by neetha Napew
Zainal gave her a startled look and Kris frowned. “Not all the Eosi were ... ah ... terminated.”
“They will be far too busy making certain they survive,” Zainal said, “wherever they have taken refuge. And it won’t be nearby.” “How many Cattem worlds are there, Zainal?” Peter asked.
“I know of nine. There may be new ones. That’s one of the details I need to find in the files at Barevi, Peter. Scouts were constantly finding new worlds, for resources and colonization. I know many of them, but not all. And it is essential to have accurate information.”
“Would the Eosi have taken refuge on a distant world?” “Possibly. But they had strongholds on suitable moons as well as planets. I’ve no idea where the survivors might be. But it’s wise to find out, if we can.”
Peter nodded agreement with the sentiment. “I’ll go find out if we have any other dentists or assistants or technicians on our roster.” “If you will gather what will be needed for my sons, Kris, I’ll collect them first before things get busy.”
“Let me come, too,” Kris said. “It shouldn’t take me long to set up two cots. But we should also, I think, bring some thankyou gifts to Chief Materu “
“As you will,” was Zainal’s reply. “And yes, presents are in order. Can you do that for me?”
Remembering the bright prints she had seen the Masai wearing, she thought there was at least one bolt of a tropical floral print that they might like in the cargo she had brought back from her last trip to Barevi. She supposed she should take something for Chief Materu, though she hadn’t a clue what would be appropriate.
She borrowed the cots she needed from the day care center and told Sara McDouall that the boys were coming, and also told Zane that he would be seeing his two halfbrothers while she gave her daughter a cuddle. Amy was a pretty baby but Kris could see no resemblance in the heartshaped face to herself or to Chuck, apart from fair hair, blue eyes, and the long bones of her legs. Leon Dane, the chief medical officer, had commented that she would be tall. Kris borrowed a land cart, got the mattresses and the blankets down to the cottage, and set them up in the living room. If the boys wanted to sleep in the loft that had been built for that purpose, they could haul their beds up there to suit themselves tomorrow. She also put the bolt of wildly patterned dress material on the cart along with the leather belts, which Astrid had recommended as an appropriate gift for the chief.
Zainal and Kris took the fast scout Baby to make the quickest possible run down the coast to where the Masai had chosen their new home. She hadn’t been there in a while and was impressed by the neat huts within the kraal enclosure. Amazing that the Masai had found substitutes for their traditional materials. Their encampment, despite the night crawlerresistant flagstone flooring, looked like her memory of African settlements from National Geographic magazines. The tribe came filing out, men with their spears and long shields, arraying themselves in front of the curious women. The preadult children were ranged in their own age groupings in which they learned responsibilities and tasks suitable to their ageset. Camp dogs bristled and daringly ran at the ramp as Zainal and. Kris walked down it. A shrill whistle called the dogs off but they sank to the dirt, still on their guard and not entirely happy to be called off the intruders.
Kris saw the bright gold hair of Floss among the women and realized with some remorse that she had only just then thought of the girl again. Floss and her band of abandoned and orphaned kids, call ing themselves the Diplomatic Corps, had enjoyed the undisputed freedom of the Occupation and the leadership of a devoted band of
young men and women. Sent to Botany to recover from their trauma and make a new home, they had been so undisciplined and rowdy that the Botanists were all for sending them back to fend for themselves on Earth. However, Dorothy Dwardie had suggested an alternative: place them with the disciplined Masai culture until they lost their wildness and were ready to “settle down.” The Masai had agreed. Floss had been the most recalcitrant and reluctant to leave Retreat, but she was mostly to blame for being exiled. Across the distance separating them, Kris made eye contact. Turning back to the men, she noticed the unmistakable figure of Clime, solid among all the lithe, gaunt Masai, with his two former lieutenants, Ferris and Ditsy, standing beside him. Those Diplomatic Corps kids had survived the Catteni invasion and the roundup of Terran inhabitants. That was very clever of them. Idly she wondered if any of them had learned some Catteni. Such survivortypes might be useful.
Greetings and giftgiving aside, Peran and Bazil were called forward from their ageset by Chief Materu and sent to pack whatever they wished to take with them. Both boys had put on inches, vertically, and the deep tan that Botany’s sun was giving everyone. Her glance strayed to Floss, who seemed to have improved. Chief Materu was examining the leather belts, noting the buckles and testing the straps with great interest.
Almost as if compelled, Kris wandered in Floss’s direction and, when she was close enough, signaled for her to approach. Floss shot the older woman beside her a beseeching look while Kris made a formal gesture of asking for the girl to help her with the bolt. The head woman gave Floss a push in her direction. Floss corrected her balance and all but ran to assist Kris with the bolt.
“Hello, Floss. It’s good to see you again. Do you happen to speak any Catteni?”
“Yes, Lady Emassi, I do. I had to learn enough to stay alive, you know. Just ask Peran or Bazil. I’ve learned a lot more words from them
while they’ve been here. They aren’t bad kids for boys!” The last word was spoken with the usual contempt of an older girl for a younger male. Then Floss hoisted the bolt onto her shoulder, balancing it with unexpected expertise, and walked with Kris back to the waiting women. There was no question that the fabric would not be put to immediate use.
“Do any of the others in your Diplomatic gang speak Catteni?” “Besides Peran and Bazil? Sure, Clune did all our negotiating for us. Ditsy and Ferris knew enough to listen in to some int’rusting conversations. Saved our necks a coupla times.” Then Floss cocked her head and looked at Kris with eyes far wiser than her years. “Why? Will it get me outa here?”
Kris held up a hand to indicate she did not wish to explain but she saw hope flare in Floss’s deep blue eyes. “Please tell the head woman that this is a gift offering for her care of you.” She ignored Floss’s snort, then gestured her to follow her back to Zainal and Chief Materu, who were deep in conversation. Floss kept well behind Kris, trying to look invisible, Kris thought.
“Floss said she’s been keeping up her Catteni with Peran and Bazil. Clime did their negotiating with Catteni. Back in DC they managed their own little trading enterprises. Could sell you your own teeth. Those two skinny boys standing with him also know the language.”
“Really?” Zainal gave a snort that was half skepticism and half amusement. Just then Peran came racing back, a square of cloth, held tightly in one fist with a spear while he had the framework of a Masai shield in the other. He came to a halt by his father, respectfully silent as Chief Materu was awaiting Zainal’s pleasure.
“Does anyone here speak Catteni, Peran?” Zainal asked him. “Yes, that one by Kris does and a couple of the other Terrans. We talk with them sometimes,” Peran said with a diffident shrug. “Their names are Clime, Ditsy, and Ferris,” Kris murmured.
In Catteni, Zainal asked for volunteers who could speak the language. Clime, his expression astonished, made his way to the front of his ageset, as did Ferris, hauling the thinner, wiry Ditsy with his free hand. He had a finished shield and two fine spears in the other. Floss, taking no chance of being overlooked, held up her hand, waggling it at Zainal.
“Volunteers for what, Emassi Zainal?” Clime asked, glaring at Floss and urging his friends to catch up to him.
“A special mission to Barevi,” Zainal replied.
“The trading planet?” Floss exclaimed and won points, Kris thought, by Zainal’s response to her knowledge.
“What else do you know about Barevi?”
he asked her.
She made a moue. “Not much except it was a place to avoid if you were captured by Catteni.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “And it was low gravity. That’s why the Catteni used it as an RandR place.”
“It’s where the Catteni took Terran slaves to be sold,” Clime said, frowning. But he spoke in Catteni, his young baritone voice able to growl out the words with a good accent.
“They took a lot of stuff off Earth to Barevi,” Ferris remarked. “And we have to reclaim it,” Zainal said.
“They’re going to keep all the stuff they stole and be allowed to
get away with it?” Ditsy muttered in a petulant tone.
“No, Ditsy. But he has the priorities right,” Zainal murmured in an aside to Kris, and she grinned back at him. Now he stepped over to Chief Materu. “Chief, these young men and that woman speak my language and may be of use to us all. Will you allow them to accompany us?”
Judging by the fleeting expression that crossed the chief’s face, Kris thought he would be glad to see the last of Floss, but he seemed more reluctant to part with Clune and the other lads.
His answer was a ripple of words that Kris didn’t understand. Zainal looked at Peran for a translation.
“Father, he says that they are not yet in the ageset to be trained for a man’s skills and responsibilities.”
“Will you answer him for me, Peran, as I do not know his language, that they are trained in the skills I need for an important mission.”
Peran did not smile as Kris thought a Terran boy might, pleased to be translating for his father. He rattled off phrases with a respectful air and waited for the chief to reply.
Materu shrugged but with a wave of his hand, agreed.
“Run, get your things,” Peran said in Cattem to the three boys and, almost as an afterthought, included Floss. She angled her hips provocatively and stood closer to Kris.
“I won’t need anything they gave me once I’m back in civilization,” she muttered under her breath. But redeemed herself in Kris’s good opinion by turning toward the group of women and making a broad gesture of farewell, giving the older woman a dignified nod. “Can I board the ship now?” she asked Kris.
“Can’t wait to leave, can you?”
“You better believe it,” Floss replied and sauntered, still swinging her hips in a sexy manner, which Kris thought was provocative; she disappeared up the ramp and into the ship. By the time Kris, follow ing her, had made her way to the flight deck, she heard more feet on the ramp and the whine of machinery as the ramp was retracted. Zainal came forward to the pilot’s seat. As if it were his prerogative, Peran took the secondary seat. Kris took the jump seat behind Zainal and motioned for the boys and Floss to strap in. As they took off and Zainal dipped Baby in a farewell salute over the Masai EnKang, Floss heaved a long sigh.
“Thank God you came. They were going to marry me off to a bag of bones and shriveled skin,” Floss muttered to Kris.
Kris felt a pang of guilt for having forgotten Floss for so long and wondered how the girl had coped. There was little doubt in Kris’s mind that Floss had filled out in a very womanly fashion, and she was glad they had rescued her from an ancient spouse. That would only have caused more problems and indubitably Floss would never have waited passively to enjoy marital bliss.
“So what’s the caper?” she asked, leaning toward Zainal, her eyes glittering.
Zainal responded in his best Emassi manner but the only words Kris recognized were “know” and “time.” Floss had no trouble understanding and leaned back in her seat, folding her arms across her breasts. Full breasts, Kris noticed, and hoped they could get the girl off planet and to Barevi before she caused havoc among the unmarried males at the Botanists’ main settlement at Retreat. The girl was much too young to settle down, although she seemed to have learned manners and deference among the Masai. Oh Lord, they only had spare beds enough for Zainal’s sons. There were, however, bunks and cabins aboard the Baby, which must have been Zainal’s thought because he landed in the clearing he had used before, not all that far from their cabin.
“Well, this is a step up,” Floss said and winked at Clune.
“You boys can bunk on Baby tonight,” Zainal said, gesturing down the companionway to the crew and officer quarters. “Floss, you’d better stay in the main house.”
“Main house?” Floss echoed, glancing negligently at the cabin. “Our home,” Kris said with a quelling glare.
“Well, it beats a straw but all hollow,” Floss replied with more deference as Kris ushered her inside. “And I really do like the decor. Informal, rustic, but neat!”
“Thanks,” Kris said. She sniffed, aware of an enticing aroma, and noticed the stew pan on the stove. “That was kindly,” she said, picking up the spoon and stirring the mixture.
“I smell spices,” Floss remarked, an anticipatory grin on her face. “Smells sort of like home and holiday.” And her eyes suddenly filled with tears.
“We don’t have many spices but this is one of Dorothy’s pots, so we’ll know who to thank. There are knives and forks in the second drawer in the chest, Floss, if you can remember how to set a table. I’ll call the others,” Kris gave Floss’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.
Bread had also been left for them so they could make a good meal, which was devoured with much smacking of lips. Floss had forgotten which side forks go on but she had found glasses and poured water and put out plates. She was obviously accustomed to assisting, a definite improvement over her attitude before she was sent to the Masai camp.
Clime had asked where to wash his hands and the other boys followed his example, despite their obvious desire to eat. Kris dished out spartan servings since whoever had brought the food had not antici pated eight people dining on the pot’s contents. She had some slightly stale cake to serve for “afters,” which the boys and Floss consumed avidly.
“Sorry about the hard rations. But there’s usually plenty to eat at the dining hall,” Kris said. “We generally eat there and take our turns cleaning up.”
“That was lovely,” Floss said with a replete sigh. “Human cooking.” , “We ate well enough with the Masai,” Clune said, almost embarrassed by her remark.
“There was always enough,” Ditsy blurted out, as if the quantity was far more important than the quality. Then he glanced at Clune as if he regretted having spoken.
“There were plenty of times we didn’t have enough in DC, Floss,” Clune said with quiet authority.
“Oh, we did well enough in the Washington kip,” Floss said with
an airy shrug. “You guys were good scroungers, and Jerry could make nothing taste like something!” She gave a sigh for “times past.”
“I’ve always preferred to eat regular,” Ferris added, speaking almost for the first time. He had a very husky voice and there was an old scar along his throat. Kris resolved to have Dane check all of them over before they were enlisted for this mission. They probably needed to be wormed: Kris squirmed at the thought.
“’Scuse me, ma’am,” Ferris went on, his brown eyes troubled, “but does anyone know who’s left on Earth?”
“You had family there, Ferris?” Kris asked.
“Think they escaped the roundup but I don’t know. Any way I can find out?”
“We’ve some survivor lists, Ferris, and a long one from the DC area. We can check for you later. What about you, Floss?”
She gave an indifferent shrug. “Knowing my father, they’d’ve survived in fine style. Somehow, somewhere.”
Clune leveled a stern glance at her. “You used to worry about your mother and your sisters.”
“Oh” he twitched her right shoulder”I did but I had to give that up as a lost job, didn’t IF’
“You do know not to walk about at night, don’t you?” Kris asked. “Sure do. Never want that to happen to me,” Floss said in a more subdued tone and grimaced at the notion. Night crawlers were indigenous creatures on Botany that would attack anything anim
al, or human, in the night and ingest them. “Thought there weren’t as many night crawlers up north.”
“You do know to stamp a lot at night if you are caught off the stone paths?” Zainal continued. And all six kids nodded solemnly. “You boys can stay in the ship but I’m locking everything else down. I don’t want anyone flying off on us.”
“Emassi Zainal,” Clune began formally, “what exactly did we volunteer for?”
“Translating Catteni into English and English into Catteni,” Zainal replied. “And a little grunt work. The rest I’ll explain when we get to Barevi and when you need to know”
“Oh, the old needtoknow routine,” Clune said with a longsuffering sigh.
Zainal laughed and clapped him so firmly on the shoulder that, sturdy as he was, Clune rocked on the bench. “And now, boys, come with me,” and he urged them all out the door and toward Baby.
Without being asked, Floss rose and started clearing off the table, taking the dirty plates and utensils to the sink. She turned on the faucet and crowed with delight. “Hot water!”
“Yes, we have all the comforts of home.”
“Would you also have a shower? And maybe some shampoo?” Floss asked in a hushed voice, a look on her face of such keen anticipation that Kris felt all the more guilty for having forgotten the girl.
“Yes, but I think you’d better shower first and quickly. Zainal likes a wash in the evening, and we don’t have quite enough water for two long showers and the dishes, too. Come with me.” Kris paused only long enough to get a towel out of the cupboard and some shampoohomemade though it wasfrom another cupboard before leading Floss to the shower room.
“Oh, if you knew how I’ve dreamed of this,” Floss murmured, stripping off the wraparound garment.
“I’ll have to get you some clothes tomorrow but for now I have only a clean, spare jumpsuit, Floss.” Kris retrieved one from the closet as well as a spare leather belt, which the slender Floss might need around the much too ample waistband. “Nothing I own would fit you.”