Freedom's Challenge

by Anne McCaffrey

  “We weren’t invited,” he said, mouthing the words with little sound.

  She rolled her eyes in relief, aware out of the corner of her eye the ravenous way in which the meal was being consumed, with much smacking of lips and slurping. Even eating in such company would have been nearly as nauseating as the food they consumed so greedily.

  She returned the double-signed records to the Drassi, and he also jumped to the ground and barked an order at the apathetic Rassi. They slowly rose and followed him around the ship to the eating place.

  She closed and locked the cargo hatch, three of its decks now full of supplies. Zainal had gone whole-hog here. Would they get away with such bald-faced piracy?

  “We can eat,” Chuck muttered to her as he pushed her past the open cargo hatch. “Water’s pretty good.”

  They used that to dilute the Mayock with which they washed down the fresh fruit and what passed for bread in the Catteni cuisine. It was so fresh that it was easy to chew and didn’t taste half-bad.

  “D’you know what they’re eating out there?” she asked Chuck.

  “You don’t want to know,” Chuck said and took a long swig from his mug.

  That was enough to inform Kris that the Catteni were probably eating Rassi. She ate nothing more despite Chuck pantomiming that she should.

  The exterior crew had filled in the gouges, and the main hole, using some sort of mastic. When the interior specialists had finished their job, they drove off but left Emassi Yoltin behind to supervise the rest of the repairs.

  A Catteni day was longer than one on Earth but shorter than one on Botany. There was actually more exterior damage, between the “meteoric” gashes and the hole, because the stumps of the broken external units had to be removed and replaced. This required technicians going in and out of the ship, and coming awfully close to where the undamaged control panels had been secreted. Kris thought she might have indulged in the first faint of her life but managed to pinch herself hard enough to retain consciousness. They’d come so far and done so well, she simply could not jeopardize everything with such a reaction.

  So they had another day to endure the proximity of sweaty men whose clothing was smeared with the repair compound, which intensified the stench of them.

  Chuck did offer the Emassi the captain’s quarters but that was curtly refused, and Chuck and Kris were left to themselves. They did, however, close the passenger hatch as night descended on the field. That meant they didn’t smell whatever it was the Catteni were eating. Kris was ravenous by now and made a huge meal for them both.

  “I’ll take first watch,” Chuck told Kris, and she could not demur. The day’s excesses as well as the gravity had reduced her to total exhaustion.

  He woke her six hours later. “We’ve had a few calls, and one from Yoltin to be sure we’re keeping watch. So you’ve got to stand one.”

  “I’m fine, Chuck, fine,” she assured him. Indeed, she realized that it wasn’t quite as difficult to sit up and get out of the bed though she still felt as if all her muscles and flesh were being pulled inexorably groundward.

  She got a call from Yoltin shortly after she took the com. Yoltin was a real Catteni bastard. Checking up. She had a sudden notion and put it into action by removing the undamaged control panels from where they had been stashed and putting them quietly behind a huge crate in the cargo deck that was currently available. If they should be discovered, though she doubted that, they were no concern of hers. The Drassi had checked off all the items that were brought on board, and being Drassi herself she could pretend she didn’t read well. Not many true Drassi did unless they “needed to know” as Zainal would have put it.

  By the time all the repairs had been done, Emassi Yoltin did an onboard inspection of every panel and locker of the main ship. Chuck turned an awful deeper shade of gray until she managed to give him a wink. He leaned briefly against the bulkhead in relief.

  Yoltin could find nothing to reprimand them for—apart from unwashed dishes in the kitchen, and he ticked them off soundly and loudly for that, while they looked humble, meek, and repentant.

  As Yoltin left, Chuck said very angrily to Kris “that the galley must be spotless when Emassi Venlik returns. You are responsible, you will do it.”

  “Yes, Drassi Chuck,” Kris responded with earnest subservience. Both were close to laughing at their little charade and did, when the passenger hatch was closed.

  They heard the vehicles revving up and immediately strode to the bridge compartment to see the last of the crew leaving, dust rising at the speed of their passage. They also saw a smaller transport coming out from the field buildings.

  “Oh, God, what now?” Chuck demanded. “Go do the galley thing, in case that’s what’s to be inspected.”

  They really had not been that untidy but she sloshed water and what went for cleaning liquid about the sink. Her hands were raw, and she checked to make sure that the liquid had not taken off her skin dye. It looked paler but she didn’t dare do a touch up—the dye had a very noticeable odor to it—until their latest visitor was gone.

  It was Kivel after all, with two Drassi, who inspected the ship as well, spending more time on the exterior to approve a smooth hull.

  “You go soon?”

  “Emassi Venlik is not back,” Chuck replied.

  “He must come soon. This field will be needed,” Kivel said at his most pompous.

  “We have been in space months,” Chuck said with a very good imitation of a Zainalian shrug.

  “Months? Where?”

  The query was innocent enough but there was a gleam in Kivel’s eyes that suggested rumors of an abandoned cargo of considerable worth had circulated.

  Chuck shrugged again.

  “We will talk of this at the evening meal,” Kivel said, far too affable to have confused even a Rassi.

  Chuck looked slightly eager and then relaxed. “I am on guard. Emassi Venlik is a hard commander.”

  Kivel inclined his head at Kris. “The little one can stay on guard. We will enjoy ourselves this evening,” he went on, his tone an insidious promise.

  Chuck allowed himself to consider this and, looking hard at Kris, he finally nodded. “You will say nothing of this to the Emassi.”

  “No, Drassi Chuck.”

  “Come, then,” and Kivel gestured affably for Chuck to take precedence out of the hatch.

  Chuck, bowing politely, insisted that the higher-ranking officer leave first. With Kivel’s back turned, Chuck had a chance to throw an inquiring look at Kris, and she winked in encouragement. She’d close the hatch and not open it until Chuck got back. Mitford really didn’t have much choice, not since a Drassi more or less ordered his company.

  Kris ate by herself at the com, watching the dark creep across the beautiful forest and then the first moon rise, a large orange crescent. Two, one very far away and small, also started their ascent with the first one mid-heaven. She almost wished the com unit would blurt at her so she’d have something to do. She poured herself a respectable tot of Mayock’s superior and then wondered how Chuck would be handling the Catteni equivalent. Mitford had often boasted that he could drink anything alcoholic and keep his wits about him. She certainly hoped he could tonight.

  The fourth moon was rising, and the level in the bottle of Mayock was only a finger high, when she heard a transport, and loud, off-key singing. Then there was a spirited banging—by more than one fist—on the hatch and she hastened to open it.

  Kivel almost threw Chuck inside, waving back to the transport and peremptorily waving the driver to go on.

  “You made it,” she said, hearing herself slurring her words.

  “On…ly just,” Mitford replied, having far more of a problem than she in enunciating.

  “I’ll get you to bed,” she said, pleased that she was so much soberer. “Whad’ he wan’?”

  “Cooooo…orrrr…dinates,” Chuck managed, lurching from side to side, even with her trying to keep him upright.

  “Th
ought so.”

  “Doan…know…’em. On…ly Drasssssssi,” Chuck said and hiccuped. “Stuff…was…worst…thing…ever…drank. Drunk. Drink.”

  They had reached the captain’s quarters, which was nearest, and Chuck turned in at that door. Kris didn’t object. It was nearer than the crew quarters. In his condition she doubted he could get into the lowest of the three-tiered bunks without cracking his skull.

  The captain’s bed was also wider and she steered him toward it. He flopped down but was sitting up so fast that they cracked skulls.

  “Ohhhh,” he groaned. “Can’t…get…boots…off.”

  She did that service for him with fingers that had trouble opening the closures. The next thing she knew, he had locked his arms about her and tumbled her into the bed along with him. By the time his head was down, he was snoringly asleep. She waited a few moments, wanting to get horizontal herself because suddenly the Mayock that she’d been sipping for hours was catching up with her. But he had some sort of a death grip on her and she couldn’t disengage herself.

  Well, she was as nearly horizontal as he was, though she still had her boots on. She inched her way into a more comfortable position, put her head on his chest and went to sleep.

  • • •

  SHE WOKE FIRST THE NEXT MORNING. CHUCK was no longer snoring but he had his head resting on her bare shoulder. She’d had the most remarkably vivid, almost pornographic dreams, and gasped in dismay.

  “And I’m bare?” Chuck also was—clothing strewn about the cabin. “Oh, my god, that Mayock did it again.”

  She swallowed. “That’s unfair. I don’t remember anything about it. At least I hope that dream wasn’t what we did!” She stared at the relaxed, sleeping face of Chuck Mitford and slowly shook her head. She could not, would not believe he, and she, had done that! Such behavior, even in their super-drunken conditions, was as uncharacteristic as it was unlikely. Even impossible. She shook her head, infuriated and irritated.

  Then she tried to remember when she’d last had a period and couldn’t. Between Botany days and the elapse of time on the Catteni trip, she couldn’t figure out if she was in a fertile period or not. She glanced over at Chuck. Well, if she was pregnant by him, at least she’d spared both of them any embarrassment over actually going to bed for that purpose. But she did wish she’d remember something both logical and in character. That was unfair.

  A buzzing penetrated her ruminations. The com unit on the bridge was announcing a message coming in.

  Mitford was so relaxed—well, she’d done that for him at least—that she was able to withdraw from his side. She covered him with a blanket, hoping that he was so far gone in sleep he wouldn’t rouse as she went to answer the buzz. She did grab up her clothing as she left the room. Let him think he slept alone.

  She didn’t waste time dressing—she’d just leave the visual off but she wanted to stop the buzz. She managed the correct response in her guttural disguised tone.

  “Venlik here. All repairs finished?”

  “Yes, Emassi.”

  “All cargo aboard?”

  “Yes, Emassi.”

  “Prepare the ship for immediate takeoff.”

  “Yes, Emassi.”

  He didn’t even ask why she didn’t turn on the visuals.

  Did she have time for a quick shower? Well, she was going to have one anyway. She’d have to take care of that detail, or some of the other Humans might notice a certain other reek about her. And her eyes hurt. Oh, Lord, the contacts. She slipped hers out, and they were the first things she cleansed. Then she remembered that Chuck’s would surely still be in so she knelt beside his bed, and delicately stroking the eyelids, managed to slip the contacts out. His eyes might be sore, too, but maybe seeing the lenses in a cup of water might make him think he’d had the sense to do it for himself.

  She washed quickly, dried herself off, and remembered to check her color before she dressed. She was still gray enough. Oh, Lord, how glad she’d be to be Human again. She used some eyewash to soothe the irritation, hoping it would ease before she had to use her eyes for something important. The way Chuck was sleeping, her eyes would be normal by the time he woke. Should she wake him before Zainal returned? No, she’d say she’d just relieved him on watch.

  “You caught me in the shower, Zainal,” she rehearsed aloud as she dressed if he asked about the delay in response.

  Damn, he hadn’t indicated how long before he’d be there. No, he’d said he wanted the ship ready for immediate takeoff. Had he run into trouble?

  She started the pre-flight check, having watched Zainal, Gino, and Raisha do it often enough to know the drill. She then checked each cargo deck to be sure everything was locked down there for takeoff and left the empty deck ready. When she returned to the bridge, she noticed a dust cloud appearing at the edge of the forestry. The truck, and it was a good-sized one, did not, as she half-expected, come directly to the ship but paused in front of the command post. Whatever transpired there was very brief for the vehicle did not stop long. And, as it turned toward the ship, she noticed it headed toward the cargo hatch so she made her way as fast as she could down the companionway, rather pleased with being able to move with some speed in the heavy gravity. One really did get used to it. She unfastened the hatch so all was ready for a speedy loading as the truck backed up, almost but not quite banging against the freshly repainted hull.

  Coo and Pess emerged first, lifting the accordion backdoor of the truck. They hurried on board with a large and heavy-looking carton. It made a heavy thud as they let it down. Behind them Ninety, Mack, and Gino each struggled to bring in more crates and containers. Zainal appeared with satchels that he deposited with more care on the bow end of the cargo space. He grinned at her, his eyes sparkling with success but he immediately turned to bring yet more crates on board.

  “Where’s Chuck?” Zainal asked on his next trip back, and he was speaking English again.

  “He had a busy night as the Emassi’s guest,” she said and stepped forward to help unload in Chuck’s absence but Zainal shook his head and tapped the control panel for her to be ready to close the hatch at his command.

  It didn’t take all that long to unload with Pess, Coo, and Zainal all more used to Catteni gravity than the Humans who handled the lighter objects. This deck was almost as full as the others and Kris was obsessed with curiosity.

  “Pess,” Zainal said, pointing to the truck and indicating that the Rugarian was to take it back to the command post. They had to wait until Pess came back, covering the distance quickly with his oddly jointed long legs.

  “That’s all?” Kris asked, her hands on the cargo controls.

  “Yes. You didn’t happen to do a pre-flight check, did you?” Zainal asked as she closed the cargo hatch. She nodded an affirmative. He and Coo were netting the cargo down, fastening the ropes tight to the deck cleats.

  Gino had already gone forward. Mack and Ninety looked about done in as they leaned against the bulkhead.

  “Had a good time, lads?” she asked blandly.

  “It’ll take the entire trip back to fill you in,” Ninety said with a ghost of his usual impudent grin. “Lenny will never believe what I’ve seen and done.”

  “Yes, he will. I’ll vouch for it.”

  “C’mon, let’s get strapped in for takeoff,” Zainal said, urgently pointing forward.

  “Is anyone after us?” Kris asked anxiously.

  “Not exactly,” Zainal said with a grin, “but they’re not above following us back to where we left all that high-grade ore.”

  “How can they find an asteroid that doesn’t exist?” Kris asked, answering his grin.

  “Ah,” and he put his hand under her elbow to speed her along the companionway, “but that is exactly what we must find before we can go home to Botany.”

  They were almost to the bridge compartment when Kris remembered that Chuck wasn’t strapped in. “I’ll have to net Chuck down.”

  “Don’t waste any time,”
Zainal said, turning sideways to squeeze past her. He smelled of something acrid which she couldn’t identify.

  “Zay’s also got to be gone for at least a full Catteni day,” Mack muttered to her as she strapped in beside him.

  Kris rolled her eyes. “You can’t leave that man out of your sight but he gets into trouble.”

  Fortunately Zainal was far too busy laying in the course with Gino, making the necessary com calls to hear their soft remarks.

  “Tell you one thing, Kris, he’s not a man I’d tangle with anywhere or anytime, and even in my own gravity,” Ninety said, impressed.

  Mack chuckled. Having received clearance from Emassi Kivel himself, they proceeded to take off at a sedate vertical ascent.

  “Kivel tried to get Chuck drunk enough last night to interrogate him,” Kris said. “I don’t know what they use for such purposes here on Catten, but it was a miracle Chuck made it back this morning.”

  Kris severely berated herself for her adjustments to the exact truth but no one would be hurt by her version, and she might not even have any reason to explain anything to anyone.

  After enduring the Catten homeworld gravity, the takeoff pressure was minimal. As they rounded Catten on the outward-bound orbit, Kris once again found the beauty of the planet almost breath-stopping.

  The space station hove in sight and this time, one of the dreadnoughts was maneuvering out of its dock. By noticing some of the H-class ships nearby, Kris got a better idea of just how ginormous the dreadnoughts actually were. It was comparable to being in a Tomahawk with a 747 looming behind you. And these ships had not been able to penetrate the Bubble?

  The com unit blurped, and Gino answered in a totally expressionless Catteni voice.

  “Your destination?”

  “This is Emassi Venlik. Eosi Ba is responsible for our destination,” Zainal said.

  “Understood.”

  Maybe Kris only imagined it, but there was even a note of awe in that response. Zainal grinned at Gino who chuckled softly when the com line was off.

  The KDL executed a course alteration and then showed its stern to the space station. Zainal poured on the speed as the ship headed out to where thousands of stars gleamed in the black of space.