Freedom's Landing

"Stink?" Mitford held his nose. "We got a mixed bag left. And kids." He pointed to the half-dozen youngsters huddled together behind the crates. Too intent on what was happening to Zainal, Kris only noticed them now. "A rough detail to get organized and moving. And where do we go? D'you know that?"

"Safer in hills," and Zainal pointed to what could be considered the north. The sun of this system had not yet reached its zenith.

"Is it? That flying thing came from there.

"Places in rock to stay best. Creatures in -.." He reached down and tapped the ground. "Come in dark.

Very bad." He shook his head from side to side to emphasize that caution. "Don't see."

"Stuff comes out of the earth at night?"

"True." He made the motions of a sinuous track upward with one hand and then pinched his fingers closed to indicate biting. "Day long enough to go.

Find rock place."

"D'you know if there are caves - safe rock places on this planet?"

"Rock right kind," Zainal said, kicking at one that looked like limestone to Kris. "Will make me remember more." He shook his head as if to free up more information.

"I'd rather move into some sort of a defensible position anyhow,' Mitford said and jumped to the top of the crate.

"Listen up, you hairy lot," Mitford bellowed in a parade ground voice that made the Deskis clamp hands to their ears and cower to the ground. "This place won't be safe at night. We've got to move to the hills, find caves to shelter in."

"You're taking his word for this?" Arnie demanded, running up to Mitford and tugging at his trouser leg.

"You gonna listen to a Cat?"

"I'll listen to anyone who talks sense and as the Cat's the only one knows anything about this planet, I'm not about to ignore any local info I can get, Arnie. No-one'll force you to do anything now you don't wanna. Hear me?" He raised his voice again. "First, you lot," and he pointed a thick finger at Bass and some of the others who'd been lounging behind the crates, "take a body count. Team up and cart any that are breathing and I mean any back here and we'll try to rouse em. I wouldn't even leave my mother-in-law to what walks at night. Now move it. You, too, Kris and take the Cat with you."

"If we had a canteen or something to carry water in," Kris started.

Zainal tapped one of the empty crates. They were fashioned out of some sort of plastic and were capacious enough. He tipped it over and shook out some packing debris.

"I carry," he said and nodding at Kris to follow started down to the stream.

"Good idea," Mitford said and got the two nearest Deskis to start emptying another half-full crate. "Useful."

"Sarge, what do we do with cups and blankets? Leave "em on the stiffs?" Bass called.

"Strip "em," Mitford yelled back. "They won't need "em. We might." Remarkably, almost everyone, Deskis as well, fell to and by the time Zainal had brought back the filled crate - without so much as puffing from the trek uphill - the count was complete and only the dead remained behind in the field.

By the time the sun had reached its zenith, everyone living had been revived and informed of the current situation. There was one more flying attack, but Deski ears had heard the three creatures approaching long before they were seen, and everyone was able to play dead. The creatures, still whistfing their unbearable noise, caught nothing on that run.

By tearing strips from spare blankets, crude carrying straps were contrived to make crates easier to transport, for Mitford intended to leave nothing behind that might later come in handy. He even ordered the dead to be stripped of footwear and coveralls. He got some resistance to that decision, but in the end the unpleasant task was done and garments stored.

When the columns were ready to move off, Kris had acquired considerable respect for Mitford. She was equally glad she'd made the effort to spare Zainal, for he had more than talk to use to placate dissenters. The added benefit of his show of strength was that few would try to take him on even if, like Arnie, they hated his guts for being a Catteni. Some of the more-recently revived were weak, so Mitford assigned each a buddy and announced that he intended to take skin off anyone who might happen to "lose' his or her buddy as they moved out.

"How many bought it?" Mitford asked Bass who had kept a tally.

"Eighty-nine didn't make it," the lanky man said.

"Mostly Deski and some older humans and two kids.

That'd make about a ten percent loss if you figure a hundred bodies in each of the eight rows. Live head count's five hundred eighty-two: haven't sorted "em out by race yet.

"Forget race," Mitford said with a snort. "We're all in this together.

"Yeah, all the Turs fecked off and a lot of the Morphis but that's all right by me," Bass said with a sideways glance at Zainal.

Mitford walked to the top of the field and, fists on his hips, roared for attention.

"Listen up. We're moving out. You lot," and he pointed to a bunch of humans, "form up in a column, four abreast.

We got nine water carriers: distribute yourselves along the line of march. You with buddies, sing out if you got trouble but try to keep up. Don't be shy asking for help if you need it. Bass, you be rear guard. Take Cumber, Dowdall, Esker, Movi, Tesco and you three." He held up three fingers at the nearest group of Rugarians and gestured them over to Bass. "We're all in this together, remember! OK, now move it out." He motioned for Zainal to join him and trotted out to where people had begun to form up the column.