Freedom's Challenge (6 page)

Although Marjorie and Peggy were hungry enough to eat what Kris served them, they began to falter as Miss Barrow's complaints jarred their own memories of breakfasts or homes or what they had once been accustomed to.

Just as Kris was beginning to think she wouldn't be able to cope with this sort of insurrection, Dorothy Dwardie slid in beside Miss Barrow.

“I am so glad to see you looking so well, today, Miss Barrow.”

Miss Barrow recoiled from Dorothy, a hint of fear contorting her features.

“Surely, you remember me, Doctor Dwardie?”

“Doctor?” Miss Barrow was only slightly reassured while Kris admired the friendly but not intimate tone Dorothy used.

“Yes, Doctor Dwardie, I'm in charge of your case.”

“I've not been well?” As Miss Barrow's fragile hand went to her chest and her expression became even more confused, Dorothy nodded, still smiling with great reassurance.

“Yes, but nothing life-threatening, I'm happy to report. The tests have all come back negative. You may not remember
things in the detail you used to but we're positive that you will make a complete recovery.”

“I
was
working very hard,” Miss Barrow said, running one nervous finger along the edge of the table and watching its progress, “the merger, you know.”

“Yes, exactly, the merger. One of the elements of your convalescence has actually been a change of diet to a very bland one. A change to flush the toxins of fatigue out of your system. If you just look at Marjorie and Peggy, you'll see how healthy and fine they are. And you're very much improved.”

“Toxins…yes, there were toxins,” Miss Barrow said. “Some of them…” She closed her lips and gave a weak smile. “I'm not allowed to talk about my work, you understand.”

“Yes, yes, Miss Barrow, we do. Miss Bjornsen is the soul of discretion but as I have a top security clearance, perhaps if we had a quiet little chat in my office, I could relieve your mind, and we can figure out just what other therapy will speed your recovery.”

Gently Dorothy got Miss Barrow to her feet and led her out of the dining room and toward her putative office.

“She'll be all right, won't she?” Marjorie said, her eyes wide with fright. It was also the first time Marjorie had said more than yes, no, and maybe. Peggy stared from one to another and then back to Kris for reassurance.

“She'll be fine,” Kris said firmly, smiling and nodding her head. “But I think we'd better finish our breakfasts. Then we'll find a quiet spot for me to finish reading
Pride and Prejudice.
”

“I read that once,” Peggy said in a vague tone, frowning slightly.

“I like Kris reading,” Marjorie said.

“Why, thank you, Marjorie.”

“You know you don't have to be so formal, Kris. I don't mind if you call me Marge like everyone else.”

Then she grimaced, looking down at the table and, with furtive glances, gradually looked around the room. Peggy, however, held up her cup for more tea, which Kris instantly supplied.

“Some of your friends aren't here with you, Marge,” Kris said, thinking some explanation should be offered before Marjorie's returning awareness caused her dismay.

“They aren't?”

“More tea?” Kris offered and Marge shook her head.

“Doesn't really taste like tea to me.”

“It's part of the bland diet to reduce the dose of toxicity you had,” Kris said.

“But you're drinking it, too. Did you get a dose?”

“No,” Kris replied, “but we aides thought it wasn't fair for us to drink something you aren't yet allowed.”

“Oh!” Marge accepted that.

Kris tried not to wonder what else would happen today or who would have a breakthrough but the rest of her eight-hour shift went without any further incident, other than Marge making comments about beautiful scenery and the lovely fresh air. Peggy said nothing more and seemed to be deep in her own thoughts. And Kris certainly hoped she was having some. She got her two charges back for their afternoon nap and, for once, they lay down in their beds immediately and were asleep in moments.

Mavis beckoned her into the nurse's office.

“That Miss Barrow's a pisswhistler,” she murmured in rather unprofessional language. “And that's exactly what brought her around.”

“How so?”

“She ran a huge lab for Erkind Pharmaceuticals and everything, but everything had to be precisely in place and exactly done.”

“Oh! And suddenly her neurones meshed and nothing here was as it should be in her neat little mind?”

“Exactly.”

“Has she realized where she is now?”

Mavis cocked her. “She's fighting it but with every twitch of disagreement, she's remembering more. She's more than halfway back to sanity.”

Kris grimaced. “If precision and order are her sort of sanity, she could be a real pain in the arse.”

Mavis shook her head this time. “No, we'll let her manage our lab when she's fully recovered. It'll be the envy of…” Then Mavis giggled. “We couldn't actually ask for someone with a better background.”

Kris thought of Leon Dane, of Thor Mayock's hooch, and the easy, if effective, way the hospital facilities had been run, and wondered.

“You'll see,” Mavis said. “How're the other two?”

“Some speech from Marge…she prefers that…and one sentence from Peggy but that one's been thinking hard all day long.”

“Good,” and Mavis made notes on the day pad. “We'll see if we can improve on your start. You're mid-shift tomorrow?”

Kris nodded and then another group returned to the dormitory and Mavis went to help settle them for their rest.

•   •   •

ON HER WAY TO COLLECT ZANE, SHE WONDERED just how the prim and proper Miss Barrow would view the Deski and Rugarians with whom they shared the planet. And how she could react to Zainal's presence when she saw him. Once the Victims started being people again, they would have to see, and become accustomed to, the one Catteni since he was the one who had organized their rescue.

Zane was having a late nap and Kris looked rather enviously at all the small bodies, all curled up under their blankets on the mats that had been woven for the purpose.

“Go grab some zzz's yourself,” murmured Sheila, who was in charge. She was also working on a detailed map of the eastern coast of this continent, from measurements Kris' exploratory team had brought back. “I'll
never
get used to the long days here. Not to mention the long nights. I'll wake you when Zane's up. I allus say, leave sleeping dogs and chilluns lie.”

There were bunks for the nighttime staff, two of which were already occupied, so Kris climbed as quietly as possible into an upper one and very shortly fell asleep.

•   •   •

A SLOPPY WET KISS WOKE HER: THE DONOR being her dearly beloved son, who had managed to clamber up the ladder at the head of the bunk. He giggled, delighted with his accomplishment, though Kris was only too relieved he had escaped unscathed. She'd take ladders away the next time she slept here.

“Hey, love, you don't know how to climb ladders yet,” she said, alternating between being frightened at the risk he had taken and proud that he had tried.

“Ahh, Mummy.”

Kris threw back the blanket, jumped lightly to the ground and held up her hands for him. Quick as could be and without a moment's hesitation, he flung himself down at her, giggling when she caught him neatly. Sssshing him, they left the sleeping room. Two beds were still occupied.

Zane was in great form and, as it was snack time, they went hand in hand to the dining room, which was crowded with others. With such long days, four or five meals were frequently offered. A hearty breakfast, a mid-morning sandwich, a three-course dinner midday, a mid-afternoon fruit and sandwich, and then a good supper. Late-night snacks were leftovers of bread, cake, and sandwiches, whatever needed to be eaten up and usually was. The herbal tea and, with spring now leading into
summer, fruit juices were available all day long. Caterers worked in several short shifts but nevertheless worked a twelve-hour day. Food preparation was as often as not a punishment detail for minor infractions of colony laws, but everyone took a turn at those chores. The big difference here on the new land was that the food didn't also have to be picked, dug, fished, or gutted: other working groups had already processed it for cooking.

On the northern wall of the dining room were the listings of jobs and rotas so that there was no excuse for anyone to miss assignments. Diners customarily checked before or after they ate to see what their duties were for the next day or the next week.

Zainal was listed as working with ex-Admiral Ray Scott, Bull Fetterman, Bert Put, John Beverly, Chuck Mitford, Jim Rastancil, Salvinato, Gino Marrucci, Raisha Simonova, Boris Slavinkovin, Hassan Moussa, Laughrey, Ayckburn, Peter Easley, and Worrell. These week-long meetings were scheduled at the hangar. Considering that most of these men were ex-service of one country or another, Kris had no problem figuring out that Zainal was probably talking up his master plan. Whether the others would go for it or not was debatable. Certainly there were significant absences from that list, such as the odious Geoffrey Ainger, the Brit naval commander, Beggs, who had been Scott's gopher, and Sev Balenquah, who had so nearly blown their disguises on their sneak trip back to Barevi to obtain the supplies which were making all the difference in the efficiency and productivity of the colony.

And if all those with experience in flying the Catteni craft, including Raisha, were there, she wondered just what escapade was being planned. And why wasn't she included?

•   •   •

SHE AND ZANE HAD THEIR SNACK, A HOT rolled sandwich with a sort of sausagey filling, the constituents
of which she did not wish to know but the result tasted good. Zane licked his fingers so hungrily that she found a small extra one to give him.

“We've our garden to tend now, love,” she said, and he hopped and skipped alongside her as they returned to their cabin. She got out the hoe and his little weeder prong and they finished that chore by the time they saw Zainal being dropped off from the flatbed, still occupied by those living farther up the way to the main administrative area.

“Daddy, daddy!” And Zane made a wobbly beeline to his father who heaved him up so high that Kris caught her breath, even though she knew perfectly well that Zainal would never drop the boy.

“And what might I ask are you and all the high, low, and middle brass doing at the hangar these days?”

“Heard one of your old girls remembered who she is,” he replied.

“Ah, how good the gossip system is here,” she said drolly. “First, please, the answer to
my
question?”

“Those who played…doggo?” and Zainal's yellow eyes twinkled as he looked for confirmation on his use of the slang, “knew a lot more than they thought they did.”

“That's good. About what did they know more?”

“I believe Scott calls it ‘the state of the nation.'”

“And?”

“We're mounting an expedition.” He did not meet her gaze, but threw the delightedly squealing Zane up in the air again.

“Soon?”

“Quite likely.”

“Who all's going?”

“That's what's taking so long to decide,” and Zainal gave a heavy sigh.

“Just think how much more time that gives you, my dear, to learn how to operate computers.”

“That is the only reason you find me in such good fettle.”

Kris burst out laughing. Zainal knew just how to get her into a good mood…proving that he'd mastered yet another Terran expression.

“Can we eat here tonight? Kurt Langsa—well, however you pronounce the rest of his long name—said he would come?”

“I'm not good enough?”

He had Zane safely ensconced on his shoulders now and pulled her against him, kissing her cheek. “I read nine books during the talking,” and he wrinkled his nose. “I need someone who uses computers all the time to show me what the manual says. It uses words I know but not the same way.”

“I know exactly what you mean, Zainal. I'll go get some food from the Hall.”

“No, Kurt brings. I would like you to go over the words I have learned so that I pronounce them correctly. The spelling is always different and yet the words sound alike.” He sighed now in exasperation.

“I don't imagine it's any consolation to you, Zay, but we had to learn, too, as kids.”

“In Catteni, the sound is always the same…”

“If you're accustomed to gargling, yes, they would be,” Kris agreed affably, remembering how hoarse she had been when she'd had to talk to the Catteni scout ship before they captured it. “I do speak some Catteni,” she added, slyly glancing at him. “More Barevi.”

He gave her a sideways look, so that she couldn't really see the expression in his eyes.

“That is known,” he said at his blandest. “But you must learn to understand more.”

“When do the classes start?” she asked in an equally bland tone, determined to find out.

“Soon.”

“Ah, then let us continue teaching you antonyms.”

Zane was busy in his play corner with the blocks and the miniature vehicles that Zainal had fashioned for him. He was mimicking the solar panel hum as he played, oblivious now to the adults.

She had no sooner reached for the list than there was a knock on the door, and Zainal called out “Enter!”

Kurt Langsteiner peered cautiously around the door, a thin-faced man with an expression of perpetual anxiety. He smiled, which altered his face considerably to a pleasant appearance, and stepped inside, carefully closing the door with one foot as both hands were full.

“Name plates would help,” he said. “This is the third house I've tried in your neck of the woods.”