful details about range, crew complement, firepower,

and maneuverability of all types, except the dreadnoughts, which are so

new.  You are certainly welcome to peruse the data at your leisure:'

 

Ainger waved away that offer with a flick of his fingers.  "Those of us

remaining on Botany are going to be vulnerable..."

 

"Only if the Bubble fails," Ray Scott said in a testy tone, "which seems

unlikely, given the advanced technology of the Farmers which is so

upsetting the Eosi." Then he deliberately looked away from Ainger.  "So

we have three expeditions to mount: first, a reconnaissance at the

Bubble edge; second, sending off both the scout and one transport to

Earth to see what--" he grinned "--trouble we can cause there and how we

can help the resistance movements; and third, an information-gathering

jaunt to Catten.  I think that has to be under your command, Zainal,"

and he nodded in his direction, "with your choice of crew but we'll

accept volunteers for both expeditions."

 

"Who gets to peek out of the Bubble?"

 

Zainal stood.  "A full crew." Then he pointed at individuals.  "Gino,

Raisha, Bert, Laughrey, Boris, and Hassan.  Those only who speak good

Cat-teni and are the right size will come with me;' and his eyes

flickered briefly at Kris.

 

"We feel we should pack the Earth expedition with as many infiltra tots

as possible;' Ray said and had to raise his hand to finish his sentence

when most of his listeners rose and shouted out their names, "to spread

the good word."

 

"What if there're some traitors among us?" Dick Aarens asked.

 

Ray Scott gave the mechanic a long incredulous look.  "How many do you

think there could be?"

 

There were smothered giggles, and Dick Aarens swung about, trying to

find the sources.

 

"Well, there might be," he muttered with sullen aggressiveness.

"Particularly on the last drop--and even among the Victims.  One of them

might have been lying 'doggo' for very good reasons.  He kept his

brairgtwhile others got them wiped:'

 

"Now, just a cotton-pickin' minute." Will Seissmann was on his feet,

shaking a fist at Aarens across the audience.

 

"Young man..  :' began Miss Barrow who was red-faced with indignation.

 

Dr.  Ansible was so apoplectic at the mere suggestion that he had to be

restrained from diving across two rows of seats to Aarens.

 

"I'd retract that, were I you," Peter Easley said.

 

"I won't because it damned well is a possibility;' Aarens said, jutting

his jaw out as if asking for a punch which would have many willing to

oblige him.

 

Dorothy Dwardie jumped up.  "In my professional opinion, Mr. aarens,

there is little possibility of treachery among those who suffered, or

even avoided, the Eosi mind-wipe.  We have had trauma counseling

sessions which would have exposed a quisling."

 

Which, Kris devoutly hoped, was accurate.  But the suspicion had been

raised and would hang there, a dark doubt in everyone's mind: even among

those who had learned a great deal about each other in the years they

had worked together on Botany.

 

Another of the psychology team, Ben Boyalan, rose.  "We may have neither

a lie detector nor any sodium pentathol but there are ways of testing

responses.  That is, if anyone feels such a procedure is at all

necessary above and beyond our trauma counseling." He gave Aarens a dire

look before he sat down.

 

"I won't close what has been a very constructive meeting on that kind of

sour note," Ray Scott said.  He was not the only one scowling in Aarens'

direction.  "I will summarize what we," and he indicated the others at

the table, "have been planning, and why there is some urgency in the

scout making a reconnaissance run.  We do take Zainal's advice that

Earth would be the last place the Eosi would look for us to appear," and

he grinned, "and the best place for us to set in motion a coup d%tat. If

Zainal is willing to risk his life returning to Catten for the

information he considers vital to our ultimate goal of freedom from the

Eosian domination, then I wish him all the luck he'll need and the

support of everyone on this planet.  We all have many reasons to be

grateful he was on that first drop.  Don't we?"

 

The spontaneous cheering, and the warmth of it, brought tears to Kris'

eyes.  She never would have expected that sort of public gratitude...

 

especially from Ray Scott who had not always agreed with Zainal.  The

applause and stamping continued for so long that she gave him a nudge to

stand and acknowledge it.  He did so, with typical diffidence, but his

wave of acceptance took in the entire audience and became a formal

salute to Ray Scott.

 

That was when Kris noticed the very satisfied grin on Iri Bempechat's

face.  Chuck looked suspiciously bland, one eyebrow twitching while he

played with his pencil, slipping it up and down through the fingers of

his right hand, a sure sign of complicity.  And suddenly Aarens'

niggling little suggestion was only Aarens tossing a spanner in works

that didn't happen to include his participation.

 

THE VEry¥ NEXT DAY, the designated pilots climbed into Baby, the scout

ship, and took off for the peek out of the Bubble's remarkable material.

 

They drew straws for takeoff and landing and the other in-flight duties

since this was also a training mission.

 

The official mission directors took places in Ray Scott's office,

grouping around the bridge console, which had been taken from the

crash-landed transport that had made the Fifth Drop.  So those in

Scott's office would have a chance to see what Baby did and saw. Someone

had thought to rig speakers outside the hangar so that the many that

wouldn't find places in the office could at least hear what was going

on.

 

"On site," Raisha said, her voice ringing with suppressed excitement.

 

"Still the same space flot.  Can't see that any of it has moved a

centimeter.

 

Gino's easing Baby's nose in between two of the largest of the disks the

Eosi vessel left behind." She chuckled.

 

"Good choice," Ray said, grinning.  "The geo-synchronous satellite might

not even notice we're looking out."

 

"Hold it right here;' and there was such a change in Raisha's tone that

everyone tensed.  "How big did Zainal say the Catteni fleet arm is?"

 

Apprehensively, Ray looked toward Zainal.  The Catten/immediately leaned

over the speaker grill.

 

"How many do you see?" he asked as calmly as if he was asking how many

rock squats were visible.

 

"Two of those dreadnoughts, I think.  We're not entirely outside the

Bubble yet but the skin is transparent and we can see out." What she

didn't add, "and I hope they can't see in," hovered unsaid but

understood.

 

Kris felt goosebumps rising on her arms and rubbed them away.

 

"There are also three flotillas of other smaller craft," and Hassan

Moussa took over the reporting, "five in each group, beside and above

the two big guys you can probably see on the bridge monitor;'

 

"Yes, we see them.  Are they the dreadnoughts, Zainal?" Ray asked,

beckoning for Zainal to stand beside him.

 

Zainal nodded.  "What else?"

 

"Wouldn't they be enough?" Jim Rastancil asked facetiously.

 

Zainal shrugged.

 

"Hey, we've got other junk in the sky," Hassan continued.  "Shall I

widen the screen?"

 

"Yes, please," Zainal said, crossing his arms on his chest, the picture

of objective observer.

 

"It's the dreadnoughts I worry about," Ray said, rubbing his chin

nervously.

 

"What other ships are there, Hassan?" Zainal asked blandly.

 

"Bulky cargo type carriers and one transport larger than the KDL or KDM.

Heading toward the nearer moon."

 

Ray looked at Zainal.  "You were right about the moon base.  What sort

of air-to-ground missiles would they have?  Something heavy enough to

penetrate the Bubble?"

 

"Stay where you are, Gino//' Zainal cautioned.  "I do not know, Ray.

 

Eosian weapons are powerful but the Bubble is an unknown quantity."

 

"Baby has not fully penetrated the Bubble/' Gino said.  "Hassans just

telling you what we can see through it."

 

There was a sudden flash of blinding whiteness, which stunned everyone

watching, causing them to have retinal flashbacks.  It took several

seconds before clear vision was restored to those in the office.

 

"I do believe they're trying to breach the Bubble/' said Hassan after a

moment, and he sounded highly amused.

 

"What was that flash?"

 

"Them/' Hassan replied.  "Quite likely with every weapon on board."

 

"I'd say they fired all forward weapons/' Laughrey said, "although that

flash was so strong, I don't think any of us are seeing more than the

damned flash.  Baby evidently saved us the worst of it with some sort of

instant screen:' Zainal nodded.

 

"Any pain in your eyes?  Headache?" Leon Dane asked, present in his

capacity as a physician.

 

"Do you have a clearer idea of what happened down there?" Zainal asked.

 

"We got the flash right on//' Ray said, blinking furiously, "but I'm

seeing all right..." He looked around for confirmation from the others

and everyone nodded.

 

"Us, too/' Laughrey said, "even with lots of retinal echoes, all shaped

like Baby's forward screen.  Yeah, and hey, nothing got through the

Bubble to us."

 

"All systems functioning perfectly," Raisha said, calm again.

 

"And whaddaya know?" Gino's tone was jubilant.  "There isn't a ship out

there--'cept the one heading toward the Moon, which is in the same place

they were before they fired."

 

"Some of the smaller ones are tumbling end over end//' said Bert Put.

 

"That was some backlash!  Shake 'em up good."

 

"I don't think they'll try that kind of a broadside again real soon//'

Boris said in his deep bass voice, rippling with laughter.

 

"They've lost a whole mess of gear again, too//' G/no said.  "I doubt

they've even reception from the nearer ships."

 

"Could they have fired because they saw Baby?" Ray asked anxiously."

 

"No.  We put the brakes on the moment Raisha spoke.  The fo'ard screen

was right against the Bubble film but we hadn't penetrated it//' Gino

said.

 

"You might say our timing was serendipitous//' Laughrey said, chuckling.

 

"Can you pick up the newest Eosi orbital satellite?" Ray said, reminding

them of the second purpose of their flight.

 

"On screen//' Boris said.  "Tracking and recording.  It is not as fast

as the Farmers' orbital.  In fact, it is as slow as a horse-drawn

vehicle compared to a Formula One racer."

 

"Really?" Jim Rastancil said.

 

Kris made a note to herself to tell Boris what a lovely comparison that

was.  And very reassuring.  She turned to Zainal and saw that he was

grinning, even if he couldn't possibly know anything about Formula One

racers.

 

She'd told him about horses.  But Formula racing had not yet come up in

any of their conversations.

 

Now Zainal was nodding.  "As soon as we know its trajectory and timing,

the scout and the KDM must leave.  They will take a while to get

ship-to-ship communications back on-line, and then it will take the Eosi

time to calm down at this defeat of their weapons.  They will be so

angry, they could argue for days before they come to a decision about

what to do next:'

 

"What about the moon base?" Ray asked.

 

Zainal shrugged.  "That will take many weeks, months even, before it is

finished.  They may not even know we can get out when we want to."

 

"But we landed on Barevi and stole a ship." Ray said by way of reminder.

 

"They do not know that those ships are in here now."

 

"How stupid are these Eosi?" Bull Fetterman asked, his eyebrows raised

high in surprise.

 

"You might be surprised," Zainal said.

 

"Then how long will it take to provision and crew the scout and the

KDM?" John Beverly asked, speaking for the first time.

 

"How long is the trip to Earth?" Chuck asked Zainal.

 

"At top speed, about ten of your days," Zainal said.

 

"Didn't think it was that close/' remarked Beverly.

 

"From here it is.  From Barevi it is longer."

 

"I'd say we can provision, water, do a quick service in about three

days;' Chuck said.

 

"Do it in one and a half," Zainal said.  "Sooner is better than later."

 

"Okay, gang, let's do it/' Chuck said, clapping his hands as a signal to

move out.  He got to the door of Ray's office, stopped, turned, and

asked, "So who's going?"

 

Ray Scott was pulling a file to the center of his desk.  'I'll tell you

by the end of dinner.  All right, now, where's that provisional list we

made up?"

 

DINNER THAT NIGHT was more of a feast than a normal repast and there

were loud calls for the evening's cooks to come out and take a bow.

 

Dowdall stood on his table and announced a call for volunteers to hunt

enough rocksquat and catch enough fish to provision the ships with

"edible" food, not that Catteni issue.

 

"Dorothy warned me that there're a lot of scarce items on Earth.  The

Catteni take almost everything that's produced," he said with a very

sober expression.

 

"Hey, Dow, we still got crates of the Catteni bars," Joe Latore said.

 

"They don't taste like much...  unless you're real hungry."

 

"There are so many hungry people;' Dr.  Ansible said in a sad tone, but

loud enough for many to hear.

 

Sandy Areson leaped atop her chair.  "We got lots here we can send

along.  Botanical care packages.  Any volunteers?"

 

"We can let all the kids sleep in the center tonight," Patti Sue Greene

shouted.  "They'd love that and I'll volunteer me..."

 

"You'll need more than yourself/' Mavis Belton said.

 

"I will be glad to assist Patti Sue/' Anna Bollinger said and prodded

Janet beside her who nodded quickly but without much enthusiasm.

 

Zane!  Kris had to cover her mouth with one hand.  What if she never

came back from Catten?  Never saw Zane again .  .  .  Then she felt a

hand squeeze her shoulder and looked up into Peter Easley's eyes.  He

nodded his head once and smiled reassuringly.  Kris sniffed, patted his

hand, and sniffed again.  No, Zane would be fine.

 

She was going on the Catten mission with Zainal and he had not yet set

an established dep.rture time.  There had to be dings painted into the

KDM: he had to do a little fixing with the recognition beacon, so that

it gave only so much of the normal patterning before jamming.  That

would also verify the damage it had suffered.  There were uniforms to be

fixed: hair to be dyed gray, and the yellow contact lenses to be fitted

so that this group would look more Catteni than what was called the

first Botany expedition to Barevi had.  Sandy Areson had fixed up cheek

pads for Zainal and several rather nasty-looking scars that could be

glued on his face--she instructed Kris on the process.  These would

sufficiently alter his appearance and would also explain the persona he

was adopting for the expedition.

 

Sandy gave Kris small cheek pads that gave her more of a rounder,

Catteni-shaped face.  For Chuck she had yet another wad, in between his

gums and teeth.  Subtle enough but effective in altering appearances.

 

They'd spend the longish journey to Catten learning as much of the

language as they could cram into their skulls...  as well as the drills

that would mark them as Drassi.  Coo and Pess would also be in the crew:

Ru-garians often accompanied transport crews because of their strength.

There were always Rugarians on Catten as well.  Coo and Pess might even

be able to discover as much information from their species as Zainal

could.

 

When dinner--and the accolades to the cooks--was completed, Ray Scott

climbed to the top of a cleared table and read out the names of the

crews for each ship.  At the end there were more cheers than long faces.

 

"If this first run works;' Ray said, "we'll make as many as we can and

save as many who may be at risk as possible;'

 

That met with a rousing cheer, foot stamping, and hand clapping.

 

"Can we handle more?" someone shouted.

 

"Don't be silly," a woman replied contemptuously.  "We've got plenty of

space."

 

"Yeah, but who's to say who's in a real risk situation?"

 

"We'll find out," Ray said, waving down others who wanted to discuss

that issue.  "We've got people from quite a few nationalities so we can

make good contacts everywhere."

 

"Any specialist is at risk," NormaBarrow surprised everyone by saying in

a firm and unusually loud voice which defied contradiction.

 

"And no quisling accepted," a man said from somewhere in the dining

hall.

 

Aarens whirled about trying to find who had spoken.

 

"Cool it, Aarens;' Ray Scott said.  "It's not as if the Eosi have

coerced many humans.  At least I hope not:'

 

"I'll find me a lie detector and some sodium pent," Leon Dane said.

 

"We'll process anyone we think might be suspicious.  And long before

they find out we've got our own transport/' he added with a grin.  He

was going along as mission medic and to see what medical supplies he

could acquire.

 

He was hoping that not every one of his dissident friends in Sydney had

been rounded up when he was.  Joe Marley hoped to find help in Perth.

 

Ricky Farmer had said that Catteni ships flitted from one continent to

another, seemingly without orders or on special missions.

 

"It's got so even the sight of a Catteni transport sends everyone into

hiding," Ricky said.  He had volunteered to go to Chicago where many

were now living in the old underground sewer and transport system, which

had been constructed in the 1800s and had been virtually forgotten.

 

Leila Massuri and Basil Whitby had volunteered to go to London and

Paris.  The Chunnel had not been finished or opened up but it was

completely dug from shore to shore and had provided a means of getting

to and from the continent.  Boris and Raisha would pilot the scout and

see what they could find in their homeland, Russia.  Bull Fetterman, Mic

Rowland, Lenny Doyle, and Nat Baxter completed the Baby's crew.  Bert

Put and Laughrey would pilot the KDM, with Lex Kariatin, Will Seissmann,

Joe La-tore, Vic Yowell, Ole, Sandy Areson, and Matt Su as crew while

John Beverly was de facto captain.  They hoped to have all four decks

full of refugees on the way back.  And at least some of the machinery,

tools, and equipment on the wish lists.

 

Zainal, Gino Marrucci as backup pilot, Kris, Chuck Mitford, Coo, Pess,

Mack Dargle, Ninety Doyle, and Jim Rastancil were those going on the KDL

to Catten.

 

CHapter Four.

 

IT WAS AS WELL THAT BOTANY DAYS were so long because every minute was

needed as engineering groups under Peter Snyder--with Dick Aarens

working as hard as anyone else despite a sour mood as he took exception

to everything and argued any alterations--checked and provisioned the

ships.

 

"If he comes into the infirmary with a wrench-shaped wound on his

head..." Pete muttered to Thor Mayock at breakfast.

 

"I won't give him any painkillers when I stitch it up," Thor finished

for him.  "You look ghastly."

 

"Ha!  Speak for yourself."

 

Worrell was everywhere, living up to his nickname of Worry, checking

lists and trying to supply whatever he could to take back as care

packages.  Beth Isbell and Sally Stoffers were his shadows, discreetly

double-checking since every one was working flat out to accomplish the

necessary miracles.

 

To be sure of accuracy in the configurations, five people checked out

the trajectory and time of the thirty-hour orbit of the second

world-circling Eosian satellite and several windows were discovered:

Bert chose the south polar ones that he felt gave both the scout ship

and the KDM the longest escape shot.  The first propitious window left

little time, but both KDM and Baby were ready, so the crews scrambled

aboard.  Weary but satisfied teams cheered as they took off.  Following

the example that had worked with the return procedure of the first

Barevi raid, they made all possible speed to the Bubble, slowed and

pressed prows through at minimum thrust.  The scout went first, just in

case, and gave the KDM the all-clear.

 

After that they were lost to those watching.  Nor could any message be

sent back to reassure those on Botany.

 

Zainal, Ray Scott, Pete Easley, and Judge Iri spent hours trying to work

out, from copies of Baby's records, a plausible mission that would

explain where Zainal and his ship had been before they returned to

Catten.

 

Zainal couldn't remember if any of the earliest of the K dass had gone

missing, although that was likely enough.  They were used for large crew

explorations of habitable planets, for mining expeditions and supply

runs.  But the clever damage to the hull would explain a space

collision.  Pete Snyder got Aarens challenged by the need for a fault

that would appear to have disabled the engine.  A small part, actually,

which as everyone knew, was the kind that could be easily overlooked in

a servicing and yet cause considerable problems when it malfunctioned. A

bogus part for the gyro was constructed, using imperfect metals to

account for its sudden collapse.  Aarens was very pleased with his

handiwork and received generous praise.  His basic need for constant

appreciation was wearing on those who had to work with him.  But, as

they all said, he produced when the chips were down.

 

Then Aarens redeemed himself once again, by pointing out that the boards

in the bridge helm positions were the same.  Everything salvageable from

the crashed ship had been saved: just in case some unexpected use could

be made of the parts.  As it turned out, even the unusable pieces had

been stacked at the back of a cave.  Zainal went through the worst

damaged, scorched boards and chose several which, when they reached

Catten, he would substitute for the usable ones, thus confirming the

substantial damage which had delayed their return.  These and the

malfunctioning gyro unit would be sufficient.

 

"They will not let us dock at the space station with such damage," he

said, waving the scorched boards about.  "They'll shunt us to the

surface, to a small emergency field until they can send technicians to

inspect.  But we need some sort of cargo.  A ship picking up materials

from a mining center...

 

"Duxie's prospectors have mined more gold than we need," was one of

Judge Iri's suggestions.

 

"Platinum, too;' Ray put in.

 

"Those are good;' Zainal said.  "Any other rare metals?  Even a crate or

two of raw ore would be useful.  R.  henium, any of the platinum group.

 

We'll say we had to leave cargo behind to lift with such a damaged ship.

 

The gyro went first, we were in a meteor shower...  took us a long time

to jury-rig the boards.  I think that's a suitable scenario," and he

grinned slyly at Kris for that latest addition to his ever-expanding

English vocabulary.

 

"Good Drassi bringing home what they can.  And I can raise such a fuss

over the shoddy manufacture that delayed us that I shall be sent from

one office to another with my complaints, and that's how I'll learn what

I need to know.  Make loud accusations of poor servicing and second-rate

materials:'

 

"Is Catten so bureaucratic, too?" asked Ray with a frown.

 

"Only the Eosi cut corners."

 

"You're sure you can carry this impersonation off?" Judge Iri was

clearly worried.

 

Zainal shrugged.  "Why not?  Who but a Catteni ship would go to Catten?

It is not a comfortable place to be;' and he glanced over at his

volunteers, chosen as much because they were all sturdily built and

would be able to manage the heavier gravity of Catten.  Kris wasn't so

sure about her own ability but nothing would have kept her from going

along, even if she had to remain in the artificially lower gravity of

the ship the entire time.  She now had enough Catten to answer any

communications the ship might be sent.

 

"We have been away a long time, whoever we are," Zainal said with a