Freedom's Choice

by Anne McCaffrey

  “Well, I’ll be fucked,” Mitford murmured, dropping his shoulders as he relaxed in complete surprise at Zainal’s plan. He began to grin, and a laugh started in his belly, a laugh that was joined by Leon Dane’s yowl of approval and Worrell’s expression of sheer, incredulous delight.

  “So that’s what you hatched up on the way back here last night,” Kris said, eyeing him drolly.

  “Isn’t that taking on one helluva lot?” Mitford asked, but the gleam in his eye and the jut of his jaw suggested a measure of approval.

  “Yes,” and Zainal shrugged, “why not?”

  Mitford slapped the table again and gave another burst of laughter. “Yeah, why not?”

  “We can try…” Leon said, swatting his thigh with one hand in emphasis. “By God, I want to!”

  “Do you think we should?” asked Worrell, hitching his pants with his elbows. “I mean, they may be mad enough at us for what we’ve already done to their neat agricultural enterprise…”

  “But who put us here in the first place?” Kris asked. “Only why do you have to pretend the transport explodes? And why do you have to be careful returning the scout to Botany?”

  “We must joke the satellite.”

  “Joke?” Mitford raised his eyebrows, “Oh, fool.”

  “Satellite?” Worrell exclaimed, anxiously.

  Zainal held up the slim unit. “They have one because this relays the messages. A satellite is standard for any colony planet. It sends in reports. It must send in the right ones so we…ah…fool it.”

  “Clarify one point for me, will you, Zainal?” Mitford asked, and when Zainal nodded, “Why do they want you so bad for that duty you don’t want any part of?”

  Zainal gave a harsh laugh. “I was chosen for it by Eosi. They can choose someone else now.”

  “Just what is that duty?” Mitford asked at his bluntest.

  The change in Zainal’s posture and face, though subtle, sent chills down Kris’ spine and caused Mitford to recoil slightly.

  “Eosi use your body.” Then, with a second almost imperceptible change which emphatically told Kris that Zainal would not elaborate on that subject, he went on. “So, do we take the scout ship?” His expression altered back to his usual bland one as he looked around at the expectant expressions of Kris, Dane, and Worrell before settling his gaze on Mitford. “That much is possible but we must act tonight. Kris must learn what to say. I need Bert Put and woman. Is that possible?”

  “Can do,” Mitford said, and reached for the handheld, tapping out the code for Camp Narrow. “Yo, Latore? Send Bert Put and Raisha Simonova up here on the double, will ya? Something’s come up. We need them before…” and he glanced at Zainal, who held up two fingers, “second moonrise. Okay?” Then he paused, his eyes flickering with rapid thoughts. “We’ll call this Phase One, and all of it stays among us.” The other nodded. “Phase Two we’ll talk about if Phase One works.”

  “It will work,” Zainal said with absolute confidence.

  “Phase Three…” and Mitford pointed a finger at Zainal, “is going to need a lot more thinking.”

  Zainal was in total agreement.

  “Damn it, sarge,” Leon Dane said staunchly, “even the mere notion of…Phase Three…puts heart in me. Think what it can do to the general morale.”

  “I do,” and Mitford’s voice had dropped to a growl, “and I don’t want even a whisper of a happy smile on your faces when you leave here. We’re doing well enough right now, better all the time, and I don’t want to have to deal with false hopes. Let’s take it a step at a time.”

  “Don’t you mean a phase at a time?” Kris said.

  Actually she wanted to cheer wildly for the surge of hope that Zainal’s master plan had given her. Securing the first ship would be a big enough coup. Hijacking a transport would prove to everyone on Botany that they could get their own back on the Catteni. She wasn’t at all sure about Phase Three, but having two spacegoing ships gave them a positive advantage in finding whoever did own Botany. Would a Catteni scout ship be able to keep up with the monstrous leviathans sent by the Farmers to collect the harvests of Botany? First, she told herself firmly, get it, then dream. And if they were a species that resented having their supply planets taken over by another spacefaring power, maybe Phase Three would happen. And both Earth and Catten might get free of Eosian domination.

  “Right,” and Mitford gave her an odd smile, “hijacking spaceships sure beats sitting around waiting for the next drop-ins.” He caught Zainal’s eyes and began ticking details off on his fingers. “You teach Kris what to say to get the scout down here by second moonrise?” Zainal nodded. “So, if the scout buys it, they come down, leave the ship…only how’ll they know you’re there to be picked up? I can’t volunteer anyone at night out on a field…”

  “Air-cushioned vehicles attract no night crawlers,” Zainal reminded him.

  “On the way back,” Kris added, “we found out that the full moon’s enough to keep power up.”

  “Good point,” and Mitford went on. “So we’ve got stand-ins far enough up the field…”

  “Vehicle will move toward Catteni,” Zainal said, nodding. “But not fast because they carry heavy load.” He thumbed his chest. “Me.”

  “Good…so there’s enough time for the night crawlers to attack. What about the Catteni shooting ’em? That Lenvec Emassi saw what night crawlers do on his last trip here.”

  Zainal shrugged. “Winter night crawlers are very hungry, very fast, and grab feet. Or we can be humane,” and he grinned as he saw the reaction to the word, “and kill before they know. We have fast and silent weapons. Lance, crossbow, slingshot.”

  “Won’t they leave a man on board?” asked Mitford.

  Zainal shrugged. “I am drugged. It will take two, three to carry me. If is one, once we open hatch, it is over for him.” He tapped the knife at his belt.

  Mitford made an approving sort of grimace. “All right…everything goes according to plan and you, with your crew, take off and do your disappearing act. One small detail. Kris might be useful to lure the pickup squad down, but if you are overcoming a crew, would you not kill off the female first, the one who drugged you?”

  Zainal slowly nodded his head, perceptive enough to know what Mitford did not spell out. “Leon speaks Catteni. I cannot talk because they have record of my voice. Leon can give final message.”

  “Point,” and Mitford looked at Kris. “You understand, don’t you?”

  Kris did, and did not bother to hide the bitterness she felt for such a suggestion.

  “You will go to space another time,” Zainal told her, looking from Mitford to her.

  “Now, wait a minute, Mitford,” Dane began in protest.

  “Leon will speak the necessary dying words,” Zainal said firmly, his eyes still holding Kris’. “It reassures.”

  “It had better,” and Kris glared fiercely at Mitford. How dare he imply that she and Zainal would be so selfish as to take the ship for themselves if both were on board.

  “Why do you need Bert and Raisha?” Worrell asked.

  “They need to have a first lesson in flying a scout. More people who know is better.” Zainal put an odd smile on his face. “And soon.”

  “I’ll buy that,” Mitford said, shifting his eyes anywhere but in Kris’ direction. “Phase One is green for go…and definitely top-security. Use your team, Zainal, for the driving and…the executions. Slav and Fek see well in the dark. I’ll send Bert and Raisha to you as soon as they get here.” Then, in a complete change of voice and manner, “Did your patrol find anything interesting before you were recalled for this?”

  Astonished by that business-as-usual switch, even in Mitford, Kris glared at him.

  “A very interesting valley,” Zainal said, rising and popping the unit into his pocket before he picked up the sack of empty boots. Leon took charge of the medical items. “Let Joe and others debrief.” Then he held out his free hand to Kris. “Now, you must to learn to speak like
Catteni female.”

  “After all you’ve done,” Leon Dane muttered, exiting behind them. “Surely he can’t doubt your integrity.”

  “Not to worry, Leon,” Zainal said.

  “I do all the worrying,” Worrell said, but his tone made it obvious that he felt Mitford’s precaution of keeping Kris out of space unnecessary.

  “Don’t worry about tonight,” Zainal said, sounding, to Kris’ ears, far too cheerful considering what he had just set into motion.

  Then Kris found her mind going back to the echo of his colorless voice saying, “Eosi use your body.” Small wonder he wanted to avoid that duty. She knew without a doubt that he would have hated possession. And yet, his original comment on “that duty” had indicated that it was considered an honor for an Emassi, and one they undertook with some pride. Had Botany wrought a great change in him, or was it simply that he now had an escape from such a hideous future? Then she began to wonder how deeply the possession went: Was just the body used as a vehicle for these mysterious Eosi? Or did they subsume the entire personality, leaving nothing of the original man? Or…what?

  “Don’t think about it,” Zainal said softly, touching her elbow as they reached ground level. “I do not mean Mitford.” Then he hailed the other members of their team, obviously waiting a turn to report to Mitford. “Go on up. He’s waiting to debrief you.”

  “We’re in our usual abode,” Sarah told them as she followed Joe up the steps. “We’ve already put your gear there.”

  “Good. We have a small job to do at second moonrise. I tell you later.”

  Kris knew Sarah was dying to ask why Dane and Worrell had been in Mitford’s office for an ordinary scout debriefing.

  “We swim first?” Zainal asked as they made their way to their quarters in Michelstown cave.

  “You bet. I think better cleaner,” Kris said, and besides, not only could she use the immersion in the cold waters of the lake to reduce her anger but she also needed the privacy with Zainal…if they had the lake to themselves.

  They did, and there were clean overalls in their quarters to change into. Zainal put the Catteni communicator carefully in the pouch with his portable unit in his fresh clothing before they left for their wash.

  * * *

  He seemed eager to make this a special occasion, too. They spent time soaping each other and then swimming exuberant lengths against the lake’s deep current within the roped safety area before emerging to dry each other off. That led to a chance to release tension. In moments like these, Kris wondered just how much Zainal really did deviate—no, differ—from other Catteni and even Emassi. She knew that her association with Zainal was not universally accepted. There were incidents of spitefulness with each new drop but gradually, over the past months, that had altered—with very few exceptions—as most Botany settlers learned just how much they owed to Zainal’s presence on the planet. Xenophobia was not encouraged by Mitford or Easley or any of those involved in introducing this world to its new residents.

  Her pleasurable ruminations were rudely interrupted the moment they started back up the stairs to the main cavern, as Zainal barked sounds at her.

  “We’re starting already?”

  “Second moon rises soon. You must be ready.”

  “I gotta know what the sounds mean, Zainal,” she complained.

  “Get the sound right and then I tell you meanings,” he said, and repeated the four staccato syllables again. She did her best to imitate…though the combination of fricatives was enough to choke her. She’d already noticed that characteristic of the Catten language. Sort of like German with a French accent…or maybe guttural French with a very bad German accent, and a little Chinese for seasoning.

  She managed to get the first set of syllables to his satisfaction by the time they reached the main cavern. Food was still being served and they stood in line for their portions, which they took to the privacy of one of the lookout levels, out of earshot of those who were enjoying their meal outside in the mild evening. Botany’s primary had not yet set but the first moon was already above the eastern hills, a pale ghost in what was left of the sunlight. That reminded Kris that time was a constraint.

  Because she had always learned better using visual aids, Kris took a sharp pebble and scratched out the phonetics of what Zainal coached her to say…as well as she could. Just when she thought her mimicry was accurate, Zainal would shake his head.

  “What’s the matter with that?”

  He shook his head again but patted her shoulder. “You don’t sound…mean.”

  “Mean?”

  He growled out the words she now knew meant, “Report. Found Zainal. He fought hard. Two dead. He is drugged. Land where Lenvec did. No lights. Meet in field.”

  She tried again, as deep in her throat as she could, still realizing that even that wasn’t perfect.

  “Look, I’ll growl a whisper. How’ll they know the difference?”

  “They might.” Then he held up his hand. “What was it that Leon did to sound hoarse?”

  “Grabbed his throat,” and doing that, she repeated the phrases once again, hoping she wouldn’t accidentally strangle herself.

  “That’s it,” Zainal said, bringing both hands together in a clap of approval. “Now, listen…” and he rattled off a sentence of which she understood three words, “report,” “dead,” and “land.”

  She told him what she understood.

  “You may be asked. You must know what to answer to any question.”

  “What about ‘I don’t know’?”

  “You must sound as if you do know all. So, say first, ‘Chouma’—‘quiet’—as if you can be overheard. Then ‘Schkelk’…” and Kris sat upright with surprise because she knew what that meant.

  “‘Listen’?”

  Zainal grinned with surprise as he nodded. “Say it as harsh as you can because you are dealing with a stupid person.”

  “I heard it said that way often enough on Barevi,” Kris said in a rueful tone, and then spat the word out with appropriate venom. Zainal laughed and gave her hand an approving squeeze.

  “Just use that tone with all the words and they will not argue with you. You sound almost Emassi. After ‘Schkelk,’ you repeat the original message to be sure they heard you right the first time. Next you say, ‘Kotik?’ in the way which means they are not to question you again.”

  “Got it.”

  He drilled her and drilled her until her voice became hoarse enough without a need to strangle herself. She was surprised to see that First Moon was bright and high when he finally said she was good enough.

  He took out the unit and held it up. “Now!”

  “Now? You mean, we do it tonight?” She panicked. She wasn’t ready yet. “But Bert and Raisha…”

  “They are here. I saw them drive in. I brief them, too. So we send message now. All is fresh in your mind. And mouth.”

  He pressed the finger pad and, much too quickly for Kris’ peace of mind, a voice responded. Kris gulped and began her well-rehearsed message, overriding one question with as harsh a “Schkelk” as she had ever been given. Zainal nodded assurance, wagging his hand to reassure that the interruption meant nothing. She said, “Chouma,” as nastily as she could, and went right into the prepared speech again. By this time she was so scared that her final “Kotik?” came out every bit as savage as the worst Catteni guard’s.

  An almost meek “Kotik” plus two syllables she didn’t understand was the response and Zainal depressed the disconnect button.

  “Baby, you were great!” And Zainal tousled her hair and pressed his cheek against hers with great affection. That had become his special caress for her.

  “But what was that last bit?”

  “Your name. You are, or were, Arvonk.”

  Kris made a face. “Awful name.”

  “Useful to know.”

  “They answered awful fast.”

  Zainal considered that. “They want Zainal bad. They are there till they get me
.”

  “In a bigger ship?”

  “The scout is ship enough for this errand.”

  “They’re not getting you!” she said, jumping to her feet.

  “No, they are not,” he agreed equably, and took her hand as they made their way down and across to Mitford’s office.

  * * *

  Mitford must have been watching because the group he had been speaking to were abruptly dismissed. Surprised, they passed Zainal and Kris on the way up the steps. Bert Put, his lean face alight with anticipation, and Raisha Simonova raced across the gorge to catch up. They didn’t until Zainal and Kris entered Mitford’s office.

  “You got the message through?” Mitford asked.

  “They come. Kris spoke like good Emassi.” Zainal was grinning with obvious pride as he held the door open for her.

  “I had to say it often enough to get it right,” she said gruffly, and, with instant solicitude, Mitford offered her a cup of the herbal tea that everyone had come to enjoy.

  Bert and Raisha came in and took seats, but so tentatively that Kris knew they had no idea why they had been summoned.

  “Have you spoken to your team yet, Zainal?” Mitford asked.

  “Not yet. They will do what needs to be done with no problems.”

  Mitford grunted and scratched the back of his head. He still did not look Kris in the eye. Which somewhat appeased her.

  “May I have paper?” Zainal asked, and Mitford quickly supplied him with sheets and a pencil. With his usual quick sure strokes, Zainal sketched what had to be the interior of the scout. Bert’s eyes grew rounder and wider while Raisha watched with avid fascination.

  “The interior of a Catteni scout?” Bert asked, incredulous eyes on Zainal’s face. “How?” he demanded, and Raisha sat right on the edge of her stool.

  “You said nothing to them about Phase One, sergeant?” Zainal asked as he continued to detail the layout.

  Kris covered her grin with her hand because Zainal had suddenly turned pure Emassi and Mitford reacted by sitting straight up, exactly as a subordinate should. He did spare one droll but respectful look in Zainal’s direction before he spoke.