Freedom's Challenge Page 9

  “Wow!” exclaimed Gino when, with considerable effort, he pushed himself to his feet. “My knees are not going to like this.”

  “Hurry with the hiding,” Zainal called out down the passageway to Ninety and Chuck.

  “We try, Emassi. We do,” but even Chuck Mitford’s heavy baritone voice sounded strained by the heavier gravity.

  “They will think me a great pilot,” Zainal said, with a toothy Catteni smile, “to bring down a ship in this condition.”

  “Will they believe that we’re Catteni?” Gino muttered.

  Zainal gave one of his inimitable shrugs and grinned. “Who else but a Catteni would come here?”

  “I can sure believe that,” Gino said in English. Zainal thumped him and cocked a warning eyebrow at him. “Kotik,” he answered, chagrined at his lapse.

  Zainal gave him a gentler pat for the proper response.

  A pounding on the door and Zainal leaned forward to flick the release switch on the hatch.

  There were Catteni growls of “get out of the way” and the thud of nailed boots on the deck as three men, none of them small, stalked into the cramped bridge compartment. Remembering all the drills, Kris somehow managed to get to her feet and assume the proper attention stance. She thought her arms would lengthen from the weight on her shoulders and it was hard to keep her chin up. Fortunately, she didn’t have to say or do anything.

  “Kivel,” said the lead man who acted as Emassi as Zainal did. Since he neither stated that he was Emassi or saluted, Kris knew he had to be the same rank. His brutish features and small bright yellow eyes were also more typical of the species than Zainal’s.

  “Venlik,” replied Zainal and waved to the scorched, warped panels while Gino, who was supposed to be another Emassi, displayed the carefully manufactured defective gyro part.

  “Hmph.” Kivel took and examined the gyro and handed it back to the Drassi behind him.

  Kris decided she was getting good at differentiating the ranks.

  Kivel now gestured for the damaged panel to be opened, and turned slightly so that Kris, being a lowly Drassi, could do it.

  “Too many in here,” Zainal said irritably, and with an imperious wave at Kris, “open cargo, bay three. You hear me?”

  Kris nodded which was a lot harder to do in the heavier gravity than she would have believed. And, by sheer effort of will, passed the other two big Drassi and, when she was out of sight, put both hands on the sides of the companionway to give herself some support. She made it to the cargo deck and was grateful that she knew how to operate it. As soon as the cargo hatch swung open, she saw the vehicle, load bed against the side of the ship, and stepped aside as seven men swarmed aboard. One was Drassi and the other poor wretches were obviously the Rassi, the primitives from which the Eosi had made the two more intelligent groups.

  The Drassi shouted his commands, obviously delighting in his ascendance over these dumb creatures. For that was what they were. He had to show them where to place their hands on the crates, shoved them toward the open hatch, and even walked them onto the vehicle and pointed to where the crates must be stacked. He sent them back for another load but paused long enough to pick up one of the gold lumps, scratch the soft surface as if to reassure himself it was gold, before he dropped it with a dull thud back into the crate. Then he walked back and forth, the gravity not affecting him one iota, Kris noticed enviously, as he supervised the unloading.

  “Is that all?” he asked, glowering at Kris.

  “All on board,” Kris replied negligently.

  “Humph,” was his unimpressed response. She then handed him the receipt that Zainal had prepared.

  “Everything must be signed and acknowledged,” Zainal had told her, in a discussion of the unloading procedure. “He has to take it up front for my signing and whoever is his leader.”

  “Sign,” she said firmly and held out the Catteni issue clipboard that had been in the KDL’s supplies.

  “Humph.” He scrawled some runes.

  She pointed to the companionway for him to take the board to his commander and with another “humph” he stomped off. She hung on to the control panel until she heard him returning before she straightened up against the awful weight. He jabbed the clipboard into her midriff. Fortunately she was leaning against the bulkhead so he didn’t quite knock her down. She did remember to check that there were two new rune lines before she nodded and gave him the wave to leave. She was appalled to see him jump off the cargo deck to the ground—but then he was Catteni and had on heavy boots—her ankles ached from even watching him. He strode to the front of the vehicle and she was able to close the hatch and just slide down the bulkhead to sprawl on the deck, exhausted by this battle with Catteni gravity.

  She was actually close to tears, thinking that she would be no good to Zainal at all on this mission when she couldn’t even stand up for more than a few minutes without collapsing.

  When she heard voices and booted steps in the companionway, she started to struggle to her feet but the noises stopped; she heard Zainal request transport for him and his crew for shore leave.

  “Not much here,” Kivel said. “Try Blizte. Small but adequate.”

  “I know the place,” was Zainal’s reply.

  “Transport will be dispatched on our return.”

  “Good.”

  She didn’t hear the hatch close and wondered what she should do now. Get to her feet or collapse again. She knew which she preferred but did so want not to disappoint Zainal.

  Suddenly he was there, hands under her armpits, lifting her, almost effortlessly, from the deck. He managed a quick press of his face against her cheek.

  “You and Chuck must stay on board as guards,” he said swiftly in English. “When the repair men arrive, you are off watch and asleep. Chuck only has to stand around and look suspicious.”

  “He does that well,” she murmured back.

  “You did very well, Kris,” Zainal said again, his tone warm and loving. She leaned into him for strength until they heard steps approaching and separated from their close embrace. But Zainal kept one hand under her arm to support her.

  “They’re gone, and a smaller vehicle is on its way here,” Chuck said and moved forward to take Kris’ other arm.

  If she hadn’t needed their support, she would have pushed both away from her to walk on her own two feet, but she didn’t have the strength and was far too grateful for their assistance.

  They eased her back into the bridge compartment and into the com seat.

  “Your Catteni is enough for any messages,” Zainal said, keeping one hand on her shoulder. “Anything you don’t understand, make them repeat. Tell them com unit is also faulty. Then act stupid Drassi and you will tell the Emassi when he comes back. You don’t know where he has gone…but then they wouldn’t ask you since you wouldn’t know.”

  Kris was glad that gravity was not affecting her ears because she understood every Catteni word Zainal spoke.

  “Chuck, you will admit only the service men who will have a proper clipboard you will have to sign as they enter, put in the time—I showed you how—when they leave. Whenever they come, Kris is to be off guard and asleep.”

  An obnoxious klaxon announced that the transport was awaiting its passengers.

  “I gotcha,” Chuck murmured in English.

  Zainal bent to Kris’ ear. “The first few days are the hardest. Move as much as you are able and use hot showers,” he said in English. “Walk around the ship if you can. We will not be here long. If I can help it.”

  Then, with a final squeeze of her shoulder, he nodded for Gino, Ninety, Mack, and the two Rugarians to follow him.

  Kris saw the ground transport as it sped diagonally off the field, toward the road, away from the command post and the hovels. It was all too quickly lost as the road took it into the thick forest of tossing greenery. She didn’t even have the energy to compare Catteni botany with Botany’s vegetation.

  While she was sunk in the seat, s
he heard Chuck moving around. When he reentered the bridge compartment, he carried cups and gave her one. Rather, he put it in her right hand where it lay, almost useless with the gravity, on the armrest.

  “Try it, gal, you need the energy. Some of Mayock’s special.”

  “Oh, Gawd,” she said. It took two hands to get the cup to her mouth but liquid didn’t seem to object, and she was able to get a good swig down her throat. Did the heavier gravity make it go down faster? She took another sip and it did seem to drop into her stomach really fast.

  “Any better?” Chuck asked in a conciliatory tone.

  “I don’t know. It all seems like so much work.”

  “It’s never too much work to drink, Kris,” he said and took the other chair, looking out at the scenery. “They don’t seem to do much in the way of forestry.”

  “I saw the Rassi,” and despite the gravity she managed a little shudder. “You wouldn’t want them as work gangs. They barely managed to carry the crates into the waiting truck. I begin to understand why Drassi have such short tempers…if they have to work with that level of unintelligence. Not even room temperature. More like just above freezing.”

  Even talking was hard because it meant she had to move her jaw.

  “Just sit, honey,” Chuck said, lightly touching her arm in compassion.

  “We’ll get used to it?” she asked.

  “If Zainal says we will, we will. Look, Kris, finish the drink and then get some sleep. That’ll help. We’ve already had a busy day.”

  “Would I feel too heavy to sleep?”

  “Finish that drink and believe you me, you’ll sleep, honey.”

  She did just that, taking the second half of the drink in one gulp and letting Chuck help her back to the crew quarters. Even the bed, which had never been all that soft, felt harder to her. The blanket hadn’t gained any weight but it felt rough, even through her uniform. The pillow was a rock but that didn’t prevent her from falling deeply asleep.

  • • •

  ZAINAL COMMUNICATED WITH THEM ONCE THE next morning; his blunt phrases indicated all was well. To expect repair crews the next day. He gave a com contact number. Drassi Chuck would give their Drassi leader the prepared list of resupply items. Zainal was getting the rest.

  Kris felt somewhat better by midday, with frequent sips of Mayock’s Superior Hooch. In fact, it did make her feel lighter. Not light-headed for her head still felt thick. She insisted on standing a watch while Chuck slept. She answered several com unit calls quite adequately. Four were obviously a check to see if the ship’s guard was actually on duty. Another, from a very pompous Emassi, inquired if the ship was still in a dangerous condition. She replied firmly that it was not. When the Emassi wanted to speak to Zainal, she gave him the contact number Zainal had left, grateful that he had since she had absolutely no idea where he was. There had been a lot of noise in the background during Zainal’s call, which led her to believe he was in a much larger place than the Blizte place which Kivel had mentioned.

  She did make herself leave the ship and managed, with very slow steps, to do a full circuit. She sat on the hatch steps and made herself do a second circuit the other way round. When she reentered the ship, she felt as if she had done a marathon at top speed. More of the Mayock Superior with very little water in it helped relieve the exhaustion. In fact, it helped enough so that she did another walk two hours or so later, bored with doing nothing. This excursion didn’t leave her feeling as wrecked afterward.

  She managed to make some food for Chuck and herself. By then Chuck had slept a good deal longer than his legendary six hours, but he had needed it. She woke him and they ate together, with more of Mayock’s supportive aid.

  They decided they had both better be on duty when the repair crews arrived, to give a show of exemplary attention to duty. Chuck made her sleep until just before dawn.

  “You’ve got to see dawn here, Kris. Never seen anything like it in my life,” he told her. “Then I’ll kip out until you see the service crew arriving.”

  That sounded fine to her. Food helped nearly as much as Mayock’s brew, and she slept again until Chuck woke her and, with a friendly hand supporting her, led her into the bridge compartment so they could watch the dawn together.

  There weren’t many clouds in a Catteni sky—too heavy an atmosphere, Kris decided, or they’d just drop down. But the sky coloration went from the most delicate aqua into fantastic—almost lightning-like—displays of yellow to orange to red and then back to orange and fading into yellow that turned greenish before the blue-green of a normal Catteni sky settled, and the very bright white sun came up. Instantly the bridge screen darkened.

  “Too bright for Emassi and Drassi?” she asked facetiously.

  Chuck yawned widely and stood up. At least he seemed to be adapting to the heavier gravity. Maybe she would…probably just about the time they could leave.

  Chuck went off to sleep, and she fixed herself some breakfast. Her stomach must be adjusting because it felt empty, not merely heavy and unready for any new burdens.

  She took just a slight dose of Mayock. She didn’t want the repair crew folk to smell any liquor on her breath because it would be very difficult to explain where she’d gotten it. Besides, they’d only brought enough for their personal needs. Even if her personal need for continued potions seemed excessive, considering her generally abstemious habits.

  Remembering the state of Baby and the KDL when they had captured them, she did wonder if perhaps this ship was a little too neat and orderly to be a proper Catteni used vessel. She’d ask Chuck if they shouldn’t throw a few things about. She did leave dishes on the table and the cooking pan on the heat pad.

  She never had a chance to discuss this detail with Mitford because she saw the repair crew vehicles, massive affairs, Catteni-style eighteen wheelers, come careening across the field. She had only enough time to shake him awake before the trucks screeched to a halt by the cargo hatch. Someone banged on it. Chuck gave her a shove forward to the bridge compartment.

  “You’re on com watch,” he muttered and then in fine, annoyed Catteni, yelled that he was coming, he was coming.

  He undogged the hatch and was almost mowed down by the Emassi who charged in, scowling and punching Chuck out of his way. But years of army discipline intervened, and Chuck assumed a properly military stance, far more humble than any American soldier would present even if a four star general or the president of the United States confronted him. Kris’ com unit blurped for her response.

  “Crew are there?” was the inimical query.

  “Yes, Emassi,” she replied meekly.

  “Get Emassi Yoltin to speak.”

  “Yes, Emassi.” And Kris actually managed to increase her stride to something approximating “hurry” to the hatch and, with a proper salute, begged Emassi Yoltin to speak to Emassi on com.

  Meanwhile, the repair crew, burdened with heavy kits and a variety of portable affairs that resembled the weaponry of a bad science fiction movie, went astern to the gyro unit. Another group waited outside the hatch, carrying more carefully some packaged units that looked like control board replacements. Managing to glance outside, she saw others, led by a second Emassi, examining the “meteor” damage, Pete Snyder’s magnificent efforts. Several of the outboard sensors on the port side had also been broken off to add verisimilitude to the supposed crash. Suitable gashes had taken a lot of time to make but the Emassi was nodding, touching the marks and then rattling off orders to his crew. A third group were setting up what looked amazingly like a field kitchen. Kris breathed a little sigh of relief that she wouldn’t be expected to feed this lot.

  Considering what she saw being prepared and smelled cooking, she hoped that she and Chuck wouldn’t have to eat any of it.

  “You,” Emassi Yoltin said, returning from the bridge, but he pointed to the group waiting outside, “repair controls.” He passed by her as if she didn’t exist but Chuck now followed Yoltin astern.

  “Ema
ssi Venlik orders me to check replacement unit,” he said.

  Emassi Yoltin gave Chuck such a look that a snake would have died of the venom in it but Chuck held his ground until Yoltin gave an abrupt nod of his head and allowed Chuck to follow him.

  Totally superfluous, Kris decided she needed more Mayock to get through this experience.

  When the control panel repairs were finished, she did resume her station at the com unit. And saw the arrival of another vehicle. This time she remembered how to initiate communications with an on-surface vehicle and made contact.

  “Cargo, supplies. Open hatch,” she was told and dutifully followed such orders, wondering what Zainal had acquired.

  It was considerable. Foods, crates with runes she couldn’t quite understand, but thought they were spare parts. Certainly a good deal of fuel canisters was on-loaded, taking up a full cargo deck and then half of another. Some open slatted crates proved to be fresh foods.

  “Good,” she said, when the Drassi supervising the loading looked at her for some reaction. She smacked her lips. “Not much fresh to eat for a long time,” she added. She recognized some of the fruits she had seen, and bought, in the Barevi markets. She’d thought they were indigenous. Then remembered that Zainal had said the Rassi worked the land and produced great quantities of food for both Eosi and Catteni ships. “We eat well.”

  “We will. And soon,” the Drassi said but he jerked his head to the exterior and the rather unusual smells coming from the outdoor kitchen.

  The Drassi had been marking off items on the clipboard as the Rassi came on board with their burdens. These seemed slightly more intelligent than the ones there the other day. Possibly because they had resupplied ships so often.

  Then the truck was empty and the Rassi sat on the floor, waiting for whatever would happen to them next.

  The Drassi handed her the clipboard, and she wrote down her rune and then took it from him to get Chuck’s signature. He was standing in the passenger hatch, watching the repair crews eating. He signed and winked at her.