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.
Each night, however, reminded them that a colder season was approaching and Kris did worry about how cold that would be.
Fortunately, the Catteni-issue thermal blankets were efficient in containing body heat inside them. The evening showers blessed them on schedule but those were no longer as violent as they had been: more like a gentle watering than torrential rains.
On the sixth day they started back to camp, hunting when they could, for additional protein was always welcome. Zainal set a faster pace this time to allow for interludes of hunting, and they reached the caverns to find them still crammed with people. Bart took their offerings with profuse thanks and then asked Kris if she'd take a hearth and cook what they'd brought in. As she certainly couldn't refuse the man when he looked so harried, and the cook cave was obviously pushed to the limit, she agreed. Astrid lingered, as much because she didn't know where to go as that Kris was a familiar face.
Until a messenger came for Kris to report to Mitford.
"I watch you. I now know to cook," Astrid said, taking the long-handled fork Kris had been using and pushing her on her way.
Zainal and Ole, who did have some English, were in Mitford's office. The pile of bark sheets was higher than the stone he used as a desk and was weighted down by what looked like a gold nugget, a lump of iron and a greeny mess that had to be copper.
"Gold in them thar hills?" Kris asked when he motioned her to a seat.
"That and more. We've been busy while you've been carving that mayday." "You're never not busy, Sarge."
"Patrol found the remnants of another drop and nine survivors. Eight Deski and a guy from Atlanta, Georgia, who had the sense to stick with the aliens. Damn it," and Mitford's face was suffused with anger, "I shoulda had you put a PS on that message: make the drops in daylight. I hate it when I lose people like that."
"But they weren't ours, yet, Sarge," Kris said, trying to be conciliatory. Mitford gave her a dirty look. Hey, she thought, he's really into this Leader bit. Well, it's not as if anyone else had volunteered for the responsibilities and the headaches. And look at all that Mitford has gone and done.
"They could've been. And another garage was found and deactivated. Twenty more barns to be made into domiciles."
"Now that's good. And the supplies?"
"We put them in the barns. Easier that way, but I'd rather have the people to go with them." Zainal had been constructing another glyph and now held it Off to inspect the result. He made a few more strokes as adjustments, then turned it to Mitford and Kris. "That should do it," he said.
Mitford reacted to that almost unaccented remark. "You learn quick, doncha?"
"I have to," Zainal replied. "Take two, three days there and back." He rose, glancing up at the sundial. "Have enough light the travel."
"How's your leg?" Mitford frowned at it, as he could see nothing past the bulky trouser leg. Then he caught Kris's surreptitious headshake. "No, better start fresh tomorrow. The others are only Terrans, not as tough as you Catteni." His little snort took the sting out of that remark as he looked up at Zainal towering above him.
"You think your guys'll listen?" Zainal nodded solemnly. "They don't know the dangers here. They don't know scavengers. They wish this planet coln-nized. We have survived," and he shrugged, "so they think all can."
"But even the report you saw said there were dangerous animals down here." Mitford's scowl deepened.
Zainal shrugged and grinned broadly. "We have survived. Water, air, animals, light gravity, better than Catten!" As if that answered the necessary criteria.
Mitford snorted, shuffling several pieces of scribbled bark about on his worktop. "As far as we know, they made three drops this time.
We were one of four. And three weeks between trips. That right?" Zainal cocked his head thoughtfully. "Could be. I was space, not colon-y." And he spread his hands in a very contemporary human gesture of ignorance. "You know the problem: one group does not know what other does."
"Yeah," and Mitford's drawl spoke of much experience with such inequities.
A woman, face red, hair messed, coverall opened halfway to her waist came stamping her way up the steps to Mitford's office.
"Mitford, either you cut his libido off at the root or I'll do it myself with a dull knife."
"Arnie?" and Mitford rose, gesturing authoritatively at two men lounging to one side, playing some sort of game involving pebbles. "No questions, no answers. Bring "im.
Put "im back in the stocks. And he'll stay there till he rots or we can think of something else to do with him."
"Tie him out in a field for scavengers and even that's too good," the woman said, closing the fastenings on her coverall and then smoothing her hair. "Horny pervert! I'll give you a full report of this latest trick of his when you're done here," she muttered as she politely took herself to one side so Mitford could finish with his current interview.
"At least the ratio between male and female evened up a little in "the last drop. But I don't need guys like Arnie," Mitford said when the woman had settled out of earshot.
"He's been in the stocks four times for peeping and twice for stealing." "Stealing what?"
"Food! Extra blankets, a sharper knife because he's too lazy to hone his own." Mitford made a noise of disgust. "I need him like a boil on my ass. Don't ever feel sorry, Kris, that he got force-whipped. He just got his in advance."
"Tie him out for the scavengers," Zainal said blandly.
"Good idea." Mitford grimaced, showing his teeth and expelling air through them. "Can't, but I may yet…You get food and rest, ya hear, Kris?" When she dutifully nodded, he added, "And make sure Dane sees his leg." Over Zainal's protests that's exactly what Kris did, roundly scolding the Catteni because he hadn't reported in to Leon Dane when they'd reached camp. He was at first amused by her tirade and then frowned as she grabbed him by the arm to lead him to the hospital end of the caverns, when he did not turn in that direction immediately.
"Now listen here, Lord Emassi Zainal," she said, "you were given an order by Mitford and, if you plan to go out tomorrow, you'll obey it or you won't go. And no-one will go with you to help dig that message." "Then no message." He shrugged as if it were all the same to him.
"Ohhh, you make me so mad. Kris tried to keep her voice down because she knew she sounded shrewish but he was being so unreasonable.
"Just because you're a Catteni doesn't mean you don't bleed like us frail Terrans and that you didn't damned near die from that thorn toxin, and I don't want to go through that again. You're too important to me to be stupid about your health." He grabbed her by the finger she was shaking at him, looking around because he had noticed just how much attention her accusation had focused on them.
"I go. I see Dane," he said far too docilely, and she watched to make sure he did.
Lordee, you'd think a man as old as Zainal would have the sense to take care of himself. And she didn't like it when he got all compliant. That wasn't Catteni of him. retired to the next field to get an overall view of their labours.
"Man? Another "boy" thing?" Zainal asked, one eyebrow quirking upwards in amusement.
"Yeah, you can if you wish, substitute "man 0 man o man" for "boy 0 boy o boy". It's how you feel."
"Young or old? Small or large?" Zainal asked, his eyes twinkling down at her.
"I think," she said in a severe tone, "that you're kidding me."
"Ah, kid, a small goat," Astrid said with an unexpected display of humour. "Oh, in slang a "boy"!"
"Right!" Ole asked her a question and she replied, laughing when he grinned in comprehension, "Baby, kid, boy, man," he said with just a hint of the liquid Norwegian in his tone.
"Kidding? Can one having boying, too?" asked Zainal.