Freedom’s Choice (24 page)

She had known, sort of peripherally, that the Sixth Drop had contained a group of women who had, at first, been totally ostracized by the other women in the camps to which they were assigned. She had noticed and commented on it to Sarah, who took some relish in telling her that these were “ladies of the night” who had been picked up in one of the German cities along with the actual demonstrators. Apparently Germany tolerated brothels but insisted that the occupants have periodic medical examinations to be sure they did not transmit
sexual diseases, so these girls were “clean.” With a larger ratio of males to females on Botany, there'd been endless requests of the available women for sexual favors, on any terms. Some of those terms put the offenders up in the stocks to cool off. The arrival of the professionals had been greeted with considerable interest by camp managers. So the women had been given the option of continuing their previous profession if they so chose. When assured such practices would be considered “work hours” for community benefit, all but two had decided to continue. It was stipulated that they would still have to take their turn at the less glamorous chores of the camps, like KP and latrine. They were, however, excused from sentry duties. But they, in turn, had laid down strict regulations about how they could be treated by clients and the number they would be willing to accommodate. Proper respect was the first requirement—from the female population as well as the male.

The puritanical among the Botany women refused to admit that the oldest profession had a place on this planet. But they could not refuse to admit that a lot of guys went around camp in much better humor and with fewer snide remarks directed at the so-called prudes. There were a few intolerant women—like Janet and Anna Bollinger, who studiously avoided them—but the rest did as requested and treated them with due civility.

“You look worried, Kris,” Zainal said as he straddled the bench before settling down beside her. “Isn't the soup good today?” he asked, noticing her unfinished bowl.

“Yes, it's good,” and she hastily picked up her spoon, though the soup was now only lukewarm.

“Sandy says something to worry you?” He looked concerned.

“Woman things,” she said, avoiding an explanation.

“Mitford says you will have to bear a child for the colony. Maybe two.”

“What!” Kris dropped the spoon in the soup, splashing it, and then became furious at such sloppiness, mopping hastily with a wad of fluff.

Zainal regarded her with a very level gaze, one corner of his mouth twitching. He leaned closer to her. “Was that what Sandy was saying to you?”

She hid her face from him. “So Mitford had the nerve enough to tell
you
? And not me?”

“Man-to-man stuff,” Zainal said, and she could just see him grinning at her out of the corner of her eye. “You know you cannot have a child by me. Is that why you stay with me? So you do not have a child?”

She glared at him. “I stay with you because I'm in love with you, you…you…brass-head,” she replied in a low and intense voice.

He covered her hand briefly with his, squeezing her fingers. “You are young and strong. You will be a good mother.”

Kris gulped. “No, I won't. I'm not the least bit maternal—motherly!” She blurted the denial out, daring him to object. “I'd make a lousy mother. I'm not ready to have kids. I'm too young.”

He gave her a long look. “It is not something all Earth women do? Have babies?”

“Not all by any long shot,” she said grimly.

“I see,” he said slowly. “It is not because you don't want to offend me?”

“I'm the faithful type. I don't want any man but you. Even if you can't have children,” she replied in a tight voice, looking down at the soup, which now had a thin haze of congealing fat on it.

“You do not need to sex another man. Mitford explained it to me.”

“That's even worse,” she told him with gritted teeth, rolling her eyes.

“I wish to see a child from you. Choose Mitford. You like him!”

“WHAT?”

She half rose from the bench in agitation and those by the hearth looked over at them. She dropped back to her seat, hand over her face. She was as close to tears as she had ever been since coming to Botany. The trouble was she did like Chuck Mitford, very much, and if she hadn't gotten so incredibly tangled up with Zainal she might have tried to come on to the sergeant. She had never once done so, nor had Mitford come on to her at any time: maybe she hadn't been mistaken that he'd've been interested in her if she hadn't paired off with Zainal. Of course, he had kept her so constantly in Zainal's company that finally sexual tension had been inevitable.

Zainal put an arm around her. “Do not be this way, Kris. It is no big deal.”

“No big deal?” She whirled on him, pushing his arm away, and had the satisfaction of seeing him recoil slightly from her expression. “No big deal!” She started to get off the bench but he held her down, exhibiting far more of his strength than he had ever used with her.

“You are not a silly woman, Kris Bjornsen. When it is time, you will have the child and I will help you. Do not make it such a big deal.”

Then he got up and so startled her that she grabbed for his hand. Had she lost face in his eyes because she was, indeed, being somewhat silly? If he didn't mind, she shouldn't?

“Your soup is cold. I get you hot.”

She was nearly light-headed with relief and nodded acceptance of the courtesy. She was relieved, too, that she had a little time without him beside her, to sort out incoherent reactions and irrational emotions. When she put her hands to her face, they were icy cold. Or were her cheeks burning hot with outrage and embarrassment? Whichever, she needed to cool down and stop acting so stupidly. She started at the point where Zainal had said
that he did not mind her having sex with another man. He even wanted her to have a child. Did all Catteni women have children whether they wanted to or not? Then she coped with his choosing for her the man she respected above all the others. That suggested a sensitivity in the big Catteni most unusual for his species. Or was Humanity contagious? She knew
he
admired Mitford, too. Or had he and Mitford discussed a putative father of Kris Bjornsen's compulsory child? Which she doubted. Mitford wasn't that sort of man. And she couldn't really see the sergeant and Zainal exchanging man-to-man topics.

He returned with a bowl of steaming soup and a watchful expression on his face and, oddly enough, sympathy in his yellow eyes.

“Thanks, Zainal,” she said, spooning up soup and blowing to cool it. “I did overreact there, I think.”

“I love you, you know,” he said in a sort of off-handed manner which would have exacerbated her already jangling nerves if her remnant of common sense hadn't made her realize that such an admission was also very un-Catteni. He covered her free hand with his. “It is not an emotion I thought I would live as a man to have.”

And that caught her hard, right in the guts. She dropped her head to his shoulder, weeping as quietly as she could. She knew he had had two children; even the chosen had the right to produce heirs on Catten. He'd never said a word about the woman, or women, who had borne them. So he had not allowed himself to love? Because he knew he was chosen and would not live long “as a man”?

“Why do you cry…now?” He was utterly puzzled.

“For you. Because you can love me.”

“It is not hard to do.”

She could hear the ripple of amusement in his voice and, dashing the tears from her eyes, looked up at him,
with as good a smile as she could present.

“Eat your soup. We have work to do soon,” he said very gently, and she loved him even more deeply than ever.

T
he Eosi Mentats had deliberated: had examined the reports from both satellites with infinitesimal attention to detail. With each fresh review, their agitation grew. Two separate concerns were identified: Firstly, the Eosi were not, as they had assumed, the only highly intelligent species in the galaxy, and why had they never encountered the Others when they had been assiduously exploring this arm of the Milky Way? Secondly, how did the Others arrive at a technology so far superior to their achievements and how soon could they match and then surpass it?

Mentat Ix called to their attention the brief glimpse its shell had had of a comunit. Logically, an investigation should be made of the extant equipment for insights into the construction of the machinery situated on the colony planet.

Mentat Ix was assigned, with two younger Mentats which had technological skills and inventiveness to inspect and analyze the installations. The warship AA1 would take them there and also provide guards against
any demonstrations by the indigenous population, who were known to be volatile.

As the superb new warship reached the ionosphere of the subject planet, its new propulsion system developed a fault, an oddity indeed, which resulted in a shock wave passing over the vessel from bow to stern. Gauges on detection equipment went off the scale for a nanosecond, then returned to normal positions, and the engines resumed operation as if they had never faltered. System analyses were run and damage reports undertaken, but no fault was found in any department of the AA1. Even the Ix Mentat was confounded. It liked that no better than the other shocks this wretched backwater system had given it.

The captain activated every safeguard provided by this latest example of Eosi-Catteni engineering and technology as he continued into the atmosphere of the third planet. There were no more life-forms detected than there should be, according to the numbers of prisoners sent there, and the numbers of lesser creatures previously assessed. There were 2,003 fewer humans than the records of removal but there would have been some casualties both in transport and since landing.

The Eosi had stipulated that they land at the point where most of the drops had been made, easily identified by the wrecked transport vessel.

Teams of guards trotted out of the AA1, to make a quick surveillance of the immediate area and the wreck. They were halfway across the field when they were suddenly attacked by aerial creatures. These were shot down with the accuracy for which such crack troops were famed. And identified as indigenous life-forms, previously recorded by the original survey team.

Reaching the wreck, they reported signs of intense heat and fire damage in the propulsion section. That, of course, was consonant with the reports from both the Drassi in command of the transport and the rescuers who
had subsequently lost their lives in the second accident.

“Third,” Mentat Ix corrected the captain.

“Lord?” the captain asked nervously.

“The scout ship also disappeared after landing on this planet.”

“My pardon. I didn't know of that incident, Lord.”

“
I
do.” And that was that.

“Odd for three…” and the young Mentat Co paused thoughtfully.

“Yes, three is odd.” Mentat Ix nodded for the captain to continue his investigations.

The team commander then added that only the shell of the wreck remained. It had been gutted.

The Mentat Ix irritably observed that protocol had not been observed in this instance: even a transport should have been blown up so that nothing could have been salvaged from it. It was unfortunate that both Drassi captains had lost their lives in the subsequent explosion of the KDL.

“There may well have been little of any value left,” it finally remarked, dismissing the problem.

“There is a concentration of metals not far from here,” the captain said, for that report had been hurriedly brought to him.

Ix nodded and a flick of one finger informed the captain that he was to dispatch a reconnaissance team.

They returned with pictorial evidence of a large installation: barns, sheds, piles of rectangles that appeared to be crates in collapsed form. And many different machines.

“Farming machines,” the captain said, for he had some familiarity with agricultural procedures.

“What season is it on this place?” the Mentat Se asked.

“The weather is cold but not excessively so. A winter, perhaps?” Co suggested.

“Farm machines are dormant in winter,” the captain remarked.

“Bring one here.”

“Perhaps the Mentats might prefer to see them in their…ah…normal surroundings?” the captain suggested. That made more sense than hauling large and cumbersome units about.

“The air is pure?”

“Yes, Lord,” the captain said. He was hoping to get a few lungfuls himself and, if he could get the Mentats off the AA1, he had ordered the life-support officers to flush out the ship with the cleaner planetary air.

The Mentats were conveyed effortlessly there in the captain's skiff, which was commodious enough for three Mentats and necessary crew. They saw nothing impressive in the facilities built into the cliffs. Nor in the machines that dutifully awaited the timely resumption of their preprogrammed duties. In fact, the machinery was almost depressingly simple in design and function when compared with the orbital and the massive ship that had stunned the Ix on its first trip to this solar system.