Freedom Omnibus

by neetha Napew

  Kris translated terms as well as she could, with help from both Bert and Raisha when she bogged down over unfamiliar words and meanings.

  Mitford sent someone for paper and pencil.

  “Would you have such a thing as a manual?” Ray Scott asked at one point.

  “What good would a Catteni manual do us?” Kris asked, almost defensively although Scott’s attitude had modified considerably since the docking hop.

  “Diagrams,’ Scott said, as if that was obvious.

  So Zainal told Bert where to find the service manuals in the pilot compartment, and the day became a session of terminology and translation. Engineers were sent for to decipher the schematics, while Zainal struggled to explain with his inadequate technical vocabulary.

  For Kris, guesswork worked as well in some instances, but she came up with appropriate ones more often than the others did. Zainal did know the basic maintenance routines and checks required, since he had often flown this type and had had to make repairs.

  Worrell arrived at one point and took Mitford off with him.

  Reidenbacker left later on and took Fetterman with him, but Kris was far too occupied with spatial and aviation words to do more than register that there were other faces where those men had sat. There was also no question that the capture of Baby was the best thing that could have happened on Botany at that particular moment.

  It was full dark before Zainal suddenly shook himself and stood up.

  “I can talk no more tonight.”

  Then everyone became solicitous and grateful, and said that by all means he should get some rest.

  “You, too,’ he said to Raisha and Bert. ‘No sleep last night.

  Not good. Minds must be rested to learn how to fly Baby.” He caught Kris with one hand, Raisha by the other, and gestured for Bert to follow them out.

  There was a brief lull in the various conversations all over the barn but, by the time they reached the door, these had picked up again, including several arguments, with sheets of Zainal’s meticulous diagrams and the manual being passed around.

  All four walked wearily to one of the less crowded end barns.

  A ‘people’ door had been cut into the larger one and a narrow entry area established before three aisles sectioned off the floor space. Screens of woven reeds divided areas into living spaces, affording a certain degree of privacy. Single pallets stuffed with fluff weed, spare blankets, a rough box to hold possessions and two stools comprised the furnishings of the one Zainal and Kris took. He moved two pallets together. Kris got her boots off, emptied her pockets of the comunit and items she hadn’t realized she still had with her and lay down. Zainal covered her with a blanket before removing his boots and settling down beside her, reaching out to grasp her hand before he took one deep breath and fell asleep at the end of it. She wasn’t far behind him.

  Still unaccustomed to Botany’s longer diurnal period even after nine

  months, and despite the excitements and exertions of the previous day

  and night, Kris found herself waking before

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  sunrise. Zainal was awake, too, lying on his back with hands behind his head.

  “What’s up?” she asked in a low voice.

  He released one hand, curled his arm around her head to stroke her cheek.

  “Thinking.”

  “Good thoughts?”

  He nodded.

  “Share them?” He rubbed his knuckles against her cheek: she could see his teeth in a smile in the dim light. ‘I must out-think Catteni.” She caught his hand, holding it against her cheek as she turned into him, her lips closer to his ear. ‘Then there could be trouble over the scout.” ‘Not here yet.” She could feel his cheek muscles lifting as his grin broadened. ‘Lenvec may not be . . . fooled. Or is it joke this time?” ‘Fooled. Why?” She tried not to stiffen against him in concern but he sensed it, far too aware of her body language now, and his hand flattened soothingly against her head.

  “He does not wish to do Eosi duty.”

  “Is he the other male you meant yesterday?” She felt Zainal’s shoulder twitch and the rumble of amusement in his chest. ‘He is next, but may not be chosen.” That seemed to amuse him even more. ‘He has life-mate and several childs already,’ Zainal added, as if that should be a consolation.

  “Children,’ she corrected automatically. ‘Don’t you?” she heard herself ask.

  “No chosen has life-mate, but I have two males. Too young to be chosen.”

  “So if Lenvec is chosen, we don’t have to worry?”

  “He did not say how soon the chosen must go. If there is time, maybe. He will be commanded where to search first.” Then Zainal paused, and she sensed he deliberated on whether or not to continue as he stroked her head slowly. ‘Maybe . . . he gets better satellite over Botany.”

  “Higher tech? More sophisticated?”

  Zainal nodded. ‘But even that will take time.” And she felt his laugh.

  Felt him stop, too. ‘I must be very careful.”

  “Shouldn’t we tell Mitford all this?”

  Zainal gave his head one shake. ‘Not now. He has enough troubles with - what did you call them - the brass? Beverly, Scott, Rastancil, them?” ‘Yeah, they’re all brass, admirals, generals: Marrucci was a colonel, I think. Watch out for Scott.” Zainal grunted agreement and surprised her by smiling. ‘I like a good fight.” “You mean, convincing Scott you’re all right for a Catteni?

  Or getting Phase Two and more fuel for the scout?” ‘Both.” He gave her hand a warm squeeze. ‘This gets interesting.”

  “Don’t get smug, Emassi Zainal.”

  The? Never. This Catteni bastard watches his step.”

  “Zainal! Where did you pick up that language?”

  “Is it not correct?” She knew he was teasing and laughed. ‘I’m damned glad you know as much as you do, particularly right now . .

  .”

  “For the brass-heads.”

  She giggled, ducking her head into his chest to muffle the sound.

  “Brass-heads’ - she must remember to tell that to the sergeant.

  At Lenvec’s insistence, which was beginning to annoy Perizec both as patriarch and commander, he listened to the record tape and replayed the satellite’s recording of the scout’s takeoff, the suddenly erratic course which straightened into a dive towards the subject planet’s second moon, disappearing beyond the satellite’s visual limitation.

  “But analysis proves that is not Zainal’s voice. None of them are. What

  has Personnel said about Arvonk?” That was the one flaw in Lenvec’s

  arguments. ‘There is none of Arvonk, who was only a woman and not in

  service as

  Emassi. She was used because Zainal had chosen her several times for intercourse.” ‘There are no other Catteni down there. Who else but another scout could have responded?”

  “Some of the Terrans have learned our language.”

  Perizec snorted. ‘But not how to operate comunits.” ‘Zainal could teach them.” Lenvec spoke through his teeth with aggravation, an unwise attitude to show his senior and parent but he had absolutely no doubts that Zainal had somehow escaped capture: had probably piloted the scout off the planet. And then, for reasons Lenvec could not understand in a Catteni Emassi who had been chosen to serve the Eosi, Zainal had returned to the planet. He had not taken refuge anywhere in Catteni space because everywhere he would be hunted; nowhere would he find asylum.

  Zainal’s taunt - ‘I drop, I stay’ - was like a pulse in the back of Lenvec’s brain. What good did it do Zainal to go back to the planet, no matter what technology had been found there?

  Could Zainal know the origin of the original occupants of that planet?

  Was that why he took the scout? What good would such a move do?

  “He has somehow made friends with the Terran dissidents,’ Lenvec went on, desperate to persuade his father to believe him. ‘Now he has transportation. He has some plan in mind.
” Perizec dismissed that consideration as he rose. ‘For all the good it will do him.” ‘Sir, for the honour of the family, insist on a second orbital satellite.

  Geo-synchronous does not have sufficient capability to keep a watch on his next moves.” ‘Next moves?” Perizec regarded his son steadily and with such malice that it was all Lenvec could do not to recoil from such scrutiny. ‘Your next move is to attend the Eosi Selection.

  No further delay is possible. Is that understood?” ‘Maybe the Eosi will not be so blind,’ Lenvec said in a bitter tone, and when the nerve-whip suddenly appeared in his father’s hand he braced himself for the blow. Despite that, the agony rocked him to his knees.

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  He had to be helped to his quarters by his life-mate, where she disobeyed the protocol that required the recipient to endure a whip-lash by administering a nerve block. Clern stayed by his side until the medication took effect. Which was more than she ought to have done but it did not, as she had probably hoped, appease his bitter resentment sufficiently for one final sexual interlude. Lenvec could think only what he had been deprived of because Zainal had been the chosen of their bloodline: the opportunities and promotions that Zainal had enjoyed because he had been the chosen. Eosi liked their ‘subjects’ to have rich experiences to bring for them to enjoy, to use as guides in their manipulation of their subject species. Lenvec had had to be satisfied with a circumspect life, learning to manage the family estates and accepting simpler rewards than Zainal gathered.

  Lenvec had even had to rear Zainal’s children with his own, since being chosen kept Zainal from having a mate. That was the one privilege which Lenvec had had which Zainal did not.

  And now Clern had to be set aside because Zainal had escaped.

  During those long last hours of his single being, Lenvec toyed with suicide, but the dishonour would have deprived Clern of wealth and protection and his sons of their inheritance, which would be considerable. If he could have also deprived his father of honour by taking his own life, Lenvec might well have murdered himself.

  His hatred of Zainal, his sense of betrayal, his keen awareness of the injustice done consumed Lenvec even when, supported by a blood pride he had not known he possessed in such depth, he was accompanied by Perizec to the vast complex reserved for Eosi. He entered with the three other Catteni being presented by their fathers, and Lenvec’s resentment flared and deepened. They had been chosen: they had had the privileges Zainal had enjoyed and he had been denied. But he had as large a measure of Emassi pride as any of them and so he went, seething with hatred and the now deeply embedded ambition to somehow get even with Zainal.

  That kept his back straight, his knees stiff as he faced the Eosi mental

  who would engulf him, making him no more

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  Lenvec but all Eosi. A fearsome entity even to an Emassi who had seen what Catteni became when subsumed by Eosian mentats: that shining immensity in a giganticized Catteni form.

  That one thought, of eventual triumph, sufficed Lenvec as the subsummation occurred. It kept him from screaming as two of the others, previously willing and proud young men, did as they were engulfed.

  Certainly the intense emotion intrigued the Eosian as it settled into the strong new body as the shell that it had been using drifted like the dead thing it had been for centuries onto the highly polished floor of the chamber. Quite unusual, in fact, for the Eosian had made such transfers frequently and was delighted by a novel experience as the last of the personality which had once been Lenvec totally dissolved within the mental.

  The shell, crumbling into dust, was swept into a receptacle and returned with proper ceremony to Perizec, who waited with other fathers to receive the husks of their greatgrandfathers. Of them all, Perizec was the most relieved. He had greatly feared that Lenvec would be found unacceptable and the dishonour to their bloodline would have been catastrophic. But honour had been served, and their family would continue to supply young men to the Eosi and reap more worldly rewards than other, less favoured families.

  However, Perizec must still discover where the cowardly Zainal was hiding and make sure he paid the price of his evasion. Perizec smiled at the thought of a suitable execution.

  Private, of course, but the event could be enjoyed by Clern who had been deprived of her mate, and should be seen by Zainal’s sons so that they would have to live with his dishonour as their lifelong penance.

  Perizec took the receptacle containing his great-grandfather’s dust to the family crypt and placed it in the niche prepared for it.

  He looked at the array of ancestors who had done their duty.

  Then did his final one: listing first Zainal and then Lenvec as dead.

  Too bad he could do nothing punitive to the sons, but that would give a

  lie to the reason why Lenvec had had to stand

  .

  in for his brother. But there were other, subtler ways to make them pay for their father’s defection.

  Quite a considerable galactic distance from the Eosi home planet and its expanding sphere of influence, the homing device arrived in the slot designed to receive it on the huge moon installation where such devices were processed. When no message was displayed, the container was routinely overhauled for the malfunction. Such homing missiles were rarely despatched without cause. No malfunction was discovered.

  The device had been well engineered and had always operated within its design parameters. But the lack of any message was unusual and the container was sent to Processing to identify its point of origin.

  Since that planet was not one in any sense critical, or even very important, the errant device was shunted to the agency that, from time to time, investigated anomalies. The appropriate galactic coordinates were tagged for investigation during the next regular maintenance circuit.

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  If those intimately connected with Phase One slept, it became obvious to Zainal and Kris when they quietly exited their quarters at dawn that others had not.

  A weary duty-cook had propped her chair back against the wall, her head lolling to one side as she caught what rest she could while the knot of men and women at the table furthest from her murmured urgent conversations and passed papers back and forth.

  Though Kris and Zainal had entered quietly, their arrival immediately curtailed the discussions. Almost every head turned to see who entered.

  “Zainal! Kris!” Peter Easley half-rose from his seat and beckoned them over. ‘Grab something to eat and drink, will you?

  And join us?” The cook slept on, snoring slightly, so Kris and Zainal helped themselves to the food kept warm in the pans and the tea in the kettle.

  Kris identified not only Scott and most of yesterday’s ‘brass’

  but others’ obviously called in from the other camps for this session.

  “You started something, Zainal,’ Peter said, rising and gesturing for Zainal to take his place, while he hooked over chairs from the next table for Kris and himself.

  “Phase Two?” Zainal asked, settling himself and eyeing the mass of papers, charts and lists that littered the table. He sipped.

  “You bet,’ said Easley, while several men at the other end of the table resumed their interrupted debate. ‘I sent Mitford off to bed at third moonrise. He couldn’t keep his eyes open.”

  “How can you, then?” Kris asked.

  “Oh, I caught a couple hours before we changed guard,’ and Easley winked at her conspiratorially.

  She was somewhat reassured, although she had not previously considered Easley, for all the help he gave Mitford during Drops, as a surrogate for the sergeant.

  “We have discovered a lot of dropees have had military training, and more than enough have commando, SAS, or similar training in their own countries, so that we can have our pick of the force to make Phase Two successful,’ Easley explained in a low voice. ‘What is needed now is infor
mation from you on . . .” ‘What weapons there are aboard the scout,’ and now Scott interrupted, ‘some idea of the interior of a transport ship and what weapons they’d have so we can properly train our personnel.” Zainal took a sip of the hot beverage and gestured that he be given paper and a writing implement.

  “Breakfast first?” Kris said in a caustic tone, lifting a spoonful from her bowl of porridge. ‘Army . . . and navy, I’m sure .

  . . still function better when fed.”

  “Miss Bjornsen,’ Scott began ever so politely.

  “Knock it off,’ Zainal said in a very quiet voice, but he gave Scott a

  brief, warning look before he began to sketch the long ovoid of a

  transport ship outline, sipping as he did so. ‘Twenty

  crew, only Drassi armed with weapons. Others have nervewhips . .

  .” Zainal gave Scott a long look. ‘You know about nerve-whips?” Scott nodded slowly, and it pleased Kris no end to realize that he had had at least one incident of intimate knowledge.with that persuader.

  “Crew carry on back,’ and Zainal demonstrated tying the whip-lash to a handle and slinging the imaginary item to his back. “People unconscious no problem.” He outlined the bridge area, the main crew quarters where they seemed to sleep stacked nearly as closely together as their passengers would be, and then indicated the engine room, air plant and other essential elements of the transport, including cargo areas that did not have oxygen.

  That left an empty midsection across which Zainal now drew a series of parallel lines.

  “Sleepers don’t need much space. Empty one deck, remove, shift upwards, empty two deck . . .” ‘We were crammed in like sardines then,’ Easley remarked with a bit of a shudder. ‘What do they use to keep us in suspended animation?” ‘Asleep?” Kris whispered, because she knew Zainal would recognize those words.” ‘Eosi make. Not even Emassi know in-gred-ee-ents,’ Zainal said with one of his indifferent shrugs.