Freedom's Ransom (6 page)

“Volunteers for what, Emassi Zainal?” Clune asked, glaring at Floss and urging his friends to catch up to him.

“A special mission to Barevi,” Zainal replied.

“The trading planet?” Floss exclaimed and won points, Kris thought, by Zainal's response to her knowledge.

“What else do you know about Barevi?” he asked her.

She made a moue. “Not much except it was a place to avoid if you were captured by Catteni.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “And it was low gravity. That's why the Catteni used it as an R-and-R place.”

“It's where the Catteni took Terran slaves to be sold,” Clune said, frowning. But he spoke in Catteni, his young baritone voice able to growl out the words with a good accent.

“They took a lot of stuff off Earth to Barevi,” Ferris remarked.

“And we have to reclaim it,” Zainal said.

“They're going to keep all the stuff they stole and be allowed to get away with it?” Ditsy muttered in a petulant tone.

“No, Ditsy. But he has the priorities right,” Zainal murmured in an aside to Kris, and she grinned back at him. Now he stepped over to Chief Materu. “Chief, these young men and that woman speak my language and may be of use to us all. Will you allow them to accompany us?”

Judging by the fleeting expression that crossed the
chief's face, Kris thought he would be glad to see the last of Floss, but he seemed more reluctant to part with Clune and the other lads.

His answer was a ripple of words that Kris didn't understand. Zainal looked at Peran for a translation.

“Father, he says that they are not yet in the age-set to be trained for a man's skills and responsibilities.”

“Will you answer him for me, Peran, as I do not know his language, that they are trained in the skills I need for an important mission.”

Peran did not smile as Kris thought a Terran boy might, pleased to be translating for his father. He rattled off phrases with a respectful air and waited for the chief to reply.

Materu shrugged but with a wave of his hand, agreed.

“Run, get your things,” Peran said in Catteni to the three boys and, almost as an afterthought, included Floss. She angled her hips provocatively and stood closer to Kris.

“I won't need anything they gave me once I'm back in civilization,” she muttered under her breath. But redeemed herself in Kris's good opinion by turning toward the group of women and making a broad gesture of farewell, giving the older woman a dignified nod. “Can I board the ship now?” she asked Kris.

“Can't wait to leave, can you?”

“You better believe it,” Floss replied and sauntered, still swinging her hips in a sexy manner, which Kris thought was provocative; she disappeared up the ramp and into the ship. By the time Kris, following her, had made her way to the flight deck, she heard more feet on the ramp and the whine of machinery as the ramp was retracted. Zainal came forward to the pilot's seat. As if it were his prerogative, Peran took the secondary seat. Kris took the jump seat behind Zainal and motioned for the boys and Floss to strap in. As they took off and Zainal dipped Baby in a farewell salute over the Masai EnKang, Floss heaved a long sigh.

“Thank God you came. They were going to marry me off to a bag of bones and shriveled skin,” Floss muttered to Kris.

Kris felt a pang of guilt for having forgotten Floss for so long and wondered how the girl had coped. There was little doubt in Kris's mind that Floss had filled out in a very womanly fashion, and she was glad they had rescued her from an ancient spouse. That would only have caused more problems and indubitably Floss would never have waited passively to enjoy marital bliss.

“So what's the caper?” she asked, leaning toward Zainal, her eyes glittering.

Zainal responded in his best Emassi manner but the only words Kris recognized were “know” and “time.” Floss had no trouble understanding and leaned back in her seat, folding her arms across her breasts. Full breasts, Kris noticed, and hoped they could get the girl off-planet and to Barevi before she caused havoc among the unmarried males at the Botanists' main settlement at Retreat. The girl was much too young to settle down, although she seemed to have learned manners and deference among the Masai. Oh Lord, they only had spare beds enough for Zainal's sons. There were, however, bunks and cabins aboard the Baby, which must have been Zainal's thought because he landed in the clearing he had used before, not all that far from their cabin.

“Well, this is a step up,” Floss said and winked at Clune.

“You boys can bunk on Baby tonight,” Zainal said, gesturing down the companionway to the crew and officer quarters. “Floss, you'd better stay in the main house.”

“Main house?” Floss echoed, glancing negligently at the cabin.

“Our home,” Kris said with a quelling glare.

“Well, it beats a straw hut all hollow,” Floss replied with more deference as Kris ushered her inside. “And I really do like the decor. Informal, rustic, but neat!”

“Thanks,” Kris said. She sniffed, aware of an enticing aroma, and noticed the stew pan on the stove. “That was kindly,” she said, picking up the spoon and stirring the mixture.

“I smell spices,” Floss remarked, an anticipatory grin on her face. “Smells sort of like home and holiday.” And her eyes suddenly filled with tears.

“We don't have many spices but this is one of Dorothy's pots, so we'll know who to thank. There are knives and forks in the second drawer in the chest, Floss, if you can remember how to set a table. I'll call the others,” Kris gave Floss's shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Bread had also been left for them so they could make a good meal, which was devoured with much smacking of lips. Floss had forgotten which side forks go on but she had found glasses and poured water and put out plates. She was obviously accustomed to assisting, a definite improvement over her attitude before she was sent to the Masai camp.

Clune had asked where to wash his hands and the other boys followed his example, despite their obvious desire to eat. Kris dished out spartan servings since whoever had brought the food had not anticipated eight people dining on the pot's contents. She had some slightly stale cake to serve for “afters,” which the boys and Floss consumed avidly.

“Sorry about the hard rations. But there's usually plenty to eat at the dining hall,” Kris said. “We generally eat there and take our turns cleaning up.”

“That was lovely,” Floss said with a replete sigh. “Human cooking.”

“We ate well enough with the Masai,” Clune said, almost embarrassed by her remark.

“There was always enough,” Ditsy blurted out, as if the quantity was far more important than the quality. Then he glanced at Clune as if he regretted having spoken.

“There were plenty of times we didn't have enough in
DC, Floss,” Clune said with quiet authority.

“Oh, we did well enough in the Washington kip,” Floss said with an airy shrug. “You guys were good scroungers, and Jerry could make nothing taste like something!” She gave a sigh for “times past.”

“I've always preferred to eat regular,” Ferris added, speaking almost for the first time. He had a very husky voice and there was an old scar along his throat. Kris resolved to have Dane check all of them over before they were enlisted for this mission. They probably needed to be wormed: Kris squirmed at the thought.

“'Scuse me, ma'am,” Ferris went on, his brown eyes troubled, “but does anyone know who's left on Earth?”

“You had family there, Ferris?” Kris asked.

“Think they escaped the roundup but I don't know. Any way I can find out?”

“We've some survivor lists, Ferris, and a long one from the DC area. We can check for you later. What about you, Floss?”

She gave an indifferent shrug. “Knowing my father, they'd've survived in fine style. Somehow, somewhere.”

Clune leveled a stern glance at her. “You used to worry about your mother and your sisters.”

“Oh”—she twitched her right shoulder—“I did but I had to give that up as a lost job, didn't I?”

“You do know not to walk about at night, don't you?” Kris asked.

“Sure do. Never want that to happen to me,” Floss said in a more subdued tone and grimaced at the notion. Night crawlers were indigenous creatures on Botany that would attack anything animal, or human, in the night and ingest them. “Thought there weren't as many night crawlers up north.”

“You do know to stamp a lot at night if you are caught off the stone paths?” Zainal continued. And all six kids nodded solemnly.

“You boys can stay in the ship but I'm locking everything else down. I don't want anyone flying off on us.”

“Emassi Zainal,” Clune began formally, “what exactly did we volunteer for?”

“Translating Catteni into English and English into Catteni,” Zainal replied. “And a little grunt work. The rest I'll explain when we get to Barevi and when you need to know.”

“Oh, the old need-to-know routine,” Clune said with a long-suffering sigh.

Zainal laughed and clapped him so firmly on the shoulder that, sturdy as he was, Clune rocked on the bench. “And now, boys, come with me,” and he urged them all out the door and toward Baby.

Without being asked, Floss rose and started clearing off the table, taking the dirty plates and utensils to the sink. She turned on the faucet and crowed with delight. “Hot water!”

“Yes, we have all the comforts of home.”

“Would you also have a shower? And maybe some shampoo?” Floss asked in a hushed voice, a look on her face of such keen anticipation that Kris felt all the more guilty for having forgotten the girl.

“Yes, but I think you'd better shower first and quickly. Zainal likes a wash in the evening, and we don't have quite enough water for two long showers and the dishes, too. Come with me.” Kris paused only long enough to get a towel out of the cupboard and some shampoo—homemade though it was—from another cupboard before leading Floss to the shower room.

“Oh, if you knew how I've dreamed of this,” Floss murmured, stripping off the wraparound garment.

“I'll have to get you some clothes tomorrow but for now I have only a clean, spare jumpsuit, Floss.” Kris retrieved one from the closet as well as a spare leather belt, which the slender Floss might need around the much too ample waistband. “Nothing I own would fit you.”

“Yes'm,” Floss replied courteously and without a touch of sarcasm.

Somehow, Floss contrived to give the utilitarian garment an air of style.

“You wouldn't have a scarf or anything,” she asked as she reappeared in the main room. “It's kind of bare up here,” and she touched her throat.

Kris had never cared much about fashion but she could see that a scarf of some sort of color would reduce the uniform look and also draw attention to Floss's bosom, which was certainly ample and pushing against the confines of the dull fabric. She wondered if there were any brassieres in the main commissary. With the ratio of four men to one woman, this nubile girl could be at risk. Maybe that was the real reason Floss had wanted to be released from the Masai encampment, where females were zealously guarded until a marriage had been arranged for them. Albeit Kris wouldn't have agreed to her being wed to an elderly man, she didn't want her to whore around Retreat either.

Zainal's appraisal of Floss, now clean with her blond hair gleaming in the last of the daylight coming in the window, only consolidated Kris's observation.

“Did the boys settle down?” Kris asked, opening a neutral topic.

Zainal grinned. “Being allowed to sleep in a scout?” He gave an indulgent laugh. “They are excited but Clune said he'd listen for them. He's more than able to handle them.”

“Clune is respected among his age-set with the Masai,” Floss said with a little smirk, as if she denied that status. “But he's worked a lot with both Peran and Bazil and they will obey him. This elder stuff works with impressionable boys.” She shot Zainal an inquiring look.

“It is a Catteni attitude,” Zainal said in his language, and she inclined her head to show that she understood him.

“I have put out an extra blanket for you, Floss,” Kris said, wanting to be private with Zainal. “It is much colder up here than it is in the south.”

The girl yawned and stretched, an action that showed off her lithe body in the jumpsuit.

“Oh, I'll survive,” she remarked and sauntered, again with swaying hips, over to the cots. “It'll be such a relief to have a place to myself, with no one snoring or shouting in nightmares.” She gave Kris a smile and picked up the spare blanket, to flip it deftly across the bed. “Even a mattress. A great luxury, I assure you.”

Somehow she managed to make slipping into the cot a voluptuous action. Zainal grinned and turned his back on her, walking toward their bedroom. Kris waved a good night and followed him.

“We'll have trouble with that girl,” she murmured when she closed the door behind her.

“Trouble's name is Clune,” Zainal said. “He made it clear to me that he considers her, and her behavior, his business.”

They were both tired, and although Zainal took a quick shower, muttering about lukewarm water, Kris wondered if Floss's presence in their living room had something to do with her own inhibitions, for she made no attempt to entice Zainal into her arms and he was equally reserved. Well, they needed the sleep.

•   •   •

LOUD AND EERIE ULULATION WOKE THEM BOTH the next morning. Zainal was on his way to the door before Kris stopped him, pointing to his naked body. He cursed but stopped long enough to don his trousers before he exited. She dressed more slowly and was relieved when Zainal poked his head into the room.

“It seems the Masai keep to daylight hours and it is daylight!”

She finished dressing and found that Floss and Zainal had put bread, cheese, and fruit on the table. Zainal called the boys in. Clune looked clean and neat and must have found the nearby stream for his hair was still wet. Peran and Bazil must have bathed also, for their faces were fresh and the fringes of their hair damp. Ferris needed to
shave and Ditsy could have used a shower. There wouldn't be much hot water yet as the solar panels hadn't been recharged, but she wanted them all cleaned up before they went up to the main buildings.