Freedom's Challenge Read Free

They watched as itmade 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 lodge-pole 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. Farther 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 mindlessslaves 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.
    â€œZAINAL? 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.
    â€œOh, 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 crèche 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.
    â€œWe’d better see,” Zainal said, taking her hand in his big one and pressing it encouragingly.
    â€œDon’t you ever get tired and just…have too much, Zainal?” This was one of those moments when his equanimity bordered on the unforgivable.
    â€œYes, 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.
    â€œWhat’s up, sarge?” she asked, noticing that he wastalking to a woman she vaguely recognized from the Fourth Drop: as much because she managed to look elegant in the basic