Freedom’s Choice (2 page)

PART ONE

The satellite logged the departure of a missile from the surface of the planet under observation. It analyzed the components, attempted to correlate the information within its memory banks, and found no match. The unusual speed and approximate direction of the device was also noted as it headed north and east toward the farther edge of the Milky Way. Just as the missile reached the heliopause of the system, it disappeared. A scan produced no debris; no ion or any other trace of what had powered its drive could be detected. The missile had vanished: a fact that was unacceptable to the monitoring program and caused a functional error which required internal investigation and repair. Although its earlier tracking was recorded, the satellite did not, due to the anomalies, immediately forward the data to its servor.

Consequently, without a requisite emergency code, the information went through several processings before the anomalies were noticed. It was then immediately reported to the proper authority. A team was dispatched
to correct the malfunction. None was found even after a complete overhaul and maintenance check of the satellite. The data was therefore suspect as a malfunction in itself, rather than the recording of an event. The planet was, after all, a penal colony; the exiles were equipped with the barest essentials for survival and no technological equipment whatever. It was only by chance that the report was ever seen by persons with the essential information to realize the significance of the sighting, and the mysterious disappearance of the homing device.

PART TWO

“You say that he
refused
to answer the summons?” The speaker scowled at the Emassi captain.

As they were also father and son, the son was accustomed to his sire's scowls: he almost enjoyed the reaction, knowing that Zainal's refusal to return and accept the duty imposed on his rank and family would further blacken his brother's previously spotless reputation in their father's estimation.

“He was chosen,” Perizec continued, bashing one huge fist onto the pervalloy worktop. “He cannot refuse the summons.”

“He did,” Lenvec said with an imperturbable shrug of one shoulder. “‘I'm dropped, I stay.' You know the convention.”

Perizec crashed both fists onto the worktop, bouncing everything on it, scattering the files from the desk rack. “An Eosi matter has precedence over any Catteni convention! You know that!” The scowl deepened, pulling down the heavy mouth and jaw, darkening the gray-toned skin. “He has known of this duty since he was presented to the Eosi. Dropped or not, he is to return to accept that duty.” The fists banged emphatically again. Then Perizec's eyes narrowed to slits through which his
yellow pupils flashed with anger. “How did he come to be dropped on that felon planet?”

Lenvec shrugged. He knew that his father was well aware of the whole circumstance but he repeated the report.

“Zainal engaged in a fatal brawl with a minor transport officer. The crew sought vengeance and Zainal escaped in a flitter. It was hit and crashed in the western hunting grounds. No trace was found of him then. He seems to have been picked up along with dissidents who were gassed during a riot, and so was included in the slave shipment. He made his presence known to a second drop crew. Your office was alerted and I made the run to retrieve him. He refused…”

“I know, I know,” and Perizec flicked thick fingers to end the recital. “He must return. The duty is required of him. We cannot avoid the choosing.” Perizec frowned, deep in thought. “See to it that the crew who arranged his deportation are sent to the same destination. They will ensure that he is ready to be collected when next you land there.”

“A thought, sir,” Lenvec began. “Catteni would not be popular on the planet and may even be prevented from finding Zainal.”

Perizec regarded him with anger. “Zainal survived. You said yourself that he was a member of some sort of team.”

Lenvec shrugged. “Zainal is, after all, Emassi, sir, and as clever a man as you yourself…”

Perizec grunted at the filial compliment. “He is also Catteni and would resist attempts to eliminate members of his own race.”

“He might not be in a position to do so. He may also wish to eliminate the crew for having put him on that plane in the first instance.”

“They will have to be ‘rewarded,'” and Perizec's smile was unpleasant, “for their part in his exile. See to
that. And let us find among the Emassi two or three of Zainal's hunting friends. Them he would certainly protect, would he not?” Lenvec nodded. “They will see to it that he is willing to leave when next you land.”

“Am I to transport them there?”

“By no means. That would put Zainal on his guard. When is the next mass transportation scheduled?”

Lenvec consulted his wrist unit. “In twenty-two days.”

“Choose the men…”

“A female, too, sir, if I may suggest it. He's been a long time without…companionship.”

“An excellent notion,” and Perizec grinned back at his son. “You have someone in mind?” Lenvec nodded. “They will all be rewarded.” He reached to the files and methodically began stacking them in order as he continued speaking. “This must be completed as expeditiously as possible. I have told the Eosi that Zainal was sent on a special assignment and is unaware of their need of him. We have been granted a respite, but their anger will fall on us all if we do not present Zainal within a reasonable period of time.”

Lenvec nodded. Since Zainal had been acceptable to the Eosi, there had been no need for Lenvec to be presented. Nor would he wish to be accorded such an Eosi “honor,” since he knew exactly what it entailed. However, he might yet find himself the substitute, if Zainal did not present himself. The honor of the family was at stake. Failure to comply with an Eosi demand brought disaster and disgrace to every blood relation.

“Keep me informed, Lenvec,” Perizec told his son by way of dismissal.

As Lenvec saluted formally, pivoted smartly, and left the office, Perizec began to consider how to punish the stupidity of a mere freighter crew who had presumed to place an Emassi among transported dissidents. He enjoyed deciding on the exact and perfect punishment for
their presumption and shortly was able to issue the necessary orders. Once the rumor was circulated, few Tudo or Drassi would dare to repeat such treatment, no matter what the cause. That this abrogated one of the main tenets of Catteni discipline did not bother Perizec. His rank had privileges, and he exercised all frequently.

A
s he was supposed to do, the Deski immediately informed the camp leader of what he had heard on the height above Camp Rock.

“You heard a ship come down?” Worrell asked, rubbing his face hard in an effort to comprehend what Coo was telling him.

“Come down,” Coo said, nodding vigorously, “not big. Not you-zoo-al,” he added, struggling with the syllables.

“Not usual?” Worrell repeated while Coo nodded with a Deski-style grin which Worrell was now accustomed to. “You mean, not a drop?” Coo shook his head and then nodded, to be sure he was understood.

Worrell sighed with relief. The damned Catteni had speeded up their deposits of “colonists” over the past month to the point where there was barely time to assimilate each new delivery.

“No drop. No long down. Come,” and Coo gestured with his thin, oddly knuckled digits, swooping them down to close with his other hand, pause briefly, before
elevating it again. “Go. Soft.” And now he put a hand to his ear and pretended to listen hard.

Instantly Worry began to fret. His nickname was less a contraction of his surname than a description of his chief trait.

“A quick drop, then. A few people at the most. Only what kind?” he asked himself more than Coo. “Nearby?”

“Not near-near.” Coo dropped his head, orienting himself, then shifted his feet slightly to the right, so that he was facing due north. The Deski ability to know where they were was an extremely useful trait on Botany. They could get themselves back to the main settlements, like Camp Ayres Rock, from any point, so it had become common practice to include at least one Deski in every scouting expedition.

Now Coo extended both long, double-jointed arms, kept the right one facing due north, and angled his left arm almost due west. “There. Not near-near.”

“Really?” Worry rose and patted Coo's bony shoulder. “Real good, Coo. Thanks.”

“Good job done?”

“Beaut job, Coo.” Worrell turned up the light so he could see the map hung on his wall. Much of the continent it represented was still blank but, over the past few wintry months, details had been added by scouting teams. “If we're here, Coo,” and Worrell put his finger on the cave system of Camp Rock, “how far west?”

Coo extended his head toward the map on a neck that seemed elastic, put one digit on the camp, and then slid it in the appropriate direction. “No more far.”

“Really?” Worrell felt anxiety bloom in his gut. The point Coo had indicated was where Zainal and his team had met the scout ship: the one sent to take him back to his duties as a Catteni Emassi. “Thanks, Coo. You'd best get back on duty.”

“I go.” And the Deski slipped quietly from the room.

Worrell glanced briefly at his timepiece. Dawn was too far away for him to send a squad to check the landing site. The night crawlers would be all too eager to catch anything that traveled aboveground. Not even a large team, stamping heavily, would escape those winter-hungry denizens.

Then Worrell chuckled to himself. If Catteni had indeed landed someone for some purpose…like getting in touch with Zainal again…they'd've had a welcome they didn't expect.

“Serve 'em right, too,” Worrell said, though he was not by nature a vindictive man. In a considerably more cheerful mood, he returned to his bed and went soundly back to sleep.

* * *

Worrell would have liked to have Zainal to send down to investigate the reported landing but he and Kris Bjornsen were out with their team on another long scouting trip: looking for more caves, or barns, or rocky terrain to house the settlers continuously supplied them by the Catteni. So he sent for Mic Rowland, one of the Fifth Drop group. He'd been a stuntman for the movies and could be trusted to observe, be discreet, and get himself and a team out of trouble. Worry told him about the late-night landing and where Coo thought the ship had touched down.

“If a Deski said it landed there, we'll find some signs.” Mic was far too accustomed to working with all-sorts, as he called them, not to appreciate talent wherever it was found.

“Even scout ships leave a stench behind them,” Worrell agreed. “Take a party of those newbies with you. Give 'em a chance to hunt.”

“Sure thing,” Mic said with a businesslike nod.

Worrell grinned when he saw Rowland tag the first five people in the breakfast line whose new-looking coveralls
marked them as the latest drop. He did let then eat first before he took them off.

Worrell knew the trip would do them good. So many got to Botany still full of their Earthside sabotage activities and how many Cats they'd injured or killed and other kinds of derring-do, and they needed to be taken down a few pegs to the realities of Botany. Fortunately more were adapting well to the new world than Worry would have expected.

What worried the Australian, and the other camp managers, was the indisputable fact that the Catteni were making more frequent deposits of dissidents. Zainal had been surprised, too, and had suggested, slyly, that it was because Earth was showing far more rebellion than any other race the Catteni had subjugated. So there were more rebels to be exiled. So far the colony had been able to absorb quantities of both human and alien species, though they had followed Zainal's suggestion to let the belligerent and uncooperative Turs go off on their own in the small groups in which they arrived. However, the population of Botany had risen from the original drop of 582 to nearly 9,000.