Freedom's Choice

by Anne McCaffrey

  Zainal nodded his head slowly over that point. “I do not know that. Fortunately,” and now he held his cheek down against hers, holding her tightly, “I was dropped and I stay.”

  * * *

  Kris was not the only one who thought of keeping the KDL right out in the open. An artistically scorched glyph took the bright new KDL 45’s place but there were, actually, no other options, even if they could find a Farmer facility big enough to house it. The ship was not just a trophy, gathering dust, although how it would be used was yet to be decided. Scott had approved Phase Two but who knew if the admiral, who seemed to have taken charge of the military aspect of the High Command, felt they should attempt Phase Three.

  The KDL settled itself on the wreck, compressing its empty shell. The Deski sentries would give enough advance warning of any landings…should other transports be sent here…so that she could lift and settle down a few fields over, and be camouflaged from casual inspection. The Catteni rarely looked around during the process of hauling out their passengers and what few supplies accompanied them. A certain risk was taken, but Scott had come to agree with Zainal’s assessment of the Drassi: Do as little work as possible and get back to base.

  “You know, someone might just think it was odd that there have been three ships blown up in this area,” Leon Dane remarked at the end of the final debriefing, “and decide it isn’t worth visiting this sector of the vast Eosi-Catteni empire and leave us alone.”

  “I doubt that,” Easley said with a sad smile. “According to the latest arrivals, Earth’s resistance is growing, and the Catteni are still taking anyone they think might be a saboteur or ringleader into custody. We had a troop of Sea Scouts in the last group and all they were doing was holding their monthly meeting. We may end up with more of Earth’s population here…and wherever else they’ve been dumped…than on good old Terra Firma.”

  “I just hope we can maintain a fresh-start approach on Botany and ditch the attitudes that made trouble back on good old Terra Firma,” Mitford said, with good reason to doubt the ability of people to forget ingrained intolerance and bigotry. Three men and a woman were serving time in the stocks right now who had revived an old prejudice in an hour-long brawl. The injured would serve their sentences when they had sufficiently recovered. “The more people we get in, the more trouble we acquire.”

  “We’ve got four continents…well, two, if we leave the Farmers theirs,” Leon said. “There’s enough space for everyone, isn’t there?”

  “For some types, there’s never enough space,” Sarah said.

  “Too right,” Dane said, exhaling tiredly.

  CHAPTER 7

  Once the excitement of procuring and hiding the KDL calmed down, Scott and others of the High Command, military branch, spent hours debriefing the latest arrivals from Earth, trying to figure out world events from fragmented individual reports. Not much news was broadcast anymore in a world that once had twenty-four-hour news bulletin coverage.

  “Disasters every time of the day or night,” Kris had said.

  “Do they do that on Catten or Barevi?” Sarah had asked Zainal. They were all sitting around their table after the evening meal in Narrow.

  “Tell everyone everything? No,” and Zainal chuckled at the notion. His gray hair had grown so long now that he was wearing it in a ponytail, a style that suited him better than most. Kris had offered to braid it, Amerind fashion, as she did her now much longer hair, but he had declined. “Only need-to-know is told.” Then he gave a shrug. “And evenings of lies about new worlds and brave Catten.”

  “Recruiting?”

  Zainal considered the word, squeezing Kris’ hand to indicate he was going to figure that one out himself. “Yes, to join space army.”

  He got a thumbs-up for accuracy from the others at the table—their scouting partners and those from Astrid’s six-strong team. They spent a lot of time together, learning how to drive the amphibious machine so that anyone could. The mechanics had been all over it, too, familiarizing themselves with its equipment, engines, systems, communications, and life support. While Mitford was ranked a senior in the High Command Committee now governing the settlers, he still had to get “proper clearance” to take such a valuable piece of machinery. He also needed Scott’s clearance to take Zainal.

  “They’ll do anything, any damned thing, rather than let us function as a team,” Mitford had ranted the previous night. “They’ve got both bridges manned, and the KDL working off solar power, and we still have the Deski perimeter listeners. Almost nothing can sneak up on us down here. If they really needed Zainal, Marrucci could fly over in one of those atmosphere planes now that he’s learned how not to kill himself in it. And it doesn’t leave the sort of trail visible to the spy sat.”

  Zainal wasn’t exactly reassuring on that count because he didn’t know how sophisticated the new satellite was, just that it was on a full global orbit, checking the surface of the planet once every thirty hours. He was positive that the reconditioned air-cushion Farmer vehicles would not show up on the satellite since they ran on solar power. The amphibious vehicle might possibly be visible—since it was no longer supposed to exist—so he had plotted a course and they would move only when the satellite was at another point around Botany’s globe. It might take slightly longer to reach the coast, but once in the water, he thought, the Tub would be undetectable since water would not only cool its exterior but mask its emissions.

  Kris’ hand was still slightly red but her feet had healed, even if she was careful to keep a layer of fluff as an insole. And she dearly wanted to leave Camp Narrow, for Mitford’s sake as well as Zainal’s. She tried to convince herself it was just the wander-itch that made her restless, because she didn’t think she had a trace of precognition in her, but she did very much want to leave. To go explore the neighbor continent.

  * * *

  Fully accustomed now to its new form, Eosi Mentat Ix was bored. It had returned to pleasures that its weakening former husk had been unable to perform, and now these no longer satisfied its seeking for unusual experiences. The new form had been relatively circumscribed, not having had the training of the young originally chosen from that bloodline.

  That was when it remembered the animosity and bitterness of the Catteni mind when it had been subsumed. Ix accessed the memories. A brief exploration would discover if the entity’s suspicions had been valid. Ix was somewhat startled to discover that a more powerful satellite had been put in position around the subject planet. The entity’s traces grew alarmed within the Mentat as the most recent report was mentally gleaned from those on duty.

  The scout ship had disappeared and no trace of it had been found anywhere in Eosi space: it had not refueled at any station, planetary or space. Nor could the satellite find that sort of metal shape on the subject planet. The matter of the wreck of the transport was resolved by the interchange of communications between the KDL and the downed ship. The KDL, the newest of the transport fleet, had taken off after discharging its cargo and had been tracked out of that solar system. By both satellites. And the tape of its final emergency and explosion was on record.

  Ix carefully reviewed that tape, the details of the final moments of the ship’s life and the efforts of the crew to remedy the fault. Ix also reviewed the fault in the light of the KDL’s sister ships now coming on line and found that such a back surge in the propulsion was indeed a possibility, however improbable.

  The Eosi Mentat ordered a search for the log of the KDL, which should be found in the space debris. It was. Within the tiny fraction of Ix’s great mentality an infinitesimal scream insisted that such events were suspicious.

  Ix screened the orbiting satellite’s records and found only the wreck that had been left where it had landed. Then Eosi Mentat Ix was called to a meeting of its peers, to determine what must be done with the increasing problems experienced by Catteni occupying forces on the latest planet they had subjugated. Such continued resistance was unique, even bizarre, and Ix was
caught up in deciding what punitive measures to take that would completely solve this problem. However, all Eosi found themselves rather fascinated by the scope and originality of the opposition to their benign rule.

  * * *

  The general-maintenance orb reached the target planet and found its near space occupied by two technological items: one orbiting in a thirty-hour, total global pattern, and the other geosynchronous. These objects were thoroughly examined before the orb descended to a level at which it could investigate why a homing missile had been dispatched from the command facility without a message. The orb discovered some life-forms resident in the facility, for what purpose it was not programmed to discover, but their presence was noted. It proceeded on its orderly inspection of the agricultural facilities placed around the more arable continents and discovered anomalies throughout a large area, suggesting malfunction on an unprecedented scale of the indigenous equipment. Checking inventory against what should have been idle at this time of the planet’s growing season, it could discover parts of the equipment but not in the usual form. This abnormality was duly noted. There did appear to be more life-forms than the natural propagation of the indigenous species would ordinarily produce. There was no possible way in which such a bovine species could damage, much less alter the machinery that husbanded it. The orb was programmed only for mechanical devices, inventory and supply: it did not examine life-forms. That was another department.

  It completed the necessary circuits at the altitude programmed into it for the maximum efficiency of required investigations, sent its findings back to its home world, and continued on its scheduled maintenance cycle.

  * * *

  The Deski were covering their eyes, cowering, but still managed to report in to their bases that there was the most fearful noise in the air. The boards on both bridges reported a spatial object, traveling at an impossible speed, spinning about Botany at what Marrucci stammered had to be damned near the speed of light. Its manifestation on the bridge boards was of a continuous pattern of light, encompassing Botany.

  “Then it can’t be Catteni,” replied Rastancil, watching behind Marrucci. “They don’t have that capability…”

  “Yet,” Marrucci added, sotto voce.

  The team at the command post reported a terrifying moment.

  “I felt like I was being scanned by ETs,” reported the generally sanguine Colonel Salvinato in a voice that shook noticeably.

  “Well, you’re not alone. Something’s giving us a real going-over,” Rastancil replied, which he hoped would reassure the colonel: his body still tingled from whatever it was that had touched him.

  Salvinato reported in later that there were now two homing devices where there had recently been only one.

  “Replacements by matter transmitter?” Rastancil said, condescendingly.

  “‘Beam me up, Scotty,’” Marrucci said, and this time he didn’t lower his voice. “The Catteni also don’t have anything that can do that.”

  “That would account for how the Farmers’ ships managed to load up so fast,” Mitford said, when he was called in to give his interpretation of the curious incident. “I felt it, too, like someone going over me with a mild electrical current.” And then he smiled. “The Farmers have finally noticed us.”

  “Do we really want them to?”

  Mitford thought that over for a long moment and then shrugged. “Beats me, general,” he said. The generals had taken control of Botany out of his hands, but he still felt the responsibility. “It was the only option I had at the time. Still seems a good one. Only no one hung around long enough to speak to us. So, what happens next?”

  Scott called an immediate meeting of as many of those from Camp Rock as had witnessed the fly-past of the Mech Makers’/Farmers’ spaceship. Rumors circulated and with each lap of the scanner they doubled in improbability, stupidity, and frightfulness. It was now supposed to have infected everyone with a deadly disease that would kill off the entire population in twenty-four hours. Other rumors included the notion that the Farmers had counted them and would shortly come and round them up, process them in the abattoir, and ship them back as delicacies. Or, all of them were “marked” now and would be enslaved or converted into six-legged loo-cows or night crawlers.

  There was certainly tension as the First Drop folk gathered in the mess hall at Narrow, late that afternoon. Benches (made of old machine parts, and these were the last places the arrivals sat) and stools formed a semicircle around a table at which sat Jim Rastancil, Geoffrey Ainger, Bull Fetterman, Bob Reidenbacker, John Beverly, Pete Easley, Yuri Palit, and the former judge, Iri Bempechat, who had recently taken over the disciplinary duties for work evasion or inadequacy. Ray Scott, with his insufferable aide, Beggs, taking notes and counting noses, rose when it was evident that all who intended to come had arrived.

  “I hope none of you have suffered any repercussions from those ludicrous rumors started after our recent visitation,” Scott began, with a rueful expression.

  He looked directly at Chuck Mitford, who sat with Zainal on his right and Kris to his left, with Dowdall, Cumber, Esker, Murphy, and Tesco—his original assistants during the retreat from the First Drop field—ranged along the row: defenders who had made very certain that no hystericals got near the sergeant. Other First Drop took the second row, showing solid support. Patti Sue just behind him with Jay Greene, Sandy Areson, Bart, Coo, Pess, Slav, Bass, Matt Su, and Mack Dargle. More from the First Drop spread out behind them: Janet, Anna Bollinger and her son, the Doyles, Joe Latore, and Dick Aarens.

  Mitford sat with arms crossed over his chest. “You and me both know the problem with rumors, admiral, but I’m not going into decline over ’em, scanned or not. Especially when everyone’ll wake up tomorrow in the same shape they went to sleep in.”

  “Yes, that will solve the problem, but not the bigger ones we must seriously consider,” Scott said. He looked at Zainal. “I take it that phenomenal display had nothing to do with either Eosi or Catteni spacecraft?”

  “Absolutely nothing. The satellites’ reports are going to cause a big stir. I know that much,” Zainal responded. “The Eosi won’t like to see what came. They will be very worried. Finally.”

  “You were a scout, weren’t you, Zainal?” Bull Fetterman asked. “You ever encountered any traces of them in this galaxy?”

  Zainal shook his head. “This is new solar system for Eosi and Catteni. Which is why we,” and he emphasized the plural pronoun as he glanced around to include everyone there, “are colonizing it. What I know is that their technology is far superior to Eosi. I also do not fear them as I do Eosi.”

  “You don’t?” Scott was not the only one surprised by that admission. “How do you arrive at that conclusion, considering what just happened?”

  “Because of what just happened,” Zainal said as if that should be obvious. “No one was injured by scanning. The homer was replaced. No, I do not fear the Farmers. A…” and he put his hand flat against his stomach, “a…gut feeling.”

  “Does anyone else share this…gut feeling?” Scott asked, more amused than patronizing.

  “After seeing that valley, I’m inclined to agree,” Kris said. There was something about the ambiance in the valley that she thought the entire team shared: its tranquillity, carefully saved and preserved by the blocked entrance. “These are not killers, like Eosi. They nourish this planet carefully.”

  “Why didn’t they get rid of the night crawlers, then, I’d like to know,” Dowdall said sourly.

  “Very efficient in clearing up waste and garbage,” Kris said.

  “They made safe places to keep something in, or something out. Eosi do not do such things. The Farmers are very different from Eosi…and Catteni.”

  Lenny Doyle raised his hand, grinning. “I’d be a bit more apt to believe him if the Mechs…the Farmers…hadn’t nearly chopped us up for the crates. But Zainal got us out before they could, and besides, the machines weren’t programmed to know the difference betwee
n us and loo-cows.”

  Dick Aarens made a low disclaimer.

  “Would that suggest the Farmers aren’t bipedal?” Scott asked.

  “No, it only suggests that the Farmers’ machines were not programmed to differentiate between warm-blooded species,” Kris said.

  “Could the Mechs have been made in the form of their makers?” Janet asked, her eyes flicking around for reassurance.

  Lenny began to guffaw at the notion, laughter he tried to stifle when he saw how he offended Janet.

  “C’mon, Janet,” Aarens said rudely, “spare us that religious tripe…made in their image? Shit, no! Every single piece of equipment on this planet is a masterpiece of design, using renewable power sources and with easy access for self-repair and maintenance. No one’s been able to figure out what sort of alloy was used, but the machinery is practically indestructible.”

  “Until you came along,” Janet said angrily, stung by Aarens’ snide manner.

  “That does not, however,” and Ray Scott jumped in quickly, waving for both of them to sit down, “give us any insights into what course of action the Farmers might take when that orbiting whiz-ball of theirs reports that all the machinery in a good-sized section of their farmlands is no longer in operating condition.”

  Kris covered her mouth to hide her grin. She wouldn’t have expected that sort of wry assessment from the admiral.

  “Let us not digress into useless speculation,” Scott said. “Will the Eosi do anything to Botany while they’re studying the reports? Like a blockade?”

  “Or at least stop shipping us more colonists?” asked Pete Easley in a plaintive tone.

  “That is more likely,” Zainal said.

  “What I had more in mind is sending a team to investigate a planet that has been the last point of call for a scout ship and two transports.”

  “What about blaming the ETs for disappearing those ships?” asked Lenny Doyle.