Freedom’s Choice by Anne McCaffrey Page A

think about it,” Zainal said softly, touching her elbow as they reached ground level. “I do not mean Mitford.” Then he hailed the other members of their team, obviously waiting a turn to report to Mitford. “Go on up. He’s waiting to debrief you.”
    â€œWe’re in our usual abode,” Sarah told them as she followed Joe up the steps. “We’ve already put your gear there.”
    â€œGood. We have a small job to do at second moonrise. I tell you later.”
    Kris knew Sarah was dying to ask why Dane and Worrell had been in Mitford’s office for an ordinary scout debriefing.
    â€œWe swim first?” Zainal asked as they made their way to their quarters in Michelstown cave.
    â€œYou bet. I think better cleaner,” Kris said, and besides, not only could she use the immersion in the cold waters of the lake to reduce her anger but she also needed the privacy with Zainal…if they had the lake to themselves.
    They did, and there were clean overalls in their quarters to change into. Zainal put the Catteni communicator carefully in the pouch with his portable unit in his fresh clothing before they left for their wash.
    * * *
    He seemed eager to make this a special occasion, too. They spent time soaping each other and then swimming exuberant lengths against the lake’s deep current within the roped safety area before emerging to dry each other off. That led to a chance to release tension. In moments like these, Kris wondered just how much Zainal really did deviate—no, differ—from other Catteni and even Emassi. She knew that her association with Zainal was not universally accepted. There were incidents of spitefulness with each new drop but gradually, over the past months, that had altered—with very few exceptions—as most Botany settlers learned just how much they owed to Zainal’s presence on the planet. Xenophobia was not encouraged by Mitford or Easley or any of those involved in introducing this world to its new residents.
    Her pleasurable ruminations were rudely interrupted the moment they started back up the stairs to the main cavern, as Zainal barked sounds at her.
    â€œWe’re starting already?”
    â€œSecond moon rises soon. You must be ready.”
    â€œI gotta know what the sounds mean, Zainal,” she complained.
    â€œGet the sound right and then I tell you meanings,” he said, and repeated the four staccato syllables again. She did her best to imitate…though the combination of fricatives was enough to choke her. She’d already noticed that characteristic of the Catten language. Sort of like German with a French accent…or maybe guttural French with a very bad German accent, and a little Chinese for seasoning.
    She managed to get the first set of syllables to his satisfaction by the time they reached the main cavern. Food was still being served and they stood in line for their portions, which they took to the privacy of one of the lookout levels, out of earshot of those who were enjoying their meal outside in the mild evening. Botany’s primary had not yet set but the first moon wasalready above the eastern hills, a pale ghost in what was left of the sunlight. That reminded Kris that time was a constraint.
    Because she had always learned better using visual aids, Kris took a sharp pebble and scratched out the phonetics of what Zainal coached her to say…as well as she could. Just when she thought her mimicry was accurate, Zainal would shake his head.
    â€œWhat’s the matter with that?”
    He shook his head again but patted her shoulder. “You don’t sound…mean.”
    â€œMean?”
    He growled out the words she now knew meant, “Report. Found Zainal. He fought hard. Two dead. He is drugged. Land where Lenvec did. No lights. Meet in field.”
    She tried again, as deep in her throat as she could, still realizing that even that wasn’t perfect.
    â€œLook,