Freedom's Challenge

Copyright 1998 by Anne McCaffrey

Synopsis:

The colonists from "Freedom's Landing" and "Freedom's Choice" have made a new home for themselves on the planet where they were abandoned by the warlike Cattani. Now they possess the technology they need to go back to war with the deadly Eosi--with a surprise strike at enslaved planet Earth itself!.

Freedom's Challenge

WHEN THE CATTENI, MERCENARIES for a race called Eosi, invaded Earth, they used their standard tactic of domination by landing in fifty cities across the planet and removing entire urban populations. These they distributed through the Catteni worlds and sold them as slaves along with other conquered species.

A group rounded up from Barevi, the hub of the slave trade, were dumped on an M-type planet of unknown quality, given rations and tools and allowed to survive or not. A former marine sergeant, Chuck Mitford, took charge of the mixed group, which included sullen Turs, spider-like Deski, hairy Rugarians, vague IIinish, gaunt Morphins, with humans in the majority.

There was also one Catteni who had been shanghaied onto the prison ship. Though there were those who wanted to kill him immediately, Kris Bjornsen, lately of Denver, suggested that he might know enough about the planet to help them.

He remembered sufficient from a casual glance at the initial exploration report to suggest they move under cover, and preferably rock, to prevent being eaten by night crawlers, which oozed from the ground to ingest anything edible.

Installed in a rocky site, with cliffs and caves to give them some protection. Mitford quickly organized a camp, utilizing the specific qualities of the aliens and assigning tasks to every one in this unusual community.

However, the planet was soon discovered to be inhabited by machines, which automatically tended the crops and the six-legged bovine types. After being caught by the Mechs, Zainal, the Catteni, with his scout party, not only escape but rescue other humans trapped by the Mechs in what proves to be an abattoir.

However, human ingenuity being rampant among the mixed group, they soon learned how to dismantle the machines and design useful equipment.

Zainal, in a conversation with one of the Drassi drop captains, gets not only a supply of the drug which will keep the Deski contingent from dying of malnutrition, bu also aerial maps of the planet. And discovers a command post, presumably built by the real owners of the planet. While it has obviously not been used, a mechanically inclined member of their scouting party launches a homing device.

Both the Eosi overlords looking for Zainal and the genuine owners of the planet note the release of the homing device.

The search to bring Zainal back to face the consequences of his delinquency continues. But Zainal manages to lure the searchers into the maws of the night crawlers and acquires their scout vehicle.

Meanwhile, six more drops of dissidents from Earth and a few other aliens have swelled the population of Botany, as the planet is now called, to nearly ten thousand folk: some of them with skills that benefit the colony and improve conditions. Zainal, now with a constant companion in Kris Bjornsen, and others explore this new world.

What Kris slowly discovers from her "buddy" is that Zainal wants to implement a three-phase plan: one that will end the domination of his people by the Eosi and, incidentally, bring about the liberation of Earth.

Following this agenda, Zainal explains to Mitford and other ex-naval, air force, and army personnel how he means to proceed: by capturing the next ship which drops more slaves on Botany. This plan necessitates some alteration when the next ship turns up in such poor condition that only quick action saves it from blowing up. But the captain has sent out an emergency message and looks forward to being rescued from the planet. By a clever plot, the rescue ship, which is a new one, is captured by Zainal and "other Catteni" staff, thus giving them two operational ships, 131.s the bridge equipment of the one they have now cannibalized for parts.

Because Zainal was dropped on Botany, his brother Lenvec has had to take his place, becoming subsumed as a host for an Eosi. The Eosi is somewhat amused by his host body's violent hatred of his brother. And soon becomes obsessed with finding the runaway.

An immense ship does a flypast of Botany and replaces the machines, which the colonists have salvaged to provide themselves with useful vehicles and equipment. At this reminder that they live on Botany on sufferance, the entire colony decides that they should show goodwill to their unknown landlords by leaving the farmed continent on which they were dropped and moving to a smaller, unused continent across a small strait. They are in the process of moving when the Mentat Ix, hosted in Lenvec's body, does a search of the planet to find the missing Catteni. Without success.

No sooner does this inspection tour end than the real owners of the planet, who accept the appellation of Farmers, arrive in unusual form.

They seem able to give personal messages to all they meet: the important news is permission for the colony to remain. They also protect it with a most incredible device, a Bubble, which surrounds the entire planet while still permitting the sun's rays to filter through even as it impedes the exit of the Eosi ship. Once free of the obstacle, the Mentat orders its ship to fire on the Bubble, which has no effect on it. The impenetrable protection of this planet infuriates the Mentat who decides that the shield must be broken and the recalcitrant colony disciplined. To this end, the Mentat retires to its home world to accumulate an armada. And also to probe the minds of human specialists to see what knowledge they must possess.

The two ships owned by the colony are able to leave the protection of the Bubble, while the two Eosi satellites are on the other side of the world, and succeed in raiding Barevi for much needed fuel, supplies, and more plursaw for the Deski's diet. Kris, who had already learned enough Barevi to deal with merchants, and others accompany Zainal. While there, they learn of the plight of Humans whose minds have been wiped by the Eosian device with which they had enhanced the basic intelligence of the Catteni race. From Barevi, Zainal makes contact with dissident Emassi who are also pledged to end Eosi domination. Having found slave pens full of the mind-wiped Victims of the Eosi, the Botanists are unable to leave their compatriots to sure death in slave camps. So they contrive to take over yet another ship. Between the two, they are able to rescue several thousand Victims, irrespective of the problems this might cause the colony.

Zainal's first two phases have been successful: the planet is safe and they have ships with which to seize additional supplies. But will he be able to talk the colony into supporting his third-phase plans? And liberate not only Earth but also the Catteni from Eosi domination?

Chapter 1

WHEN ZAINAL HAD ORGANIZED THE data he wanted to send to the Farmers via the homing capsule, he let Boris Slavinkovin and Dick Aarens fly it down to the Command Post for dispatch.

"You have a nasty sense of humor, Zainal," Kris said when the hatch of the scout vessel Baby closed behind the messengers. She had been surprised by his choice of Aarens, considering the man's behavior on their first visit to the Command Post.

"Well," and Zainal gave a shrug of one shoulder and an unrepentant grin, "Aarens has had experience sending one off. Let him do it official this time. As a reward for his improvement."

"What improvement?" Kris still had little time for the self-styled mechanical genius who had deliberately launched a homing capsule without authorization on their first trip to the Command Post.

They both stepped back from the takeoff area, as much to avoid the fumes as the wind, although Boris lifted the little craft slowly and cautiously.

They watched as it made an almost soundless vertical ascent before it slanted forward and sped off, disappearing quickly in the dusk of what had been a very long and momentous day.

The wide landing field that stretched out level with the immense, Farmer-constructed hangar could accommodate a half dozen of the K-class ships that had arrived today. They now were out of sight, within the vast hangar. At the far end of the landing area grew small copses of the lodgepole trees: young ones in terms of the age of the mature groves above and beyond the hangar. In the nearest of those groves the cabins of the colonists were being constructed, out of brick or wood, in separate clearings to allow the privacy that everyone preferred. Further up the slope were the infirmary, which today was crowded, and the huge mess hall, which served food all day long and well into the long Botany night. The largest building that faced Retreat Bay was the administration, where Judge Iri Bempechat held court when necessary, with the stocks just outside as a reminder that offenses against the community would be publicly punished.

The building also held the living quarters for the judge and other members of the body known as the Council, which included those with experience in management and administration to run the affairs of the colony. In the earliest days, when Master Sergeant Charles Mitford had taken charge of the dazed and frightened First Drop colonists, he'd kept records on pieces of slate with chalk. Now the admin building posted weekly work rosters and the community services that all were required to perform. (It still shocked Kris to see Judge Iri washing dishes, and he did it more cheerfully than many.)

Ex-Admiral Ray Scott had elected to live in a small room behind his office in the hangar complex. It was he, disguised as a Catteni Drassi, who had insisted that the Victims be rescued from the fate to which the Eosi had condemned them: working until they died as mindless slaves in the appalling conditions that existed in the mines, quarries, and fields. There had been no way that those of his crew who had been among the first dropped on Botany would have allowed those battered people to be transported to their deaths.

Considering the excitements of the day, the unloading of the victims of the Eosian mind-wipe experiment, which had occupied a good third of Botany's settlers, the field was now abnormally quiet, peaceful. Kris sighed and Zainal gave her a fond look.

"ZAINAL? KRIS?" Chuck Mitford's parade ground voice reached their ears over the muted sounds that Baby was making. They looked back to the hangar and saw Chuck urgently waving to them. He was talking to someone who had just pulled up in a runabout.

"Oh, now what?" The testy demand left Kris' mouth before she could suppress it. She was tired and she earnestly desired a shower and a long sleep. She'd even arranged with the crche to keep Zane overnight since she knew herself to be stretched to the limit after the tense voyage home and the stress of landing all the pitiful mind-wiped people.

"We'd better see," Zainal said, taking her hand in his big one and pressing it encouragingly.

"Don't you ever get tired and just... have too much, Zainal?"This was one of those moments when his equanimity bordered on the unforgivable.

"Yes, but it passes;' he said, leading her to where Chuck Mitford waited for them with the passenger of the runabout.

It wasn't a long walk but long enough for Kris to get her irritation and impatience under control. If Zainal could hack it, so could she. But when would she get a shower? She stank! Well, maybe her body odor would encourage whoever this was to shorten their errand.

"What's up, sarge?" she asked, noticing that he was talking to a woman she vaguely recognized from the Fourth Drop: as much because she managed to look elegant in the basic Catteni coverall. Kris wondered if she'd taken it in at crucial spots to make it look so fashionable. She was fleetingly envious of such expertise.

"Dorothy Dwardie who's heading the psychology team needs some of your time, and right now," Chuck said and had the grace to add, "though I'd guess another meeting's the last thing you two need right now."

"It is," Kris said without thinking but she smiled at the psychologist to take the sting out of her candor.

"It is important?" And Zainal's question was more statement than query.

"Yes, it is, quite urgent," Dorothy said with an apologetic smile. "We need to know more about that mind-probe before we can proceed with any sort of effective or therapeutic treatment."

"Why don't you use the small office?" Chuck said, gesturing to that end of the immense hangar.

Zainal squeezed Kris' hand and murmured: "This won't take long. I know very little about the probe;'

"I was hoping you'd know something, if only the history of its use among your people," Dorothy said ruefully and then looked about for a place to park the runabout.

"I'll take care of it for you," Chuck said so helpfully that Kris smothered a grin.

Dorothy Dwardie gave him a warm smile for his offer.

"We've had a bit of outrageous luck," she said as they walked to the right-hand side of the enormous hangar where other small offices had been constructed.

"We could use some," Kris agreed, struggling for amiability.

"Indeed we could, though I must say that hijacking all those poor people out from under Eosi domination is certainly their good luck. And you deserve a lot of credit for that act of kindness:'

What she didn't say rang loud and clear to Kris. There were some who weren't sure she and Zainal deserved any credit? As well for them that Ray Scott had loudly declared that he took full responsibility for the decision to save the damaged Humans so no one could blame that on Zainal or her.

Actually the guilty were the Eosi but too many people failed to make a distinction between overlord and underling. Kris' mood swung back to negative again.

"But until we..." and Dorothy's hand on her chest meant all the psychologists and psychiatrists on Botany who would now take charge of the mind-wiped, "understand as much as possible about the mechanism... ah, here we are..." and she opened the door to the small office and automatically fumbled for a light switch on the wall.

Kris had seen the cord and pulled it.

"Oh... I suppose I'll get used to it in time," Dorothy said with an apologetic grin.

"You're Fourth Drop, aren't you?" Kris replied as neutrally as possible while Zainal closed the door behind them. There were several desks against the long stone wall but a table and chairs made an appropriate conference spot by the wide window. There was nothing but darkness outside, since the hangar faced south and there were no habitations yet beyond the field.

"You said you had a bit of outrageous luck ?"

Kris asked when they were seated.

"Yes, not everyone in the group you brought had been mind-wiped."

"Certainly the Deskis, Rugs, and Turs weren't," Kris said.

"Nor all the Humans," Dorothy said, smiling over such a minor triumph.

"They weren't?" Kris asked, exchanging surprised glances with Zainal. "Yes, some faked the vacuity of the mindless..."

"Faked it?"

Dorothy smiled more brightly. "Clever of them, actually, and they got away with it because those in charge weren't keeping track of who had been... done."

Kris let out a long whistle. "All us Human look alike to Eosi? Proves, though, doesn't it, that the Eosi aren't all that smart after all. Clever of us Humans to run the scam."

"They're also able to give us names for many of the people who no longer remember who they are." Dorothy gave a little shudder. "I've dealt with amnesia patients before, of course, and accident shock trauma, but this is on so much larger a scale... and complicated by not only emotional but also physical shock and injury. We have established--thanks to Leon Dane's work with injured Catteni---that there are more points of similarity than differences between our two species since both are bipedal, pentadactyl, and share many of the same external features, like eyes, ears, noses. We can't of course cross-fertilize," and to Kris' surprise, Dorothy ducked her head to hide a flush.

"As well," Kris said dryly.

Dorothy flashed her an apology and continued. "Internally, though the Catteni have larger hearts, lungs, and intestinal arrangements, Leon says that the main difference is the density of the brain matter. It's also larger though similarly organized as ours are, as far as the position of the four major lobes is concerned. Leon was amazed at what damage a Catteni skull could take without permanent injury. I think," and she paused, frowning slightly at what she did not voice, "that the initial injuries to the prisoners were attempts to recalibrate the instrument to human brains."

"Initial injuries?" Kris asked.

"Yes," and Dorothy seemed to wish to get over this topic very quickly, "though they would have been dead before their nervous systems could register much."

"Oh?"

"Yes, and leave it at that, Kris," Dorothy went on briskly. "Will Seiss-mann should not dwell on the details although he seems to want to... a part of his trauma."

"Will Seissmann?" Kris asked.

"Yes, he and Dr. Ansible..."

"Dr. Ansible?" Kris shot bolt upright. "But he's--was, rather--at the observatory. Only I think he was away on some sort of a conference when the Catteni took Denver:'

"Yes, he was and took refuge at Stamford," Dorothy replied, nodding.

"He tried to argue others he knew to follow Will's example. I don't know whether or not the dogmatic scientist has an innate martyr complex but only a few would resort to the trick to save themselves;' She broke off with a sigh. "At any rate, we are able to put names to most of the Victims. But I need to know whatever details you may have, Zainal. They will be so helpful in correcting the trauma... if, indeed, we can."

Zainal shook his head. "I know little about such Eosi devices." Then his expression changed into what Kris privately termed his "Catteni look," cold, impassive, shuttered. "I do know--it is part of the Catteni history--that they have a device that increases and measures intelligence."

"Oh?" Dorothy leaned forward across the tame in her eagerness. "Then it could possibly extract information, too?"

Zainal blinked and his expression altered to a less forbidding one. He gave a slight smile. "It would seem likely since I only know of the one device.

The Eosi used it on the primitive Catteni to make them useful as hosts."

"Really?" Dorothy's expression was intensely eager as she leaned forward, encouraging Zainal to elaborate.

"Yes, really. Roughly two thousand years ago, the Eosi discovered Catten and its inhabitants. We were little more than animals, a fact the Eosi never let us forget. About a thousand years ago, my family started keeping its records for our ancestor was one of the first hundred to have... his brains stimulated by the device. Each family keeps its own records--how many males it has delivered to the Eosi as hosts and details of children and matings."

"A thousand, two thousand years to develop into a space-going race?

That's impressive," Dorothy said.

"Humans did it without such assistance and that impresses me," Zainal said with an odd laugh. "But that's how the Emassi were developed. To serve the Eosi."

"They didn't use the mind thingummy on the Drassi?" Kris asked.

"To a lesser degree," Zainal replied and turned to Dorothy. "There are three levels of Catteni now... Emassi," and he touched his chest, "Drassi who are good at following orders but have little initiative or ambition: some were rejected for the Emassi ranks, but are able to be more than Drassi--ship captains and troop leaders. Then there're the Rassi, who were left as they are."

"Rassi?" Kris echoed in surprise. "Never heard of them."

"They do not leave Catten and are as we all were when the Eosi found us."

"So you, as a species, did not evolve by yourselves? But had your intelligence stimulated?" Dorothy asked. She turned to Kris. "The Eosi evidently never heard of the Prime Directive."

Kris giggled. A psychologist who was a Trekkie?

"The Prime Directive means an advanced culture is not supposed to interfere with the natural evolution of another species or culture/' Kris explained to Zainal.

"The anthropologists will have a field day with this/' Dorothy added, jotting down another note. "Was one... application sufficient to sustain the higher level of intelligence?" she asked Zainal.

He shrugged. "I do not know that." Abruptly his expression again changed to his "Catteni look/' impassive, expressionless, shuttered. "When I had my full growth, I had to be presented to the Eosi, to see if I was acceptable as a host. And what training I should be given."

"And?" Dorothy prompted him when he paused.

"I was passed, and I was to be trained to pilot spaceships;' Then his grin became devilish and his "Catteni look" completely disappeared. "My father and uncles had worried that Eosi would find me too curious and unacceptable."

"Too curious? Why would that make you unacceptable?" Dorothy asked.

"Eosi tell Emassi what they need to know. That is all they are supposed to know."

"Before you start training? Surely you had basic schooling?" Dorothy asked, surprised.

Zainal gave a snort. "Emassi are trained, not schooled;'

"But didn't you learn to read, write, and figure before you were fourteen?"

Dorothy was having difficulty with this concept. "Surely you've had to learn mathematics to pilot spaceships?"

Zainal nodded. "Emassi males are taught that much by their fathers..."

He grimaced.

"The hard way?" Kris said, miming the use of a force whip.

"Yes, the hard way. One tends to pay strict attention to such lessons."

"And yet you were curious enough to want to know more?" Dorothy asked.

"Because it was forbidden," Zainal said, again with the twinkle in his eye. He must have been a handful as a youngster. Kris was also immensely relieved that his intelligence, which she suspected was a lot higher than hers, was natural, rather than artificially stimulated.

"So the device assessed you. Can you give me any description of it?"

Zainal looked down at his clasped hands as he organized his response.

"I was taken into a very large white room with a big chair in the center and two Eosi, one at a control desk. I was strapped into the chair and then the device came down out of the ceiling to cover my head."

"Could you see what it looked like?" Dorothy asked, and Kris realized how eagerly she awaited details.

Zainal shrugged. "A large shape/' and he made a bell form with both hands, "with many wires attached to it and dials."

"It covered your head or just your face?"

"My head down to my shoulders. It was heavy."

"Did you see any blue lights?" Dorothy asked, scribbling again.

"I saw nothing."

"And the sensations? What were they like?" She turned to Kris as Zainal once again considered his answer. "We're trying to establish if any invasive probe is used: Needles or possibly electrical shock. We need to know whether the brain itself has been entered and damaged: whether or not there has been physical damage--rather than just memory, emotional, and fact erasures."

"There aren't any scars on the Victims?" Kris asked, and Dorothy shook her head.

"Not visible ones, certainly. Which is why Zainal's recollection is so vital to us."

"Like electricity," Zainal said, putting his hands to his temples and moving them up to the top of his broad skull. "And here;' and he touched the base of his cranium. "But no blood. No scar."

"Oh, yes, that's interesting, very interesting;' and Dorothy wrote hastily for a minute. "No pain in the temples?"

"Where?" Zainal asked.

"Here," and Kris touched the points.

"Oh. Not pain, pressure."

"Isn't that where lobotomies are done?" Kris apprehensively asked Dorothy.

She nodded. "Anywhere else? Pressure or pain or odd sensations? I'm trying to discover just which areas might have been... touched by this device.

If they coincide with what factual, emotional, and memory centers humans have," she added as an aside to Kris. "There are more parallels than you might guess."

"A sort of stabbing, very quick, to the..." and Zainal put his hand to the top of his head, "inside of my head."

"Quite possibly a general stimulation," Dorothy murmured. Then, with a kind smile, went on. "So you were assessed and passed. Then what happened?"

"I was told who to report to for training." Then he grinned. "I know that my uncles were disappointed that I was acceptable. My father was relieved.

More glory for our branch of the family."

"How old are you now?" Dorothy asked, a question which Kris had never bothered to ask.

Zainal hesitated and then with a grin and a shrug, "Thirty-five. I have been exploring this galaxy for sixteen years:'

"Sixteen?" Kris was surprised.

"That would make only four years of formal training? Of any sort?"

Dorothy asked, surprised.

"Three. I have been here two years now. Two Catteni years." And he grinned at Kris.

"Pilot training is all you had?"

"I learned what I needed to know to do the job which the Eosi ordered for me. I worked hard and learned well," Zainal said with a touch of pride.

"Amazing," Dorothy murmured as she made more notes.

"But you know a lot about a lot of things," Kris protested.

Zainal shrugged. "Once I am officially a pilot," and he gave Kris a mischievous look out of the corner of his eye, "it was no longer wrong for me to learn what I wish so long as I pilot well. The Eosi," and his face slid briefly into Catteni impassivity again, "require their hosts to have been many places and seen many things."

"Then you don't have any knowledge about your own body? No biology?"

Dorothy asked. '.

"Bi-o-lo-gy?" Zainal repeated.

Dorothy explained, and he laughed.

"As long as my body does what I need it to do, I do not ask how it does it."

Both Dorothy and Kris smiled.

"When I compare what our astronauts went through to qualify as space pilots..." and Dorothy raised one hand in amazement.

"The earliest aviators flew by the seat of their pants," Kris remarked.

"Seat of their pants?" Zainal asked, frowning so Dorothy and Kris took turns explaining the meaning.

"I did that, too, when training did not cover all I needed to know. So I made those who build the spacecraft show me how everything worked," Zainal said.

"And those... engineers... were also trained by families who were engineers?"

Dorothy asked, and Zainal nodded. "Very restrictive educational system. Only a need to know. However did they manage?"

"The Eosi do the manage part;' Zainal said in a caustic tone. "Emassi follow orders just like Drassi and even the Rassi:'

"It's amazing even the Emassi can do what they do," Kris remarked, regarding Zainal with even more respect.

"Yes, it is," Dorothy agreed, "and we tend to rely on the educational process... or the genetic heritage," and she gave Kris a look. "Depending on which school of thought you adhere to." She gave another sigh and then said more briskly, including Kris. "Are there any special aptitudes which Catteni have which Humans do not? For example, the way the Deski can climb vertically and have extraordinary hearing?"

"Night vision," Zainal said promptly. "Our hearing is more acute but not as good as the Deski. We can last longer eating poor food... or is that body difference, not brain?"

"Metabolic differences certainly," Dorothy said, having written "eye" and "ear" on her pad. Kris could read such short words backwards. Then the psychologist spent a moment doodling. "Could you possibly draw me a sketch of the device used on you?" She turned to Kris in explanation.

"Those that got a good look at it can't talk, and those who can talk didn't see it."

"Zainal's very good at drawing devices," Kris said, with a touch of pride.

"Yes," and Zainal complied, using the pen with the quick, deft strokes that Kris had seen him use in delineating the mechanicals. "There!"

Dorothy regarded the neat sketch and hmmmed under her breath.

"Hmmm, yes, well it looks like something an evil scientist would create."

She sighed. "Considering who the Eosi chose to brain-scan, they seem to have been on an information hunt. But why? Their level of technology is so much more sophisticated than ours. Or were they just trying to strip minds that could possibly help foment riot and rebellion? Or maybe reduce humans to the level of your Rassi?"

Zainal made a guttural noise and his smile, while it did not touch his eyes, was evil. "Ray Scott said that he recognized some of the people as scientists.

So the Eosi are looking for information. If they were wiping minds to make you like Drassi, they would start with children and block learning."

He grinned. "The Eosi look for ideas. They have had very few new ones over the past hundred or so years."

"Really?" Dorothy remarked encouragingly.

"Maybe they need to stimulate their own brains," Kris said. "Or would it work on them?"

Zainal shrugged.

"Will Seissmann and Dr. Ansible felt that the Eosi were taking a vicious revenge on humans by destroying minds in a wholesale fashion/' Dorothy said in an expressionless voice. "There seemed to be no reason to include some of the individuals--TV reporters and anchor men... and women...

"Really? Who?" Kris asked in astonishment.

"Who? Anchor men and women?" Zainal didn't understand the term.

"Oh/' he said, when Kris explained, and added, "information would be the first thing Eosi want to control. All your satellites and communication networks were destroyed in the initial phase of the invasion."

"Did you know they were choosing Earth?" Dorothy asked.

Zainal shook his head with a rueful grin. "I am exploring on the far side of this galaxy. I had stopped at Barevi for supplies and fuel when..."

And then he shrugged as if both women knew his history from then on.

"Zainal picked a fight/' Kris said, answering the querying look on Dorothy's mobile face, "killed a Drassi and went on the run. I saw his flitter crash and went to see whom the Catteni were after this time. I had no idea what I was rescuing. If I had," and she gave Zainal a mock dirty look, "I might have thrown him to the wolves. Then I decided I'd better get him back to Barevi. Only we both got caught in one of those gassings the Cat-teni spray to quell rebellion." Kris knew that Dorothy would be familiar with that tactic which was often used on Earth. "And ended up here on Botany."

"For which many of us are exceedingly grateful/' Dorothy said sincerely.

"Will, Dr. Ansible, and a formerTV reporter, Jane O'Hanlon, were able to bring us up to date with the situation on Earth, by the way. Which I can give you without benefit of sponsors or commercials/' Dorothy said in a droll tone of voice. "I think there was probably more than one reason for the Eosi to resort to extracting information from human beings. Not only have we here on Botany produced a new wrench in the works with the Bubble but resistance is increasing on Earth despite their attempts to control or contain it.

"I gather that there will be an effort made to support activities on Earth now that there're three spaceships at our disposal?" And she looked at Zainal for comment.

"We haven't heard of any," Kris said and added "yet." Zainal had been so busy getting pictorial proof to send the Farmers that they hadn't discussed any future plans.

He shrugged. "Three ships are too few against as many as the Eosi have."

"Not even for a teensy-weensy hit," and Dorothy left a very tiny space between her forefinger and thumb by way of illustration, "just to serve notice on the Eosi?"

"I think we've just done that," Kris said with a droll grin.

"They will try to penetrate the Bubble," Zainal said. "They will have to figure out what it is and how it is maintained. That will annoy them seriously."

And he was patently delighted. "We must hope that it remains. The Eosi have other weapons that destroy planets."

"Do they?" And Kris felt a twinge of fear under her bravado.

"If they cannot possess, they do not leave it for others to have."

"Oh!" Kris had no flippant reply for that.

"Does the Council know?" Dorothy asked, concerned.

"I will tell them," Zainal said, nodding solemnly.

"Well, then, that's all I can bother you with," Dorothy said, beginning to gather up her notes. Then she paused, tilting her head at Zainal. "You don't have any idea where the Eosi came from, do you?" When Zainal shook his head, she managed a self-conscious laugh. "From a galaxy far, far away?"

Kris chuckled, delighted that Dorothy was not only Trek oriented, but could also quote from Star wars.

"Thank you, Zainal. You've given me valuable information."

"I have?"

Dorothy smiled. "More than you might think. I do apologize for besieging you after what has been a very difficult day but we needed this input." She held up the notes. "We can design appropriate treatment now.

In so far as our resources permit, that is."

Zainal opened the door, and they stepped into a moonlit night.

"Over here, Dorothy," Chuck said, flipping on the runabout's light.

"Oh, thank you, and thank you again, Zainal, Kris." She hurried over to the little vehicle, murmuring her thanks to Mitford before she turned it northward.

"I've one of the flatbeds and there's room on the boxes for you two to ride back to your place," Chuck said. "Don't want any night crawlers grabbing you."

"Thanks, Chuck," Kris said, only too grateful for both the offer and the sentiment. She was really dragging with weariness right now. Sitting down for a spell had not been as good an idea as it had seemed. It only emphasized her fatigue.

"Over here," and Chuck reached the flatbed and turned on its light to guide them.

Kris was already climbing on the cargo before she realized that the boxes didn't resemble anything she had purchased on Barevi.

"What's all this, sarge?" She couldn't see the printed labels in the dim light.

"It's the books we found," Zainal astonished her by saying.

"Books?"

"Yes, books," Zainal repeated calmly. "Ray saw them. As trading captain of the KDI, I thought such paper stuff would be good for packing material."

He grinned. "The Drassi did not argue, glad to be rid of the stuff."

"But there must be fifty boxes here? They're not all the same book, are they?"

"Nope," Chuck said. "Catteni looted libraries, too. We've got some former librarians just drooling to catalog what we managed to 'liberate." This is only part of what we unloaded. Our kids won't grow up ignorant, though they might have some rather interesting gaps in their education."

"Books," Kris said and suddenly realized that she had missed books...

certainly the availability of books. "Wow! That was a real coup:'

"Books?" Zainal asked. "Schoolbooks?" His tone was sly though Kris could not see his expression in the dim light. "Bi-ol-o-gy?"

"Don't know yet," Chuck said, "though that's a possibility. Why?"

"Zainal has just acquired a need to know," Kris replied drolly. Oh, well, she'd had good grades in biology though just how much human biology would expand Zainal's understanding of how his body worked was a moot point. And she was too tired to inquire.

All three were silent for the rest of the journey.

Once Zainal closed the door behind them, Kris gave up the notion of a shower as being too much work and a ruse to keep her from getting horizontal, and asleep, as soon as she could make it to the bed. She did take her boots off, as Zainal was doing, but that was all she managed.

THE K-CLASS SHIP, which arrived at bay forty-five to collect a shipment of slaves for an ice planet's mining operation was furious to discover that someone else had taken them. The Drassi lodged a protest about that, and then another one that he had been forced to wait eight days before sufficient slaves could be assembled. So insignificant a report went unread.

The costs submitted against a ship with a KDI identification code were duly registered although it was later noted that this ship had supposedly been listed as "lost."The charges were paid and the anomaly forgotten.

Chapter 2

IT SHOULDN'T HAVE SURPRISED KRIS that by the next afternoon many people were aware of the substance of their discussion with Dorothy Dwardie. Rumor circulated the settlement as fast as a Farmer orbiter. Fortunately, it worked more in favor of Zainal than against him.

The Catteni were, however briefly, also seen as Victims of Eosian tactics, more to be pitied than feared.

A quintet of anthropologists, while loudly deploring the forced evolution of the Catteni, requested most politely for Zainal to take some tests to evaluate his "stimulated" intelligence.

Kris was furious and Zainal amused. In fact, Kris was so incensed that she was even mad at him for agreeing.

"They cannot do me any harm," Zainal said in his attempt to placate her.

"It's the whole idea of the thing... as if you were no better than a laboratory mouse or rat or monkey," she said, pacing about the house while her mate and her son regarded her with surprise.

"They are also testing the Deski and the Rugarians." He grinned at her.

"I would like to know how I rate."

"How can they possibly evaluate you fairly? In the first place," she said, waving her arms about as she paced, "lots of the questions require a similar cultural background... and history and things you've never had a chance to study:'

"So?" Zainal reached out and stopped her mid-stride as she was going past him. "You are annoyed for me? Or with me?" he asked at his gentlest, a gleam in his yellow eyes.

"With them! The nerve, the consummate gall"' and she tried to struggle out of his embrace.

"Sometimes, Kristin Bjornsen, you protect me when I do not need it;' he said, smoothing her hair back from her face. "As you would Zane:'

"Nonsense;' Kris snapped, trying to push him away. "You don't know when to be insulted. I am insulted. For you."

Zainal laughed and easily resisted her attempts to break free.

"It is difficult to insult an Emassi;' he said. "I think it is better for them to find out that I am very, very smart. It will solve other problems."

That mild remark stopped her struggling.

"What problems?" she demanded, suspicious.

"The ones I must solve."

"Which are?"

"How to free us..." and he gestured himself and then to her, "and your people from the Eosi:'

"But we need the Farmers' help for that and we have no idea when we'll have a response--if any--to that report you sent them. What are you planning, Zainal?"

"This time you, too, must wait and see," he said, giving her a final squeeze before he released her. And she got no more out of him.

He went off to the session with the anthropologists while she fumed and fretted as she did the household chores. She was not due for her shift until late afternoon. She couldn't even find satisfaction in taking care of Zane, which she usually enjoyed thoroughly. She all but pounced on Zainal when he returned a few hours later.

"Well?" she demanded as soon as he entered the cabin.

His grin was a partial reassurance but she insisted on details. "They say I am very smart. At the top."

"How could they figure that out? What did they ask? How did you reply?"

"Carefully"' he said, pouring himself a cup of water. "Thirsty work."

Kris let out an explosive "oh" of total frustration. "You'd drive a saint to drink."

"Saint? More of that God stuff?"

"What sort of questions?" She would not be diverted.

"Logic ones which I am well able to answer. Sorrell told me that they used some of the Mensa tests? That you would know what those are?"

Kris nodded, obliquely reassured. "And?"

"I passed;' he said and then bent to lift the lid on the pot over the fire.

"We eat here tonight?"

"Yes, it's the stew you like. How high did you pass?"

Zainal's grin was malicious. "Very high. They were surprised and..."

he paused to let his grin broaden, "they were respectful."

"Well, it's about time."

He turned and put his arms about her, drawing her close to him so that he could look her in the eyes. "One earns respect. It is not just given:'

"But you've earned it twenty times over, Zanal," she said, not quite willing to be totally placated by his proximity but she did let her arms creep around his neck. "When I think of how lucky we were that you got dropped..."

"I was very lucky," he said, burrowing his head in her hair. "Very lucky;' They remained in that embrace, enjoying the simple pleasure of touching and being together until Zane, waking from his afternoon nap, disturbed their communion.

"So, what have you been planning in that devious stimulated Catteni mind of yours?" Kris asked.

"I think we have to go to Earth," he said so casually that she nearly dropped her son.

"Just like that? Go to Earth? How? Why? Can you? Will they agree?"

"It is safer right now than it will be..." he began, taking Zane from her to dandle on his knee, which had the boy chortling with delight, while she tasted the stew.

"Oh?" The stew needed a pinch more salt, which she added.

"Yes, because it will take time for the Eosi to discover that the Victims did not get to the intended destination. They will also be thinking of a way to break through the Bubble. They do not like such defenses."

"So? What good would a trip to Earth do?"

"Now I think there may be other Catteni, who have had enough Eosi," and he grinned at her. "I am not the only one who thinks for himself.

Who is smarter than the Eosi want us to be. I know of five who are like me. I need to know where they now are. I need to know if there are more now)'

"Five? Against how many Eosi?"

Zainal considered as he tickled Zane's toes while the little boy giggled, withdrawing his feet and then presenting them again.

"I think there are no more than one hundred."

"Because that's all the Catteni they upgraded? Don't they reproduce or something?"

Zainal shook his head. "Not that we know of."

"We?"

"The others of like mind I told you about. We have met, in small groups, from time to time, to exchange knowledge)'

"You mean, you've been plotting against the Eosi for a long time?

What would have happened if you had to be subsumed?"

"A risk all Emassi take," he said with a shrug. "Yes, I do believe that we have been looking for some way to shake Eosian domination. Your people have shown a resistance no other species has. That's good)'

"As far as it goes and look what happens to Humans who resist..."

and Kris's gesture included the planet. "How many worlds do the Eosi dom-Mate?

I mean, there're the Deski, the Rugarians, the Turs, the Morphins, and the Ilginish... How many others?"

"The Eosi control fifteen star systems that have at least one intelligent race: another ten where they take metals and materials."

Kris laughed. "You honestly believe a rebellion has a chance against such a setup?"

"If we have the Farmers' help..."

"Boy, oh boy, oh boy, are you an optimist!"

"It is a start. It is more than we have ever had."

"With two spaceships and a scout, we can go up against that sort of opposition?"

"it is a start."

"I've got to hand it to you, Zainal. God loves a trier," Kris said, shaking her head at the impossible task he had proposed. And yet... "Have you mentioned any of this to any one else yet?"

"I talked to Chuck. I will speak to others. We need to go to Earth as soon as possible. Earth needs to know that Botany is!"

"Let's eat first, shall we?" Kris said as brightly as she could, trying to assimilate the magnitude of his vision.

DOROTHY DWARDIE'S TEAM spent the first week assessing the condition of the mind-wiped and divided them into various arbitrary groupings, according to the perceived severity.

As she said in her initial discussion with her aides, there were two levels of healing: one, the physical trauma of assault on the tissue and/or function of the brain, and two, the psychological trauma of assault on the psyche or self. She expected that some trauma would be time-limited.

"The mind has gone into functional frostbite," she said, "and when it thaws after the trauma, returns to normal function without help. Since most of these people were trained scientists, it's possible that many will sim ply reestablish old neural pathways. There may be some loss of factual memory: maybe even a great deal. Even then much may return over a period of time.

"Right now, they need reassurance, interaction: music, smells, kindness, encouragement, gentle exercise. As normal a routine as we can manage.

Talk to them, about anything and everything: help them reestablish themselves.

Where we know the name, repeat it often. When we know something of their background, refer to that as frequently as possible. Help them reacquaint themselves with themselves."

Kris had three women, all in their late fifties: two had been research physicians in a drug company--Peggy Ihde and Marjorie Flax; the third they called Sophie because Sarah McDouall said she thought she looked like a Sophie. Kris was to supervise their meals. Just putting a spoon or a fork in their hands stimulated self-feeding. She read to them from Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, which they might even have read in their younger days. She took them on quiet walks in the lodge-pole copse, or sat with them above the bay where benches had been placed for meditation.

"Pleasant surroundings are extremely important after the holding pens they've been in," Dorothy said. "Soft, kind voices, gentle handling will reassure even the most damaged."

There were a few whose condition was clearly catatonic but Dorothy was serenely confidant that, in time, even these would recover.

"There's something about this place," she said, spreading both arms out to include the entire subcontinent, "that will generate healing. The smells are good, the food is fresh and tasty, and the vibes..." she smiled at using the vernacular description, "are good because we've made them so. Beauty is a natural stress-absorber, you know. It reassures on a nonverbal level that they are now safe.

"You see," she went on in her soft voice, "we've decided to use a multi-modal treatment of this stress. The right hemisphere--which thinks in pictures--can't tell time: therefore it needs pictures to counteract the negative images of the trauma. The left hemisphere stores rational thought processes in thought and ideas. The two hemispheres interact and each approach can help the other side. We need to maximize good input and involve as much as possible in terms of brain resource utilization. Many of our friends here may never recall exactly what happened. That would truly be a blessing."

"But won't we have to explain something of how they got here?" Sarah McDouall asked.

"Oh, yes," Dorothy said with a smile, "and by then we'll probably have a coherent answer for them. They are, to all intents and purposes, on a holiday from their own minds right now."

"We could always tell them they're in Oz," someone at the back of the room quipped.

"And no red slippers in sight," someone added.

Dorothy's expression was droll. "We're all in Oz."

"The Eosi are the wicked witches..."

"Let's leave the analogy there, shall we?" Dorothy said in the firm tone of she-who-must-be-obeyed.

Kris felt her shoulder muscles relax. She had been readying herself to protect Zainal. Really, she had to stop doing that. He had made his own position here on Botany and was firmly entrenched. She didn't need to fret over possible snide remarks and animosity. She devoutly hoped!

THAT EVENING WHEN ZAINAL CAME HOME from the construction site of the new units for the Victims, he very carefully put a book down on the table.

"That's for kindergartners," she said in surprise, recognizing the title.

"Kindergartners? It is for learning to read," Zainal said and gave it a little shove with one large and very dirty thumb.

"Please wash up, dinner's nearly ready," she said, because she really couldn't tell Zainal not to handle the book-which might be the only one of its kind-with his dirty hands.

"I learn to read," he said and gave it another, almost angry push.

"You?"

Zainal scowled and Zane, who was seated in the high-seated chair his adoptive father had made for him, began to whimper in apprehension. He was very quick to sense moods. Immediately Zainal turned a smiling face and diverted the child by tickling his feet until he was hilarious with tickle laughter.

"I need to read to use computers."

Kris blinked in surprise, having forgotten for the moment that Botany now possessed working computers... which were being put to all kinds of good use. There had been several uninterrupted sessions to develop adapters for the units to run on solar power.

"Oh, yes, of course you would," Kris said. "Dead easy for a man with your smarts."

Zainal turned his smiling face from Zane and gave the little book a dark scowl. "Not when all those... squiggles... make no sense at all."

"Are there many--" and Kris thought swiftly for a less insulting description than "kids' books"--"primer books in what we got?" She hadn't had occasion to look in that section of the hastily assembled "library."

"This was given me. I wash my hands... and Zane's feet..." he added pointing to the oily smears now marking the child's bare feet.

ONCE ZANE WAS IN BED, she took, not the book, but a pad and pencil and wrote out the alphabet in upper and lower case, as large as she could lengthwise across the page.

"But I brought the book to read.. :' he said, pulling it toward him with now clean hands.

"First you must know the... squiggles that spell the words we use. Too bad we didn't have a book on English for second-language speakers... although come to think of it, that wouldn't do you much good. Now, this is the first letter of the alphabet... 'ay." Which can also be pronounced 'ah'... just to confuse you. It is a vowel. B, which is usually just 'bee' is the second letter and a consonant."

He had repeated "vowel" and now spoke "consonant." Zainal had no trouble committing the sequence of the alphabet to memory--nor of naming any of them when Kris drilled him. His concentration was incredible.

He kept her going until even such words as "Spot" and "Jane" were blurring her eyes. He had also read through the book nine times and had it memorized.

"No spot and jane on the computers," he said.

"We'll work on computer language tomorrow," she said, rising stiffly from the chair in which his need to learn had pinned her for hours. She yawned.

"I work more now," he said, looking at her expectantly.

"Okay, see how many words you already know that rhyme with Spot... like dot, and tot, and Scott... or with Jane, like mane... no not drain... ah, try run, fun, gun, stun..."

"Oh," he said, delighted at such an exercise.

She went to bed. When Zane woke her in false dark, hungry, Zainal had filed pages of similarly sounding words, not all of which were spelled properly but she had to give him an A for effort. Spelling would come later.

What did astonish her as she fed Zane by candlelight was the computer manual she found under a pile of his laboriously hand-printed sheets. He had underlined all the unwords... ctrl, del, esc, Pgdn, Pgup, num, menu.

"He can't have read the manual," she murmured and smothered a laugh.

"He may be one of the few who ever did before they turned on a computer."

She and Zane had gone back to sleep again before full daylight and, by then, Zainal had gone off to work. In a neat pile on the mantel he had left all but the primer. Doubtless that had gone back to the library shelves for something more challenging. The manual was still there but then, there had been plenty of those in the packing cases they'd brought back from the marketplace at Barevi. But why this sudden need to understand computers... ah, yes. It probably had something to do with Zainal's master plan. Maybe it was plans since he intended not only to free Earth but destroy the Eosi and release Catten from slavery. Did he also plan to use the mind stimulator on everyone? To equalize the Catten race? Ooops, she sort of thought that might be a bad idea. Zainal was a most unusual Catteni.

Still, there might well be similarly motivated Emassi among those whom he was going to enlist to help. But the Drassi... and the Rassi... though she despised herself for generalizing... were different: especially since they were such big people with lots of muscles and not much common sense.

She had an early shift this morning so she and Zane started off in the fresh morning air to the day care center. He was crawling around everywhere, even trying to climb, and spent more time falling down. But she let him fall... and let him get up. He rarely hurt himself. On the advice of other mothers, she had put extra padding on the knees of his trousers, saving him scratches if not bruises. Actually, Kris thought, Botany's new generation was generally sturdy and few mothers had the time to pamper their children. With the notable exception of Janet and Anna Bollinger. Their kids, however, had enough rough and tumble at the day care center to have developed allergies to maternal fussiness.

No television, no Coke, or chocolate--though sometimes Kris' craving for a chocolate bar was almost overwhelming--was all to the good. She did miss caffeine and, while the experiments with beer and other spiritous liquors had been successful, there was as yet no tobacco substitute. As soon as the children were able, they were put to little tasks and chores that would make them as self-sufficient as their parents had learned to be.

Raisha Simonova was checking in the children at the day care center this morning. Zane toddled firmly off to the room that catered to his age group. One of the Deski children, Fil, was on its way (gender in Deskis developed later) so he waited for Fil. Another plus for Botany--no racism.

Well, not to fret over, because the few who had trouble assimilating with the Rugarians and Deskis were gradually losing their sense of Human superiority: difficult to maintain when a Deski walked up a wall to carry slates to the roof. Or a Rugarian easily hefted weights that took two or three Humans to manage. Both races were also becoming more and more fluent in English, though they had trouble with past tenses of verbs. Who didn't?

And a good couple of dozen Humans were attempting to master their languages.

Almost, Kris thought, as she stopped by the library to pick up the day's reading, it would be a shame to have to open Botany up. It could easily ruin the harmony that had been achieved. And yet...

All three of her charges were sitting in their bedside chairs, an aura of anticipation about them.

"They know to the minute when you're due, Kris," Mavis Belton said.

"That's good, isn't it?"

"You don't know how good," Mavis said with a deep sigh, slightly turning her head toward one of the "difficult wards" where the worst of the Victims were kept.

"Good morning, Marjorie," Kris began, initiating her morning routine by touching the arm of each in turn, "Good morning, Peggy. Good morning, Sophie."

"Why do you call me Sophie? That's my middle name. My Christian name is Norma," the woman said with a hint of petulance. "Norma Sophie Barrow. Miss Barrow."

"I do apologize, Miss Barrow;' Kris said sincerely, holding her hand now for the woman to shake. 'I'm Kris Bjornsen, the nurse's aide."

"Of course, you are. We've been expecting you," Miss Barrow said almost tartly. "Aren't we?"

Marjorie and Peggy nodded.

"In that case, let us walk up to the dining hall," Kris said.

Behind the newly restored Miss Barrow, Mavis was almost in tears with joy at the breakthrough. It was a very mixed blessing. Miss Barrow was stunned to find herself in such rural, primitive surroundings.

"Rustic, ! should say," she remarked as they entered the log-built main hall. "I would certainly never take my vacation in such a setting:' She wanted coffee and refused to drink the herbal tea which was all that was served. She wanted white bread toast and butter and did not like the berry preserve, which did service as a spread. Nor would she eat the hot oatmeal. Porridge was for children or invalids. She wanted an egg, boiled, three minutes.

Although Marjorie and Peggy were hungry enough to eat what Kris served them, they began to falter as Miss Barrow's complaints jarred their own memories of breakfasts or homes or what they had once been accustomed to.

Just as Kris was beginning to think she wouldn't be able to cope with this sort of insurrection, Dorothy Dwardie slid in beside Miss Barrow.

"I am so glad to see you looking so well, today, Miss Barrow."

Miss Barrow recoiled from Dorothy, a hint of fear contorting her features.

"Surely, you remember me, Doctor Dwardie?"

"Doctor?" Miss Barrow was only slightly reassured while Kris admired the friendly but not intimate tone Dorothy used.

"Yes, Doctor Dwardie, I'm in charge of your case."

"I've not been well?" As Miss Barrow's fragile hand went to her chest and her expression became even more confused, Dorothy nodded, still smiling with great reassurance.

"Yes, but nothing life-threatening, I'm happy to report. The tests have all come back negative. You may not remember things in the detail you used to but we're positive that you will make a complete recovery."

"I was working very hard," Miss Barrow said, running one nervous finger along the edge of the table and watching its progress, "the merger, you know."

"Yes, exactly, the merger. One of the elements of your convalescence has actually been a change of diet to a very bland one. A change to flush the toxins of fatigue out of your system. If you just look at Marjorie and Peggy, you'll see how healthy and fine they are. And you're very much improved."

"Toxins... yes, there were toxins," Miss Barrow said. "Some of them..." She closed her lips and gave a weak smile. "I'm not allowed to talk about my work, you understand."

"Yes, yes, Miss Barrow, we do. Miss Bjornsen is the soul of discretion but as I have a top security clearance, perhaps if we had a quiet little chat in my office, I could relieve your mind, and we can figure out just what other therapy will speed your recovery."

Gently Dorothy got Miss Barrow to her feet and led her out of the dining room and toward her putative office.

"She'll be all right, won't she?" Marjorie said, her eyes wide with fright.

It was also the first time Marjorie had said more than yes, no, and maybe.

Peggy stared from one to another and then back to Kris for reassurance.

"She'll be fine;' Kris said firmly, smiling and nodding her head. "But I think we'd better finish our breakfasts. Then we'll find a quiet spot for me to finish reading Pride and Prejudice."

"I read that once," Peggy said in a vague tone, frowning slightly.

"I like Kris reading," Marjorie said.

"Why, thank you, Marjorie;'

"You know you don't have to be so formal, Kris. I don't mind if you call me Marge like everyone else."

Then she grimaced, looking down at the table and, with furtive glances, gradually looked around the room. Peggy, however, held up her cup for more tea, which Kris instantly supplied.

"Some of your friends aren't here with you, Marge;' Kris said, thinking some explanation should be offered before Marjorie's returning awareness caused her dismay.

"They aren't?"

"More tea?" Kris offered and Marge shook her head.

"Doesn't really taste like tea to me."

"It's part of the bland diet to reduce the dose of toxicity you had," Kris said.

"But you're drinking it, too. Did you get a dose?"

"No," Kris replied, "but we aides thought it wasn't fair for us to drink something you aren't yet allowed."

"Oh!" Marge accepted that.

Kris tried not to wonder what else would happen today or who would have a breakthrough but the rest of her eight-hour shift went without any further incident, other than Marge making comments about beautiful scenery and the lovely fresh air. Peggy said nothing more and seemed to be deep in her own thoughts. And Kris certainly hoped she was having some.

She got her two charges back for their afternoon nap and, for once, they lay down in their beds immediately and were asleep in moments.

Mavis beckoned her into the nurse's office.

"That Miss Barrow's a pisswhistler," she murmured in rather unprofessional language. "And that's exactly what brought her around."

"How so?"

"She ran a huge lab for Erkind Pharmaceuticals and everything, but everything had to be precisely in place and exactly done."

"Oh! And suddenly her neurones meshed and nothing here was as it should be in her neat little mind?"

"Exactly/'

"Has she realized where she is now?"

Mavis cocked her. "She's fighting it but with every twitch of disagreement, she's remembering more. She's more than halfway back to sanity:'

Kris grimaced. "If precision and order are her sort of sanity, she could be a real pain in the arse."

Mavis shook her head this time. "No, we'll let her manage our lab when she's fully recovered. It'll be the envy of..." Then Mavis giggled. "We couldn't actually ask for someone with a better background/'

Kris thought of Leon Dane, of Thor Mayock's hooch, and the easy, if effective, way the hospital facilities had been run, and wondered.

"You'll see," Mavis said. "How're the other two?"

"Some speech from Marge... she prefers that... and one sentence from Peggy but that one's been thinking hard all day long/'

"Good," and Mavis made notes on the day pad. "We'll see if we can improve on your start. You're mid-shift tomorrow?"

Kris nodded and then another group returned to the dormitory and Mavis went to help settle them for their rest.

ON HER WAY TO COLLECT ZANE, she wondered just how the prim and proper Miss Barrow would view the Deski and Rugarians with whom they shared the planet. And how she could react to Zainal's presence when she saw him. Once the Victims started being people again, they would have to see, and become accustomed to, the one Catteni since he was the one who had organized their rescue.

Zane was having a late nap and Kris looked rather enviously at all the small bodies, all curled up under their blankets on the mats that had been woven for the purpose.

"Go grab some zzz's yourself;' murmured Sheila who was in charge.

She was also working on a detailed map of the eastern coast of this continent, from measurements Kris's exploratory team had brought back. "I'll never get used to the long days here. Not to mention the long nights. I'll wake you when Zane's up. I always say, leave sleeping dogs and chilluns lie."

There were bunks for the nighttime staff, two of which were already occupied, so Kris climbed as quietly as possible into an upper one and very shortly fell asleep.

A SLOPPY WET KISS WOKE HER: the donor being her dearly beloved son, who had managed to clamber up the ladder at the head of the bunk.

He giggled, delighted with his accomplishment, though Kris was only too relieved he had escaped unscathed. She'd take ladders away the next time she slept here.

"Hey, love, you don't know how to climb ladders yet," she said, alternating between being frightened at the risk he had taken and proud that he had tried.

"Ahh, Mummy."

Kris threw back the blanket, jumped lightly to the ground and held up her hands for him. Quick as could be and without a moment's hesitation, he flung himself down at her, giggling when she caught him neatly. Ssssh-ing him, they left the sleeping room. Two beds were still occupied.

Zane was in great form and, as it was snack time, they went hand in hand to the dining room, which was crowded with others. With such long days, four or five meals were frequently offered. A hearty breakfast, a mid morning sandwich, a three-course dinner midday, a mid-afternoon fruit and sandwich, and then a good supper. Late-night snacks were leftovers of bread, cake, and sandwiches, whatever needed to be eaten up and usually was. The herbal tea and, with spring now leading into summer, fruit juices were available all day long. Caterers worked in several short shifts but nevertheless worked a twelve-hour day. Food preparation was as often as not a punishment detail for minor infractions of colony laws, but everyone took a turn at those chores. The big difference here on the new land was that the food didn't also have to be picked, dug, fished, or gutted: other working groups had already processed it for cooking.

On the northern wall of the dining room were the listings of jobs and rotas so that there was no excuse for anyone to miss assignments. Diners customarily checked before or after they ate to see what their duties were for the next day or the next week.

Zainal was listed as working with ex-Admiral Ray Scott, Bull Fetter-man, Bert Put, John Beverly, Chuck Mitford, Jim Rastancil, Salvinato, Gino Marrucci, Raisha Simonova, Boris Slavinkovin, Hassan Moussa, Laughrey, Ayckburn, Peter Easley, and Worrell. These week-long meetings were scheduled at the hangar. Considering that most of these men were ex-service of one country or another, Kris had no problem figuring out that Zainal was probably talking up his master plan. Whether the others would go for it or not was debatable. Certainly there were significant absences from that list, such as the odious Geoffrey Ainger, the Brit naval commander, Beggs, who had been Scott's gopher, and Sev Balenquah, who had so nearly blown their disguises on their sneak trip back to Barevi to obtain the supplies which were making all the difference in the efficiency and productivity of the colony.

And if all those with experience in flying the Catteni craft, including Raisha, were there, she wondered just what escapade was being planned.

And why wasn't she included?

SHE AND ZANE HAD THEIR SNACK, a hot rolled sandwich with a sort of sausagey filling, the constituents of which she did not wish to know but the result tasted good. Zane licked his fingers so hungrily that she found a small extra one to give him.

"We've our garden to tend now, love," she said, and he hopped and skipped alongside her as they returned to their cabin. She got out the hoe and his little weeder prong and they finished that chore by the time they saw Zainal being dropped off from the flatbed, still occupied by those living farther up the way to the main administrative area.

"Daddy, daddy!" And Zane made a wobbly beeline to his father who heaved him up so high that Kris caught her breath, even though she knew perfectly well that Zainal would never drop the boy.

"And what might I ask are you and all the high, low, and middle brass doing at the hangar these days?"

"Heard one of your old girls remembered who she is," he replied.

"Ah, how good the gossip system is here;' she said drolly. "First, please, the answer to my question?"

"Those who played... doggo?" and Zainal's yellow eyes twinkled as he looked for confirmation on his use of the slang, "knew a lot more than they thought they did:'

"That's good. About what did they know more?"

"I believe Scott calls it 'the state of the nation.""

"And?"

"We're mounting an expedition." He did not meet her gaze, but threw the delightedly squealing Zane up in the air again.

"Soon?"

"Quite likely."

"Who all's going?"

"That's what's taking so long to decide," and Zainal gave a heavy sigh.

"Just think how much more time that gives you, my dear, to learn how to operate computers."

"That is the only reason you find me in such good fettle."

Kris burst out laughing. Zainal knew just how to get her into a good mood... proving that he'd mastered yet another Terran expression.

"Can we eat here tonight? Kurt Langsa--well, however you pronounce the rest of his long name--said he would come?"

"I'm not good enough?"

He had Zane safely ensconced on his shoulders now and pulled her against him, kissing her cheek. "I read nine books during the talking," and he wrinkled his nose. "I need someone who uses computers all the time to show me what the manual says. It uses words I know but not the same way;'

"I know exactly what you mean, Zainal. I'll go get some food from the Hall."

"No, Kurt brings. I would like you to go over the words I have learned so that I pronounce them correctly. The spelling is always different and yet the words sound alike." He sighed now in exasperation.

"I don't imagine it's any consolation to you, Zay, but we had to learn, too, as kids."

"In Catteni, the sound is always the same..."

"If you're accustomed to gargling, yes, they would be," Kris agreed affably, remembering how hoarse she had been when she'd had to talk to the Catteni scout ship before they captured it. "I do speak some Catteni," she added, slyly glancing at him. "More Barevi."

He gave her a sideways look, so that she couldn't really see the expression in his eyes.

"That is known," he said at his blandest. "But you must learn to understand more."

"When do the classes start?" she asked in an equally bland tone, determined to find out.

"Soon."

"Ah, then let us continue teaching you antonyms."

Hane was busy in his play corner with the blocks and the miniature vehicles that Zainal had fashioned for him. He was mimicking the solar panel hum as he played, oblivious now to the adults.

She had no sooner reached for the list than there was a knock on the door, and Zainal called out "Enter!"

Kurt Langsteiner peered cautiously around the door, a thin-faced man with an expression of perpetual anxiety. He smiled, which altered his face considerably to a pleasant appearance, and stepped inside, carefully closing the door with one foot as both hands were full.

"Name plates would help," he said. "This is the third house I've tried in your neck of the woods."

"Let me help," Kris said, rising to take the basket from one hand. She immediately exclaimed with real pleasure at the three long loaves of bread that stuck out around the stew pot. "Rocksquat..."

"What else?" Kurt said with a droll laugh, "but they put some salad in as well and something for young Zane." He stepped up to the table now and placed on its surface the six large bottles of beer that had been tied at the neck and clanked against each other.

"Remnant of my student days when I found that beer made the studying go more easily." He put the bottles down, and he shook his creased fingers to circulate blood to them.

First Kris brought three glasses to the table. They were still sort of odd shaped, with uneven blemishes from the not-quite-expert glass blowers. In fact, some said that the glasses, with their slightly skewed sides, looked half-drunk. A new guideline had been formulated: if a drinker was asked if his glass was straight and he answered "yes," you had proof he had had more than enough to drink. She was setting out plates and utensils as Kurt started pulling out notepads and books from the various pockets of his ship suit. It still looked new, by which Kris figured he must have been in the Sixth Drop. She didn't know that group of arrivals as well as she did those from the other five.

"What is the worst trouble you're having, Zainal?" Kurt asked as he made an orderly pile of his materials.

"It is the words that sound the same that are not the same," Zainal said with considerable asperity.

"Quite understandably. They're bitches to get right at any age." Then he turned to Kris. "I used to teach computer in junior high school before I got rounded up so Mitford thought I'd be the best candidate to do both jobs on Zainal," Kurt said to her as he organized his teaching materials on the table. "And Zainal here," and Kurt nodded at him, "said he'd teach me how to read and write Catteni."

Now Zainal grinned at Kris and pointed to the third chair. "You will learn, too."

Obediently Kris settled down. Leave it to Zainal to throw her a real curve ball. Oh, well, she had only herself to blame.

"You learn a lot better on an full stomach... and it gives you a base for the beer. Zane, please wash your hands for dinner," she said, using hot pads to lift the stew kettle to the table.

The three males obediently went to wash their hands as she finished setting the table. Kurt must be well liked by the caterers for a whole cake had been carefully tied between two baking tins to keep it from being damaged by the hot stew pot. And so had a good portion of salad greens, though the heat from the stew had wilted some of them.

THEY MADE A GOOD MEAL, with Zainal beginning his part of the teaching bargain by using the Catteni words for everything on the table.

Even Zane tried to repeat them, giggling as easily at his own mistakes as at his mother's but had the good sense to cover his mouth when Kurt had trouble. Though Langsteiner certainly seemed to get the guttural sounds more easily.

"German was my first language," he said in an aside to Kris.

"You'd never know it to hear you speak English," she replied.

"My parents spoke both," he explained.

"We really should make Zane learn Catteni, too," Kris said, leaning toward Zainal.

"And Rugarian and Deski," Zainal said at his blandest.

"Them, as well, of course," was her quick, equally bland response, and Kurt laughed.

"And what a hodgepodge they'll all be speaking," he said.

"It will be helpful," Zainal said, "when we free Rugar and Deski, too."

Kurt's eyes bulged at that, and he looked quickly at Kris to see her reaction.

"Why settle for freeing just ours?" she said with a diffident shrug though this was the first she'd known of that facet of Zainal's master plans.

"Besides, Zane already speaks some Rugarian and Deski at day care."

"Really?" Kurt was startled.

"Gets a bit like the Tower of Babel in there some days," Kris said, dipping the ladle into the stew pot to offer second helpings. The pot had been graciously full.

They all had two pieces of the excellent nutty-flavored cake that had a topping of thick sweet blue-colored berries that did not at all taste like blueberries, nor had similar seeds.

As was often the case with young Zane, he was ready to go to sleep with his stomach nicely full so Kris prepared him for bed while the two men cleared the table. When she returned, she rather thought the humorous glint in Kurt's eyes was for the accustomed manner in which the Catteni had performed the KP duties.

The beer helped a great deal as the two Humans struggled with the guttural, harsh Catteni words, first jotting them down phonetically and then in the Catteni script. This was a cross between runes, Kurt's definition, and glyphs, which was Kris' notion. By the time the beer had run out, the two of them knew how to count to five hundred in Catteni, and Zainal could now spell all the words that had bothered him as well as understand all the computer abbreviations which had so baffled him. They set a time for the next lesson, and then Kurt got into the runabout and made a slow but competent turn to head back to the main settlement.

SINCE THE MIND-PROBE had discovered very little useful information -apart from some shady dealings among the former administrators and administrations of the planet's political divisions--the Ix had abandoned the project: bored even by the occasional scientific theories that had yet to be proven. Most of these were already in use by the Eosi: and far more sophisticated usage than the silly Humans had ever thought to employ.

Unfortunately the obsession to destroy those protected by the Bubble had become so entrenched in the Ix Mentat's mind that it thought of nothing but the means to do so. Where the Bubble had come from and what comprised the amazingly invulnerable material was almost a secondary consideration.

The Juniors--which was not how they were called in Catteni but the translation was close enough to their actual position and authority within the Eosi context had repeatedly tried to divert the Ix with other matters. Lest the Ix be provoked by their counter-arguments into another seizure, they had no choice but to proceed with the Mentat's latest plans: to organize the greatest force the Eosi had ever assembled, even larger than the one with which they had assaulted a planet that many High Emassi wished they'd left strictly alone. But it had seemed such a useful place: with a population density that would provide other, less desirable locations with an endless supply of workers needed to produce and refine the raw materials that kept Catteni ships in space. There was also the added fact that the Eosi were committed to extending their control of this arm of the galaxy as far as they could--and as fast as they could.

So the orders were sent out to the naval shipyards and the plants and planets that produced the materials needed to build more AA-ships, and devise heavier, more devastating missiles to launch at this mysterious Bubble.

The Ix Mentat was approached by one of its peers and tactfully asked why one small, insignificant world was its target.

"Because it's there," the Ix replied, glowering and seething with rage.

"Because it defies us!"

"Defiance is not permitted," the Le Mentat agreed and that was the end of that.

Chapter 3

MARGE BECAME MORE VOCAL BUT struggled painfully for sentences or words and would often burst into tears. Peggy would watch her, lean over, and pat her shoulder or her hand, then immediately go into what Kris called her "meditative" state.

When discussing her charges with Dorothy, the psychologist advised her to suggest words, if she could, to Marge or show pictures. Peggy was obviously aware of what was happening about her, and that was a very good sign.

"Miss Barrow," and Dorothy gave the mischievous smile that made her seem much younger, "wants to take charge of our laboratory.

She is naturally appalled at its primitive facilities and amazed that we aren't all down with something fatal. Leon, Thor, and the others need her skills so much that they're willing to put up with her... disorientation:' Dorothy sighed.

"Miss Barrow will not be pleased when she accepts that she's on another planet entirely and will never get more than the equipment we have."

"I wouldn't bet on that, Dorothy," Kris said with a grin.

"What do you know that they haven't told me?" Dorothy asked, eyeing Kris with mock annoyance.

"I'm not sure they've told me any more than you will have heard, too. Like they are going to try to get back to Earth.

"They couldn't bring my shopping list with them, could they?"

the psychologist asked in a wistful tone, then added more briskly, "I am encouraged, though. We're getting almost daily breakthroughs now. Though how we'll fit some of these people into Botany I haven't a clue. I mean, an as-trophysicist who was on the Hubble team and a meteorologist when the weather here is already controlled-Do we even have a clue how that's done?"

"Zainal thinks that huge square block we discovered on the seashore has something to do with it. There are four others in sort of a pattern."

"Any idea of when the Earth trip will take place?"

"We've a lot of studying to do first," Kris said and rose, not wanting to spread more gossip, even to someone as discreet as Dorothy was, professionally or personally.

KRIS FOUND HER NAME up on the roster board for a late afternoon meeting with the Central Council. She checked in with the day care to be sure that the day's manager knew that she wouldn't be in to collect Zane at the usual hour. Sarah McDouall had already been informed. Zane did not notice his mother, since he was involved in some complicated game with Fek's child and two Rugarians whom Kris didn't know. The Rugarian babies were born with as much body fur as their parents, and it really was difficult for humans to tell them apart without going through the list of names until the yaya (which was Rugarian for the unadult) answered to the right one. A Deski young one was called a slib. Some of them were easier to identify since their skin had different tones.

Zainal caught up with her in the dining hall where they were both eating a quick meal.

"What's this all about then?" she asked him.

"Plans have been made. Discussion now."

She knew him well enough to know that she would get no more out of him. Then she noticed Miss Barrow threading her way to an empty table. She wore a look of disdain, as if wrapping herself carefully away from the reality of an ambience she could not escape. Unlike everyone else garbed in the ubiquitous ship suit, she wore a dress, severely cut, in one of the dark greens, which Kris had brought back from her excursion to the markets of Barevi. The dress was long-sleeved and buttoned up to a high collar, with a hemline at calf-length. To Kris' astonishment, Miss Barrow did incline her head graciously as she registered Kris' presence, but she straightened into consummate distaste as she recognized that Kris was seated with a Catteni. She turned her face haughtily away.

"Poor woman," Kris said, shaking her head.

"Why?

She was saved the mines."

"One day, she'll find out. I hope," Kris added as an afterthought, "the notion that she is beholden to you doesn't throw her."

"She is good in lab, they say," Zainal remarked. "So she is. We'd better go."

Kris saw the biggest of the flatbed vehicles draw up to the dining hall and heard it toot its horn. Half the diners immediately made their way to the door and climbed on the transport.

THEY WERE DELIVERED tO the immense main hangar where the scout ship and the two transports lurked in the shadows cast by the one work light left on in their area. Not for the first time, Kris wondered what the Farmers had used this vast area for, so neatly carved from the mountainside.

In the center of some of the unused space, chairs and benches had been set up, facing five large mounted slates that were still the best Botany solution for large displays. She could see that one held the diagram of this system and another of Earth. The other two were probably the systems in which the Barevi planet and the home planet of the Catteni were situated.

The fifth held lists and names.

So, thought Kris with a surge of anticipation, we are moving outside again.

There was a table to one side of the slates with chairs crowding around it. Judge Iri Bempechat was seated in the center and was obviously the moderator for the meeting. Kris liked the old man enormously for his wit, his humor, and his vast store of judicial wisdom. So far no one had contested any of his decisions and she hoped the situation would remain that way. On his right was Ray Scott, on his left two men who were vaguely familiar to her: they also had the gaunt look of Victims despite two weeks of restorative treatment and therapy. Even those who had played "doggo" showed the effects of their incarceration in the brutal open pens where the Eosi had contained them. Dorothy Dwardie sat beyond those two men. The rest of the Council, from Chuck Mitford to Leon Dane, occupied the other spaces. Raisha and Gino sat together, trying to look unconcerned and anonymous at the end of the right side.

Two seats were still unoccupied and, as Kris and Zainal entered, he gave his head a slight tilt toward the table, indicating those chairs were for them.

Kris was quite glad to join him there. That gave her a chance to see who else had been invited. Mostly those who were technically skilled in one way or another, including Dick Aarens, and a great many of those who had been in the Fifth and Sixth Drops.

Well, she thought, we won't have to contend with Anna Bollinger and Janet.

Ray stood up and whatever private conversations had been going ceased.

"Zainal has proposed several plans of action since we cannot be sure that the Farmers will answer our latest message to them, nor when. We've been fortunate enough to have the latest information of Earth from those we rescued from the Barevi slave pens. Zainal?" Ray sat down and Zainal stood, going to the slates.

"First, we need to know who or what is watching Botany outside the Bubble," he said. "This is the point where the Eosi tried to ram their way in:' Someone had drawn in cartoons of the debris. "They left enough behind so that I believe the scout ship can poke her nose outside the Bubble and have a look."

"What about the geo-synchronous satellite up there?" Aarens asked, jumping to his feet to forestall the others who more politely raised their hands to signify that they had a query.

"It may or may not be able to see the scout's nose among the rubble," Zainal said, "but by the time the report is sent back, Baby will no longer be there. The records will show only what has been seen before. Unless the film is sent to a very high-ranking Eosi, it will be considered what you call a glitch. In order to get out of the Bubble, we need to calculate the speed and direction of the new satellite that the Eosi have put in place. We can then figure out where to leave the Bubble without being detected."

"Yeah," Aarens said in a dubious tone of voice, "but that sat would see the scout's ion trail, wouldn't it?"

"Not if the speed of the scout is sufficient to get it behind one of the moons. Its direction would be unknown."

"What about if there's a fast ship just waiting for us to try something like that?"

"There are ways," Zainal said with a grin. "That scout is much faster than anything but another scout. Such ships are never used as watchers."

Aarens shrugged and sat down.

"That is the first step," Zainal said.

"If you're going back to Barevi, I've a long shopping list," someone said and received a chuckle.

"No, Barevi would be too hot for us right now," Zainal said. "We go to Earth and we use two ships; the scout and the KDM which will renamed and altered to look as if it had been hit by space... stuff."

"That metal'll be hard to dent," Gino said, shaking his head. "You Cat-teni make a good hull."

"It'll be camouflaged;' Hassan Moussa said and grinned. "I'm a past master at that."

"But going back to Earth?" Aarens asked, stunned.

"Last place they will expect us." And Zainal turned to one of the Victims who nodded agreement. "Ricky Farmer here was senior air controller for O'Hare airport while there was still Human air traffic. When all your planes were grounded and he was victimized, he took notes on Catteni routes and procedures. He has code words--though his Catteni is about what my English once was;' and that rated some chuckles from the audience, "and these will help us get into some of the landing places now used by Catteni transport ships. I understand from Jeff Fawcett," and he gestured to the other Victim, "that large amusement areas have been built around the landing sites for the crews. These would be useful places for us to find out more information."

"You mean, that cool as a cucumber, we're going to reinvade Earth?"

Lenny Doyle said.

"We also intend to..." and Zainal had the merest smile on his lips, "invade Catten."

That provoked a widespread eruption from the audience, more an elated one than fearful, although quite a few faces bore skeptical expressions.

"Hey, ain't that pushing our luck?" Lenny Doyle asked, raising his voice to be heard above the babel.

"Only volunteers," Zainal said with a sly grin. "And mostly to learn what would be impossible to learn on your planet. More codes are needed and Catten is the only place to go for that;'

Kris waited for someone to ask what was so obvious to her: if Zainal was going to contact Catteni dissidents. She didn't know how many people on Botany--besides Chuck Mitford--knew anything about that facet of his grand scheme. Surely Zainal would have confided in Ray his hopes that he could muster assistance on his home planet to help overthrow the Eosi.

"We got to have information we can't get any other way," Ray Scott put in. Kris heaved a small sigh of relief. Ray did know and seemingly ap"We're also going to ask for volunteers to remain on Earth and con-the resistance groups."

"I don't know all of them;' Jeff Fawcett said in a voice still hoarse from. recent ordeal. "But enough for us to get the word spread.

"Jeff's also going to need a volunteer to go with him;' Scott said, ' from the First or Second Drops.. ;'

The number of hands that shot into the air gave Kris a thrill of pride.

most eager had jumped tøtheir feet, to establish their willingness: Joe Latore, both the Doyle brothers, Mack Dargle, Bart Lincoln, Matt Su, and / Areson were those she recognized first in the show of hands.

"Thank you very much;' Zainal said.

Granfyng, most graufymg, Ray satd, holding up his hand, too, as did all the other military men seated at the table. "More than the ships can ?hold."

"Some must speak and understand Catten," Zainal said.

"We're learning;' quipped someone.

"You will learn harder;' Zainal said with a wry expression.

"What about the Farmers?" Jay Greene asked when the laughter at (that threat died. "Shouldn't we wait for their response? And their advice?"

"No, the time to move is now;' Scott said.

Zainal stood. "The Eosi will try very hard to break through the Bubble. That is their way. Run shod roughly over any opposition with the force ii of their weapons. We must leave before they reinforce their warships. They have many:'

"But they haven't been able to penetrate the Bubble, and we know they've tried;' Jay said.

"They will keep trying until they have;' Zainal said. "That is why they tried to discover new information in the minds of your specialists)'

Dick Aarens jumped to his feet, his expression angry and obstinate.

"And what happens to those of us left here when they do break through the Bubble? Have you contingency plans for that--if you're taking all three ships away with you?"

"We move quickly and not where they expect us to go and learn what they plan and how to..." Zainal looked down at Kris for the word he needed.

"Counteract;' she murmured.

"Counteract their plans."

"We're still fleas on a dog's back/' Jay said, "with all the ships you said they have. I was talking to Rick Farmer, and he says they've got hundreds in their navy. What if they use all of them against the Bubble?"

Judge Iri Bempechat raised his hand and was given precedence over others who wanted to add their comments.

"Zainal, such a fleet is widely dispersed, is it not?" And when Zainal nodded, the Judge went on, still looking at Zainal, "and it would take weeks, even months, to direct them all here. So we have some leeway if we make our moves quickly. Admiral Scott believes that they would try to install a battery on the moons that are outside the Bubble. To do so, they must bring in machinery, material--and life support systems for whichever unfortunate species is drafted for such an undertaking. I am also of the opinion, with which our military and naval representatives concur/' and, with one hand on his chest, he bowed his head to the right and left, "that the Farmers must have placed some sort of sentinel to monitor our protective Bubble. They made it clear, in that one regrettably short interview with various groups of us, that they intend to preserve us. I believed in their sincerity as well as their interest in us... even if it should be the interest of a scientist watching ants to see how they contrive--"

"Now, wait a bloody minute..." and Geoffrey Ainger jumped to his feet. Kris had not noticed him, seated at the back, and wasn't happy at his presence. "What is all this going to do for us? Except put the colony in more danger? Simply because one.. ;' and his pause was pregnant with his distrust and animosity toward Zainal, "... person wants to pursue a private revenge?"

"First duty of a captured soldier... sir.. ;' and it was a stern Mitford whose parade ground voice dominated the shouted reactions from an angry audience, "is to do his best to escape and return to his unit. Mine is on Earth. And if Zainal wants to see his people freed of the Eosian domination, we sure as hell do, too, cause it means we'll get out from under 'era.

Militarily, a combined assault has many advantages;'

That speech set the cat among the pigeons, Kris thought, struggling to keep from cheering. Or maybe the night crawlers after live meat.

Ray Scott, with help from Peter Easley and udge Bempechat, finally restored enough order to continue the meeting. Easley had been discreetly seated to one side where Kris had not noticed him. Not too far, as it turned out, from Ainger. Not far either from Beggs, whom she saw sitting by the British ex-naval officer. Had Pete sat there to keep an eye on those dissidents?

Quite likely, she thought.

"You gave me the impression, sergeant, that you had no wish to leave Botany now;' Ainger could put a wealth of venom in a seemingly casual comment.

"I don't, but I'll do a great deal to preserve what we all have made here.

So I can enjoy what I've--we've--worked so hard to achieve." Satisfied with the applause to his answer, Chuck sat down again.

"There are risks," Ray said, once more taking charge of the proceedings.

"Most of you can figure them out without much help but, if our people on Earth knew that there was an organized space resistance to the Cat I mean, the Eosian overlords--it would give them heart and purpose against the tremendous odds they've had to deal with. Especially if we can also prove that we've rescued the ones the Eosi were brain-wiping."

"Speaking of tremendous odds, admiralre" And Ainger was again on his feet. "Just how large a fleet exists? That's pertinent even if getting the entire naval arm of the Catteni here would take time:' He looked directly at Zainal for the answer.

"Some of the oldest ships in service are slow and their equipment obsolete;' Zainal replied. "There are only four of heavy--new in service dreadnoughts, did you call them, Ray--" And when Scott nodded, he went on, "that much information Admiral Scott and I learned on Barevi. Until just recently spaceship builders have been concentrating on producing ships like the KDL and KDM, to replace those no longer space-worthy, like the first ship we attacked."

"So what sort of ships and weaponry do they have to bombard those of us left behind on Botany?" Ainger asked.

Boy, thought Kris, that Ainger has a bad negative attitude.

"Only the four of the dreadnoughts but there are... ships of the line... which are able to destroy satellites, small moons, and large asteroids.

To my knowledge, which is now not up to date, there are thirty of them. They are assault vessels, which supported the kind of large transport that landed on your planet. They are larger than the two K-class we have here;'

Ray Scott leaned over the table toward Ainger. "Zainal has given us a list of the types of spacecraft used by the... urn... navy. We've also been able to get a fair translation of the data from the scout ship, so we have useful details about range, crew complement, firepower, and maneuverability of all types, except the dreadnoughts, which are so new. You are certainly welcome to peruse the data at your leisure:'

Ainger waved away that offer with a flick of his fingers. "Those of us remaining on Botany are going to be vulnerable..."

"Only if the Bubble fails," Ray Scott said in a testy tone, "which seems unlikely, given the advanced technology of the Farmers which is so upsetting the Eosi." Then he deliberately looked away from Ainger. "So we have three expeditions to mount: first, a reconnaissance at the Bubble edge; second, sending off both the scout and one transport to Earth to see what--" he grinned "--trouble we can cause there and how we can help the resistance movements; and third, an information-gathering jaunt to Catten. I think that has to be under your command, Zainal," and he nodded in his direction, "with your choice of crew but we'll accept volunteers for both expeditions."

"Who gets to peek out of the Bubble?"

Zainal stood. "A full crew." Then he pointed at individuals. "Gino, Raisha, Bert, Laughrey, Boris, and Hassan. Those only who speak good Cat-teni and are the right size will come with me;' and his eyes flickered briefly at Kris.

"We feel we should pack the Earth expedition with as many infiltra tots as possible;' Ray said and had to raise his hand to finish his sentence when most of his listeners rose and shouted out their names, "to spread the good word."

"What if there're some traitors among us?" Dick Aarens asked.

Ray Scott gave the mechanic a long incredulous look. "How many do you think there could be?"

There were smothered giggles, and Dick Aarens swung about, trying to find the sources.

"Well, there might be," he muttered with sullen aggressiveness. "Particularly on the last drop--and even among the Victims. One of them might have been lying 'doggo' for very good reasons. He kept his brairgtwhile others got them wiped:'

"Now, just a cotton-pickin' minute." Will Seissmann was on his feet, shaking a fist at Aarens across the audience.

"Young man.. :' began Miss Barrow who was red-faced with indignation.

Dr. Ansible was so apoplectic at the mere suggestion that he had to be restrained from diving across two rows of seats to Aarens.

"I'd retract that, were I you," Peter Easley said.

"I won't because it damned well is a possibility;' Aarens said, jutting his jaw out as if asking for a punch which would have many willing to oblige him.

Dorothy Dwardie jumped up. "In my professional opinion, Mr. aarens, there is little possibility of treachery among those who suffered, or even avoided, the Eosi mind-wipe. We have had trauma counseling sessions which would have exposed a quisling."

Which, Kris devoutly hoped, was accurate. But the suspicion had been raised and would hang there, a dark doubt in everyone's mind: even among those who had learned a great deal about each other in the years they had worked together on Botany.

Another of the psychology team, Ben Boyalan, rose. "We may have neither a lie detector nor any sodium pentathol but there are ways of testing responses. That is, if anyone feels such a procedure is at all necessary above and beyond our trauma counseling." He gave Aarens a dire look before he sat down.

"I won't close what has been a very constructive meeting on that kind of sour note," Ray Scott said. He was not the only one scowling in Aarens' direction. "I will summarize what we," and he indicated the others at the table, "have been planning, and why there is some urgency in the scout making a reconnaissance run. We do take Zainal's advice that Earth would be the last place the Eosi would look for us to appear," and he grinned, "and the best place for us to set in motion a coup d%tat. If Zainal is willing to risk his life returning to Catten for the information he considers vital to our ultimate goal of freedom from the Eosian domination, then I wish him all the luck he'll need and the support of everyone on this planet. We all have many reasons to be grateful he was on that first drop. Don't we?"

The spontaneous cheering, and the warmth of it, brought tears to Kris' eyes. She never would have expected that sort of public gratitude...

especially from Ray Scott who had not always agreed with Zainal. The applause and stamping continued for so long that she gave him a nudge to stand and acknowledge it. He did so, with typical diffidence, but his wave of acceptance took in the entire audience and became a formal salute to Ray Scott.

That was when Kris noticed the very satisfied grin on Iri Bempechat's face. Chuck looked suspiciously bland, one eyebrow twitching while he played with his pencil, slipping it up and down through the fingers of his right hand, a sure sign of complicity. And suddenly Aarens' niggling little suggestion was only Aarens tossing a spanner in works that didn't happen to include his participation.

THE VEry NEXT DAY, the designated pilots climbed into Baby, the scout ship, and took off for the peek out of the Bubble's remarkable material.

They drew straws for takeoff and landing and the other in-flight duties since this was also a training mission.

The official mission directors took places in Ray Scott's office, grouping around the bridge console, which had been taken from the crash-landed transport that had made the Fifth Drop. So those in Scott's office would have a chance to see what Baby did and saw. Someone had thought to rig speakers outside the hangar so that the many that wouldn't find places in the office could at least hear what was going on.

"On site," Raisha said, her voice ringing with suppressed excitement.

"Still the same space flot. Can't see that any of it has moved a centimeter.

Gino's easing Baby's nose in between two of the largest of the disks the Eosi vessel left behind." She chuckled.

"Good choice," Ray said, grinning. "The geo-synchronous satellite might not even notice we're looking out."

"Hold it right here;' and there was such a change in Raisha's tone that everyone tensed. "How big did Zainal say the Catteni fleet arm is?"

Apprehensively, Ray looked toward Zainal. The Catten/immediately leaned over the speaker grill.

"How many do you see?" he asked as calmly as if he was asking how many rock squats were visible.

"Two of those dreadnoughts, I think. We're not entirely outside the Bubble yet but the skin is transparent and we can see out." What she didn't add, "and I hope they can't see in," hovered unsaid but understood.

Kris felt goosebumps rising on her arms and rubbed them away.

"There are also three flotillas of other smaller craft," and Hassan Moussa took over the reporting, "five in each group, beside and above the two big guys you can probably see on the bridge monitor;'

"Yes, we see them. Are they the dreadnoughts, Zainal?" Ray asked, beckoning for Zainal to stand beside him.

Zainal nodded. "What else?"

"Wouldn't they be enough?" Jim Rastancil asked facetiously.

Zainal shrugged.

"Hey, we've got other junk in the sky," Hassan continued. "Shall I widen the screen?"

"Yes, please," Zainal said, crossing his arms on his chest, the picture of objective observer.

"It's the dreadnoughts I worry about," Ray said, rubbing his chin nervously.

"What other ships are there, Hassan?" Zainal asked blandly.

"Bulky cargo type carriers and one transport larger than the KDL or KDM. Heading toward the nearer moon."

Ray looked at Zainal. "You were right about the moon base. What sort of air-to-ground missiles would they have? Something heavy enough to penetrate the Bubble?"

"Stay where you are, Gino//' Zainal cautioned. "I do not know, Ray.

Eosian weapons are powerful but the Bubble is an unknown quantity."

"Baby has not fully penetrated the Bubble/' Gino said. "Hassans just telling you what we can see through it."

There was a sudden flash of blinding whiteness, which stunned everyone watching, causing them to have retinal flashbacks. It took several seconds before clear vision was restored to those in the office.

"I do believe they're trying to breach the Bubble/' said Hassan after a moment, and he sounded highly amused.

"What was that flash?"

"Them/' Hassan replied. "Quite likely with every weapon on board."

"I'd say they fired all forward weapons/' Laughrey said, "although that flash was so strong, I don't think any of us are seeing more than the damned flash. Baby evidently saved us the worst of it with some sort of instant screen:' Zainal nodded.

"Any pain in your eyes? Headache?" Leon Dane asked, present in his capacity as a physician.

"Do you have a clearer idea of what happened down there?" Zainal asked.

"We got the flash right on//' Ray said, blinking furiously, "but I'm seeing all right..." He looked around for confirmation from the others and everyone nodded.

"Us, too/' Laughrey said, "even with lots of retinal echoes, all shaped like Baby's forward screen. Yeah, and hey, nothing got through the Bubble to us."

"All systems functioning perfectly," Raisha said, calm again.

"And whaddaya know?" Gino's tone was jubilant. "There isn't a ship out there--'cept the one heading toward the Moon, which is in the same place they were before they fired."

"Some of the smaller ones are tumbling end over end//' said Bert Put.

"That was some backlash! Shake 'em up good."

"I don't think they'll try that kind of a broadside again real soon//' Boris said in his deep bass voice, rippling with laughter.

"They've lost a whole mess of gear again, too//' G/no said. "I doubt they've even reception from the nearer ships."

"Could they have fired because they saw Baby?" Ray asked anxiously."

"No. We put the brakes on the moment Raisha spoke. The fo'ard screen was right against the Bubble film but we hadn't penetrated it//' Gino said.

"You might say our timing was serendipitous//' Laughrey said, chuckling.

"Can you pick up the newest Eosi orbital satellite?" Ray said, reminding them of the second purpose of their flight.

"On screen//' Boris said. "Tracking and recording. It is not as fast as the Farmers' orbital. In fact, it is as slow as a horse-drawn vehicle compared to a Formula One racer."

"Really?" Jim Rastancil said.

Kris made a note to herself to tell Boris what a lovely comparison that was. And very reassuring. She turned to Zainal and saw that he was grinning, even if he couldn't possibly know anything about Formula One racers.

She'd told him about horses. But Formula racing had not yet come up in any of their conversations.

Now Zainal was nodding. "As soon as we know its trajectory and timing, the scout and the KDM must leave. They will take a while to get ship-to-ship communications back on-line, and then it will take the Eosi time to calm down at this defeat of their weapons. They will be so angry, they could argue for days before they come to a decision about what to do next:'

"What about the moon base?" Ray asked.

Zainal shrugged. "That will take many weeks, months even, before it is finished. They may not even know we can get out when we want to."

"But we landed on Barevi and stole a ship." Ray said by way of reminder.

"They do not know that those ships are in here now."

"How stupid are these Eosi?" Bull Fetterman asked, his eyebrows raised high in surprise.

"You might be surprised," Zainal said.

"Then how long will it take to provision and crew the scout and the KDM?" John Beverly asked, speaking for the first time.

"How long is the trip to Earth?" Chuck asked Zainal.

"At top speed, about ten of your days," Zainal said.

"Didn't think it was that close/' remarked Beverly.

"From here it is. From Barevi it is longer."

"I'd say we can provision, water, do a quick service in about three days;' Chuck said.

"Do it in one and a half," Zainal said. "Sooner is better than later."

"Okay, gang, let's do it/' Chuck said, clapping his hands as a signal to move out. He got to the door of Ray's office, stopped, turned, and asked, "So who's going?"

Ray Scott was pulling a file to the center of his desk. 'I'll tell you by the end of dinner. All right, now, where's that provisional list we made up?"

DINNER THAT NIGHT was more of a feast than a normal repast and there were loud calls for the evening's cooks to come out and take a bow.

Dowdall stood on his table and announced a call for volunteers to hunt enough rocksquat and catch enough fish to provision the ships with "edible" food, not that Catteni issue.

"Dorothy warned me that there're a lot of scarce items on Earth. The Catteni take almost everything that's produced," he said with a very sober expression.

"Hey, Dow, we still got crates of the Catteni bars," Joe Latore said.

"They don't taste like much... unless you're real hungry."

"There are so many hungry people;' Dr. Ansible said in a sad tone, but loud enough for many to hear.

Sandy Areson leaped atop her chair. "We got lots here we can send along. Botanical care packages. Any volunteers?"

"We can let all the kids sleep in the center tonight," Patti Sue Greene shouted. "They'd love that and I'll volunteer me..."

"You'll need more than yourself/' Mavis Belton said.

"I will be glad to assist Patti Sue/' Anna Bollinger said and prodded Janet beside her who nodded quickly but without much enthusiasm.

Zane! Kris had to cover her mouth with one hand. What if she never came back from Catten? Never saw Zane again... Then she felt a hand squeeze her shoulder and looked up into Peter Easley's eyes. He nodded his head once and smiled reassuringly. Kris sniffed, patted his hand, and sniffed again. No, Zane would be fine.

She was going on the Catten mission with Zainal and he had not yet set an established dep.rture time. There had to be dings painted into the KDM: he had to do a little fixing with the recognition beacon, so that it gave only so much of the normal patterning before jamming. That would also verify the damage it had suffered. There were uniforms to be fixed: hair to be dyed gray, and the yellow contact lenses to be fitted so that this group would look more Catteni than what was called the first Botany expedition to Barevi had. Sandy Areson had fixed up cheek pads for Zainal and several rather nasty-looking scars that could be glued on his face--she instructed Kris on the process. These would sufficiently alter his appearance and would also explain the persona he was adopting for the expedition.

Sandy gave Kris small cheek pads that gave her more of a rounder, Catteni-shaped face. For Chuck she had yet another wad, in between his gums and teeth. Subtle enough but effective in altering appearances.

They'd spend the longish journey to Catten learning as much of the language as they could cram into their skulls... as well as the drills that would mark them as Drassi. Coo and Pess would also be in the crew: Ru-garians often accompanied transport crews because of their strength. There were always Rugarians on Catten as well. Coo and Pess might even be able to discover as much information from their species as Zainal could.

When dinner--and the accolades to the cooks--was completed, Ray Scott climbed to the top of a cleared table and read out the names of the crews for each ship. At the end there were more cheers than long faces.

"If this first run works;' Ray said, "we'll make as many as we can and save as many who may be at risk as possible;'

That met with a rousing cheer, foot stamping, and hand clapping.

"Can we handle more?" someone shouted.

"Don't be silly," a woman replied contemptuously. "We've got plenty of space."

"Yeah, but who's to say who's in a real risk situation?"

"We'll find out," Ray said, waving down others who wanted to discuss that issue. "We've got people from quite a few nationalities so we can make good contacts everywhere."

"Any specialist is at risk," NormaBarrow surprised everyone by saying in a firm and unusually loud voice which defied contradiction.

"And no quisling accepted," a man said from somewhere in the dining hall.

Aarens whirled about trying to find who had spoken.

"Cool it, Aarens;' Ray Scott said. "It's not as if the Eosi have coerced many humans. At least I hope not:'

"I'll find me a lie detector and some sodium pent," Leon Dane said.

"We'll process anyone we think might be suspicious. And long before they find out we've got our own transport/' he added with a grin. He was going along as mission medic and to see what medical supplies he could acquire.

He was hoping that not every one of his dissident friends in Sydney had been rounded up when he was. Joe Marley hoped to find help in Perth.

Ricky Farmer had said that Catteni ships flitted from one continent to another, seemingly without orders or on special missions.

"It's got so even the sight of a Catteni transport sends everyone into hiding," Ricky said. He had volunteered to go to Chicago where many were now living in the old underground sewer and transport system, which had been constructed in the 1800s and had been virtually forgotten.

Leila Massuri and Basil Whitby had volunteered to go to London and Paris. The Chunnel had not been finished or opened up but it was completely dug from shore to shore and had provided a means of getting to and from the continent. Boris and Raisha would pilot the scout and see what they could find in their homeland, Russia. Bull Fetterman, Mic Rowland, Lenny Doyle, and Nat Baxter completed the Baby's crew. Bert Put and Laughrey would pilot the KDM, with Lex Kariatin, Will Seissmann, Joe La-tore, Vic Yowell, Ole, Sandy Areson, and Matt Su as crew while John Beverly was de facto captain. They hoped to have all four decks full of refugees on the way back. And at least some of the machinery, tools, and equipment on the wish lists.

Zainal, Gino Marrucci as backup pilot, Kris, Chuck Mitford, Coo, Pess, Mack Dargle, Ninety Doyle, and Jim Rastancil were those going on the KDL to Catten.

Chapter 4

IT WAS AS WELL THAT BOTANY DAYS were so long because every minute was needed as engineering groups under Peter Snyder--with Dick Aarens working as hard as anyone else despite a sour mood as he took exception to everything and argued any alterations--checked and provisioned the ships.

"If he comes into the infirmary with a wrench-shaped wound on his head..." Pete muttered to Thor Mayock at breakfast.

"I won't give him any painkillers when I stitch it up," Thor finished for him. "You look ghastly."

"Ha! Speak for yourself."

Worrell was everywhere, living up to his nickname of Worry, checking lists and trying to supply whatever he could to take back as care packages. Beth Isbell and Sally Stoffers were his shadows, discreetly double-checking since every one was working flat out to accomplish the necessary miracles.

To be sure of accuracy in the configurations, five people checked out the trajectory and time of the thirty-hour orbit of the second world-circling Eosian satellite and several windows were discovered: Bert chose the south polar ones that he felt gave both the scout ship and the KDM the longest escape shot. The first propitious window left little time, but both KDM and Baby were ready, so the crews scrambled aboard. Weary but satisfied teams cheered as they took off. Following the example that had worked with the return procedure of the first Barevi raid, they made all possible speed to the Bubble, slowed and pressed prows through at minimum thrust. The scout went first, just in case, and gave the KDM the all-clear.

After that they were lost to those watching. Nor could any message be sent back to reassure those on Botany.

Zainal, Ray Scott, Pete Easley, and Judge Iri spent hours trying to work out, from copies of Baby's records, a plausible mission that would explain where Zainal and his ship had been before they returned to Catten.

Zainal couldn't remember if any of the earliest of the K dass had gone missing, although that was likely enough. They were used for large crew explorations of habitable planets, for mining expeditions and supply runs. But the clever damage to the hull would explain a space collision. Pete Snyder got Aarens challenged by the need for a fault that would appear to have disabled the engine. A small part, actually, which as everyone knew, was the kind that could be easily overlooked in a servicing and yet cause considerable problems when it malfunctioned. A bogus part for the gyro was constructed, using imperfect metals to account for its sudden collapse. Aarens was very pleased with his handiwork and received generous praise. His basic need for constant appreciation was wearing on those who had to work with him. But, as they all said, he produced when the chips were down.

Then Aarens redeemed himself once again, by pointing out that the boards in the bridge helm positions were the same. Everything salvageable from the crashed ship had been saved: just in case some unexpected use could be made of the parts. As it turned out, even the unusable pieces had been stacked at the back of a cave. Zainal went through the worst damaged, scorched boards and chose several which, when they reached Catten, he would substitute for the usable ones, thus confirming the substantial damage which had delayed their return. These and the malfunctioning gyro unit would be sufficient.

"They will not let us dock at the space station with such damage," he said, waving the scorched boards about. "They'll shunt us to the surface, to a small emergency field until they can send technicians to inspect. But we need some sort of cargo. A ship picking up materials from a mining center...

"Duxie's prospectors have mined more gold than we need," was one of Judge Iri's suggestions.

"Platinum, too;' Ray put in.

"Those are good;' Zainal said. "Any other rare metals? Even a crate or two of raw ore would be useful. R. henium, any of the platinum group.

We'll say we had to leave cargo behind to lift with such a damaged ship.

The gyro went first, we were in a meteor shower... took us a long time to jury-rig the boards. I think that's a suitable scenario," and he grinned slyly at Kris for that latest addition to his ever-expanding English vocabulary.

"Good Drassi bringing home what they can. And I can raise such a fuss over the shoddy manufacture that delayed us that I shall be sent from one office to another with my complaints, and that's how I'll learn what I need to know. Make loud accusations of poor servicing and second-rate materials:'

"Is Catten so bureaucratic, too?" asked Ray with a frown.

"Only the Eosi cut corners."

"You're sure you can carry this impersonation off?" Judge Iri was clearly worried.

Zainal shrugged. "Why not? Who but a Catteni ship would go to Catten? It is not a comfortable place to be;' and he glanced over at his volunteers, chosen as much because they were all sturdily built and would be able to manage the heavier gravity of Catten. Kris wasn't so sure about her own ability but nothing would have kept her from going along, even if she had to remain in the artificially lower gravity of the ship the entire time. She now had enough Catten to answer any communications the ship might be sent.

"We have been away a long time, whoever we are," Zainal said with a little sly grin, "so it doesn't matter that we have landed and changed the ID.

Who will know?"

"How fast does your paint dry?" asked Ninety facetiously.

They still had the uniforms that had been tailored to fit the first Barevi raid but Sandy Areson had some new artifices to contribute. First, she'd an awful-smelling mixture that bleached their hair a dingy gray. One of the recovering Victims was a skilled optician (though he never did explain what he had done on Earth that would have caused him to be victimized by the Eosi). When he realized that gray hair and skin would not entirely present the team as Catteni, he finally managed to produce yellow contact lenses, cursing the need to improvise, since he had not considered his first attempt to be successful. But he managed.

"You'll have to take them out and wash them every day," Riz Kamei said, unhappy with that necessity. "No plastics here at all."

"Yet.. :' one of his helpers said with a grin.

"Whatever," and Riz flicked his long fingers irritably, "but the lenses will do what's necessary." Then he shook his head as if he found even the requirement of yellow as an eye color an offense.

He showed them all how to put them in, how to clean them in a solution he provided, again muttering about insufficient supplies until everyone really did wonder what his Earth side job had been. He did however allow himself a slight smile of approval when the contacts were in place.

Kris had never considered herself especially vain, but she had had a brief flush of dismay when her hair had not only been clipped very short on her head but bleached such a hideous gray. Now, with the yellow eye lenses, she looked so much like a Catteni, she was almost nauseated.

"You're still much too pretty to be a typical Catten broad," Ninety Doyle remarked. He added a smile that, with his yellowed teeth and dyed skin, made him look all too much like other Drassi they'd seen in the Barevi markets.

She gave a shudder of repulsion. "You look awful, Ninety. Lenny would disown you;'

"Lenny's mad enough he couldn't come along," Ninety said, closely examining his gray complected face. Their Botany suntans also helped approximate a Catteni grey skin. Sandy had said both body paint and hair dye would last about two or three weeks, depending on how often they bathed.