Freedom's Challenge

by Anne McCaffrey

  “We can’t let them go half-healed, and that Floss needs a D and C,” Leon reported. “Mary said it’s not urgent…yet. But fibroid growths have a tendency to keep growing unless there’s a curettage.”

  “Why don’t we see if Chief Materu would take them in for a spell,” was Laughrey’s suggestion. “Let’s make it really basic for them.”

  “Haven’t they endured enough ‘basic’?” Dorothy asked, though she could come up with no other suggestions. Almost all the other children that had been rescued were settling in or responding to trauma therapy.

  “Not a structured basic,” Ray Scott said. “I’d rather they had enough training to survive on their own, if that’s the course we have to take with such a hard-nosed bunch. I’ll give Chief Materu a call.”

  Chief Materu accepted the challenge. It didn’t surprise Kris, though, that Zainal decided to go along with those marching the Diplomatic Corp down to the southern settlement of the Maasai. She chuckled, thinking of the pace that Zainal would set. Chuck, the two Doyle brothers, Joe Latore, Coo, and Slav came along “for the exercise.”

  When Chuck met Kris on his return, he said that the trip had been instructive for all concerned. “Chief Caleb’s segregating the girls who certainly don’t like that part of it. Nor working with only women. But work they will. Good thing those Maasai are so tall.” He grinned with satisfaction of an assignment suitably fulfilled.

  “Ah…how are Zainal’s two fitting in?”

  Chuck eyed her. “They are. Even manage to chatter some in Maasai. Zainal allowed a smile for each of them, and you’d’ve thought they’d been turned loose in a candy store. They’ve picked up some sort of skin problem but the Maasai now have the medical plants they need to cope with almost every ailment.”

  That reassurance gave Kris enormous relief.

  “Were our renegades similarly impressed by seven-foot chiefs?” she asked.

  Chuck laughed. “What’s that word that Ninety uses? Oh, yes, gobsmacked. They were that in spades. Turns out that two of the black kids were Africans from their countries’ respective embassies. They knew the Maasai, certainly by reputation, and enough Swahili to understand basic orders.” Chuck took a long pull on his beer and then folded his hands across his stomach. “Yup, that was a good idea Laughrey had.”

  • • •

  THREE DAYS LATER THERE WAS AN URGENT com call for Zainal and Leon from Chief Materu. The skin problem for the two Catteni boys had not responded to Maasai cures and the boys had developed fevers that could not be reduced. Kris offered to come, too, and Zainal was worried enough to want her company. Leon brought what he felt would be the appropriate equipment, carefully strapping the microscope box into a travel net on Baby, as well as a variety of medications.

  “It’s unusual for Catteni to have skin infections,” he murmured to Kris as Zainal drove Baby at its best speed. “Or fevers. Zainal’s never shown any toxic reaction to anything here on Botany. That I heard of?” the Australian looked inquiringly at Kris. She shook her head. “Well, we’ll just have to wait and see. Not that, with this speed, we’ll be long waiting.”

  • • •

  ZAINAL LANDED BABY AS NEAR TO THE CHIEF’S high-set platform as he could. Materu had heard the noise of the approaching ship and beckoned them to follow him to where the boys were being cared for.

  The fevers were high, even when Leon adjusted the thermometer reading to Catteni levels. The sores exuded yellow pus that had a nose-shriveling odor to it. Leon quickly made slides and, taking his microscope out in the light, did a quick investigation. He was shaking his head when he returned.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s some sort of…allergic reaction that’s causing the skin to erupt like this.”

  “Will antihistamines work on Catteni systems?” Kris asked, hands clenched into fists with anxiety. Zainal wore his worst Catteni face, and she was sure he thought the boys were dying. So did Chief Materu and his medicine man, or whatever they were called in Swahili.

  “It’s the one thing I can try. The only Human equivalent to those sores is pyoderma gangrenosum,” Leon said. “And that may be the result of a colitis. Neither lad had any sign of that sort of problem when I checked them over.” Then he asked what the boys had been eating, but he shook his head when the listing was complete. “Nothing they didn’t have on board the KDL except for fresh rocksquats and fish, and they haven’t bothered Zainal. Nothing else, Chief Caleb?”

  It was the medicine man, introduced as Parmitoro Kassiora, who said something in Maasai to the chief.

  “He says he gave them a very, very small dose of olkiloriti because they ate too much and had bellyaches. Much less than he would use with our boys because they are different.”

  “Isn’t that from the acacia plants that were just brought back?” Leon asked.

  Parmitoro added something else.

  “He says that some of the Catteni who rounded them up took ill like this, with sores, and died,” the chief translated, looking exceedingly pleased.

  “Hey, you could be right about allergy, Kris.” He checked through the medications he had brought with him and found several, looking from one bottle to another. “Their metabolism runs at a different level despite other similarities to our own body mechanisms. Give me your arm, Zay,” he said.

  When Zainal had bared his arm, he did a quick reaction test of all three possible medications. Leon whistled under his breath as he timed the testing. Behind him the boys muttered in their fevers, tossing and almost, but not quite, crying with the pain incurred by moving.

  “Not a damned thing,” Leon muttered after the required reaction time was up. “At least you’re not allergic to antihistamines.” Then he looked Zainal straight in the eye. “Do I have your permission to try, Zainal? At least I believe they will take no further harm from the shots.”

  Zainal nodded. Leon bowed slightly to the Maasai medic, who had been observing with close interest but no reaction to what Leon had been doing. Chief Materu had murmured some explanations in Maasai.

  “Do I offend your Parmitoro Kassiora by using our medicines?”

  Caleb Materu gave them a wide smile of very white and even teeth. “Not at all. The boys have been good boys, and they are not Maasai so perhaps Maasai medicine could not work on them.” Materu turned to Zainal. “For that he apologizes.”

  “None needed.” Zainal nodded once to Parmitoro in acceptance.

  “That takes care of the medical ethics,” Leon said in a wry tone. “I’ll give one to Bazil here, and another to Peran. Then we’ve one spare…”

  He made the injections.

  And they waited. Some of the women, and that included a rebellious and surly Floss, brought food and cool water. The hut was not only stuffy but also reeked of the suppurations. Kris did edge toward the opening of the hut.

  “I want out of here, bitch,” Floss muttered as she and an older Maasai woman returned with a fresh bucket of cold water.

  “Only when you’re no longer one, dear,” Kris replied in a low tone.

  “D’you know what they do to women here?” Floss said, and there was a certain desperation in her eyes now.

  “All the more reason for you to reform your outlook on life on Botany,” she said, for she had heard about the female genital mutilation practiced by some African tribes. Were the Maasai one? She couldn’t remember.

  Floss made a sudden movement toward Kris, which, in retrospect, Kris decided she deserved for the taunt, and immediately the tall Maasai woman grabbed hold of Floss and threw her from the hut. Kris could hear the thud of the girl hitting the hard ground. She thought she’d better make certain that the girls of the Diplomatic Corp were not required, during this reeducation period, to adhere to all Maasai customs. They should have brought along one of the Swahili speakers. How the hell was she going to explain this one?

  They waited. They could and did try to ease the boys’ fevers with the cool water, laying fresh cloths carefully over the sore-covered bod
ies.

  It was dark before Leon extracted a thermometer from Bazil’s armpit and exclaimed, “The fever’s coming down.”

  Kris was in the process of changing a cool cloth when she noticed that the sores were no longer oozing. In fact, the smell was lessening, too.

  “Hey, look!” And she pointed to the nearest sore. “It’s drying up.”

  Zainal immediately stripped the coverings from Peran, and the younger boy also seemed to be responding to the medication.

  “It’s four hours. Time to give them another shot.”

  During the next four hours, the sores seemed to dry up in waves, starting from the chest working downward to the limbs. The boys’ temperatures dropped to normal, and they each fell into a deep sleep.

  “Empirical but you Catteni are not impervious to the minor ailments to which Human flesh is heir,” Leon said as they all left the hut and stood in the fresh night air.

  “This acacia? They swallowed it?” Zainal asked.

  Materu said, “It is ground fine and a small amount taken with water.”

  “Do I know what you’re thinking, Zainal?” Leon asked, eyebrows twitching and the gleam of a smile on his face.

  “The problem would be ‘how.’”

  “Yes, it would, wouldn’t it,” Leon said.

  Kris had no trouble following their line of thought but she also couldn’t figure out how the olkiloriti could be administered to the Eosi. How could they possibly get Eosi to swallow sufficient to kill them? Or at least give them an awful allergic reaction?

  “Were the boys in real danger from just an allergic reaction?” she asked Leon. She’d never even had a bad case of poison ivy.

  He cocked his head. “If the antihistamines hadn’t taken effect, I don’t think they’d’ve survived the night.” He looked back at the hut. “They’ll still need a lot of care…and no further herbal medications. I hope Parmitoro won’t take offense.”

  “He would take more offense if you had come and the boys had died,” Caleb Materu said with an amused snort.

  “I do have some salve I used on Catteni wounds,” Leon said, dragging his medical bag out into the cool night air. “To heal the sores. I know it doesn’t react on Catteni. The sea, too, will help. Can they swim, Zainal?”

  “They do now,” Caleb said in his deep voice, and in the torchlight, his eyes sparkled.

  “When the sores are closed, have them swim in the sea. Salt’s still a superb cure-all.”

  “You wish them to remain in my care?” the chief asked Zainal.

  “I do,” Zainal said firmly.

  “How are the others doing, chief?” Leon asked and his eyes danced with mischief.

  “They learn.”

  Kris pulled at Leon’s sleeve, to get him to listen to her whisper. “Floss is terrified that the Maasai will do something…down there,” and she pointed to the correct spot.

  Leon covered a burst of laughter. “I imagine she would be. Don’t worry. Hassan made it plain that the females must return in the same physical condition in which they arrived. He also said that Chief Materu is one of the more modern leaders.”

  Kris let her breath out with a whoosh.

  “Don’t reassure her, though,” Leon went on. “Being real scared is effective conditioning as negative conditioning. Dorothy and I did discuss an aversion state, like intense fear, to be used to cancel out a lesser, unpleasant state…like choosing to be cooperative if you’re angry. If there is something that does terrify that hard-boiled little minx, let’s let it stand. Right?”

  “Right.”

  • • •

  LEON GAVE THE BOYS A THIRD INJECTION. HE measured out tablets, which he put in a jar for Parmitoro to give the boys orally during the next ten days. Then the two medical men shook hands.

  By common consent the three retired to Baby to sleep for the Botanic night wasn’t even half over when the boys began to improve. In the morning, when Leon had gone over to check on his patients, Kris heard an odd noise, small but definitely not a regular sound.

  She caught Zainal’s attention and pointed to the passageway. Two of the Diplomatic Corp girls, and one of them was Floss, were attempting to squeeze into one of the storage compartments. It was the opening of the panel that Kris had heard.

  Zainal had no sooner made it to the doorway with Floss under one arm—and Kris behind him with an arm lock on the other, younger girl—than four Maasai women arrived.

  “If you behave, Floss,” Kris said sternly as the Maasai women took firm charge of the would-be stowaways, “you’ll come back in the same physical condition you arrived here. But if you continue to misbehave…well,” and Kris spread her hands wide to indicate the outcome would be out of her control.

  Floss turned dead white under the tan she was acquiring. Then she gathered herself up to snarl back and, before she could utter a word, she was pinched so painfully by the headwoman that whatever invective she had been about to spit out at Kris was lost in her yelp. Zainal drew Kris back in the ship. He was grinning.

  “Doesn’t like you, does she?”

  “I can’t blame her, but tough love works.”

  “Love?” Zainal queried.

  “Well, discipline meted out fairly for failure to obey.” And she pointed to the tableau of Floss. Balancing a big basket on her head with both hands, she was bracketed between two tall Maasai women who moved with a grace Floss had yet to achieve. The younger girl was sobbing softly, her arm in the grasp of the headwoman.

  Kris didn’t at all like the sexism practiced by the Maasai but, if it taught Floss discipline and respect, she might even become a useful colonist when she returned to Retreat.

  • • •

  THE CIRCUMSTANCES OF THIS MEDICAL ALERT were immediately reported to Ray Scott and the other Catteni were hastily gathered together. When Zainal had explained what he hoped to achieve, Nitin and Kasturi both started shaking their heads.

  “Eosi are well aware that even the Emassi who surround them might seize an opportunity to use a poison. Anything they consume is first tested by a Catteni,” Nitin said gloomily.

  “Perhaps it is effective only on young bodies which have not matured enough to deal with dangerous substances,” Kamiton said.

  “Care to try it?” Leon said, taking out a vial containing some of the powdered olkiloriti. The Australian had an odd sense of humor.

  Zainal held out his hand for it but Kamiton snatched it first. He pulled out the cork top and sniffed deeply.

  “See? There is no danger…” His yellow eyes turned up in his skull and he started to have such severe convulsions that he jerked off the chair he was sitting in.

  Leon sprang into action. Fortunately he still had his medical kit handy and, muttering under his breath about what dose would be sufficient to counter the reaction, he filled a syringe. Zainal and Kasturi were trying to keep Kamiton from hurting himself with the severity of the spasms that beset him but, strong as they were, they were having difficulty holding him. Leon tried twice to pierce the tough Catteni hide with his hypodermic needle, cursing about elephant hides and crocodile scales, but managed to plunge the medication in.

  The convulsions did not immediately cease, though Kris—watching anxiously, for she had come to like Kamiton—thought they were not as violent. Leon readied a second syringe from a different bottle with the longest needle Kris had ever seen.

  “Let’s hope your hearts can take this kind of convulsion,” he said as Kamiton’s spine arched grotesquely. “Here, hold this, Kris. Hold it up.”

  He gave her the hypodermic and got his stethoscope out.

  “Keep his arms out of my way, can you Zainal, Kasturi?” he asked in Catteni. Over Kamiton’s inarticulate cries, whatever he managed to hear worried him. “I don’t like the sounds in his lungs. Inhalation was a damned foolish idea. Cardiac arrest is possible. Kris, call the infirmary and send the team down here fast as possible.”

  “I’ve already called in a medical emergency,” Ray said, com unit in his h
and as he stared down at the writhing body of the Catteni. “I think that shot is beginning to work.”

  “It is?” Leon said, surveying the contortions. “You’re right. The spasms are reducing in intensity.”

  “Eosi must breathe, mustn’t they?” Kasturi remarked in Catteni to Nitin, their eyes still on the slowly relaxing body of their colleague.

  “Yes, even Eosi breathe,” Nitin observed. “But their living quarters are so carefully guarded…”

  “Crop dusting might do,” Leon observed with the fingers of one hand on Kamiton’s neck. “Pulse still racing. Damned fool thing to do with a drug he knew was dangerous.”

  “A very Catteni thing to do,” was Kris’ rejoinder, her pulse racing as well from fear of the consequences of Kamiton’s rash impulse. “Do I need to keep this?” she asked, meaning the syringe she still held.

  “We might. I’d rather have conducted a controlled experiment but the empirical test was certainly conclusive,” Leon added in an admiring tone.

  Kamiton’s body twitched only slightly now but his breathing was still labored, and he had not regained consciousness.

  “Crop dusting?” Zainal asked, looking up at her, not having understood Leon’s remark.

  “A term for an aerial application of fertilizer or insecticides over large areas. Airplanes are used,” and she made a sweeping gesture with her free hand.

  “What has she said?” Nitin asked, his English being almost nonexistent.

  When Zainal explained, Nitin once again shook his head. “No aerial traffic is allowed over Eosi compounds.”

  “There’s more than one way to kill a cat without choking him with butter,” Kris said.

  “Say again?” asked Zainal, blinking with a lack of comprehension.

  “‘There are nine and sixty ways of singing tribal lays,’” Leon chanted, “‘and every single one of them is right.’”

  Ray Scott laughed. Kris wouldn’t have thought he’d know Kipling that well. But they needed a spot of relief after the anxiety over Kamiton.