Freedom's Landing

by Anne McCaffrey

  “Where is the Deski, Coo?” Zainal asked and Kris was annoyed with herself that she hadn’t thought to ask after their comrade.

  Worry looked his nickname. “Not good. Leon says he’s holding his own but the thorn greens are not enough. Something, but not enough. Sure hope that message gets read soon.”

  “We found a lot of stuff on our patrol: maybe edibles that might be good for the Deskis,” Kris said. “Clams, berries, nuts.”

  “Clams? No oysters?”

  Kris shook her head.

  “I liked oysters,” Worry said emphatically. Then he slapped both hands on his knees, rose, and shook hands first with Kris and then Zainal before turning to Joe and calling him over. “So, Marley, pull up a stone and show me what you brought in.” His gesture included not only Joe but Sarah and the two Norwegians.

  * * *

  CHEDDAR HAD IMPROVED ALMOST BEYOND RECognition—not the least of which were the solar panels, like chevrons, above the entrance. There were tables and stools, and brick hearths replacing circles of stones, and ovens ranged on one wall. Bread racks showed the day’s produce, which was not limited to large, economy loaves, but featured small ones as well. The supply area now had a front counter and shelving behind on the wall to display goods, which proved ingenuity was rampant. A neatly curved doorway gave into a storage area beyond the main cavern but the door was closed. Store shut!

  Someone had also been successful in blowing glass, Kris realized, noticing that the corridor lighting had glass shades: sort of lumpy and blurred but glass nonetheless. Mitchelstown not only boasted a carved name plate, the letters outlined in black against the lighter stone, but also some rough bedsteads and mattresses, covered by the ubiquitous thermal blankets and probably filled by the fluff. At least it wasn’t raw dirt or stone. Little alcoves had been cut into the wall for shelf space and there were thick wooden pegs hammered into the wall for hanging things. As if they had something to hang. But Kris did now—the map case which Worry had told her to hang on to for their next patrol and the comunit, which she carefully put on the pegs.

  “Well,” Kris said, settling tentatively down on the nearest bed, “all the comforts of home. What?”

  “You did not give eyeteeth, Kris,” Zainal said, his eyes twinkling at her.

  “Didn’t have to,” she said, lying down fully but starting upright so quickly that Zainal looked around anxiously to see what had startled her. “Muddy boots,” she said and unfastened hers, kicking them off. “Definitely the comforts of home.” She lay back again.

  “What was your home on Terra like, Kris?” Zainal asked, removing the accoutrements from his belt and neatly bestowing them on the shelf above the bed next to hers.

  “It wasn’t a cave, that’s for sure,” she said, unexpectedly irked to be asked such a question. Suddenly she had a glimpse of why others could dislike Zainal simply because he was Catteni: his presence reminded them, of what they had been taken from. She pushed down that irritation and, as civilly as she could manage, described the split-level ranch-style house she, her parents, and her brother and two sisters had lived in: her neighborhood, her friends. She rattled on, unable to stop talking about her black-and-white cat, about the dormitory she’d lived in at college, until Joe and Sarah appeared in the opening, Astrid and Oskar just behind them.

  “Is this our home from home?” Joe asked in a bright voice.

  “Yes, it is,” Kris said and was suddenly impelled to leave. Rising from the bed, she stamped back into the boots she had removed, left the room, and half-ran across the cook cavern and out, taking the steps as fast as she could without any caution, and across the ravine and campfire site, beyond the stocks and up onto the heights, down behind them and off up the next rise, where she was away from anyone.

  There she sat herself down and, burying her hands in her face, cried. She didn’t know why she’d react in such a childish way unless it was just that “loss” had finally caught up to her. Up until the moment Zainal had asked her, she hadn’t allowed herself to think about home, her family, and all the things that were dear and familiar. She had forced herself to concentrate on first surviving, and then on the challenge of patrolling with Zainal, of proving herself useful on this crazy world. She’d kept up, she’d done all that was asked of her, but that didn’t make up—at this moment—for the future she had once planned for herself.

  She sensed, rather than heard or felt, someone near by. Whirling around on her bottom, she saw Zainal.

  “It was all your fault…” The moment the words were out of her mouth, she cried out, “No! I didn’t mean that, Zainal. I didn’t mean it! Don’t go.”

  He stood where he was, rock solid and unsmiling, but apparently concerned enough to make sure she did herself no harm.

  “Sarah says to cry is good.”

  “How did she know I’d cry?”

  A twitch of one huge shoulder. “She is woman, Terran like you. She was right, wasn’t she? You cry.”

  “Don’t blab it all over the mountain, damn it,” she said, blotting her cheeks so she had a reason for keeping her head down. She didn’t want Zainal to see her crying: she really didn’t. “Do Catteni women cry?”

  “Yes,” he said so stoutly that she knew he was lying.

  “You’re lying in your teeth.” The knowledge that he would prevaricate made her feel better.

  “My eyeteeth?” And the rumble of his voice under her ear was tinged with laughter.

  “You’re laughing at me…” she said in an ominous tone.

  “I am laughing at the thought of teeth with eyes as if teeth can see.”

  “Yes, that is a bizarre concept, isn’t it?”

  Zainal had eased himself closer to her and his proximity was comforting. He had a different body odor than human males, she realized. It wasn’t an offensive stink, not oniony like most guys, but she couldn’t identify what it did smell like, except that she liked it.

  “I rarely get silly,” she said briskly. She didn’t want a sentry to come by and see her: this meeting could be misconstrued and she didn’t want any more rumors about Zainal scooting about the camp. “What is your home like—or will that make you sad enough to cry?”

  The notion of a Catteni in tears made her giggle.

  “You are better now,” Zainal said and, putting a hand under her chin, tilted her face up.

  Kris was nearly unbalanced by the unexpected tenderness in his warm yellow eyes. Why had she ever thought them an odd color?

  Then he slid an arm around her shoulders. “Are you better now? Food is ready. Are you not hungry? Hungry brings tears, too.”

  She shot him a keen look. “I won’t blame tears on hunger. I got homesick.”

  “Home sick?” He was puzzled.

  “Yes, sick for the sight of familiar things and people you love.”

  “I don’t think Catteni understand ‘homesick,’” he said at his drollest. Now he eased her toward the cavern. “Why do they call this Camp Ayres Rock? Joe laughed.”

  Kris grinned again. “That’s a big landmark in Australia.” She glanced about her. “Much bigger than this, but I guess the outline might be similar. The Aussies must have padded the vote…if they even took one.”

  “That does not make them home sick?”

  “That wouldn’t,” she said. “Do you never miss home?”

  “Not my home world,” he said so emphatically that she wondered if it was the planet itself or the people on it. “We go see Coo and Pess. Tell them about the new foods.”

  “Yes, we should,” she said, now ashamed of her weakness when good friends were in desperate case.

  Coo and Pess, and the other ill members of their species, were all together in one hospital cave. Weakness lay on them like a palpable cloak, turning their skin a pale, sickly green. They were lying on plump pallets, but to Kris it seemed as if it was an effort for them even to breathe. Pess looked nearly transparent: he was the oldest of the Deskis. It was their bones, wasn’t it, that were weakening? Not th
eir lungs.

  All the Deskis seemed happy to have visitors and they all gabbled in their own language to each other when Zainal and Kris told them about the foodstuffs that they had found on their latest patrol.

  “You think good, you do good,” Coo said, looking from Kris to Zainal and nodding. “Coo walk with you soon.”

  “Learning more English, too,” Kris said, shifting her feet and slightly uneasy in the face of such a wasting illness. She remembered how indefatigable Coo and Pess had been on their first patrols together. To see them in such poor condition really disheartened her. If she wasn’t careful, she’d start weeping again.

  “Do you have seas on your planet?” she asked Coo.

  “See?”

  “Large waters, salty.”

  Comments were exchanged and Coo, as spokesman, shook his head sadly. Then Kris tapped the water jug. “Big water, you can’t see across it.”

  “Oh.” Both Pess and Coo responded to that and vigorously nodded. “Big water good.”

  “Good for Deskis?” and again Kris was rewarded by a nod. “Maybe the clam things will help.”

  Then Leon put his head around the doorframe. “Don’t overtire them, but I hear you found some possible nutrient sources on your latest trek.”

  All too relieved to have an excuse to leave the Deskis, Kris was happy enough to describe what Joe had found.

  “I’ll catch him later.”

  “How are they, Leon?” Kris asked in a low voice.

  “Holding their own and the female’s pregnant.”

  Kris glanced over her shoulder. “Which is she?”

  “The one next to Pess. Her mate. We’re hoping he can last until she gives birth but it’s doubtful. His age is against him. He’s not as resilient as the others. If they were humans, I’d say they had rickets and they’d need vitamin C. I’ve ordered a microscope,” and he gave a brief grin, “from those engineering blokes, who say they can make anything we need from mecho scrap. Wish they’d hurry up.”

  At that point, Zainal joined them in the hall but he didn’t need Leon’s diagnosis to know how serious the Deskis’ condition was.

  * * *

  THEY MADE A GOOD MEAL THAT EVENING, THE highlight being a fermented beer that was being brewed in Camp Rock. It had a kick to it, all right, but the taste was weird.

  “We’ll get it right. We’ll get it right,” said Worry, who had joined them at the table with his cup and the pottery pitcher that held his ration of beer. “Castlemaine XXXX or Foster’s it ain’t, but we’ll have a respectable pint by the time winter comes. We’ll need it then.”

  “We will?”

  “Hmmm, meteorologist bloke says he thinks winters are bad here. Sees signs on the trees and stuff. We’ll do a good business in rocksquat furs.”

  “Business?” Kris asked. She seemed to be asking a lot of questions.

  “Sure, worker’s worth his hire—in privileges. Mitford won’t allow gold used as barter or we’d never keep people at their chores. They’d be out gold-digging. Working on some wine, too, out of those green berries. Right tasty. And a cordial for them who don’t like the taste of beer.”

  “There are such people?” Kris said, her expression bland. “How do you like it?” she asked Zainal, who was cautiously sipping his beer. “Is there anything like this on Barevi or Catten?”

  “Yes! Not as good as this,” Zainal said, a comment which did his credit no harm.

  The beer might taste odd, but it had the same effect as anything brewed on ol’ Terra. Two cups and Kris was ready to sack out. Zainal remained behind with Joe and Oskar who was, perhaps unwisely, getting his cup refilled too often.

  * * *

  EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, IT WAS CLEAR THAT he had, and Astrid, with Joe and Zainal’s assistance, took him down to the lake for a remedial swim. Having nothing better to do, Sarah and Kris tagged along. They had the lake to themselves at that hour, it was still full dark outside. So they were all together when Kris’ comunit bleeped.

  “Sentries report something big coming in,” Worry said. “Get out here.”

  “But it’s still dark. They won’t see the glyphs,” Kris said in a wail, once again feeling the muscle-aching labor of making those marks in the hillside.

  “I stay with Oskar,” Astrid said, taking his limp arm from Zainal’s grasp.

  The five of them ran back up the steps, glad of the light from the glass-covered lamps that made a fall less likely. They ran along the corridors and through Cheddar Cave, where the bakers greeted them cheerfully, then they erupted out, onto the ledge.

  Listening intently, they could indeed hear the distant rumble of an airborne vehicle.

  “Riding lights passing over,” said a voice just beyond them on the ledge and Kris recognized it as Worry’s. “I’ve notified Mitford. He’s alerting the local sentries. Is that Zainal there?” Worry swung a lantern. “Could you possibly tell…”

  “It slows for landing,” Zainal said.

  “I suppose there’s no way of knowing where it will land?”

  “No,” and Zainal shook his head. “A guess would be where it landed before,” and he pointed in that direction.

  “Cor! We can’t make that before it lands.”

  “We make it before they depart,” Zainal said, and pivoting on his heel, passed Joe and Sarah as he made for the steps.

  Kris followed, beckoning for the others to come, too. She made a quick detour into Cheddar. Grinning at the bakers, she held her hand over the loaves just out of the oven.

  “We gotta run but can we take some bread?”

  “Sure…”

  And she tossed a loaf each to Joe and Sarah, who had paused to see what she was about. Then they went after Zainal. The rumble was getting louder, like a swarm of very angry, very large insects.

  Once they were off the Rock, Zainal set a bruising pace. When they stopped for a breather, the ship was passing overhead.

  “Transport,” Zainal said, peering up at the dark mass, outlined in blinking running lights.

  Kris begged the stitch in her side to stop but when Zainal took off again, she was right on his heels and the others behind her. Despite the darkness, they managed to get over the rough ground with few stumbles and no falls. Something in the sound of the alien airship seemed to rev them up to the effort. Pictures of the wounds scavengers made on unresisting bodies plagued her when the stitch in her side returned and she ignored it again. If only she could keep from stumbling.…

  Zainal vaulted the first hedge, for once not considerate of those behind him. But he wasn’t showing off his physical superiority so Kris suppressed the surge of resentment as she trailed farther and farther behind him. She stood at the hedge that was too high for her to vault, Joe and Sarah coming to a halt beside her.

  “Well, let’s borrow an army trick,” Joe said, observing the problem, and threw himself on the vegetation, making a way through the branches. Kris and Sarah carefully crawled over his body, then helped him through, and they were away after Zainal, who had reached the other side of the field.

  “Damned Cat,” Kris muttered under her breath but put her best effort into shortening his lead.

  By now, the ship was well ahead of them but she could make out by the running lights that its stern end was swinging round. Did it land on its tail? How did it disgorge its unconscious passengers? The mass of it disappeared below the hill down which they were pelting, faster than was wise in the light and the conditions underfoot. In the growing light of day, they could see Zainal plunging through a gap in the hedging and they altered their hellbent pace in that direction and through to the next field.

  Was this the one on which they’d been spread out, all unwitting of the dangers that lurking underneath them? Kris wondered but all the big fields looked similar. The main concern was that, even if the ship landed several fields onward, they would be close enough to prevent loss of life and injury. The skies were brightening. But, dammitalltohell ‘n’ gone, the Cats weren’t at the right ang
le to have seen the glyphs in the dark—even with the sparkling stones to outline the figures.

  And—she nearly lost her balance at the thought—what if Zainal left with them? She whimpered, once, twice, but hadn’t breath for more as she pumped her tired legs harder to keep up with the man.

  Underfoot she felt from one pace to another the big ship’s mass settle to the ground. Its mighty engines roaring, she thought irreverently. Oh, god, what if the Cats captured them again? She was halfway to halting while she briefly considered that aspect of rushing to rescue unknown folks. The thought of Coo wasting away, of those of his species who had already died, and the baby that should be born, spurred her on. Aren’t you the altruist! But such considerations lent the requisite energy to her legs.

  Joe and Sarah nearly ran into her when she stopped at the next hedgerow, stunned by the mass of the landed vehicle. No wonder they’d had to use the larger Botany fields.

  The ship had put down in the uppermost third of the space available. Suddenly lights came up, illuminating the field with beams so bright she had to shield her eyes.

  “They don’t…do things…by halves…do they?” Sarah said, panting, as she looked out through spread fingers at the scene, but she sounded cheerfully impressed.

  Kris was quite willing to catch her breath until she saw Zainal, clearly outlined in the spotlights, running uphill, toward the ship. That alarmed her so much that she found herself holding her breath and getting funny bright lights on her peripheral vision. So she made herself breathe long and deep. Now a wide ramp was emerging from an expanding hold aperture.

  “Damn him,” she muttered and pushed her way through the hedge, ignoring scratches on face and hands and wrenching her coverall free from a snag.

  Just then Catteni started to unload their cargo, three and four obviously unconscious bodies at a time, two limply draped on broad shoulders and two, equally flaccid, hauled out by the fabric of their coveralls. The fact that the Catteni then lined them neatly up in rows seemed oddly incongruous. Lots of Catteni and, despite her urgent need to be near Zainal, Kris felt her pace slowing.