by neetha Napew
Mentally she blessed those awful shopping journeys with her Catten steward for knowing the difference.
With them safely off the dock area, she marched herself straight to the bottle of hooch and poured herself a stiff one.
Dowdall and Ninety joined her, silently taking the bottle from her hand.
“We tied him in,’ Dowdall said, ‘goddamn stinking arrogant bastard nearly blew the whistle on us!” ‘He might still have,’ Mitford said, holding out his hand for the bottle. ‘I’m not sure the one-handed guy bought the explanation.” ‘Yeah, but why would he suspect Catteni-dressed soldiers to be anything but Catteni?” Kris said, reaching for reassurance.
“There is that,’ Mitford agreed.
“Is it safe?” whispered Beverly and Bert Put from their compartment.
“For now,’ Kris told them, sitting down because her legs had never felt so kneeless. She buried her head in her hands. ‘I never want to go through another moment like that.” An urgent buzz from the com board on the bridge startled all of them. Beverly and Mitford tried to get through the door at the same time, with the sergeant twisting his torso edgewise to allow the general through first.
“Schkelk?” Beverly asked in proper Tudo response as he keyed open the ship’s unit. ‘Oh, thank God,’ and, craning her head towards the bridge, Kris could see him visibly relax. For just one moment . . .
then he straightened and urgently beckoned the others to come in.
“Yes, yes, I got you. What does forty-seven look like in Catteni, for God’s sake? Oh.” He had grabbed up a pad which Mitford now held firmly for him since he had the hand unit. ‘Thick upright, two cross bars, three down strokes and a small right-hand square within the end two right-hand down strokes. Got that. That’s for the KDI?” Beverly began to smile and heaved a sigh of relief that seemed to permeate his whole frame. ‘Thank God,’ he whispered. ‘Okay, so there’s just a change in the final figure, a circle rather than a square between the two right-hand down strokes? Got it. Be there as fast as we can get permission to quit the dock. Watch for us.”
He toggled the line closed.
“Contingency plan is now in operation. Mitford, grab another bottle of hooch and go visiting. Gino, Coo, Slav, Pess, Ninety, lounge outside like you’re bored. We’re going to rescue us some folks. And God grant there’s some spark of mind left to them.
We’re clearing the prisons.” ‘I know how to work the levels,’ Kris said and grabbed Ninety by the hand. ‘I’d better show you. Let’s hope they’re the same as the wreck’s.” The controls were sited in the same place by the hatch, although they looked in far better working order.
“And will they be drugged and all?” Ninety asked anxiously.
“I hope so. They’ll survive better if they are,’ Kris said, deliberately not thinking about that process and the bodies that would shortly inhabit the four levels of shallow deck. ‘Take a peek outside, Ninety, just in case we have unexpected visitors,’ she said, shoving the comunit from her belt at him.
What now? That glitch she had been expecting all along that was going to betray them? She fretted, knees getting wobbly again.
“Sick?” Mitford exclaimed in Catteni, and swore with unexpected fluency in the language for emphasis. ‘Yes, Terran sick.” He sounded disgusted. ‘We dump him with others. They not see,’ and he managed a very evil chuckle. ‘Kotik. Ten.” He whistled when he closed the switch. ‘That driver was suspicious. Let’s get out of here before anyone comes to look at our Terran-sick soldier. Take her no higher than a thousand pleas, Bert. That’s our assigned level.” He gave Kris a good-luck sign and, grabbing another bottle of hooch, leaving only two left for the journey home, he sauntered back to the recently hijacked vessel.
Bert initiated the undocking procedures, starting thee siren to warn the crew back inside, closing the hatch when they reported all in, starting the engines, just as if he’d done it all his professional life. The KDI lifted easily, Bert made the course correction and they could see the spaceport steadily receding.
On the small thrusters that were permissible in such crowded air space, it seemed to take a long time to circumnavigate Barevi town, strewn before them, and out into the nearby forests and fields. They could see where big land-moving equipment was knocking down trees and scooping up great mountains of rock and dirt to clear more space doubtless, Kris thought bitterly, for the masses of products they were importing from a pillaged Earth.
Flitters darted in and around, and each one that seemed to choose a trajectory in front of Kris made her catch her breath.
“They can’t see in,’ Bert said, to reassure her. ‘And I’ll turn this seat over to you immediately if we are hailed. Wouldn’t you like to drive this beauty for a while?” His banter made her relax, but she stayed right beside his position in case they had to execute a quick shift.
They did have a little trouble deciding which platform they should dock at, since there were only minor changes in the basic glyph that Zainal had given them. But as they cruised at the For a contingency plan, hastily organized and speedily executed, it went very well. But there were other Catteni around on the dockside now, shifting cargoes or watching the Rugarians do so. Bert Put’s height would make him stand out like the proverbial sore thumb. So he got wrapped up in blankets and Dowdall and Slav carried him over to the KDM, grumbling about Drassis and their crazy tracings back and forth.
Then they returned to the KDI.
“Piece of cake,’ said Mitford when he returned to the KDI.
“Front and centre, Bert, General. We’re about to shift ass off this sinkhole.”
“What about Zainal and Scott?” Ninety asked.
“We meet them at platform forty-seven and forty-nine when we pick up our passengers. Now I gotta log on to port authority and get clearance.” While Bert settled into the captain’s chair, Beverly took the engineer’s place as Mitford made contact with the port authority.
Kris watched as his shoulders stiffened and he rolled his eyes.
slowest possible forward speed, everyone on the bridge identified the number at the same moment, and could even see the KDM’s platform just beyond.
Below were the slave pens, similar to the ones Kris had been in when she’d been forced aboard the transport that had landed her on Botany so many months ago. There were acres of pens, spreading out from a huge rectangular building. However, not all the pens were full or in use. Only four. She couldn’t see who inhabited the ones beyond platform forty-nine, and hoped she wouldn’t ever know who or what they had had to abandon that day.
Bert neatly sidled into the platform, cut the engines and opened the hatch. Kris took her station at the controls and suddenly Zainal strode up the ramp, spitting out the disfiguring pads, muttering under his breath and snarling up at her but winking as he passed on his way to the bridge. Kris managed a very subservient ‘Yes, Drassi,’ and saw the first of the pathetic transporters.
She nearly burst into tears at the sight of the expressionless faces, the dead eyes, the automatic motion that no intelligence motivated. She did manage to alter the decks to the lowest one as the loading process began.
Half the time, she had all she could do to keep from bawling out loud, getting some relief by snarling at the Catteni who drove these poor wights up the ramps. Most had their blankets slung over their shoulders, and one hand held the packet of ration bars to their bodies, the other held the treacherous soup cup now emptied of its contents.
She told herself over and over that she was rescuing them: they’d soon be safe, they’d soon be cared for - and wondering how on earth they would manage all these walking dead at Botany where there was so much hope and life and a future.
She shifted blindly when the first level was filled. Several of those trudging like sheep up the ramp staggered and fell. It was all she could do to keep herself at the controls and not go to help them up, but that would have been out of character for the Catteni Tudo she was pretending to be. She was not going to cause a
glitch; she was rescuing these people, she was doing all she could.
She shifted to the third level and then it was filled up. So was the air around her, with little sobs and cries for pity from those in the lower decks. The drugged soup couldn’t put them out of their immediate misery - and hers - soon enough.
It was Zainal who carefully removed her hands from the controls when the ramp retracted and the hatch clanged shut.
He helped her back to the wardroom and poured her another shot of hooch.
“We’re almost out of it,’ she protested.
“You need it now, Kris,’ he said. ‘I hadn’t realized what you were in for. I’d have done it myself . . .” ‘No, no,’ and she shook her head, ‘not a Drassi captain.” Then she put her head on the table and began to weep. ‘They’re all asleep now,’ Zainal said, gathering her up in his arms and against his chest, stroking her hair.
“Zainal?” she cried, raising her tear-marked face. ‘Did we get them all?” ‘All we can cram on board. A few spare Deski, Rugarians, half a dozen Ilginish and some Turs for good measure.” ‘We need Ilginish and Turs so badly, don’t we?” she quipped, trying to control her weeping.
Ninety and Beverly stood in the doorway. Zainal nodded at them to enter and both poured a hefty tot from the bottle.
“We don’t have much left,’ Kris said inanely.
“It’s medicinal, my dear,’ said Beverly, and she thought he looked awful under his coffee-coloured skin. ‘Dowdall says the KDM’s on a parallel course. There’s incoming traffic, but we’re cleared to leave the system and doing it with all possible speed.” He let out a long sigh and knocked back the rest of the hooch.
“You’re relieved, Bjornsen. I don’t want to see you on deck for two full shifts.” ‘Aye, aye, sir,’ she said, managing a weak smile and limp salute.
Zainal helped her to stand and guided her back to her compartment. He had to lift her up into the upper bunk but his hands, as he covered her with the rough Catteni issue blanket, were very gentle.
They answered several challenges over the next two weeks, until they got to the less trafficked area leading to the Botany system.
Most were more or less standard ship-talk, which Zainal handled on the bogus KDI and Mitford on the KDM.
They also talked about how they could integrate the people they had rescued into the Botany colony.
Kris found herself regarding Admiral Ray Scott with amazement: under all that naval braid and command training there was a man with unexpected compassion. And a high moral integrity. She wasn’t the only one who kept reassuring him that there was no way those folks could have been allowed to depart on Catteni slave ships.
“Hell, Ray,’ Beverly said the second evening, ‘it isn’t as if there are more of them than there are of us! So we’ll need to hunt more often and plant a few more fields. If we have to, we’ll form a creche situation for the ones who can do nothing for themselves.
We don’t even know just how badly some of them were mindwiped.
There may be something there that some of our pysch people can revive.
For all that, maybe just being among humans again . . . begging your pardon, Zainal . . . and good food and attention will bring some around.” ‘Almost everyone’s got some kind of house now. We can give them shelter, food and . . . a lot of caring,’ Dowdall said, clearing his throat. He was another one who didn’t let emotions overwhelm him.
“And we shall inform the Farmers,’ Zainal said.
“You think they can perform some sort of psychic whammy and replace what got wiped?” Dowdall asked.
Zainal shrugged. ‘It is possible since their science is so much better than ours. Why not such healing?” ‘I think that’s asking for too much of a miracle,’ Ray Scott said, although the brief flare of hope in his eyes at the mere suggestion of a possible restoration was not lost on anyone at the table.
“We shall inform them,’ Zainal repeated.
“Speaking for myself,’ Kris said, ‘they can’t be any more trouble than a baby and we can handle one more in our house, can’t we, Zainal?” He nodded. ‘If he or she doesn’t get too upset seeing a Catteni around.” ‘Well, I think,’ Kris went on staunchly, ‘it’s important for everyone to know that there is at least one good Catteni in this universe!” They were nearing the heliopause when Zainal mentioned quite casually, Kris thought, it was just possible that they might have a little trouble getting the second ship through the Balloon.
“Why?” Kris asked. ‘They’re alike as two peas in a pod.”
“There are two, and only one went out.” ‘The KDL was pregnant when she left. The KDM is her daughter,’ Kris said, surprising herself with such a whimsy. The others around the wardroom table laughed politely.
“It is a problem,’ said Beverly.
“Why?” Scott wanted to know. ‘If we proceed slowly as we did getting out, just nudging past the Balloon.”
Zainal was not convinced.
“Too bad we can’t call downside and get Raisha up in the scout to poke a hole for us,’ Bert said. ‘We could go piggy-back, maybe,’ he suggested, and then cancelled that notion with a whisk of his hand.
“Too risky.”
Zainal agreed with a sceptical twist of one shoulder.
“Fine thing if we get these folks right up to the door and can’t wedge ‘em in,’ said Dowdall.
“There has to be a way,’ Scott said, looking at Zainal for inspiration.
“If there is, we find it,’ the former Emassi said.
But it was obvious that everyone on board the KDL worried about it for the rest of the journey through the solar system to its third planet.
“Engines,’ said Kris as she sat on the bridge watching their approach to Botany.
“What?” Scott demanded. He looked up from the final course plotting that would escape both the satellite and orbital observation.
“Would there be such a thing on board as a tractor beam?” she asked Zainal.
“A what?” He frowned, unable to find those words in his now very large vocabulary.
“Something to pull another ship along, a ship with no power.”
“She’s got it!” Scott said. ‘Does the KDL have one?” It took a little time for Zainal to understand exactly what they meant, but when he did his grin was broad.
“Not a tractor beam but is possible to connect,’ and he jammed both fists together. ‘One ship hull is negative, the other positive.
Very easy to do. I tell Bert.” They had not allowed themselves many inter-ship broadcasts on the off-chance that they might be overheard.
But now, so close to Botany, they could risk it. The orbital might pick up some of what was transmitted, but not enough to give any alert.
Not unless there were Eosi hiding behind the moons.
“Oh, he means magnetize the hull,’ Bert said, catching on.
“Okay, give me the procedure.” The light bump as the KDM magnetically sealed itself behind the KDL was felt by everyone. There was also a certain tingling in the air. The KDL would be pushed through the Balloon first, propelled by the KDM. All watched nervously as the Balloon’s smooth skin got closer and closer and behind it, a luminous half-moon, was Botany. Bert had slowed to the barest possible forward motion while Zainal, in the fore, guided him. The nose of KDL prodded the Balloon, which gaped wide enough to admit the ship. All of the KDL was shortly inside the Balloon and they felt no resistance, nor sudden disconnection of the KDM.
“We did it!” crowed Bert on the open line. ‘We did it! Now how do I separate us? Just kidding.”
Then Rastancil opened a channel, demanding to know were
they all right? What was the other ship doing on his screen?
“What have you guys been up to?” ‘Well, we needed it to complete our . . . rescue mission,’ Scott said, suddenly dropping from the high of successfully penetrating the last obstacle to home. ‘We couldn’t just . . .” and his voice faltered then continued firmly, ‘leave them there on Barev
i.”
“Rescued? Who? What?”
“You’ll see,’ Scott said almost angrily. ‘Some of them are pretty bad. Have all the medics on hand and anyone else we’ve got with any nursing experience. Especially the psychiatrists.
We’ve some more Catteni prisoners to go to the valley. So have Raisha stand by to fly ‘em out. Then we’ll need another valley for a bunch of Turs we had to bring along, too. She ought to have guards with that lot in case any wake up prematurely.” ‘Medics?
Psychiatrists? What sort of casualties are they?” Rastancil sounded alarmed.
“You’ll see soon enough,’ Scott said in a terse voice, ‘and we’ll need a good nutritious soup or someting easy to eat.”
He disconnected, a brooding expression on his face.
“It’ll work out, Ray,’ Kris said, laying a hand on his arm.
“You’ll see.” ‘Botany can take on any challenge,’ Dowdall added with the pride of a First Drop survivor.
When the two ships landed in the big field in front of the hangar, Rastancil had mobilized transport, medical staff and enough personnel to assist in unloading the sleepers. Jim Rastancil, Geoffrey Ainger, Bob Reidenbacker, Bull Fetterman - in fact all those who constituted the Council, waited patiently for Scott, Zainal and Mitford to descend from the KDM which landed slightly ahead of its sister ship.
“This should have been a unanimous decision by all Botanists,’ Scott began, nervously finger-combing his hair back from his forehead and rubbing the back of his neck.
“It was sure as hell unanimous with all the Botanists there,’ Beverly said firmly.
“Hell, yes,’ Dowdall, Kris and Mitford added in unison.
“Who? What?” Rastancil asked, surprised to find Scott hesitant.
“The ones the Eosi mind-wiped,’ Scott said flatly. ‘They were about to be shipped off God-knows where as slaves.” ‘Jesus! Of course you had to bring them here,’ said Rastancil.