Freedom's Choice

by Anne McCaffrey

  “One set of boots was much smaller,” Worrell said. “But,” and he scrubbed his head, “I don’t think women lead many Catteni commando units.”

  “No,” and now Chuck’s tone was smug, “though they might just have sent along someone Zainal might be glad to see about now…as bait.”

  “Guessed wrong, didn’t they?” Leon remarked in a level tone.

  * * *

  It was when Kris, Sarah, and Leila decided to have an afternoon swim that they found more skeletons, gleaming white bones in the shallows among the thick water reeds that grew there.

  “That does it,” Sarah announced, refastening her coverall. “Makes me wonder what the fish we had for lunch had for lunch.”

  Leila looked slightly nauseous.

  “Sarah!” Kris exclaimed. Medics often had displayed a ghoulish sense of humor. She did have to swallow before she added: “We’d better see what kind these are.”

  Zainal waded in to fetch some of the nearer skeletons, which were identified as loo-cow, rocksquat, Turs, and another human skull, still partly attached to its neck. It was Leila who found the odd scales and quills. No one had taken any more than a glancing look skyward for any hovering avian predators but everyone agreed they didn’t seem to be feathered, so perhaps they used the lake for bathing or in a grooming ritual.

  “But they could just fly in and out. That barrier wasn’t for them,” Sarah said, frowning over the puzzle.

  “It must have been something real bad for the Farmers to want to keep it contained,” Kris said, trying not to shiver. She glanced up to see the position of the sun. “I move we get back to the vehicle and out of here. I don’t want my next place of residence to be that lake.”

  So they put out the fire and retraced their steps to the barrier.

  “Start up,” Zainal told the others. “Whitby, with me. I look closer at stream…”

  The two trotted down the other end of the valley. Kris, Leila, and Slav made the first ascent on the ropes. When Kris gratefully reached the top, she could see Zainal and Whitby having quite a gawk where the stream went through the bluff. The water boiled up over whatever outlet there was for its flow and made a wide pond at cliff base. She wondered what Zainal had hoped to learn from scrutiny. As soon as Fek, Sarah, and Joe joined them, they continued on up the cliff, reaching the top just as Zainal and Whitby surmounted the slanted barrier and began to unhitch the rappel equipment. The others started down to the vehicle but Kris waited for Zainal and Whitby.

  “Well?” she asked as Zainal pulled himself up beside her.

  “Something could swim through underneath,” he said.

  “Have to have been damned desperate to take such a risk,” Whitby added, “unless you’ve some amphibious species here you haven’t told me about yet.”

  “On Earth large carnivores will swim,” Kris said.

  “On Earth,” Whitby agreed, nodding as he mopped his forehead and face. He looked back down at the daunting rock face. “If whatever it was had nothing left to eat, even the fish, possibly it would take such a risk. But I would still rather not meet whatever it was. Let’s take a look at that aerial—”

  His words were broken off by the loud buzz of Zainal’s portable.

  “Worrell here. You guys all right?” The Aussie was shouting into the speaker.

  “Yes, all right. Deep in a valley all day,” Zainal explained.

  “Oh. Well, a problem dropped in here the other night,” he said. “And you’re needed back as fast as you can make it, Zainal.”

  “What sort of problem?” Zainal asked but Kris thought from the twinkle in his eyes that he had some idea. “They look for me?”

  “We think so. Only they weren’t briefed proper.”

  “Night crawlers?” Zainal asked, and grinned when Kris shuddered.

  “You bet,” and Worrell sounded pleased. “And someone’s asking them questions on the portable comunit that was about all that was left of them…barring the shoes. Leon told whoever called that you weren’t here and they were still looking.”

  “You want me to give myself up?”

  If Zainal hadn’t been grinning like a loon, Kris would have gasped.

  “Hell no, Zainal,” and Worrell’s tone was indignant. “Chuck’s got an idea.”

  “I wonder if we have the same one,” Zainal said, winking at Kris. “We come as fast as possible.”

  “Find anything good?”

  “Tell you when we get there.”

  Worrell disconnected and Zainal replaced the unit in its pouch, fastening the flap.

  “Should I know what I just heard?” Whitby asked respectfully, but his curiosity was apparent.

  “Why not?” Zainal said with a shrug, and nodded to Kris to explain.

  Whitby had breath for a good chuckle over, “I drop, I stay,” and Zainal’s demonstration about the night crawlers and showing the hand unit that proved the planet possibly had another owner.

  The question which Whitby did not ask, nor did Kris volunteer to answer since she didn’t know it, was what duty was so important that Zainal had to be abducted by stealth.

  They had reached the ground now.

  “We go back to camp as fast as we can,” Zainal said.

  “We’re five days away,” Joe protested.

  “We took side trips up here,” Zainal reminded him. “We take turns. Drive all night.”

  “Hey, it sounds important.”

  “Dirty work with cross feet?” Zainal asked.

  “Crossroads,” Kris corrected in spite of realizing that he was being deliberately obtuse.

  “Sticky wicket, huh?” Joe said, and neatly finished recoiling the ropes. “Let’s move out. I’ll drive first. I’ve had a breather.”

  Both Slav and Fek liked to stand up in the front of the load bed of the vehicle, hanging on to the frame, staying alert and watchful. Sarah and Leila sat in the wide front seat with Joe. Kris, Whitby, and Zainal arranged themselves on the bedrolls in the back. Zainal then slid down until he could put his head on Kris’ shoulder, folded his arms, and promptly went to sleep in the smooth-riding air-cushioned ground machine.

  CHAPTER 2

  They arrived back in Camp Rock by sunset of the next day, having pushed the vehicle to the limits of its panel-supplied power. Joe was of the opinion that the two full moons had been bright enough to keep the power levels high but Whitby and Leila had argued the point. It made an interesting discussion during the long hours of the trek, when they halted only long enough for natural requirements and to bag a few rocksquats. Joe turned out to be correct about the power, though the vehicle had slowed down considerably.

  The sentry hailed them on their approach and rang the bell so that Worrell and Mitford were awaiting them in the parking area, one of Camp Rock’s newer amenities. A big hauler and a small runabout, reserved for Mitford’s use, occupied the space.

  “We heard the transport,” Zainal said as he swung down from the driver’s seat. “Another drop?”

  “Yeah, another thirteen hundred reluctant colonists,” Mitford said with a grimace.

  “Your species shouldn’t be so difficult to manage,” Zainal said with a grin.

  “We also had to answer another message,” Mitford said, showing his teeth.

  “Tell me,” Zainal said.

  “We’ll just unpack,” Joe said tactfully, and gestured to the others.

  Zainal caught Kris’ arm as Mitford and Worrell started up the stone steps that led to the height’s office. The two-roomed stone building had been built on a leveled-off area, well above any spring flood that might rampage down the gorge that split Camp Rock. Aerials and solar panels were attached to the slated roof of the good-sized facility. A desk, occupied as much by Mitford as Worrell in his capacity as Rock’s manager, commanded a view down the length of the camp from the main window. From the other, smaller one, the view was across sloping stone to the first of the Farmers’ fields.

  Mitford gestured for all to sit on the stools and benches p
rovided. “Leon’s coming,” he added. “Lemme fill you in.”

  Zainal nodded.

  “The unit buzzed off shortly before we heard the transport angling in for a landing.”

  “Usual field?” Zainal asked.

  Mitford nodded. “They’ve got that much right at any rate. Leon got a message that suggested the commando group was to meet with the transport and deliver your unconscious body. Certainly there was a group hanging around near the hedges doing nothing, apart from peering around and listening to their wrists a lot.”

  “What did you say back?”

  “Leon told them the search continued.”

  Zainal frowned slightly. “What words did he use?”

  “I knew the right ones,” Leon said, entering just then and leaning against the doorframe to catch his breath from the climb. “I always had a team watching me operate on any wounded Catteni. I got used to some of the distinctions Emassi made. So I adopted a hoarse whisper in case it was the female who was to report.” Zainal shook his head, his expression inscrutable. “I said,” and Leon put one hand on his windpipe to alter the sounds he made, “‘Mekichak Zainal obli. Tik escag eridi. Tikso tag.’” He removed his hand to speak less growlingly. “Which, I think, translates into, ‘Moves Zainal much. Hear he returns soon. Report then.’” Leon raised an eyebrow at Zainal.

  It wasn’t often that the big Catteni burst out laughing as he did now, grinning broadly and obviously also enjoying some sort of a personally satisfying private joke. “You don’t know it, Leon, but I am always moving a lot. You said exactly what they will believe. Where is the unit?”

  Leon slid it out of a chest pocket. “Since I’m the only one who knows enough Catten to answer, I’ve been in charge of it.”

  The communicator looked much smaller in Zainal’s large hands and could be slipped into a pocket or down a boot. He examined it carefully, his smile broadening again.

  “This is very good. Very good,” and Zainal’s eyes sparkled with amused triumph.

  “These were found in a boot,” and Dane very carefully laid the other three items on the table.

  Zainal held one vial up to the light and snorted. “Vikso. In very small doses, it will be useful to you, Dane. Makes muscles weak,” and he pretended to sag like a limp string puppet before he handed it back to the surgeon.

  “So, they knew they’d have to knock you out,” Chuck Mitford said, tipping back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. “Care to tell us why they’d go to this much trouble over you?”

  Zainal chuckled again, still very pleased, and seeming to ignore the question. “This will be useful,” he said, and waggled the unit before he replaced it carefully on the stone slab that was the sergeant’s worktop. “Now we can set traps. Two would be the most we could get.”

  “Two ships?” Kris caught on first, though Mitford’s chair returned to all four legs as he leaned across the desk, looking so eager and hopeful that Kris caught her breath.

  “Two?” Worrell exclaimed, amazed at the audacious prospect.

  Zainal nodded, leaning across the table toward the sergeant. “You have captured me. You, Kris, will speak this in a message, but I have fought hard and killed two. You need fast scout before vikso,” and he tapped the vial, “wears off. They must land where Emassi scout met us. They must land silent,” and he dropped his voice to a dramatic whisper, “with no lights and walk to edge of field to help you move captured Zainal.”

  “But I don’t know enough Catten.”

  “You will when you send message,” Zainal said, and the look he gave her told her she was in for it now. After all, she’d been teaching him English: turnabout was fair play. “You will have made my capture.”

  “Me?” Kris looked around the room at the others, grinning at her almost maliciously. “Cut it out, you guys,” she said with an edge to her voice.

  “At ease, Kris,” Mitford said, understanding her flare of resentment, and then focused his attention back on Zainal. There was no question that the sergeant would do much to possess a useful spaceship but he was not totally reassured by such sketchy details. “So you get them out of the scout, and preferably disposed of by the night crawlers, and then what?”

  “We have one scout vessel.”

  “And no reprisals?” Mitford was extremely skeptical.

  “No reason because the ship will take off…” and everyone exclaimed at that, and Zainal glanced about, grinning again. “It leaves to make them believe what will happen next.” He turned to Kris. “You will manage to make one more message…and then…” He slid one finger across his throat and grinned.

  “You overpowered us again?” Kris rolled her eyes incredulously. “Boy, will they buy that?”

  “Buy it?” Zainal asked. His command of idiom and grammar was increasing but not yet as good as his accent.

  “Believe it,” she substituted.

  “On Barevi I showed you I am difficult to catch.”

  Kris laughed. “All right. So I manage a message out before you kill me…”

  “And I alter course…”

  “You alter course?” Mitford asked, suspicious, narrowing his eyes and staring hard at Zainal.

  “Certainly, so that moon hides ship to get back here.” Then Zainal grinned again. “I will bring Kris with me…” and Mitford glowered more deeply, “and Bert Put and the woman, Raisha Simonova—who flew in space from your planet. They learn to use the ship. It is very simple to fly. You may come, too,” he added with another grin and a bow to Mitford.

  “Thanks, but no thanks,” Mitford said with a wave of his hand and a fleeting expression of distaste. “I’ll stick to good ol’ Terra Firma. But taking the spacers is a damned good idea.”

  “I’ll go in your place, sarge,” Worrell said, raising his hand, his expression avid for the experience. “If I could…” he added hopefully. “We don’t want too many people in on this, do we?”

  Mitford shook his head, fretting over flaws in the plan, then caught Zainal’s eyes again. “Your guys won’t come looking here for the scout?”

  “Scout does not leave much trail and they will not be quick to look around here,” and he circled his finger in the air, meaning Botany. “They will start looking where I have friends to hide me. If they come back, the scout will be hidden with other metallic stuff at Camp Narrow. It will not be noticed in a scan.” Then, after a moment of silence when the others were thinking the plan over, he added, “The last place they will look for me is here!” He pointed an emphatic finger at the ground as he grinned at them.

  “Well, I’ll buy that,” Mitford agreed in a droll tone with the beginning of a smile on his lips.

  “It will work,” Zainal said with such conviction that Mitford began to straighten up from his crouch across the table. The Catteni paused, a smile tugging at his mouth. “Then…” and he had everyone’s attention, “the next transport ship to arrive will be surprised and we will have two to use.”

  There was a long moment of surprised reflection but Mitford broke it.

  “Your people can’t be that stupid,” Mitford began.

  “No?” Zainal said, raising his eyebrows with a sarcastic expression. “The transport uses only Drassi. Not Emassi. The transports that come here are all in bad condition.” He grinned again. “Used over often. So if the ship explodes after takeoff…” and he spread his hands at such a simple ruse.

  “The ship will explode?” Mitford asked, jutting his chin out.

  “An explosion can be made with metal left in space to prove accident. That is why it is very necessary to get the scout ship first. It can dump garbage into space. Then, we have two ships.”

  “Only one of them is not in good shape,” Mitford pointed out.

  Zainal shook his head in denial. “Many people here are trained to work with machinery. I am not just pilot. I know how to…” Zainal tapped an impatient finger on the worktop as he searched for a word. “To…repair as well.” He grinned. “I have faith in your people, M
itford. Have faith in me.”

  “Jesus, Zainal, I do, believe me,” Mitford said forcefully, slamming both palms flat on the table. “And I think that goes for all here.” That vote of confidence was immediately seconded. “And it would be great to know we’re not stuck anymore on…” He paused, looked surprised, and then laughed. “You know, I’m not as eager to leave Botany as I used to be.” He brushed away that candid remark. “Won’t the Emassi retaliate on Earth when they’ve lost both a scout and a transport here on Botany?”

  “I don’t think they would.” Leon Dane spoke up with a wry grin. “The Catteni I met considered us a short step above aborigines. Our sabotage and revolts are annoyances that will stop when the leaders are all rounded up and dropped here.”

  “Or elsewhere.” Zainal disconcerted them all by that qualification. “There are other planets that need to be…tested for occupation. Not this one alone. I do have one worry,” and he glanced at Worrell.

  “I’m almost glad to hear that,” Mitford answered drolly. “What?”

  “That Lenvec, who came for me in the first scout ship, speaks to a higher commander that we have technology not sent with us, that this planet is in use. That is another reason to capture me again.”

  “How big are the odds he’s done that?”

  Zainal looked dubious. “He can be persuasive but,” and now he gave a snort, “many Catteni believe only what they like to believe.”

  “Just like some humans I know,” Leon said in a caustic tone.

  “So, we might even have something to defend ourselves with if the Farmers come looking for us,” Worrell said, looking relieved.

  Zainal shook his head. “Only scout has weapons. But two is better than nothing and there are other uses for a scout.”

  “Our own exploratory missions?” Mitford asked.

  “I myself will like to know who the other owners are. Don’t you?” asked Zainal. “Also, it is not the Catteni who are your real enemy. It is the Eosi. Who farms this planet, who left that command tower, may be stronger, wiser and better than Eosi.” He leaned back then, watching Mitford’s expression changing as he absorbed this concept. “I do not want Eosi controlling my people anymore. Or yours. This is the first time I think there is the chance to end Eosi.”