Freedom's Challenge (18 page)

“It is refreshing to drink,” Kamiton said, handing the cup over but he followed Zainal's progress to the service table to refill their cups while answering Ray in Catteni.

“I doubt even the Eosi know how many ships they have in the fleet. The shipyards keep building them,” and Kamiton shrugged his heavy shoulders diffidently. “The ships not to touch are those used only by the Eosi. They are distinctively marked and no one enters who does not have to.”

“I can easily understand that,” Ray said with a grin. Then, as Zainal returned with the refilled cups, he leaned across the table toward them. “But would not
they
be the very ships we'd need to hijack if you,” and he pointed at both Zainal and Kamiton, “want to be rid of Eosian domination?”

Chuck grinned, though Gino, for a moment, looked apprehensive.

“There are at least one hundred Eosi,” Kamiton said. “That is one hundred ships to destroy and you have…how many now? Six?”

“It's a start,” Ray said, grinning slightly. “Are you also with us in our fight against Eosian domination?” When Kamiton nodded slowly, he added, “Are there any more at home like you?”

“There are,” Kamiton said firmly and soberly. Now he leaned forward across the table. “We must plan. It will not be easy.”

“What is worth having never is,” Ray Scott said. “Now, it's your turn, Zainal,” and he continued in Catteni, “tikso.”

•   •   •

ZAINAL “REPORTED” IN THE SAME LANGUAGE, although occasionally Ray had to ask for a translation. He chuckled over the asteroid belt deception.

“Well done, well done,” Ray said, rubbing his hands together.

“We cannot make mistakes, Ray,” Zainal said as if he could see Scott planning all kinds of hijacking missions
that would eventually be noticed: perhaps even traced to Botany.

“There is one Mentat, the Ix,” Kamiton said, glancing at Zainal with a significant nod, “who is certain you all,” and his large finger circled the table, “are responsible for every disaster that has occurred recently. You realize that a moon base is being constructed to keep watch over you.”

Ray nodded. “We know, which is one reason why we are using the south polar windows.”

“Good.” Kamiton hitched his chair forward, the wood creaking under his weight. He glanced down at it, shifted experimentally, and then ignored the occasional noises.

Kris really did hope that the chair, though made of lodge-pole wood, was sturdy enough for the heavily built Catten.

“The Mentat Ix has had one seizure…”

“Seizure?” Zainal came alert.

Kamiton nodded, grinning. “Interesting, isn't it? The Immortals have flaws. We must discover how we can use them to
our
benefit.”

“Tactically,” Ray said, showing appreciation for that information, “it is always smart to get your enemy to destroy himself…if you possibly can.”

“No species' injury,” Chuck said with great satisfaction. “Only how the hell do we do it? One of them losing his cool doesn't mean we'd be able to blow the minds of the others.” He cocked his forefinger and clicked his thumb, making his hand into an imaginary weapon.

“A seizure in a Mentat has never happened before,” Kamiton said in Catteni, sitting back and folding his arms across his chest.

“No, it has not,” Zainal said, then switched to English, addressing the others. “The significance of such an occurrence wouldn't mean as much to you as it does to us,”
and he turned back to Kamiton. “I would like to know more since I heard nothing of that on Catten,” he added in Catteni.

“Nor would you,” Kamiton said in a droll tone. “But I know of it and several others as well. The Bubble frustrates Mentat Ix. Total annihilation of this planet is required as retaliation for the humiliation suffered by Ix.”

“But this Ix fellow can't get past the Bubble and we know he, it, whatever, has tried,” Ray Scott said smugly.

“Necessity is the mother of invention,” Gino reminded them pointedly.

Zainal translated to Kamiton.

“Have you heard if their brain-wiping of Human specialists has given them any help?” Ray asked.

“We know that it was done,” Kamiton said. “We are trying to find out if any worthwhile information was discovered. More importantly, if any new projects have been started. Not so far as I know.” And Kamiton's attitude was that if anyone would know, he would.

“I think that the Eosi,” Ray said slowly but with a glint of satisfaction in his eyes, “have underestimated Humans.”

Kamiton smiled. “They have and it gives us,” and his thick thumb touched his chest, signifying his group of dissidents, “immense satisfaction. And hope. How best may I serve you, Emassi?” Kamiton bent his head toward Ray in an unexpected gesture of compliance.

“My rank
was
admiral, Emassi Kamiton,” Ray said, with a grin. “And it looks likely that I may resume it. We'll have to consider how best to use your services. Welcome aboard.” Then he stood up and turned to Zainal. “I think that perhaps it would be wise if you all,” and he gestured to include Gino and Chuck, “escort Kamiton up to the hall and make sure everyone knows he's on our side. I'll see how soon we can schedule a tactical
conference, but right now, unloading and the disposition of our latest arrivals takes precedence.”

Kris was on her feet. “And I have a son to see.” Clearly it was safe for her to leave now that Zainal was himself again. And she was suddenly overcome with the urge to see Zane.

“Take my runabout, Kris,” Ray said expansively. “I've got reports to write while all this is fresh in my mind.”

ZANE WAS SO INVOLVED, PLAYING WITH others his age, giggling outrageously over something they found funny that she stood and watched, drinking in the sight of him.

Suddenly they went dead quiet, eyes wide open and staring. One of the little girls whimpered in fright but was instantly comforted by Sarah McDouall, one of the carers on duty at the crèche.

“Great heavens, where did they come from?” she said, her voice part surprise and part reassurance.

Kris turned and saw a line of the tall thin Maasai men and women striding up the hill. They had not been outfitted with the customary Catteni coveralls, possibly because the Catteni hadn't made any that size before, so they wore the tatters of their traditional garb. And were as proud and dignified as she remembered seeing them in occasional news broadcasts when there had been that awful drought in Africa and Bob Geldof had started Band Aid.

The size of the Maasai would intimidate more than two- and three-year-olds.

“How come you're leading the Maasai, Bart?” Kris asked, noticing him in the front, almost lost among the tall folk.

“They seem to trust me. Now a few smiles wouldn't go amiss right now,” Bart Tomi said firmly and immediately everyone complied, waving as well. “Hassan says ‘Jambo' is a greeting. Can we have a chorus from you all?”

Everyone obediently repeated the greeting. The Maasai beside Bart looked surprised, eyebrows ascending up his wrinkled forehead but he stopped. So did the others behind him.

Abruptly Sarah brought the child she was holding closer, waving its arm as she did so. The transformation of the Maasai from surprise to delight was amazing. They all smiled now, at the children, rather than the adults.

The leader came right up to the playground, the picket fencing not as high as his knees, grinning broadly and saying something that Kris heard as “kasserianingera?”

Sarah held out the little girl's hand to the man. Smiling with very white teeth and bending his tall frame down to her level, he very gently touched her fingers, so gently that the child, wide-eyed though she was, did not withdraw. The Maasai nodded and stepped back, then smiled at all the children. Behind him, the rest of his tribe, if that's who they were, nodded and smiled and murmured their response of “jambo.”

“Good, good,” Bart said. “That's the first any of them have reacted at all.”

“I'd heard,” Sarah said, “that they love children. And cattle. Our loo-cows are going to give them quite a shock.”

The little girl had a grin hovering on her lips, but she
burrowed her head into Sarah's shoulder, peeking coyly at the tall man. But the breakthrough had occurred and a ripple of soft words went down the line. The Maasai all had smiles now and strode forward more cheerfully.

Bart pointed toward the hall. Then, looking down at a strip of paper in his hand added in Swahili, “Hapa chakula kizuri! Get me?”

“Ndio, ndio,” the leader said, nodding and looking around to gesture for the progress to continue. “Hapa chakula kizuri!” He repeated the same words Bart had used but with the proper inflections, and the Maasai behind grinned and nodded.

“So much for Hassan's instant Swahili lessons,” Bart said, grinning as he stuffed his paper back into a thigh pocket.

At that moment, Zane came running towards Kris, arms outstretched to be picked up. “Mommy, mommy, mommy.”

She was only too glad to collect him and hug him tightly and kiss him all over. Then she took his arm, turned, and had him waving at the Maasai as they flowed by in their long striding gait.

“Mommy?” Zane whispered in her ear, his eyes wide.

“These are good people, Zane.”

“Not Deski, not Rugars…”

“No, Maasai.”

“Massssi.”

“Maas—ai,” she corrected him and he got it right.

“Has a quick ear, this one,” Sarah said. “Have a good trip?”

Kris chuckled, thinking of some of the elements she was not going to mention. “Mind you, all we brought back was a dissident Catteni which isn't much against the increase in Botany's fleet…”

“Dissident Catteni?” Sarah made round eyes at that. “Do tell!”

“Didn't you see him go up to the hall with Zainal a few minutes back?”

“Can't say as I did. But then, I can't say as I knew of any Catteni dissidents either.” Sarah grinned. “Nice to know we might have inside help, though. Will we?”

“Tell you later.”

“Over lunch perhaps?” Sarah said, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“If you share what you've heard that I haven't had time to find out.”

“Good. It's nearly lunchtime and sandwiches are all made. LUNCHTIME,” Sarah called.

Out the window of the crèche dining room, they saw the procession of what Sarah called the “repossessed,” mainly Africans, but some whites, and their nationality not so obvious as they had been given Catteni coveralls.

“Not so many injured either,” Kris remarked.

“
We
did the unloading,” Sarah said, “and wait 'til you see what else we got.”

“Zainal came back with equipment as well,” Kris said. “But it got loaded in such a hurry I don't know what all he acquired.”

“Did you see much of the planet?” Sarah asked, as others joined their table, eager to hear of Kris' adventures.

Kris shook her head, breaking a piece off her own sandwich, which Zane evidently preferred to what was on his plate. “The gravity damned near wore me out. I stayed on board and answered the com unit. My Catteni's good enough for that but I don't look the part. And I sure couldn't operate in that gravity! Chuck did all the fronting for us. I'll tell you one thing for sure, I was awful glad to lift off safely.” Then she laughed. “We ended up in an asteroid belt and whatever created it must have been one helluvan explosion.”

She told them the ruse they'd used so that the space station hadn't wanted them to land there, which would
have meant handling more formalities than was wise. So they'd got to land on the surface of the planet, far enough away from any settlement so that their “faulty” systems would cause no damage. “And we sure were sent to the boondocks. I did see the Rassi and they are…” she gave a shudder, “really little more than animals. You can't call them morons or retarded because they don't have much intelligence at all. They copy what they are shown to do and even that has to be repeated over and over. But Zainal and the others got into the main city and made contact with Kamiton.”

She could relate the deception about having to off-load an extremely valuable ore cargo, which is why they came back via the asteroid belt, and how they could get back to Catten if they wished.

“So what's this Kamiton doing here?” Sarah wanted to know.

“Seeing's believing, isn't it?” Kris replied.

“And if he likes what he sees, he brings in more dissidents?” asked another woman. Belatedly Kris recognised her as Jane O'Hanlon, the TV reporter who'd been one of those rescued from Barevi in a mindless state.

“You've recovered!” Kris exclaimed.

Jane gave a rueful smile. “I'm improving. Many are. Dorothy Dwardie's been marvelous.”

“Indeed she has,” Sally Stoffer said, as she wiped cereal off a baby's face. “I'm practically out of my job there.”

“Really?”

“Seventy-five percent have recovered enough to function on their own now, to talk and help out. We've been busy while you were gone.”

“I don't doubt that for a moment,” Kris said. “But boy-oh-boy, am I glad to be home.”

“Daddy, daddy,” Zane cried excitedly just then, and Kris looked up to see Zainal and Kamiton in the doorway.
“'Scuse,” Zane said in Sarah's direction and ran up to his father, squealing in excitement when Zainal swung him up.

“Watch out, Zainal, he's just had lunch,” Kris cried.

Obediently, Zainal positioned Zane on his back while Kamiton looked on in amused condescension at the sight of a paternally occupied Zainal.

•   •   •

LATER KRIS HEARD ALL ABOUT THE RESETTLEMENT of the Maasai from Sarah at dinner in the hall. Zainal had taken Zane off for an evening walk and talk. Zainal was also teaching Zane Catteni, and if Kris was there, he preferred to jabber away in English, which defeated the purpose.