Freedom's Choice

by Anne McCaffrey

  “We are not far now,” Zainal said, peering out the front windows.

  “How long would it take the Eosi to do something, Zainal?” Mitford asked, now drumming restless fingers on his knee with his free hand as he clung to a safety strap with the other.

  Zainal shrugged. “I do not think they can move as fast as Farmers. Eosi are not automated. Nor do they have matter transmission.”

  “I sure hope it galls their souls to hell’n’back,” Mitford said, grinning. “I sure hope it makes ’em squirm with envy and dismay.”

  “Just so long as they keep out of our hair,” Kris added. She knew that despite Zainal’s assurances, she wasn’t the only one fretting over the possibility of Eosi reprisals on the colony. He would know better than she, of course, but it didn’t keep her from worrying. She daren’t even think how the Farmers might react in a direct confrontation with their uninvited tenants, though Zainal’s point about the valleys’ protection barriers was comforting—as far as it went with an unknown species.

  New Camp Narrow was located in one of the closed valleys, south and east of the original cliff installation and itself suitably narrow but longer than most. It had been opened up by the simple expedient of blowing the barrier down with ingredients taken from Baby’s arsenal. Zainal had instructed several miners and an ex–ordnance officer as to the explosive capability of the different substances in her lockers. The original notion had been to use such combustibles for mining operations, since the Farmers had apparently ignored the mineral and metal resources of the planet. Inside the appropriately long, narrow valley, Baby and the KDL were parked one beside the other: despite Baby’s size in comparison to the larger, oblong transport vessel, she looked sleek, powerful, and far more dangerous. Parts of the wrecked transport had been utilized to make a fair-sized shelter nearby and the returning explorers had no trouble identifying it as headquarters from the flow of people in and out.

  Small tents of loo-cow skins dotted the other side of the usual valley stream and the carcass of a loo-cow was turning on a spit over a firepit. The rubble from the opening had been lugged across the stream for use in constructing homes. Several were as high as window height, with masons busy around them. A much larger building was already in use, its heavy stone pillars supporting a roof of slate that overhung to provide shelter from rains while half-built sides of rough timber gave the edifice the look of a forestry preserve facility. Tables, benches, stools, a few chairs, and a neat pile of blanket rolls suggested it was providing several functions, unfinished as it was.

  As the explorers swung around to park and dismount from their vehicle, they were hailed by many but no one stopped working for more than a few moments.

  “I wonder where they stashed the airplanes and all the air cushions,” Kris said, noting their absence.

  “This wouldn’t be the only valley in use,” Mitford said, stretching his legs. “Okay, Kris, Zainal, Bjorn, Whitby, Coo, we’ll make the initial report. You got all the maps. Whitby? Yeah…”

  “I have pictures,” Zainal volunteered, showing the mass in one big hand.

  “I have soil samples,” and Bjorn showed the little case he had made for them.

  “And I have the log printout,” Kris added, wondering why Mitford was so antsy suddenly.

  “Sarah,” the sergeant said, turning toward her and Joe, “go see what the drill is here. Astrid, see if we can get some food. Slav, put water in the tank. Oskar, Jan, Leila, air the Tub out good, and maybe even give it a good wash.” He waved toward the stream.

  If the refinements of headquarters left a lot to be desired as they entered and looked around it, the essentials—including the yet again reconstructed bridge of the wrecked transport—showed it to be in good working order and array. There were even “offices,” cubicles with reed-woven walls to afford some privacy. Old mech parts still doubled for stools, cupboards, shelving, and benches.

  “D’you suppose the Farmers didn’t recognize their own stuff?” Kris murmured to Zainal.

  “Bring your group over this way, sergeant,” called Scott, standing in the opening of one of the larger reedwalled compartments, on the far side of the bridge.

  “Even has a ready room,” Kris murmured, this time to Mitford.

  “You’re getting far too impudent, ma’am,” Mitford replied, though he was also peering at the equipment. The Catteni who had once operated from this bridge had never kept it in such good order.

  “Mitford, Kris, Zainal, Bjorn, Whitby…” Scott was solemnly shaking hands as he ushered them in. “Saw you coming,” he added, “so John, Bull, and Jim asked to be in on the debriefing.”

  He sat at a desk that was really no more than several planks fitted together, rubbed smooth with some sort of polish to prevent splinters; two woven baskets sat on the surface. For in and out, Kris thought irreverently, but their presence was oddly comforting. Business as usual. The other brass-heads sat on Scott’s side of the desk.

  “It’d be a super place to settle a lot, if not all, of our people in, admiral,” Mitford said, pulling the stool closer to his legs. Whitby was unfolding the map indicating the scope of their explorations as Zainal arranged the photos of the sites that looked suitable for habitation. “Though you look like you’ve settled in here well.”

  “Thanks, sergeant. It is indeed a pleasant place and there’ve been no indications of undesirable elements in any of the valleys we’re utilizing.” Scott had taken up one photo, and Kris nudged Zainal because she’d had a bet on with him that it’d be the one that took his eyes. “Now this is a magnificent setting,” he said, and passed the picture to John Beverly on his right.

  “Thought you’d like the view of the harbor,” Kris said. “It’s deep enough for an aircraft carrier.”

  “What would you know about draft, Kris?” Scott asked, but he was clearly in a good mood.

  “The water’s real dark down there,” she said, grinning. “Too bad we don’t have any big ships. Yet.”

  Mitford nodded to Bjorn to report now. “The ground is fertile, though it had not been tilled in many years.”

  “You mean it was, once?” Scott sat forward, dropping the second picture he had taken up.

  Mitford pulled the telltale picture away from those overlapping it. “The Farmers always put their facilities on unusable real estate, rocky or sandy, or plain nonarable. Look at the way this cliff has been hollowed out. We could damned near hide the KDL in here. For sure, it’d take Baby and all our converted equipment. This whole area shows sign of previous usage. And we found another section further along that ridge that reminds me of the way the abattoir was set up.”

  The four bent their heads to examine the suspect photos and it was obvious they agreed with him.

  “We found two more garage-type installations further up here,” and Mitford indicated the positions on the map. “We didn’t concentrate on finding any more because they had so obviously been vacant a very long time.”

  “We think we saw some likely spots on the other side of the bay,” Whitby said, “but the terrain was too steep for the Tub, so we didn’t cross the bay.”

  “Is it possible that the Farmers have just allowed the land to remain fallow because they have enough here?” Scott asked.

  “It has been fallow many, many years,” Bjorn said. “But the soil is rich and would grow everything we needed. Especially if we used the land as wisely as the Farmers do.” He ended on an admonitory note.

  “All we need is another shipment of replacements,” Beverly said with a grin.

  “Hell’s bells, general,” and Mitford grinned, “we saved everything we didn’t use, so we’ve still got the plows and other farming junk. I’d heard none of the scraps were vacuumed up or beamed or whatever. We only have to mount plows and stuff back on the air-cushions and use ’em for their original function. No big problem!”

  “That’s true, though some will not want to give up their runabouts,” and he winked at Mitford, “for plowing. What about the scavengers?
”

  “Nary a sign of them,” Mitford said.

  “And that’s a puzzle,” Whitby said. “We left out our garbage every night we were there—and found it still there the next morning. But the terrain is very similar to what we have here.”

  “No night crawlers on that continent?”

  “None we could find, t’any rate.” Mitford took up the recital. “We did find rocksquats, whole colonies of them up in the hills—and just as dumb as the ones over here. There were avians where the lodge-poles have grown up into forests. Perhaps the damned crawlers died of starvation.” He grinned. “We can always rustle a few loo-cows from here and see what happens. There’re none there that we could find.”

  “Many of the same root vegetables and berry bushes already grow there and other vegetation is similar,” Bjorn put in, his expression glowing with pleasure. “And fish and clams…”

  “Roasted corn would have gone so well with them,” Kris said suddenly, and sighed. “I’m sorry.”

  Scott bent an understanding look on her and his lips twitched in a bit of a smile. “You’re not alone.”

  “We may yet find something similar,” Bjorn said, his wide face eager to please her. “We don’t really have a complete catalog of the planet’s flora.”

  “By the way, Mitford,” Beverly said, “we disarmed the darts as you recommended. That’s quite a powerful anesthesia!”

  “Indeed,” Zainal and Kris said in unison.

  “That’s right,” and Scott turned to them. “You were caught and subsequently saved another, more fortunate group.” He paused a moment. “If there are truly no night crawlers…. There are many valid reasons for shifting our operations to that continent.”

  Mitford leaned forward, circumscribing the area they had searched with his index finger. “It’s great country, sir. It’d take quite a few trips in the transport, but it might be the smartest move we’ve done since we got dropped here.”

  “If we could be sure the Eosi aren’t watching…” Scott murmured, and looked at Zainal.

  “They will still be ‘considering,’ Scott,” Zainal replied to the unasked question. “Eosi consider long and hard before acting. Here, we use transport at correct times so the orbital does not see—short trip. If thrusters are used carefully, in short bursts, the geosynchronous one will not show enough to read.”

  “Besides which,” Mitford said with great satisfaction, “they don’t even know we’ve got those ships. And if they’ve any smarts at all, once they’ve seen reports of that monster, they’ll stay the hell away from Botany.”

  Everyone looked at Zainal, who looked right back around the table and then shrugged.

  * * *

  Not every valley being used as new accommodations was as far along in supplying shelter and amenities as the headquarters establishment. Nevertheless, the thought of picking up again and resettling was met with a certain amount of resistance, especially from the technical and engineering groups who intensely disliked a second displacement. They were already involved in various projects and didn’t want to drop tools—even the ones they were making. However, the availability of the massive caverns, when they were having to put together sheds from primitive substances, did cause them to reconsider. Then, all of a sudden, they wanted to be the first to get over there and resettled.

  The miners were less happy, especially Walter Duxie, the mining engineer in charge, since they’d already reached a good iron lode and wanted to continue working it. While the Catteni space mapping did show mineral deposits on the target continent, they were loath to leave one that was already showing results. So it was decided that they could continue where they were: they had an adequate workforce, which could take turns hunting and supplying their needs, and the nearby caves were already habitable. Judicious use of the KDL would bring ore to where smelting and fabrication processes would be handled.

  “What about the fuel situation?” Beverly asked Zainal at one meeting. “What happens if we run out? We’ve scarcely the technology to make it even if the natural resources are available.”

  Zainal grinned. “I know where more supplies are kept. With captured ships, a trip to Barevi would not be too hard.”

  “You pirate,” Beverly said with a laugh, and then had to explain the term.

  “I will make a very good pirate,” Zainal decided, pleased with the definition. “Not the only one, too.”

  “Hey, what else could you lift at the same time?” Su asked. He was head of one engineering group who found themselves constantly having to invent the tools that had once been always available.

  “Depends on what you want,” Zainal said.

  “Hey, can I go with you and see what’s on display at the store?” Su asked, and Zainal pointed at Beverly.

  “Ask him. We will not need to go soon. Not much fuel is needed for short hops.”

  Nevertheless, Zainal kept a close watch on the gauge on the first trip and, having reached a minimum quantity within a safe trajectory, tried to shave minutes off thruster use to preserve every ounce possible.

  Mitford had taken a full load of passengers in the Tub to start up the new location, leaving Zainal and Kris behind helping to organize who and what would go in upcoming KDL transfers. The farming community wanted to be among the next wave, as it was essential to plant as soon as the danger of frost was over. So far “winter” on Botany had consisted of cold, damp days interspersed with sunny cold days and a lot of early-morning frosts. No real storms, no snow despite cloudy days when the sky suggested blizzards to many who came from cold climates. The temperatures dipped very low occasionally, hampering work outside, but there was always something to be done in what shelter was available from the cold. The people who suffered were those used to tropical conditions and they were given extra clothing and first priority when rugs and long vests of rocksquat pelts were available.

  Not long after Mitford had left on the first of many Tub trips, Sandy Areson, who ran the Headquarters Valley camp, came over to Kris where she sat, eating a quick lunch in the Big Building.

  “Been trying to catch you alone ever since you got back from the other continent,” Sandy said.

  “Alone? That sounds ominous,” Kris said.

  “It is and it isn’t,” Sandy said, “and I have to agree with the basic logic of it as far as spreading the wealth is concerned.”

  “What wealth?” Kris asked, puzzled. Wealth on Botany meant hours of additional work for the few “extras” that might be available, above and beyond essentials like food and shelter. Even she and Zainal had done stints of kitchen duty.

  Although they were the only ones at the long table, Sandy leaned closer to Kris and said, “Us,” pointing to her chest.

  “Us?” Then Kris shook her head as she caught on. “Us as in women…of childbearing age?”

  “You got it,” Sandy said, leaning back again and grinning wryly. “There are far more men than women on Botany and as there hasn’t been a drop in four weeks, we’re not likely to get more. So, if we want to keep up a decent genetic pool…”

  “You mean, we’re operating as if we’ll never get off Botany?”

  Sandy gave her an astonished stare. “We’re dropped, we stay,” she said, “or don’t you listen to what Zainal says?”

  Kris gulped. “I guess I’ve been naive after all…. I mean, we have the KDL. We could get off.”

  “And go back to Earth?” Sandy looked even more disgusted with her. “You been away from the camps too much, gal, and involved with that hunk of Catteni. Not,” and she hastily put out her hand, “that I blame you. I didn’t know they came in any variation of ‘nice’…”

  “People are considering him ‘nice,’ then?”

  “Hey, spare me the sarcasm, Kris Bjornsen, and yes, lots of people have got it through their thick and intolerant skulls that Zainal is a lot more Botanical than Cattenical now. ‘I drop, I stay.’” Sandy snorted in amusement. “Especially the brass-heads. But you two can’t procreate. You do know that?�
�� When Kris nodded, she went on, “And you’re of an age to do so.”

  Kris felt a total rejection of what she knew would come next and leaned away from Sandy. She couldn’t, she really couldn’t, go with anyone else, even to increase the genetic pool of a colony she was working very hard to make secure.

  “Now don’t get all silly about it,” Sandy said. “We’ve got enough doctors here now so you can just be inseminated with sperm at the appropriate time in your cycle. I did. I was one of the first,” and now Sandy patted her abdomen. “Mind you, I chose the father.”

  Kris gulped again, feeling distinctly queasy at the prospect.

  “Anna Bollinger’s preggers, too, but she got formally hand-fasted to Matt before she did. Janet’s too old. Patti Sue also did it the old-fashioned way, but I just wanted to warn you that you’re on the list. It won’t be like being unfaithful to Zainal at all.”

  “That isn’t my problem,” she said in a weak voice. “How can I possibly get pregnant until we’re all settled and we know what the Eosi and the Farmers are going to do. What’d happen if—”

  “Calm down, Kris,” and Sandy captured one of her waving hands and held it firmly in both of hers. “You’re one of the last on the list, I should say, because your talents are more valuable elsewhere than in the lullaby line.”

  Kris couldn’t suppress her agitation. She hadn’t planned on having kids for years! She was barely twenty-two, or thereabouts, since she’d lost a lot of subjective time on the way to Botany and hadn’t a clue what month, day, or year it was. Then she didn’t think she’d make a good mother anyhow. She’d never liked babysitting jobs in high school or college, unless the kid was asleep. When one woke up and screamed at her, she never went back to that family. She didn’t think she had an ounce of maternal instinct in her.

  “Anyway, we’re going to set up crèches and minders who are maternally inclined, so once a baby’s here, you can ignore it completely if that’s the way you feel about motherhood.”

  “That is just the way I feel,” Kris said, trapped. Which she didn’t add. “When did this get decided? This is the first I’ve heard of it.” She started to get angry now. She hadn’t minded or complained of any of the duties she’d been asked to perform on this alien planet. She’d welcomed the opportunities to show her flexibility and stamina and develop skills she’d never have used in a normal life on Earth.