Freedom's Challenge

by Anne McCaffrey

  “Poor woman,” Kris said, shaking her head.

  “Why? She was saved the mines.”

  “One day, she’ll find out. I hope,” Kris added as an afterthought, “the notion that she is beholden to you doesn’t throw her.”

  “She is good in lab, they say,” Zainal remarked.

  “So she is. We’d better go.”

  Kris saw the biggest of the flatbed vehicles draw up to the dining hall and heard it toot its horn. Half the diners immediately made their way to the door and climbed on the transport.

  • • •

  THEY WERE DELIVERED TO THE IMMENSE main hangar where the scout ship and the two transports lurked in the shadows cast by the one work light left on in their area. Not for the first time, Kris wondered what the Farmers had used this vast area for, so neatly carved from the mountainside.

  In the center of some of the unused space, chairs and benches had been set up, facing five large mounted slates that were still the best Botany solution for large displays. She could see that one held the diagram of this system and another of Earth. The other two were probably the systems in which the Barevi planet and the home planet of the Catteni were situated. The fifth held lists and names.

  So, thought Kris with a surge of anticipation, we are moving outside again.

  There was a table to one side of the slates with chairs crowding around it. Judge Iri Bempechat was seated in the center and was obviously the moderator for the meeting. Kris liked the old man enormously for his wit, his humor, and his vast store of judicial wisdom. So far no one had contested any of his decisions and she hoped the situation would remain that way. On his right was Ray Scott, on his left two men who were vaguely familiar to her: they also had the gaunt look of Victims despite two weeks of restorative treatment and therapy. Even those who had played “doggo” showed the effects of their incarceration in the brutal open pens where the Eosi had contained them. Dorothy Dwardie sat beyond those two men. The rest of the Council, from Chuck Mitford to Leon Dane, occupied the other spaces. Raisha and Gino sat together, trying to look unconcerned and anonymous at the end of the right side.

  Two seats were still unoccupied and, as Kris and Zainal entered, he gave his head a slight tilt toward the table, indicating those chairs were for them. Kris was quite glad to join him there. That gave her a chance to see who else had been invited. Mostly those who were technically skilled in one way or another, including Dick Aarens, and a great many of those who had been in the Fifth and Sixth Drops.

  Well, she thought, we won’t have to contend with Anna Bollinger and Janet.

  Ray stood up and whatever private conversations had been going ceased.

  “Zainal has proposed several plans of action since we cannot be sure that the Farmers will answer our latest message to them, nor when. We’ve been fortunate enough to have the latest information of Earth from those we rescued from the Barevi slave pens. Zainal?” Ray sat down and Zainal stood, going to the slates.

  “First, we need to know who or what is watching Botany outside the Bubble,” he said. “This is the point where the Eosi tried to ram their way in.” Someone had drawn in cartoons of the debris. “They left enough behind so that I believe the scout ship can poke her nose outside the Bubble and have a look.”

  “What about the geo-synchronous satellite up there?” Aarens asked, jumping to his feet to forestall the others who more politely raised their hands to signify that they had a query.

  “It may or may not be able to see the scout’s nose among the rubble,” Zainal said, “but by the time the report is sent back, Baby will no longer be there. The records will show only what has been seen before. Unless the film is sent to a very high-ranking Eosi, it will be considered what you call a glitch. In order to get out of the Bubble, we need to calculate the speed and direction of the new satellite that the Eosi have put in place. We can then figure out where to leave the Bubble without being detected.”

  “Yeah,” Aarens said in a dubious tone of voice, “but that sat would see the scout’s ion trail, wouldn’t it?”

  “Not if the speed of the scout is sufficient to get it behind one of the moons. Its direction would be unknown.”

  “What about if there’s a fast ship just waiting for us to try something like that?”

  “There are ways,” Zainal said with a grin. “That scout is much faster than anything but another scout. Such ships are never used as watchers.”

  Aarens shrugged and sat down.

  “That is the first step,” Zainal said.

  “If you’re going back to Barevi, I’ve a long shopping list,” someone said and received a chuckle.

  “No, Barevi would be too hot for us right now,” Zainal said. “We go to Earth and we use two ships; the scout and the KDM which will be renamed and altered to look as if it had been hit by space…stuff.”

  “That metal’ll be hard to dent,” Gino said, shaking his head. “You Catteni make a good hull.”

  “It’ll be camouflaged,” Hassan Moussa said and grinned. “I’m a past master at that.”

  “But going back to Earth?” Aarens asked, stunned.

  “Last place they will expect us.” And Zainal turned to one of the Victims who nodded agreement. “Ricky Farmer here was senior air controller for O’Hare airport while there was still Human air traffic. When all your planes were grounded and he was victimized, he took notes on Catteni routes and procedures. He has code words—though his Catteni is about what my English once was,” and that rated some chuckles from the audience, “and these will help us get into some of the landing places now used by Catteni transport ships. I understand from Jeff Fawcett,” and he gestured to the other Victim, “that large amusement areas have been built around the landing sites for the crews. These would be useful places for us to find out more information.”

  “You mean, that cool as a cucumber, we’re going to reinvade Earth?” Lenny Doyle said.

  “We also intend to…” and Zainal had the merest smile on his lips, “invade Catten.”

  That provoked a widespread eruption from the audience, more an elated one than fearful, although quite a few faces bore skeptical expressions.

  “Hey, ain’t that pushing our luck?” Lenny Doyle asked, raising his voice to be heard above the babel.

  “Only volunteers,” Zainal said with a sly grin. “And mostly to learn what would be impossible to learn on your planet. More codes are needed and Catten is the only place to go for that.”

  Kris waited for someone to ask what was so obvious to her: if Zainal was going to contact Catteni dissidents. She didn’t know how many people on Botany—besides Chuck Mitford—knew anything about that facet of his grand scheme. Surely Zainal would have confided in Ray his hopes that he could muster assistance on his home planet to help overthrow the Eosi.

  “We got to have information we can’t get any other way,” Ray Scott put in. Kris heaved a small sigh of relief. Ray did know and seemingly approved. “We’re also going to ask for volunteers to remain on Earth and contact the resistance groups.”

  “I don’t know all of them,” Jeff Fawcett said in a voice still hoarse from his recent ordeal. “But enough for us to get the word spread.”

  “Jeff’s also going to need a volunteer to go with him,” Scott said, “preferably from the First or Second Drops…”

  The number of hands that shot into the air gave Kris a thrill of pride. The most eager had jumped to their feet, to establish their willingness: Joe Latore, both the Doyle brothers, Mack Dargle, Bart Lincoln, Matt Su, and Sandy Areson were those she recognized first in the show of hands.

  “Thank you very much,” Zainal said.

  “Gratifying, most gratifying,” Ray said, holding up his hand, too, as did all the other military men seated at the table. “More than the ships can hold.”

  “Some must speak and understand Catten,” Zainal said.

  “We’re learning,” quipped someone.

  “You will learn harder,” Zainal said with a wry expre
ssion.

  “What about the Farmers?” Jay Greene asked when the laughter at that threat died. “Shouldn’t we wait for their response? And their advice?”

  “No, the time to move is now,” Scott said.

  Zainal stood. “The Eosi will try very hard to break through the Bubble. That is their way. Run shod roughly over any opposition with the force of their weapons. We must leave before they reinforce their warships. They have many.”

  “But they haven’t been able to penetrate the Bubble, and we know they’ve tried,” Jay said.

  “They will keep trying until they have,” Zainal said. “That is why they tried to discover new information in the minds of your specialists.”

  Dick Aarens jumped to his feet, his expression angry and obstinate. “And what happens to those of us left here when they do break through the Bubble? Have you contingency plans for that—if you’re taking all three ships away with you?”

  “We move quickly and not where they expect us to go and learn what they plan and how to…” Zainal looked down at Kris for the word he needed.

  “Counteract,” she murmured.

  “Counteract their plans.”

  “We’re still fleas on a dog’s back,” Jay said, “with all the ships you said they have. I was talking to Rick Farmer, and he says they’ve got hundreds in their navy. What if they use all of them against the Bubble?”

  Judge Iri Bempechat raised his hand and was given precedence over others who wanted to add their comments.

  “Zainal, such a fleet is widely dispersed, is it not?” And when Zainal nodded, the Judge went on, still looking at Zainal, “and it would take weeks, even months, to direct them all here. So we have some leeway if we make our moves quickly. Admiral Scott believes that they would try to install a battery on the moons that are outside the Bubble. To do so, they must bring in machinery, material—and life support systems for whichever unfortunate species is drafted for such an undertaking. I am also of the opinion, with which our military and naval representatives concur,” and, with one hand on his chest, he bowed his head to the right and left, “that the Farmers must have placed some sort of sentinel to monitor our protective Bubble. They made it clear, in that one regrettably short interview with various groups of us, that they intend to preserve us. I believed in their sincerity as well as their interest in us…even if it should be the interest of a scientist watching ants to see how they contrive—”

  “Now, wait a bloody minute…” and Geoffrey Ainger jumped to his feet. Kris had not noticed him, seated at the back, and wasn’t happy at his presence. “What is all this going to do for us? Except put the colony in more danger? Simply because one…” and his pause was pregnant with his distrust and animosity toward Zainal, “…person wants to pursue a private revenge?”

  “First duty of a captured soldier…sir…” and it was a stern Mitford whose parade ground voice dominated the shouted reactions from an angry audience, “is to do his best to escape and return to his unit. Mine is on Earth. And if Zainal wants to see his people freed of the Eosian domination, we sure as hell do, too, ’cause it means we’ll get out from under ’em. Militarily, a combined assault has many advantages.”

  That speech set the cat among the pigeons, Kris thought, struggling to keep from cheering. Or maybe the night crawlers after live meat.

  Ray Scott, with help from Peter Easley and Judge Bempechat, finally restored enough order to continue the meeting. Easley had been discreetly seated to one side where Kris had not noticed him. Not too far, as it turned out, from Ainger. Not far either from Beggs, whom she saw sitting by the British ex-naval officer. Had Pete sat there to keep an eye on those dissidents? Quite likely, she thought.

  “You gave me the impression, sergeant, that you had no wish to leave Botany now.” Ainger could put a wealth of venom in a seemingly casual comment.

  “I don’t, but I’ll do a great deal to preserve what we all have made here. So I can enjoy what I’ve—we’ve—worked so hard to achieve.” Satisfied with the applause to his answer, Chuck sat down again.

  “There are risks,” Ray said, once more taking charge of the proceedings. “Most of you can figure them out without much help but, if our people on Earth knew that there was an organized space resistance to the Cat—I mean, the Eosian overlords—it would give them heart and purpose against the tremendous odds they’ve had to deal with. Especially if we can also prove that we’ve rescued the ones the Eosi were brain-wiping.”

  “Speaking of tremendous odds, admiral—” And Ainger was again on his feet. “Just how large a fleet exists? That’s pertinent even if getting the entire naval arm of the Catteni here would take time.” He looked directly at Zainal for the answer.

  “Some of the oldest ships in service are slow and their equipment obsolete,” Zainal replied. “There are only four of heavy—new in service dreadnoughts, did you call them, Ray—” And when Scott nodded, he went on, “that much information Admiral Scott and I learned on Barevi. Until just recently spaceship builders have been concentrating on producing ships like the KDL and KDM, to replace those no longer space-worthy, like the first ship we attacked.”

  “So what sort of ships and weaponry do they have to bombard those of us left behind on Botany?” Ainger asked.

  Boy, thought Kris, that Ainger has a bad negative attitude.

  “Only the four of the dreadnoughts but there are…ships of the line…which are able to destroy satellites, small moons, and large asteroids. To my knowledge, which is now not up to date, there are thirty of them. They are assault vessels, which supported the kind of large transport that landed on your planet. They are larger than the two K-class we have here.”

  Ray Scott leaned over the table toward Ainger. “Zainal has given us a list of the types of spacecraft used by the…um…navy. We’ve also been able to get a fair translation of the data from the scout ship, so we have useful details about range, crew complement, firepower, and maneuverability of all types, except the dreadnoughts, which are so new. You are certainly welcome to peruse the data at your leisure.”

  Ainger waved away that offer with a flick of his fingers. “Those of us remaining on Botany are going to be vulnerable…”

  “Only if the Bubble fails,” Ray Scott said in a testy tone, “which seems unlikely, given the advanced technology of the Farmers which is so upsetting the Eosi.” Then he deliberately looked away from Ainger. “So we have three expeditions to mount: first, a reconnaissance at the Bubble edge; second, sending off both the scout and one transport to Earth to see what—” he grinned “—trouble we can cause there and how we can help the resistance movements; and third, an information-gathering jaunt to Catten. I think that has to be under your command, Zainal,” and he nodded in his direction, “with your choice of crew but we’ll accept volunteers for both expeditions.”

  “Who gets to peek out of the Bubble?”

  Zainal stood. “A full crew.” Then he pointed at individuals. “Gino, Raisha, Bert, Laughrey, Boris, and Hassan. Those only who speak good Catteni and are the right size will come with me,” and his eyes flickered briefly at Kris.

  “We feel we should pack the Earth expedition with as many infiltrators as possible,” Ray said and had to raise his hand to finish his sentence when most of his listeners rose and shouted out their names, “to spread the good word.”

  “What if there’re some traitors among us?” Dick Aarens asked.

  Ray Scott gave the mechanic a long incredulous look. “How many do you think there could be?”

  There were smothered giggles, and Dick Aarens swung about, trying to find the sources.

  “Well, there might be,” he muttered with sullen aggressiveness. “Particularly on the last drop—and even among the Victims. One of them might have been lying ‘doggo’ for very good reasons. He kept his brains while others got them wiped.”

  “Now, just a cotton-pickin’ minute.” Will Seissmann was on his feet, shaking a fist at Aarens across the audience.

  “Youn
g man…” began Miss Barrow who was puce-faced with indignation.

  Dr. Ansible was so apoplectic at the mere suggestion that he had to be restrained from diving across two rows of seats to Aarens.

  “I’d retract that, were I you,” Peter Easley said.

  “I won’t because it damned well is a possibility,” Aarens said, jutting his jaw out as if asking for a punch which would have many willing to oblige him.

  Dorothy Dwardie jumped up. “In my professional opinion, Mr. Aarens, there is little possibility of treachery among those who suffered, or even avoided, the Eosi mind-wipe. We have had trauma counseling sessions which would have exposed a quisling.”

  Which, Kris devoutly hoped, was accurate. But the suspicion had been raised and would hang there, a dark doubt in everyone’s mind: even among those who had learned a great deal about each other in the years they had worked together on Botany.

  Another of the psychology team, Ben Bovalan, rose. “We may have neither a lie detector nor any sodium pentathol but there are ways of testing responses. That is, if anyone feels such a procedure is at all necessary above and beyond our trauma counseling.” He gave Aarens a dire look before he sat down.

  “I won’t close what has been a very constructive meeting on that kind of sour note,” Ray Scott said. He was not the only one scowling in Aarens’ direction. “I will summarize what we,” and he indicated the others at the table, “have been planning, and why there is some urgency in the scout making a reconnaissance run. We do take Zainal’s advice that Earth would be the last place the Eosi would look for us to appear,” and he grinned, “and the best place for us to set in motion a coup d’état. If Zainal is willing to risk his life returning to Catten for the information he considers vital to our ultimate goal of freedom from the Eosian domination, then I wish him all the luck he’ll need and the support of everyone on this planet. We all have many reasons to be grateful he was on that first drop. Don’t we?”