by neetha Napew
“Indeed,’ Zainal and Kris said in unison.
“That’s right,’ and Scott turned to them, ‘you were caught and subsequently saved another, less 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 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 geo-synchronous 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.
. . .” Scott
Not every valley being utilized as new accommodation was as far along in supplying shelter and other 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 because 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 work-force 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.”
“You pirate,’ Beverly said with a laugh, and then had to explain the tem.
“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 that found themselves constantly having to invent the tools that had once been always available.
“Depends on what you went,’ 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 decided on the minimum amount of fuel he could use and still reach 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 up-coming 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 Headquarters Valley Canip - 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,’ said Kris.
“It is and it isn’t,’ Sandy told her, ‘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 work applied to what ‘extras’ 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 child-bearing 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 up one 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 brassheads. 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.” Feeling a total rejection of what she knew would come next, Kris 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 get 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 handfasted 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,’ Kris 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 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 o
n the way to Botany and hadn’t a clue what sort of month, day or year it was.
Then she didn’t think she’d make a good mother anyhow. She’d never liked baby-sitting jobs in high school or college, unless the kid was asleep. When any of them 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 creches and mincers 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 was starting to get uptight now. She hadn’t minded or complained about 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.
Sandy kept grinning at her. ‘In case you’re interested, you’re going through the same phases that others have - including Astrid before accepting the inevitable.” That jolted Kris; she hated reacting in a predictable way.
Sandy chuckled now and patted her shoulder.
“It won’t be soon and it won’t be as bad as you expect. But I figured you mightn’t have been told. You’ve been out on scouting parties, so you missed the great debate and no-one’s had the courage to tell you about it.”
“Who stuck you with the duty? Did Mitford know?”
“I volunteered. Mitford was too chicken,’ Sandy said, grinning.
“Look at it this way, Kris. We’ve made Botany our own and we’re going to keep it ours, and that means having a next generation to bequeath all our hard work to. I like this planet . . .” ‘Now!” Kris reminded her wryly, feeling a bit sheepish over her outburst.
Sandy shook her head. ‘No, I did from the start, because I could be myself here and what I knew was damned helpful, where back on Earth,’ and she jerked her thumb over her shoulder, ‘I was considered “fringe”, or “weird” and “antisocial”, nonconformist and definitely an odd-ball. Hell, here I’m running generals and admirals through my hoops as a town manager. Sure beats the hell out of being “tolerated”.
And I’m not the only one who has found a real home on Botany. I think you have, too, even if it means giving up nine months to producing a baby.” ‘I hadn’t thought of it all quite like that . . . I mean, your situation. I mean, back there as opposed to all the things you’ve done here. There’s one matter that hasn’t been taken into consideration, though,’ Kris went on. ‘The Farmers.” ‘Yeah,’ Sandy said in a thoughtful drawl. ‘But we’ll-worry about that when we need to. Right now . . . cops,’ and she stopped, looking in the direction of the entrance.
Zainal was there, looking around, and he spotted Kris and Sandy.
Sandy got up. ‘Good luck,’ and she left with a wink and a grin.
Kris wasn’t sure she was ready for Zainal to join her just then.
Sandy’s disclosure had really shaken her, and she’d have to sort all this out in her head. Disregarding the unsolved and unknown Farmers, she had to admit that having kids on Botany would give the colony stability, not to mention a morale boost.
Especially if someone who’d experienced the abuse Patti Sue had had could now contemplate getting pregnant.
Kris found very little consolation in knowing that she wouldn’t have to have physical contact with the male parent, although that route struck her as cowardly, if not downright cheating some guy out of . .
. could she call it a ‘good time’?
Isolated from whet ‘society’ was available on Botany because of the scouting expeditions, she’d had little contact with other guys.
Mostly she and Zainal had worked with other pairs, like Sarah and Joe, and Whitby who had attached to Leila although they seemed an odd couple.
She had known, kind of peripherally, that the Sixth Drop had contained a group of women who had at first been totally ostracized by the other women in the camps to which they were assigned. She had noticed and commented on it to Sarah, who took some relish in telling her that these were ‘ladies of the night’ who had been picked up in one of the German cities along with the actual demonstrators. Apparently, Germany tolerated brothels but insisted that the occupants have periodic medical examinations to be sure they did not transmit sexual diseases, so these ‘girls’ were ‘clean’. With a larger ratio of males to females on Botany, there’d been endless requests of the available women for sexual favours, on any terms. Some of those terms put the offenders up in the stocks to cool off. The arrival of the professionals had been greeted with considerable enthusiasm by Camp managers, so the women had been given the option of continuing their previous profession if they so chose. When assured such practices would be considered ‘work hours’ for community benefit, all but two had decided to continue. It was stipulated that they would still have to take their turn at the less glamorous chores of the camps, like kp and latrine, though they were excused from sentry duties. But they in turn had laid down strict regulations about how they could be treated by clients and the number they would be willing to accommodate. Proper respect was the first requirement - from the female population as well as the male.
The puritanical among the Botany women refused to admit that the oldest profession had a place on this planet. But they could not refuse to admit that a lot of guys went around camp in much better humour and with fewer snide remarks directed at the so-called ‘prudes’.
There were a few intolerant women, like Janet and Anna Bollinger who studiously avoided them, but the rest did as requested and treated them with due civility.
“You look worried, Kris,’ Zainal said as he straddled the bench before
settling down beside her. ‘Isn’t the soup good
today?” he asked, noticing her unfinished bowl.
“Yes, it’s good,’ and she hastily picked up her spoon, though it was now only lukewarm.
“Sandy says something to worry you?” He looked concerned.
“Woman things,’ she said, avoiding an explanation.
“Mitford says you will have to bear a child for the colony.
Maybe two.” ‘What!” Kris dropped the spoon in the soup, splashing it, and then becoming furious at such sloppiness, mopping hastily with a wad of fluff.
Zainal regarded her with a very level gaze, one corner of his mouth twitching as he leaned closer to her. ‘Was that what Sandy was saying to you?” She hid her face from him. ‘So Mitford had nerve enough to tell you? And not me?” ‘Man-o’-man stuff,’ Zainal said, and she could just see him grinning at her out of the corner of her eye. “You know you cannot have a child by me. Is that why you stay with me? So you do not have a child?” She glared at him. ‘I stay with you because I’m in love with you, you . . . you . . .
brass-head,’ she replied in a low and intense voice.
He covered her hand briefly with his, squeezing her fingers.
“You are young and strong. You will be a good mother.” Kris gulped. “No, I won’t. I’m not in the least bit maternal motherly!’ She blurted out the denial, daring him to object. ‘I’d make a lousy mother. I’m not ready to have kids, I’m too young.” He gave her a long look. ‘It is not something all Earth women do? Have babies?”
“Not all, by any long shot,’ she told him grimly.
“I see,’ he said slowly. ‘It is not because you don’t want to offend me?” ‘I’m the faithful type, I don’t want any man but you.
Even if we can’t have children,’ she replied in a tight voice, looking down at the soup which now had a thin haze of congealing fat on it.
“You do not need to sex another man. Mitford explained it to me.”
‘That’s even worse,’ she told him with gritted teeth, rolling her eyes.
“I wish to see a child from you. Choose Mitford. You like him!’
“WHAT?” Kris half-rose from the bench in agitation, and those b
y the hearth looked over at them. She dropped back to her seat, one hand over her face, as close to tears as she had ever been since coming to Botany. The trouble was she did like Chuck Mitford, very much, and if she hadn’t gotten so incredibly tangled up with Zainal, she might have tried to come on to the sergeant. She had never once done so, nor had Mitford come on to her at any time: maybe she hadn’t been mistaken in thinking that he’d have been interested in her if she hadn’t paired off with Zainal. Of course, he had kept her so constantly in Zainal’s company that finally sexual tension had been inevitable.
Zainal put an arm around her. ‘Do not be this way, Kris. It is no big deal.” ‘No big deal ?” She whirled on him, pushing his arm away, and had the satisfaction of seeing him recoil slightly from her expression. ‘No big deal!” She started to get off the bench but he held her down, exhibiting far more of his strength than he had ever used with her before.
“You are not a silly woman, Kris Bjornsen. When it is time, you will have the child and I will help you. Do not make it such a big deal.” Then he got up and so startled her that she grabbed for his hand. Had she lost face in his eyes because she was, indeed, being somewhat silly? If he didn’t mind, why should she?
“Your soup is cold. I get you hot.”
Kris was nearly lightheaded with relief and nodded acceptance of the courtesy. She was relieved, too, that she had a little time without him beside her to sort out incoherent reactions and irrational emotions. When she put her hands to her face, they were icy cold. Or were her cheeks burning hot with outrage and embarrassment? Whichever, she needed to cool down and stop acting so stupidly. She started at the point where Zainal had said that he did not mind her having sex with another man; he even wanted her to have a child. All Catteni women had children whether they wanted to or not? Then she coped with him choosing for her the man she respected above all the others.
