Freedom's Landing (39 page)

Mitford was everywhere, encouraging, detailing jobs, trying—it seemed to Kris, watching him from the corner of the kitchen barn where she had wearily slumped—to make himself known to all the Terrans. To her surprise, she even heard him speaking a few words of German and French to representatives of those nationalities. She knew French well enough to tell that his usage was rudimentary, but he was trying. And the folks responded with a little more hope in their manner. Then she saw Aarens, hunkering down by a very pretty girl and chatting her up in what sounded like extremely fluent French. She was clearly flattered and, as clearly, recovering from the shock of the journey. Aarens, who wore a vest of many pockets and a belt of tools, including an assortment of screwdrivers of all sizes, was making her laugh.

“Come,” and Zainal held out a hand to her. “You sleep. Tomorrow is another day.”

Grinning at his unwitting use of the famous Scarlett
O'Hara phrase, she extended her hand and let him haul her to her feet. She couldn't help but notice that many eyes followed them out of the barn. Maybe she should paint “one of the good guys” on his forehead. Then she flinched, remembering her own recent and less than charitable thoughts. But she'd been tired and upset when she'd thought them. And she'd had the grace not to voice them. She was even more tired now and where on earth was Zainal taking her? Halfway to the Rock? He turned her in at the last barn which, she noted, was relatively empty. Others were already sacked out—or would that be strawed out? She giggled.

“Soft bed,” Zainal said when he had gently herded her to the far corner, where a huge mound had been carefully prepared.

“Oh, thank you thankyou thankyou,” and turning, she just let herself fall backwards into it. She was faintly aware that Zainal was tucking her against his body and then she was out for the count.

*   *   *

SHE AND ZAINAL BOTH DREW DEBRIEFING DUTY
the next day, she with humans and he with the various aliens. As they were in the same barn for that job, she saw how he handled the different species: the forty Deskis with dignity, the twenty-nine Ilginish with a cool, diffident manner, and the thirty-eight Turs with a sharp, very Cattenish delivery. Slav had been handling contact with his own species, of whom there were sixty. Since there were over eight hundred humans, there were five other debriefers beside Kris, three of whom could speak other languages: German, French, and Italian.

Late that afternoon, Mitford called a meeting of his aides in the garage of the Welcome Committee to organize the dispersal of the huge addition to Botany's population. Worry and Esker had made the trip over from the Rock; Tesco and the Doyles, who were in charge of Camp Narrow, were on hand; Aarens was conspicuous by his absence. She'd last seen him breakfasting with a half-dozen girls.

Kris was amused to see that pieces of mechos were doubling
as stools while the carcasses, in various stages of dismantlement, had been pushed back to allow enough space for the meeting. She noted the veritable snow of sketches, diagrams, and drawings that were tacked up on the walls and hung over different worktops, which were littered with components being reused.

Mitford made a point of having Zainal sit on his right while Slav was on his left.

“First off, folks, I'd like to say that we owe a lot more to Zainal here than we can ever repay. He got us nutrients that'll keep our Deskis alive and tester kits so we won't have to risk poisoning to find out what is edible. He got,” and now Mitford held up the folder that the Catteni captain had passed to Zainal, “the ‘official'”—and he paused for a sardonic grin—“survey report on this planet. You will be glad to know that we're on the biggest of Botany's four continents, the temperate one. Zainal's translated the report and, frankly, I don't think much of the exploratory team that landed on this world. Neither does Zainal.”

“Nice to know the Cats aren't as great as they think they are,” someone said. “No offense, Zainal!”

“None taken,” Zainal said with a cheery wave and a bland expression on his face.

“Zainal will summarize the report to us. Floor's yours,” and Mitford sat down, gesturing for Zainal to stand.

“The report says that the planet has good air to breathe, good water to drink, and the…green plants…grow so plants for other worlds can…grow well, too. True. The report says two…Cats…” and Zainal's use of that nickname in a pejorative tone of voice elicited grins from his audience, “disappeared one night. Guard saw movement but did not go see. He thought men go to leak.” Zainal might not be obviously trying to ingratiate himself, but he was couching his comments very cleverly indeed. “Not found anywhere. Guard tells of strange movement. This planet has dangers. Two more are not seen so all sleep inside.”

“Ah, c'mon, Zainal, how'd they miss the garages and these barns and all?” Esker wanted to know.

“Sensors look for live flesh and ship lands in cold season.” Zainal shrugged. “Sensors register metal but not much for…” he turned to Kris, “those who work in ground…”

“Miners.”

“Miners and no special metals needed by Catteni.”

“Some of those mecho alloys are very special indeed,” Lenny Doyle said, “very special.”

“I agree,” Zainal said, “but the stupids on survey do not know. Take dirt, water, stone samples, and flesh of rocksquats, avians, loo-cows, and critters they find on other lands but…they do not see trees for forest.”

Ninety laughed aloud at that. “Attaboy, Zainal.”

Kris had been watching reactions and, of all there, only Dowdall and Tesco didn't seem to respond in any way to Zainal: they just sat there, eyes on the Catteni. Kris wondered from their attitude if they even believed what he was saying.

“What about winters here, Zainal?” Lenny asked.

“Report of…” he frowned and turned to Kris, “what falls from skies, wet, cold, solid but…runs like water from sun…”

“Snow.”

“Ah, snow.”

“Deep snow?” Lenny asked.

“Not when here. Oh, hand wide,” and Zainal held his big thick hand flat, thumb down, to indicate the depth.

“That's deep enough.”

“Longer day than Catten, longer year.”

“How long?”

“Report says,” and now he held up four fingers, then all five, and finally two.

“Oh, lordee, that's longer by three more months. How're we going to feed twenty-five-hundred-plus all winter long?”

“Find more silos and start breeding rocksquats in captivity,” Mitford said. “Anyone volunteer to farm rocksquats?”

“Hell, sarge, don't take the fun out of it for us hunter types,” Worry said plaintively.

“Say, Zainal, how long did this team of surveyors stay on Botany?”

Zainal looked down at the report. “Twenty days.”

“Hell's fire, we've surveyed better than they did, haven't we?” Ninety said, laughing.

Zainal tapped the sheets. “This has tests done which Leon and Joe Marley need. Useful. Some plants deadly.”

“Tell us something we didn't find out the hard way,” Tesco muttered.

“That'll help even at this date,” Mitford said. “Now, would you mind telling us about your conversation with Catteni ship captain?”

Zainal's wide lips twisted briefly in mild contempt. “Not captain. Below captain. One step.”

“His exec?” Mitford suggested.

Zainal shrugged. “Emassi may command, even Emassi who is drop. They obey. Good habit. They do not believe mechs. Do not
wish
to believe what is not in report.” He gave an amused snort. “They will. They also debrief.” He shot a glance at Mitford. “We will see.”

“Yeah, but they won't see any mechos if they do a fly-by now, will they, since we've disabled them all,” Ninety said, almost querulously.

“So?” Zainal asked. “We
are
here. We can use mechos. Next time Catteni drop, different story. I do not stand,” and he imitated his cross-armed stance at the bottom of the ramp, “and wait.”

“You'd attack one of your own ships?” Ninety asked, surprised.

“Why not?” And Zainal regarded Ninety with amused condescension. “A ship useful when mechos return next year to collect.”

“You mean you'd mount an expedition to follow them to their home system?” Kris asked, amazed by his intention.

Zainal nodded. “Be very good to see who farms whole planet.”

“Hell, I'd be scared out of my wig,” Dowdall said, regarding Zainal with interest. “Wouldn't they be a bit much for you by yourself?”

“You come with me?”

“Me?” Dowdall was surprised and then he grinned, rather nervously, back at the Catteni. “Man, if you're willing to go, I guess I would be, too.”

“We have six airline pilots now plus two retired NASA mission specialists,” Kris said brightly. “Maybe we could…Boy, I'd just give my eyeteeth to be in a first contact group.”

“No eyeteeth left,” Zainal told her with a big grin.

A rather odd silence followed that remark which made Kris blush though no one was actually looking at her.

“A lot of us here would, not just those NASA blokes,” Worry said, breaking in. “But I think that's down the road awhile. You didn't happen to find out if they're going to dump more people on us, did you?” he asked wistfully.

Zainal shook his head. “Not the question to ask. Captain takes orders. Low captain. Not smart,” and he held up one big hand, rocking it as he had seen Ninety do. “You Terrans make trouble, get put here. Simple.” He grinned in what Kris took as approval. “Terrans make big trouble for Catteni.” His grin broadened.

“And you
like
that?” Tesco asked, an edge to a voice that was louder than it need be.

“Yes, I do,” and he jerked one thumb at his own chest, “other Catteni do not!” And he shook his head. “Good on you,” he added, “to make big trouble. Makes Catteni think.”

Worrell guffawed out loud. “Good on you, Zainal, too. Couldn't be cast off with a nicer bloke.”

“So we can expect more?” Mitford said, not entirely pleased with that prospect.

“Believe so. But…” and Zainal held up his hand, “maybe report changes minds. Maybe…”

“But don't count on it, huh?”

“And the Cats would let us take the rap from the creatures who own this planet?” someone at the front of the garage asked in a sharp voice.

“Possession is nine-tenths of the law,” Kris said emphatically,
having caught the hostile tone in the murmured comments around the garage. “We're here and we're obviously going to stay.”

“Catteni are not the highest. We take orders, too,” Zainal surprised everyone by saying.

“From those Eosi you were telling me about?” Mitford demanded, scowling, his body tense.

“We work for the Eosi, who own most planets good for humans, Catteni, and others. You do not want to meet them,” Zainal said, shaking his head.

“Oh, yes I would if they're the ones responsible for this whole schtick,” Mitford said, his scowl black.

“That's what we heard back on Earth at any rate,” Worrell said. “Not that we saw any Eosi on Earth. Just their mercenaries.” He grinned. “We'd made the planet a little too unsafe even for the occupying forces.”

“And all this time I thought the Catteni were our enemies,” Dowdall said, trying to digest the information. “While they're just hired hands.”

“Now you know,” Mitford said, scowling.

“How come we're only finding out about these Eosi now?” asked Dowdall, shooting an accusing glance in Zainal's direction. He wasn't a man who liked surprises.

Zainal grinned. “First I have no words. Second you do not ask. Do not debrief
me.
”

The Doyles and Worrell laughed and Dowdall, now no longer quite as hostile toward Zainal, managed a weak grin.

“Eosi make good use of all peoples,” Zainal said. “Very clever species.”

“Then let's take all the heat off Zainal,” Kris said. “Let's make the bad guys the Eosi and spread the word.” A second thought struck her and she hurried on. “Do you speak Eosi, if they came to investigate this place again?”

Zainal considered that question. “If report goes high enough, I think they send but not Eosi. High Emassi. But I do speak with Eosi.”

He didn't much like to, either, Kris decided from his expression.

“So do we wait until some high muckymuck reads a report sometime this century or what?” demanded Tesco.

Zainal looked briefly at Mitford, who nodded and took over the reply to Tesco.

“We do as we have been, what we can with what we have. If a mecho ship comes to look Botany over, we grab it if we can.”

“And go where with it?” Tesco asked sardonically. “Not even NASA got beyond Jupiter.”

“I take ship. I am space captain,” Zainal said, “but will need crew.”

“Well, that's a great idea but how'll you do it? If you Cats don't know about the species which farms this planet, how would you know how to pilot one of its spaceships?”

“If ship has living pilot, we make pilot take us back,” Zainal replied, not at all confounded by the snide query. “If mecho, it will return to base: that is what it is made to do. We ride on it.”

“And then what?” Tesco demanded surlily.

Zainal shrugged. “First, ship has to come here. Where there is much…Yankee in-gen-oo-it-tee.”

Kris let out a laughing cheer, seconded by some of the other Americans present.

“Those of us from Oz aren't that bad in the make-do line either,” Worry said staunchly.

“Which ship comes first,
then
we make plans. Right?” Zainal said and turned to Mitford, who stood up again.

“That's it, Zainal, right on the nose. So, listen up, folks. We gotta get the latest recruits settled in and let 'em know the score. Worry, you call a meeting at the Rock as soon as you get back and tell 'em what happened. All patrols are to make housing their priority so hunt out some more garages. We'll need to get ready for the next group. I'll get on the blower to Shutdown and BellaVista,” and he glanced fondly down at the comunit attached to his belt. “We might even claim Botany as
ours!
And the hell with Eosi or whatever.”