Freedom's Challenge

by Anne McCaffrey

  Zainal grinned at her. “He walks well now.”

  She pulled up another chair to sit beside him, their bodies barely touching at shoulder and thigh. She had worked herself into a nervous wreck on the walk home, thinking about Dorothy’s theory. Well, eavesdroppers never heard anything good, about themselves or other matters: as just demonstrated. But maybe Zainal could reassure her. She was certain to have nightmares tonight, remembering the blank looks of the Victims as they had been led off the two K-ships.

  “Zainal?” she began and then noticed he was dealing with figures and time slots, and entry windows through the Bubble. “What’s being planned now?”

  Zainal leaned back, tossing the pencil to the table and stretching until his tendons cracked which made her shudder. The sound made her wince, thinking of bodies on a rack.

  “Kamiton met some of the other leaders, and I must agree with some of their ideas.” Zainal linked his fingers together across the back of his broad head. Which reminded Kris of the burning question.

  She put her hand on his upper arm in brief apology. “The Eosi couldn’t come up with a means to turn off all our minds, could they?”

  Zainal tipped his head back, roaring with laughter, and she had to hush him. Zane would sleep through a great deal of noise but not a bellow like that.

  He slipped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a reassuring squeeze, his face against her cheek.

  “They’ve only one of those mental helmets. They could scarcely cope with the millions of you Humans, and that’s what they’d have to do. Though Ray asked Kamiton, too, if it was possible. It isn’t! It would be better if we could put the Eosi under that device.” He made a grimace, a new trait of his which made him seem all the more Human. She’d caught the surprise in Kamiton’s eyes over Zainal’s facial reactions. Very un-Catteni, probably. “Of course, their enlarged heads wouldn’t fit so we can’t use that as a way of cutting them down to size.”

  She grinned back at him. “So?”

  “So, since Kamiton needs to get back, we are going to see what other mischief…is that the right word,” and his yellow eyes twinkled at her, “we can get into. Actually,” and he retrieved the pencil to tap it on the various sheets that she realized were now laid out in a semi-circle on the table, “Beverly wants to dazzle them with surprises everywhere. Everyone who went back to Earth is all for it.” His expression was solemn. “Your planet had taken a terrible beating and still won’t succumb to practices the Eosi have always found effective. If not being able to get through the Bubble has been frustrating Mentat Ix, why not prod them elsewhere! Frustrate them more! Confuse them! Harry—I thought that was a man’s name—harry them until they don’t know how to deal with the various strikes we’ll make.”

  “Well, there’re ways to totally confuse a computer,” Kris said, “and make it blow up. Could there be a way to do that to the Eosi?”

  “Kamiton thinks it’s a good way to go,” Zainal said, with a sly grin. “He says it might be the right way, too.”

  “So?” and she pulled one of the sheets toward her which Zainal then deftly shifted back.

  “So, since Kamiton can get access to all the recognition codes, and find out which ships of which class have been destroyed or believed lost, we can make our fleet into a much larger one.”

  “By changing the code name?”

  “And where it appears. For instance, as Emassi Venlik, I need to bring back all the metals I had to off-load in the asteroid belt. First, as Emassi Kulak, I will go to a mining planet and acquire a load…” He interrupted himself. “Walter Duxie says he can’t mine enough to make a full load of interesting stuff, so we go where they are mining it. Then, we take that load back to Catten.” He stopped and took a deep breath. “I wish to bring my sons to safety here,” and he looked her squarely in her eyes.

  “Of course,” Kris said quickly. “They would be at risk if the Eosi found out you’re still alive.”

  “There is one who is sure I am,” Zainal said in a heavy voice.

  “Your brother?” And when he nodded, she went on, “But where are your sons now?”

  Zainal clenched his teeth a moment before he answered. “With my sire.”

  “Aren’t they…” and she stopped because it was obvious from the pain in his eyes and the tension in his body that they were not safe. “Kamiton’s seen them?”

  Zainal nodded.

  “Well, it’s an easy way for me to increase my family,” she said in an airy tone.

  “I will be their father but you will not be able to mother them,” he said, surprising her. He held up his hand. “They are now too old to be mothered. But if you can be their friend, that will help integrate them.”

  “We’ve managed to integrate everything from Deski to Maasai, there should be no problem with integrating two Catteni boys.”

  Zainal gave an odd snort. “They will be safer here than on Catteni and Kamiton wants to bring his. Though he would prefer to bring his woman and set her and them in one of the closed valleys. We may have to assume responsibility for any other young who might be used as hostages by the Eosi against the activities of their sires.”

  “I’d think…” but she stopped when he put his hand over hers. “Okay, it’s your call. So are we all going back to Catten with you?” She really didn’t want to: that heavy gravity had been a killer, but she wouldn’t desert him for such a specious reason.

  “Drassi Kulak proved very useful,” he said with a grin.

  “So, once we’ve delivered all this ore, what else is on the agenda?”

  Zainal smiled. “Kamiton can find out the other places where Humans have been dropped. Some of them are very bad places, where many deliveries of workers have to be made, and we may not find any Humans left. But we will make the effort.”

  “Oh.”

  “Three of the ships, with a change of ID, will go back to Earth and see what else they can…what does Chuck call it…liber—”

  “Liberate,” and Kris grinned.

  “Liberate any poorly guarded ships. If they are loaded with loot, we will just take off. Otherwise, we will have what Leon calls a ‘shopping’ list.”

  “Well, you guys didn’t lose much time planning, did you?”

  “Kamiton thinks we must strike as often and as hard as possible to prove to the others in our group that we have ways to annoy and hamper the Eosi domination. To make them helpless to counterattack.”

  “Lord help us if that Bubble bursts,” she said. “But it must be so very satisfying to you, and Kamiton, to make the Eosi helpless.”

  Zainal kept nodding his head but his smile altered from anticipation to immense satisfaction. “We also do no species injury.”

  “Oh, Lord, that’s a good thing. I wouldn’t want to lose the good opinion of the Farmers. That Bubble is essential to making any of these plans of yours work.”

  “I do not think the Farmers will find fault with what we do. They are, I think, flexible entities.” And when Kris nodded in agreement, he added with a droll smile: “What impresses Kamiton most about Humans is your flexibility. We Catteni do not possess that.”

  “Ha! You’re as flexible as anyone on this planet.”

  He stroked her short, blond hair, running his fingers through it. She’d had to wash it nearly fifteen times to get the awful dye completely out.

  “I have learned.”

  “The more remarkable when all your lifetime before you had to operate on a need-to-know basis.”

  Zainal turned his head away, looking out into the darkness around them. “I want my sons to know all they want to know.”

  “I think sometimes we forget what a gift free thought is.”

  Chapter Eight

  THE NEXT DAY, HASSAN FLEW SEVERAL LEADERS of the Maasai, for the remnants of five separate tribes needed to be consulted and shown, down to the southern end of the continent. Mpeti Ole Surum, Caleb Materu, and Sikai Ole Sereb spoke some English, understood more, and calmed the other two leaders, Pakai O
lonyoke and Tepilit Ole Saitoti, who had excellent Swahili. Bart, who had boned up most of the long night on Swahili words and phrases, came along on the trip in the KDL, as did Yuri Palit, who was nominally in charge of resettlements. Baby would have been more practical. The Tub would have taken a lot longer but the tall Maasai would have been cramped on the one and experienced some claustrophobia on the other, so Hassan said he’d just make altitude and glide as much as he could on the way, to save fuel.

  “I see…planes…often,” Caleb said, pointing skyward. He was sitting with great dignity on one of the command chairs of the bridge. Overnight he and many of the older men had managed to equip themselves with lodge-pole spears. The straightness of the wood had fascinated them and Geoff, who did a lot of the iron fabrication around Retreat, had fashioned spear tips. “Never think I fly in one.” He grinned all around the bridge cabin.

  Mpeti Ole Surum stood directly behind Hassan as the Israeli sat at the control panel, his eyes not quite wide with any readable expression but he missed nothing Hassan did.

  Sikai Ole Sereb was the most relaxed of the three English speakers, more like a curious kid having a special outing than the most senior of the Maasai leaders.

  “I think they were all so busy setting examples to each other, they didn’t have time to be afraid,” Hassan told the Head Council that evening when he reported the day’s outing. Kris, Zainal, and Kamiton were among the group—so that Kamiton could be shown how the colony governed itself. Zainal translated in low tones, which did not disturb the others in the big hangar office. “They do understand about the night crawlers. Last night’s demonstration certainly was dramatic and frightening enough. They do want their own loo-cows, even if the creatures are ungrateful enough not to give milk. You know, we could import some cattle, or goats and sheep. They’d be useful for us to have.”

  “If you can find any,” Beverly remarked.

  “True but we can look. A lot of Terran animals would do well here.”

  “Now, wait a minute,” Beverly said, raising a big hand in caution, “we have rocksquats which serve as good protein and supply us with quite a few byproducts. I can’t promise we can do a Noah’s ark bit.”

  “We wouldn’t know until too late,” Leon Dane said, “if Terran grazers or browsers would survive on Botany…not with night crawlers and those avian terrors.”

  “I agree. We’ve got to go slowly. We’ve got a lot here going for us without wanting what might not be ecologically feasible,” Beverly said.

  “The Maasai will be grateful, I think,” Yuri Palit said, “to be allowed to live in their own ways on their own land, which was taken from them back on Earth, and make the best of things as we’ve done, as they’ve always had to do. We did discuss the need to have shelters, built either on stone—which isn’t their way—or on platforms set high enough above the ground and the reach of night crawlers, using steel plates on the underside. I wouldn’t trust night crawlers not to eat wood if something edible got spilled on it. I think they’ll opt for the platforms. It’s a good even climate down there, edging into really hot but Africa’s like that, too. Each tribe will have its own com unit and I think they’ve mastered calling in and taking messages. But I think we better check on a regular basis.”

  “Once we know all the women are in good health. Some of them are expecting,” Beverly said. “There are only that gaggle of young boys and five or six girls in their early teens who survived.”

  “Ah, and those boys bring up a minor problem which I think we’d better solve as soon as possible,” Hassan said. “Five of the teenagers are about to go into training as warriors. They are going to require some of the ritual drugs. Olkiloriti,” and Hassan stumbled over the unfamiliar word, “is one of them. Joe Marley said that’s only Acacia nilotica, which is taken as a digestive excitant and to prevent hunger and thirst on raids. It’s also said to prevent fatigue and fear.”

  “Were they looking for it here?” Chuck asked. “They seem to be examining every single bush, shrub, and blade of grass.”

  Hassan grinned. “They’re big on knowing the flora around them. It’s how they’ve survived as long as they have—knowing what to take for sickness and fever and how to keep wounds clean.”

  “Well, I suppose that we could import some of the acacia for them…” Bull Fetterman began. “If we can find any in their part of east Africa.”

  “The roots must be clean,” Leon Dane spoke up. “Let’s not import Terran dirt or we might just import something we don’t want growing wild on Botany.” As an Australian, Leon knew something of the problems vegetation could cause when transplanted to a different ecology.

  “Good point.”

  “I’ve been showing them what we’ve been growing for medicinal use,” Leon went on with a wide grin. “And the old guy kept telling me everything was good for some ailment and patted me on the back as if I’d done something spectacular to have everything growing in one place.”

  “You have,” Bull said with one of his deep rumbling laughs.

  “Indeed,” Hassan said. “They would have to travel many miles to get to where certain bushes grow.”

  Just then Dick Aarens came rushing in, Pete Snyder trying to keep up with the long-legged mechanic’s stride and also reason with him.

  “But I’ve got it! I’ve got it,” Dick said, beaming with self-satisfaction. He shrugged off Pete’s final attempt to control him and spread his arms wide in apology to those at the conference table.

  “Hold it, Aarens, we’re discussing another problem right now,” Ray said.

  “Can anything be more important than being able to see and hear outside the Bubble?” Aarens demanded, head thrown back and chin high in challenge.

  Ducking her head and putting her hand to her brows, Kris shook her head slowly at this latest display of Aarens’ egotism.

  “See and hear?” Ray repeated, glaring at Aarens.

  “I don’t know how such a simple thing could be missed.” And Aarens was contemptuous.

  “Then just how did you miss such a simple thing, Aarens?” asked Ray Scott, leaning back in his chair, an absolutely blank expression on his face.

  Aarens frowned, knowing he was being ragged.

  “You do leave yourself wide open, Dick,” Pete said, shaking his head. He leaned his hands on the table opposite Ray and explained. “The Eosi ship left all its com arrays stuck into the Bubble. They haven’t moved in months. I doubt they can, even if I don’t know why the material holds them in place. But it does. If Zainal or one of the NASA guys can do an EVA, we can probably make connections on this side of the Bubble and get to use the Eosi equipment to intercept messages and check on who’s visiting us. We’ve got the spare parts we’d need, thanks to Zainal. We can actually put a com sat up there on our side of the Bubble.”

  “You see,” Aarens said, his lip lifted in a sort of supercilious superiority. “Simple thing and you missed it.”

  “We all missed it,” Pete Snyder said, patiently but with an irritable glance at Aarens. “I’m not all that sure we’d get much filtered through the Bubble, but certainly it’s worth a try.”

  “It is,” Zainal said. Then he grinned. “I like it. Using their arrays to do our looking and listening.”

  “Save us a lot of fuel, too, as we wouldn’t have to go make a check before departure,” Beverly said, chuckling. “Which we will be doing a lot of soon enough.”

  “Do I ever get a chance to come along?” Aarens said, his jaw still stuck out in belligerence.

  Ray regarded him. “Only if you can lose about five inches, Dick,” he said in a deceptively genial tone. “You’re taller than either Zainal and Kamiton, and they say they’re tall for Catteni.”

  “You’ve let Bert Put go, and he’s nearly my height,” Aarens went on, angry and frustrated.

  “He’s a pilot, who stays on board and seated so no one checks his height,” Ray said. “But if you want to go back to Earth—so long as you remain on board the ship—it could be arrang
ed. We’ll talk about it again. After…we’ve got eyes and ears upstairs.”

  “Something for something, just like we were back on Earth,” Aarens muttered.

  “Oh, come off it, Dick,” Pete Snyder said, putting a hand on the tall mechanic’s back and gently urging him out of the hangar.

  “That’s a great idea, Aarens,” Beverly said and, taking their cue from the ex-air force general, others murmured appropriate phrases. “Sometimes it just takes the right eyes to see what can so easily be missed.”

  “It may not work,” Aarens said as he slowly let himself be eased out of the hangar. “I mean, we may not be able to get through the Bubble from this side.”

  “The idea remains a smart one even if it doesn’t prove feasible,” Ray said and then the door closed behind the two men. Ray cleared his throat.

  “It certainly would be a help,” John Beverly said.

  “He’s a damned good mechanic—a genius at some things,” Ray Scott said.

  “But he’s not a team player,” was Bull Fetterman’s assessment.

  “Exactly,” and Ray sat forward at the table, shuffling notes. “I wouldn’t trust him not to jump ship at the first chance. Where were we?”

  “I think we just settled the Maasai for the time being,” Yuri Palit said and settled back in his chair.

  “I suggest we see how fast Aarens can fix a connection to the array,” Zainal said. “I will help. And so will Kamiton.”

  “When we have that, the rest of what we were going to discuss tonight will be easy enough. So let’s see if Aarens’ idea works. I think this’ll be all for tonight,” Ray said and, placing his hands on the table, pushed himself to his feet. “Thank you, gentlemen, for your reports and attention.”

  • • •

  A LOT OF JURY-RIGGING WAS NEEDED ON THE Bubble side of the Eosi array, with both Zainal and Kamiton working in space suits. One of the NASA communications personnel—uneasy at doing an EVA—finally solved the problem of the connections. They pulled and tugged at the material of the Bubble until it was as thin as they could make it. Then they rammed into those frail holes the connecting linkages. Dick Aarens had wheedled himself on board with the communications crew and made such obnoxious comments about how ineffective, stupid, fumble-fingered everyone else was that Zainal shoved him into the spare space suit—Aarens had to crouch to fit and complained that the helmet was wearing grooves in his skull—and closed the air lock behind them. There were those who wished that Zainal had not securely attached the safety line.