by neetha Napew
He settled himself on the sloping stubby wing of the last plane and took some bark paper and his carbon pencil out of a thigh pocket.
She joined him when he began to make accurate sketches of the interior.
“Is Bert doing the same upstairs?”
“Upstairs?” Zainal asked, puzzled. When she pointed upwards, he grinned.
“Yes. We get it all down for Sarge.
For report.” Kris liked watching Zainal work, the deft way his fingers moved, big but not clumsy. She thought of how they would move on her, while they stood their double watches that night, and shivered with anticipation.
He had considerable skill as a draftsman because he only needed a quick glance before he sketched in a whole section accurately, frowning as he held the sketch up against the model to be sure he had done it with precision.
“You’re a man of many talents, aren’t you, Zainal?” she said when he had finished the lob.
“Not so many,” he said in an abstracted tone. Then he put pencil and paper to one side and, catching her arm, pulled her against him, all his attention on her.
“How about standing a double watch with me tonight?” she asked, almost coyly. She disliked “coy’ because girls who are five-foot ten don’t do “coy’ well but Zainal had changed many of her attitudes.
He ruffled her hair which was growing long again and would soon have to be braided or it would get in the way.
“I can possibly do that, he replied amiably.
“Sometimes, Zainal,” she began, tsck-tscking in surprise, “you sound more American than I do.”
“That’s good?”
“I mean, it’s great you’ve learnt English so well so quickly.”
“I like to learn something else quickly and well,” he said and nuzzled her neck, biting her ever so gently.
“Are lovebites part of a Catteni wooing?”
“Wooing?” he asked against her neck.
“Making love.”
“I think so. I have not loved a Catteni.” His phrasing made her catch her breath. If he hadn’t loved a Catteni, did he love her? Don’t be stupid, Kris girl. He’s an Emassi where he comes from and has met Eosi. He’s too important for a girl like you from ol’ backwater-“f-the-galaxy Terra. But her arm, of its own accord, tightened around his neck and she kissed his cheek. His smooth cheek.
“Don’t you Catteni ever need to shave?” She had no idea what possessed her to ask a question like that then, but that was her all over.
He laughed down at her. “Shave? Ah, take off face hair. No face hair on Catteni.” Then he rubbed his cheek against hers.
“HEY, YOU HAIRY LOT,” Sarah called from the campfire, unaware of the topic of their conversation.
“DINNER!” Zainal slipped his arm about her waist and pushed her off towards the fire and their dinner.
“When we stand watch tonight, I do not think we stand long,” he said so only she could hear him, “though of course it can be done that way, too.”
“Whatever,” she managed to reply though the idea fascinated her.
Over the stew, Joe Marley was full of speculation about the prospect of a reaction to the homing capsule.
“Maybe it is not homing,” Zainal suggested.
“What else could it be?” Joe replied. “Nothing’s been blown up anywhere, if it was a torpedo, or Mitford would have told us. Besides, those mothers are big, complex affairs. It was fuelled, too, judging by the stink it left behind. So, possibly it could be a homer.”
“True.
“And maybe now we’ve got into this place,” and Joe jerked his finger at the maw of the garage, the orange light so dim they could not even see the tail of the first plane, “we might figure out how to get into the seaside facility.”
“Not if we have to take Aarens along with us to get it to open,” Kris said firmly.
“Bert comes,” Zainal said.
“If we have time for it before the mecos’ makers come back at us,” Joe said gloomily.
“It could take decades for the homer to reach its destination.”
“Then what good is a homer?” Joe demanded. “No, to be efficient, and these Meco Makers are damned efficient engineers, it would have to reach home in a relatively short period of time.” He wasn’t happy at the thought of what response would be made.
“Why borrow trouble, Joe?” Kris asked.
“Well, it’s only smart to think ahead, to plan for contingencies.
“That’s Mitford’s job,” Kris said easily. “And Worry’s.
Let him do that for all of us.” Her stomach was full and it was great to be able to lounge around the fire, close to Zainal, and knowing he was close to her and would be closer once they got Joe and Sarah off to their own bed.
“Honest, Zainal, d’you think we’ll get a response soon?”
“We get one sooner from Catteni is my say, he said, hands clasped behind his head, his eyes gleaming gold in the firelight. He looked both alien and wonderfully familiar to Kris.
“Why? Would they have put up a satellite er something?” They had to explain what kind of satellite Joe meant and Zainal agreed that Catteni had such equipment.
“But they do not yet believe in the Mecho Makers.
Though maybe since - - -“ and he paused, a slight frown creasing his forehead.
“Since that captain came?” Kris said,- prompting.
Zainal grinned at her. “He believe and is able to act without order.”
“Was he under Eosi orders to come here, then?” Zainal shook his head.
“He came to get me.”
“But you were dropped and you stay,” Sarah said, teasingly.
Kris, who was aware that that had been a far more significant encounter than anyone else could know, glanced quickly at Zainal to see how he reacted.
“I stay,” he said and then grinned.
“But he might have activated a warning device?” Joe asked, getting the matter straight in his own mind.
“That is possible.
“So they would know something’s been launched.” Zainal nodded.
“Maybe they won’t drop any more unwilling pioneers on us then,” Sarah said hopefully Zainal chuckled. “They had more Terrans to drop in safe place. Many more.”
“Oh Lord, however will we manage?” Sarah cried.
“We’ve done very well so far,” Kris said with some asperity.
Sarah and Joe were late droppers-in and acting as if they’d been here all along. Well, what’s wrong with that? Kris chided herself. At least they want to be part of this cra colony.
“So we have,” and Zainal unfolded himself from the ground. “We take first watch,” he added casually.
“No, you’d fall asleep after all that lugging of bodies up and down that clifface,” Joe said as casually.
“We should do something about feeding Aarens,” Sarah remarked with no enthusiasm for the task. “And changing him or that Hopper will sure stink tomorrow’ “He’s not awake,” Zalnal said with a shrug.
“You didn’t hit him too hard, did you, Zainal?” Kris asked wistfully.
“Naw,” Joe answered. “I’ve been checking him. Zainal just decked him right proper, that’s all. Something we’ve all wanted to do, I might add.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God, not you, too?” Kris said mischievously.
That brought a laugh from the others.
The comunit beeped and Joe answered it. “Bert checking in, are you? . . . Naw, we wouldn’t go off and leave you to explain to the Meco Makers. We’re about ready to sack out now. Found nothing new, all right Oh. . . Well, we have had a day full of surprises, at that.
You’ll stand first watch? Oh, that’s good of you, mate.
You got the place to watch from all right. Over and out.
Then he grinned at Zainal. “He’s first watch. He’ll wake me.
And I’ll wake you. I’ll check Aarens again now.”
“Just give me a shout,” Zainal said. He held out his hand
to Kris who let him pull her up and into his arms as Sarah disappeared into the dark after Joe. In the firelight, his eyes were golden. “I do not know your thought, Bjornsen,” he said, “but I am lucky you were in the thorn-bushes of Barevi.”
“You think you were lucky? Mter all that’s happened since then?” She leaned back against his arms to catch the look in his eyes.
“You change my life. Not many change a Catteni.”
“No, I don’t think many do,” she could agree wholeheartedly.
“Now, there is a long time before we stand our watch.” There was devilment in his yellow eyes as he looked down at her. “What shall we do with all that time by ourselves?”
“Hmmm, oh, I think we can find something to do.” And, of course, they did.
L “EN VOl Sergeant Chuck Mitford kept to himself the news that Aarens had sent off what appeared to be a homing projectile. Damn the man! Just like him to act with malicious intent. Before he’d heard who was leading the patrol, he’d been eager for the expedition to the putative control facility. Another chance to show off how clever Dick Aarens was. And the man did have a genuine -mechanical bent. All the experts agreed. But that didn’t keep him from being a royal pain in the butt! And he’d been equally eager to devolunteer when he knew that he’d have to deal with Zainal. And that the Bjornsen girl was part of the team.
“D’you know about them?” Aarens had ranted. “D’you know she’s sleeping with that Cat?”
“If she is, it’s her own business, Aarens, and I wouldn’t put on that innocent look were I you,” Mitford had replied.
“You’re quite the lover-boy on your own, aren’t you? However, I’m warning you, I get one more complaint of harassment and, not only will I put you in the stocks every night so we’ll know where you are, I’ll get Dane to castrate you.
Get me!”
“You wouldn’t dare?” That had shaken the mechanical genius because he knew all too well by now that Mitford did not make false promises.
So Aarens had taken the initiative the first chance he saw. But then, there would have been no message in the homing device, if that’s what it was. Perhaps the Meco Makers would ignore its return. False alarm.
Mitford sighed and linked his fingers behind his head.
He’d hate it if all he’d built out of SFA here on Botany went down the tubes. He was rather proud of the order he’d been able to achieve out of nothing. And it had been pure heaven to be without any smartass captains and lieutenants with their smartass West Point training to tell him half of what he did wasn’t in the Book. Well, it wasn’t because he was writing this book himself.
He hadn’t wanted the job but he’d come to enjoy it.
Starting off fresh and making one world the way it should be. Not many men get that chance.
Tomorrow morning, he’d start on contingency plans.
One thing for sure, they might be in for some serious trouble from the Meco Makers for messing up their machines. They’d probably have to leave the garages and barn facilities, so he’d better scout for more caves where they could hide and carry on in spite of owner occupation.
And then there were the Catteni. Would they maybe have dumped some sort of a satellite spy-eye to orbit the planet? To see if there was any contact with a technically advanced species who had a prior claim on the planet. He’d have to check with Zainal. Mitford had a hunch that more went on in that early morning meeting with the emassi ship than Zainal had reported. But he respected Zainal far too much to grill him. That guy was honourable and people wre beginning to see him in that light. Which was another load off Mitford’s shoulders If the emassi were up to something that would affect Botany, Mitford was pretty certain Zainal would level with him.
Mitford grunted and muttered to himself, “I drop, I stay. And chuckled. Glad he hadn’t listened to those who’d wanted to waste the Catteni on that field.
He wasn’t all that happy that the Bjornsen girl had taken up with him, though. He’d’ve fancied her himself.
A leader had a few privileges. Damned few.
He suspected nothing was going to change the Catteni’s plans for Botany. This was such a convenient dumping spot for all the troublesome dissidents the Catteni couldn’t handle on Earth . . . and Barevi.
Well, possession is nine-tenths of the law. Only what law applied to Botany? He’d make it his if he could. He was getting pretty good at this governing business. Making a better show than either Democrats or Republicans ever had.
Or would they all be caught in between two master races. . . the mysterious Eosi and the even more unknown quantity of the Mec Makers?
Could be interesting. Could be fatal. Well, he wouldn’t worry about that. This was a large continent.
He must remember to get in more bark sheets or have someone start to manufacture paper. They’d need more copies of the maps, geographical and spatial. Surely there was someone among his lot of individuals who knew how to make decent paper! He fumbled at his breast pocket, got out the slip of bark he kept there and one of the newer, more streamlined pencils and jotted down a note. There!
Tomorrow he’d start figuring out how to cope with invasions. Would he, as planetary leader, get a chance to confront representatives of either faction? Hmmm. Maybe he could get them to accept a compromise? To turn the planet over to him. Fat chance of that but Mitford chuckled at his presumption.
ASU-ME, he thought, remembering the old axiom of assunung too much.
Whatever!
He’d get his six hours’ sleep first, get his mind rested for the duties of the morning. So he turned over, socked the fluff-filled pillow into proper order, and slept.
The launch had been observed. The spatial direction of the torpedo noted and the report forwarded to those concerned with such matters.
Prologue
Part One
The satellite logged the departure of a missile from the surface of the planet under observation. It analysed the components and attempted to correlate the information within its memory banks, but found no match. The unusual speed and approximate direction of the device was also noted as it headed galactically north and east towards the furthest edge of the Milky Way. Just as the missile reached the heliopause of the system, it disappeared. A scan produced no debris; no ion or any other trace of what had powered its drive could be detected. It had vanished: a fact that was unacceptable to the monitoring program and caused a functional error which required internal investigation and repair. Although its earlier tracking was recorded, the satellite did not - due to the anomalies - immediately forward the data to its server.
Consequently, without a requisite emergency code, the information went through several processings before the anomalies were noticed. It was then immediately reported to the proper authority. A team was despatched to correct the malfunction, but none was found even after a complete overhaul and maintenance check of the satellite. The data was therefore suspect as a malfunction in itself, rather than the recording of an event. The planet was, after all, a penal colony; the exiles equipped with the barest essentials for survival and no technological equipment whatever. It was only by chance that the report was ever seen by persons with the essential information to realize the significance of the sighting, and the mysterious disappearance of the homing device.
Part Two
“You say that he refused to answer the summons?” The speaker scowled at the Emassi captain.
As they were also father and son, the son was accustomed to his sire’s scowls; he almost enjoyed the reaction, knowing that Zainal’s refusal to return and accept the duty imposed on his rank and family would blacken his brother’s previously spotless reputation in their father’s estimation.
“He was chosen,’ Perizec continued, bashing one huge fist onto the pervalloy worktop. ‘He cannot refuse the summons.” ‘He did,’ Lenvec said with an imperturbable shrug of one shoulder. “’I’m dropped, I stay.” You know the convention.” Perizec crashed both fists onto the worktop, bounci
ng everything on it, and scattering the files from the desk rack. ‘An Eosi matter has precedence over any Catteni convention! You know that!” The scowl deepened, pulling down the heavy mouth and jaw, darkening the gray-toned skin. ‘He has known of this duty since he was presented to the Eosi. Dropped or not, he is to return to accept that duty.” The fists banged emphatically again.
Then Perizec’s eyes narrowed to slits through which his yellow pupils flashed with anger. ‘How did he come to be dropped on that felon planet?” Lenvec shrugged. He knew that his father was well aware of the whole circumstance, but he repeated the report.
“Zainal engaged in a fatal brawl with a minor transport Allo l officer. The crew sought vengeance and Zainal escaped in a flitter, which was hit and crashed in the western hunting grounds. No trace was found of him then, but he was discovered later that night among dissidents who had been gassed during a riot. Because it was within the twenty-four hours, one of the crewmen made certain that he remained in the transport facility and was included in the shipment. He made his presence known to a second Drop crew. Your office was alerted and I made the run to retrieve him. He refused . . .” ‘I know, I know,’ and Perizec flicked thick fingers to end the recital. ‘He must return. The duty is required of him. We cannot avoid the choosing.” He frowned, deep in thought. ‘See to it that the crew who arranged his deportation are sent to the same destination. They will ensure that he is ready to be collected when next you land there.” ‘A thought, sir,’ Lenvec began, “Catteni would not be popular on the planet and may even be prevented from finding Zainal.” Perizec regarded him with a direct anger. “Zainal survived.
You said yourself that he was the member of some sort of team.” Lenvec shrugged. ‘Zainal is, after all, Emassi, sir, and as clever a man as you yourself . . .” Perizec grunted at the filial compliment. “He is also Catteni and would resist attempts to eliminate members of his own race.” ‘He might not be in a position to do so. He may also wish to eliminate the crew for having put him on that planet in the first instance.” ‘They will have to be “rewarded”,’ and Perizec’s smile was unpleasant, ‘for their part in his exile. See to that. And let us find among the Emassi two or three of Zainal’s hunting friends.