Freedom's Landing
- Автор: Маккефри Энн
- Серия: Catteni Sequence #1
- Язык: английский
- Жанр: Научная фантастика
Электронная книга - «Freedom's Landing». Краткое содержание книги:
The alien Catteni value strength and intelligence in their slaves—and Kristin has managed to survive her enslavement while hundreds of other humans have not. But her trial has just begun, for now she finds herself part of a massive experiment. The aliens have discovered a new world, and they have a simple way of finding out if it’s habitable: drop hundreds of slaves on the surface and see what happens.
If they survive, colonization can begin. If not, there are always more slaves.
Reassured, Kris moved to the next group who happened to be Deskis.
A glance around the field gave her the irritating information that none of the rescuers were doing doodly to help the aliens so she concentrated on them. Not that she found herself kindly disposed towards the Turs, who regarded the water with great suspicion until she took a sip herself and deposited the cup on the ground beside them.
They could do as they chose. Three Morphins had been badly chewed and before anyone could stop them, they suicided, evidently by swallowing their own tongues and suffocating. Their facial skin turned from a normal dark green to almost black. Other Morphins came to view the dead, then piled the bodies to one side under the hedges. Morphin "faces' did not register any expression, so Kris didn't know if they were upset or not but as quickly as she could, she doled out blankets and knives to them, and indicated the first-aid kits.
More people arrived from the camp, including Mitford.
She was surprised to see him away from his office but was glad of his presence. That's when she realized she still had not seen Zainal.
"Sarge, you seen Zainal?"
"No, I haven't," Mitford said, frowning as he looked about the field where more and more of the latest arrivals were regaining consciousness.
"Did you come down the thorny hill?"
"No, Su was there to warn us away from it. Why?" Kris didn't answer but, grabbing up a first-aid kit and a handful of blankets from the nearby crates, she started off at a fast trot, dodging around groups and leaping over still sleeping bodies. She flew across the intervening field, now entirely visible in the full morning light, hurdling the low hedge without losing her stride and pelted to the thornbushy hill. They weren't like Barevi thornbushes but where she was damned sure she had hacked her way through was now as solid a vegetation patch as if she hadn't cut it back. There was no sign of Zainal.
Scared now for him, because Zainal of all people should have been able to free himself unscathed, she looked anxiously around. Since he wasn't up at the field, he had to still be around here, somewhere.
And, if the thorns had been toxic enough to slow down a Catteni, he'd have sought water. The thornbushes were not tall enough to have hidden his big frame and anyway his browny-grey coverall would have made him visible even in the dense undergrowth. Water!
There was always water on these damned mechanically cultivated fields. While this field had been harvested, there had to be water near by. She listened hard. Her ears finally caught the unmistakable sound of running water. Downhill there was a small copse of some of the diamond-leaved bushes. Those seemed to grow near the streams.
She heard a low groan, the sort that would reluctantly escape tightly closed lips. With a new awareness that the bushes on Botany could be dangerous, she parted the branches of the diamond-leaf and saw Zainal half-in, half-out of a little brook which welled up from the rocks around which the diamond-leaves clustered. A boot had been cast aside and his right trouser leg was rolled up over his knee, exposing the injury.
"Oh, lord," she breathed, seeing the massive inflammation on the outside of his wide muscular calf. The thorns of Barevi had been dangerous in a nuisancy way, but this injury looked serious. Bending over him, she checked first for any signs of blood poisoning. Not that grey Catteni flesh might exhibit such a trauma. He had blood, as red as any human's, and it had clotted almost black where it had run down his leg. That was when she realized by the size of the wound that he had evidently carved the thorn out of his own flesh.
"Ouch!" she murmured, shuddering convulsively. She sorted through the first-aid supplies for the Catteni antiseptic. That was definitely in order. And it would sting like billy-be-damned when she poured it in that open wound but what other choice had she? She took a deep breath and emptied the entire vial of the solution into the crater he had made in his leg.
"Rorrrrrrgh!" Zainal shot to sitting position in protest at the treatment, his right hand cocked back to strike, his left arm up in guard.
Kris lurched backwards, away from him.
"It's Kris, Zainal. I'm trying to help!" His eyes focused on her face, wild in reaction to the pain and alarm, but, in that brief instant, he recognized her.
"You came," he said in a barely audible voice before he seemed to collapse inward and fell back on the ground.
His eyes rolled upwards, the lids fluttering as well as any southern belle flirt could have done under different circumstances, and then he passed out again.
"Did I do the right thing, Zainal?" She shook, or rather tried to shake, the massive shoulder to rouse him. She retrieved the first-aid bag which had fallen off her lap and tried to think what else she could do to help him.
Swollen tissue could respond to cold compresses. With all the antiseptic in the wound, there wouldn't be much in the water that could exacerbate the wound.
There were sheets of some sort of material in the kit, so she soaked those until they were cold and placed them on the wound. He moaned a little but didn't writhe in pain so she felt it was safe to continue with that treatment.
She made a pillow of one of the blankets she'd brought, brushing the leaves and pebbles off his surprisingly fine, soft grey hair and covered his big frame with another.
It was Mitford himself who came looking for her. She emerged from the brush in response to his calling. Beyond him she saw the lines of the newest immigrants starting the trek back to the camp. He hadn't lost any time deciding to take them in, even if another four or five hundred souls to tend must be the lowest option on his agenda.
"What's the matter, Kris?" he said, trotting up to her in an effortless lope. How he kept sofit with all the sedentary work he was now saddled with, she didn't know but he rose another notch in her estimation.
"Warn people off those thorubushes," she said first, pointing urgently to the slope. But the line seemed to be taking the less direct route, around the inhospitable looking incline. "Zainal's down, with a thorn wound. He carved the thorn out of his own leg but it was toxic enough to knock him out. We'll need to make a litter to carry him back." Mitford winced and scratched his head, half-turning in the direction of his new charges.
"I know, you gotta get them back first, but considering how much Zainal has done "and she was surprised at the bitterness in her voice.
"Now, now, easy does it, Bjornsen, I'm not about to abandon him.
He is too damned useful." In the sergeant's voice, she caught the nuance that Zainal might be useful, but not popular, and knew that some of the gossip about him was true. "We're all in the same boat or," and Mitford gave her a wry grin, "on the same planet, but this new dump isn't going to help!" He sighed deeply.
"Don't mean to add to your problems, Sarge, she said apologetically "Damnitall, Bjornsen," and now he was angry at her apology, "you're not a problem and I won't let him be.
Can you hang on until I see this bunch installed?" With one hand, he gripped Kris's right arm, emphasizing his intent while he hauled his blanket over his head and dropped it beside her. Then he handed over the other sack he carried.
"Food, firing and other stuff. Now, where is he?" She led him to where Zainal sprawled. When Mitford lifted off the temporary dressing, he curled his lip and recoiled slightly at the look of the puncture, then carefully replaced the bandage.
"Nasty, all right. Hope he got all the thorn out, but probably he did,' and there was approval in the sergeant's tone for the measure of the man he knew Zainal to be.
"Hell's bells, he can't be comfortable like that," Mitford added so the two of them pulled the big body out of the water. Then, when Kris had hurriedly cleared a space and spread two more blankets, they managed to roll him into a more level, comfortable position.