Freedom's Challenge

Chapter Six.

ZANE WAS SO INVOLVED, PLAYING WITH others his age, giggling outrageously over something they found funny that she stood and watched, drinking in the sight of him.

Suddenly they went dead quiet, eyes wide open and staring. One of the little girls whimpered in fright but was instantly comforted by Sarah McDouall, one of the carets on duty at the crlche.

"Great heavens, where did they come from?"

she said, her voice part surprise and part reassurance.

Kris turned and saw a line of the tall thin Maasai men and women striding up the hill.

They had not been outfitted with the customary Catteni coverails, possibly because the Catteni hadn't made any that size before, so they wore the tatters of their traditional garb. And were as proud and dignified as she remembered seeing them in occasional news broadcasts when there had been that awful drought in Africa and Bob Geldof had started Band Aid.

The size of Maasai would intimidate more than two- and three-year-olds.

"How come you're leading the Maasai, Bart?" Kris asked, noticing him in the front, almost lost among the tall folk.

"They seem to trust me. Now a few smiles wouldn't go amiss right now/' Bart Tom/said firmly and immediately everyone complied, waving as well. "Hassan says 'Jambo' is a greeting. Can we have a chorus from you all?"

Everyone obediently repeated the greeting. The Maasai beside Bart looked surprised, eyebrows ascending up his wrinkled forehead but he stopped. So did the others behind him.

Abruptly Sarah brought the child she was holding closer, waving its arm as she did so. The transformation of the Maasai from surprise to delight was amazing. They all smiled now, at the children, rather than the adults.

The leader came right up to the playground, the picket fencing not as high as his knees, grinning broadly and saying something that Kris heard as "kasserianingera?"

Sarah held out the little girl's hand to the man. Smiling with very white teeth and bending his tall frame down to her level, he very gently touched her fingers, so gently that the child, wide-eyed though she was, did not withdraw.

The Maasai nodded and stepped back, then smiled at all the children.

Behind him, the rest of his tribe, if that's who they were, nodded and smiled and murmured their response of "jambo."

"Good, good," Bart said. "That's the first any of them have reacted at all."

"I'd heard/' Sarah said, "that they love children. And cattle. Our loo-cows are going to give them quite a shock."

The little girl had a grin hovering on her lips, but she burrowed her head into Sarah's shoulder, peeking coyly at the tall man. But the break occurred and a ripple of soft words went down the line. The sai all had smiles now and strode forward more cheerfully.

Bart pointed toward the hall. Then, looking down at a strip of paper [n his hand added in Swahili. "Hapa chakula kizuri! Get me?"

"Ndio, ndio," the leader said, nodding and looking around to gesture for the progress to continue. "Hapa chakula kizuri!" He repeated the same words Bart had used but with the proper inflections, and the Maasai behind grinned and nodded.

"So much for Hassan's instant Swahili lessons," Bart said, grinning as he stuffed his paper back into a thigh pocket.

At that moment, Zane came running towards Kris, arms outstretched to be picked up. "Mommy, mommy, mommy."

She was only too glad to collect him and hug him tightly and kiss him over. Then she took his arm, turned, and had him waving at the Maasai flowed by in their long striding gait.

"Mommy?" Zane whispered in her ear, his eyes wide.

"These are good people, Zane."

"Not Deski, not Rugars…"

"No, Maasai."

"Massssi."

"Maas-ai," she corrected him and he got it right.

"Has a quick ear, this one," Sarah said. "Have a good trip?"

Kris chuckled, thinking of some of the elements she was not going to mention. "Mind you, all we brought back was a dissident Catteni which isnt much against the increase in Botany's fleet…

"Dissident Catteni?" Sarah made round eyes at that. "Do tell!"

"Didn't you see him go up to the hall with Zainal a few minutes back?"

"Can't say as I did. But then, I can't say as I knew of any Catteni disSidents either:' Sarah grinned. "Nice to know we might have inside help, we?"

"Tell you later:'

"Over lunch perhaps?" Sarah said, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"If you share what you've heard that I haven't had time to find out."

"Good. It's nearly lunchtime and sandwiches are all made. LUNCHTIME/' Sarah called.

Out the window of the crche dining room, they saw the procession of what Sarah called the "repossessed," mainly Africans, but some whites, and their nationality not so obvious as they had been given Catteni cover-alls.

"Not so many injured either," Kris remarked.

"We did the unloading," Sarah said, "and wait 'til you see what else we got."

"Zainal came back with equipment as well," Kris said. "But it got loaded in such a hurry I don't know what all he acquired."

"Did you see much of the planet?" Sarah asked, as others joined their table, eager to hear of Kris' adventures.

Kris shook her head, breaking a piece off her own sandwich, which Zane evidently preferred to what was on his plate. "The gravity damned near wore me out. I stayed on board and answered the com unit. My Cat-teni's good enough for that but I don't look the part. And I sure couldn't operate in that gravity! Chuck did all the fronting for us. I'll tell you one thing for sure, I was awful glad to lift off safely." Then she laughed. "We ended up in an asteroid belt and whatever created it must have been one hel-luvan explosion."

She told them the ruse they'd used so that the space station hadn't wanted them to land there, which would have meant handling more formalities than was wise. So they'd got to land on the surface of the planet, far enough away from any settlement so that their "faulty" systems would cause no damage. "And we sure were sent to the boondocks.! did see the Rassi and they are…" she gave a shudder, "really little more than animals.

You can't call them morons or retarded because they don't have much intelligence at all. They copy what they are shown to do and even that has to be repeated over and over. But Zainal and the others got into the main city and made contact with Kamiton."

She could relate the deception about having to off-load an extremely ore cargo, which is why they came back via the asteroid belt, and could get back to Catten if they wished.

"So what's this Kamiton doing here?" Sarah wanted to know.

"Seeing's believing, isn't it?" Kris replied.

"And if he likes what he sees, he brings in more dissidents?" asked another woman. Belatedly Kris recognised her as Jane O'Hanlan, the TV reporter been one of those rescued from Barevi in a mindless state.

"You've recovered!" Kris exclaimed.

Jane gave a rueful smile. "I'm improving. Many are. Dorothy Dwardie's -been marvelous;'

"Indeed she has," Sally Stoffer said, as she wiped cereal off a baby's face.

"I'm practically out of my job there."

!

"Really?"

"Seventy-five percent have recovered enough to function on their own now, to talk and help out. We've been busy while you were gone."

"I don't doubt that for a moment," Kris said. "But boy-oh-boy, am I glad to be home.

"Daddy, daddy," Zane cried excitedly just then, and Kris looked up to "see Zainal and Kamiton in the doorway. "'Scuse;' Zane said in Sarah's direction and ran up to his father, squealing in excitement when Zainal swung him up.

"Watch out, Zainal, he's just had lunch," Kris cried.

Obediently, Zainal positioned Zane on his back while Kamiton looked on in amused condescension at the sight of a paternally occupied Zainal.

LATER Kris heard all about the resetdement of the Maasai from Sarah at dinner in the hall. Zainal had taken Zane off for an evening walk and talk.

Zainal was also teaching Zane Catteni, and if Kris was there, he preferred to jabber away in English, which defeated the purpose.

"Well, I did do some work in the outback with Aborigines, so they guessed I, and Joe, might be able to help;' Sarah said in her matter-of-fact way. "Problem is that the Maasai're used to a totally different lifestyle, which was getting ruined in Africa even before the Cat… Eosi hit Earth."

"I remember the famine there in the eighties," Kris said.

"So they won't be happy up here but Chuck thinks that the southern end of this continent might do, where we found semi-desert."

"Why not the desert continent?"

"Maybe, in time, but right now, that'll keep them in a more or less familiar terrain. Oh, and you should have seen their faces when we showed them the loo-cows!" Sarah laughed. "They couldn't believe 'era and they wouldn't believe that the critters don't give milk until one was captured for inspection."

"What about night crawlers? As! recall it, the Maasai are nomadic, looking for grazing for their… cattle. Will loo-cows do for them? And they have huts or kraals… or something like 'em to live in."

"Well, tonight's the big demo on night crawlers and all the newbies are going to have to attend," Sarah said with a certain amount of grimness. "We gotta get that lesson across."

"What about using some of the closed valleys?" Kris asked.

"That's another solution but nothing to hunt and they don't like fish.

But you should have seen them looking at all the plants, grass, and stuff we wouldn't think twice about. Hassan was damned near tongue-tied translating for my Joe and the other herbalists…"

"It'd be helpful if there just happened to be a book on Swahili in that latest shipment…" Kris thought, remembering the crates of books she'd seen being transported to Retreat's library.

Sarah gave a snort. "They're rummaging through 'em right now. Has-san's running out of useful vocabulary."

"That'll be a first," Kris said with a grin. The former Israeli spy was the chatty sort at any time.

"Let's see what they got in. I'd love a good juicy murder mystery to read;' Sarah said.

"With this new lot in, how'll you find time?"

'I'll make it;' was Sarah's firm reply. Then she sighed again. "I have missed reading, I really have."

"That's because you weren't rescued from two college survey courses with required reading lists this long/' and held her hand out at about four feet above the flagstones of the hall.

"So this," and Sarah gestured ironically around, "is a much better way to spend your time." Before Kris could open her mouth to answer, Sarah added, "Actually, college would be pretty dull in comparison."

"Prof, do I get an A in this survival course?"

"Too right," Sarah said and they both rose, taking their dishes back to the window that led to the KP section of the dining hall.

WHEN THEY REACHED THE STRUCTURE, they found only Dorothy Dwardie unpacking and shelving books.

"Oh, good, some help. I've found the most astonishingly eclectic…

texts here.! can't imagine how all these books got in the same case together;' and she showed them the ones in her hand.

"Post-Renaissance Painters?" Sarah said, reading one title.

"How the Grinch Stole Christmas?" Kris read the second title and took it from Dorothy, leating through the colorful illustrated pages. "We may not have Christmas here, but I'm sure glad to see some good children's books.

Can we help?"

"Yes, please/' Dorothy said and pointed over behind her.

Cases had been stacked three and four high all the way back to the tarpaulin that covered the end of the present library and the addition under construction. Aisles allowed access to the cases.

"Marian, the librarian," Sarah began in a sing-song voice, "where's the mystery section?"

"Now that's a mystery to me," Dorothy replied, rising to her feet with an effort. "Have at it. I can't promise there will be any. I'm cataloging as I go along and thank God for more computers. Otherwise we'll never know how much we've got."

"You're not doing it all yourself, are you?"

"Well, I'm supposed to get some help shelving/' she said. "We had some Victims in here this morning and I think it's helping them remember some of the basic skills they once had."

"What're you looking for?"

"Anything, everything. Dr. Seuss for the children ranks in my eyes as a far greater treasure than anything Post-Renaissance. Though I've nothing against painters at all."

"Actually, light classics that we can read to the Victims: even Westerns or a good mystery story."

"Gotcha," Sarah said and closing her eyes, she turned herself around and pointed. When she opened them, her finger directed her to one of the side aisles. "C'mon, Kris."

Kris was still chuckling at Sarah's whimsical manner of choosing when they heaved a crate to the ground and opened it.

"Lord love us, how're we going to sort this mess out?" she said looking at the tumbled collection: books with spines bent and pages crumbled, all heaped together. A few loose pages only added to the tribulations of transfer.

"By starting at the top and working down. I'll get a few of those shelves over here/' Kris suggested, going over to one side where she'd seen the empty shelving, "and separate as we go."

"Good thinking/' and Sarah sat herself down and started pulling out books.

However, they had "unerringly," as Sarah remarked, migrated to a whole case full of mysteries and romances. Their conscientious efforts to perform their assigned task were interrupted by seeing books they either recognized or titles that looked interesting.

"A new Hillerman," Sarah crowed and settled against the back of the crate, shamelessly reading her find. "I'll just read a few pages…"

Kris worked more diligently but not much longer because she found an Elizabeth Peters' Amelia yarn and she, too, couldn't resist reading "just a few pages…"

"Ah, Doctor Hessian, have you come to help shelve books?"They both heard Dorothy say.

When Kris would have moved guiltily back to unpacking, Sarah grabbed her arm and whispered at her.

"No, let's just listen," Sarah said in a very low voice. "Dorothy's been trying to pin him down since he got his mind back. He wants all the Victims to undergo proper Freudian sessions. He feels that he should be in charge of the treatment team, not Dorothy."

"Are you Miss Dwardie…"

"Doctor Dwardie, Doctor Hessian;' Dorothy replied calmly but there was a slight edge to her voice that alerted both Kris and Sarah. Kris wouk have risen but Sarah grabbed her by the arm, pressing her back against the crate.

"You've made a remarkable recovery;' said Dorothy with apparent plea sure.

Sounds like "grumph grumph" and an audible "be that as it may" seemed to indicate that this Dr. Hessian was not in complete accord. His raspy baritone gave Kris a mental image of a portly man of advanced years, probably balding, overweight, and overbearing.

"I was told that there had been new additions to the library and wished to avail myself of some suitable reading material."

"Oh.› Were you not also told that your help in cataloging our new shipment would be sincerely appreciated?"

"Shelving? Books?" was the pompous and astonished reply. Kris thought he sounded remarkably like Lady Bracknell in The Importance of Being Earnest, declaiming: "Handbag? Station?"

"Doctor Hessian, we all do community work…:'

"He's from the Freudian school of psychology," Sarah whispered to Kris. "Dorothy's a social learning psychologist… completely opposite to him."

"The community work;' Dr. Hessian went on inexorably, "for which I am eminently qualified is to help those Victims still in severe mental distress.

I am quite willing to allot all the time necessary with some of the more prestigious Victims whom I have recognized, despite their appalling ordeals. I can certainly provide blueprints of the underlying psychody-namic conflicts of their conditions."

"We know what happened to them, Doctor Hessian. As it happened to you, and it is quite a triumph to see you walking about and conversing with everyone. Quite normal again."

"Normal? Normal?" the second repetition was louder than the first.

"What is normal… ah…"

"Doctor Dwardie," Dorothy put in gently. "Shall we take a walk, Doctor Hessian? I think the shelving of the books can wait."

Kris looked chagrined and Sarah evidently felt the same way for they were obviously not supposed to know what Dorothy needed to tell Hessian.

Books in hand, they crept quietly out by way of the tarpaulin.

Although Dorothy had seen the slight ripple of the tarpaulin, she wanted to continue this discussion outside, where there was no danger of them being overheard. Hessian, responding to a tug on his arm, followed her out of the library, saying as they went, "My normal self scarcely compares with anyone else's so-called 'normal state; "and "certainly anyone here" lingered in the air as if the doctor had spoken aloud. "I have only just begun to recall how exceptional my normal self is. You cannot expect… me… to shelve books?"

"If I can do it, why should it be beneath your capabilities, Dr. Hessian?"

"Now, just a moment, young woman," and his voice dripped with opprobrium.

"Doctor Dwardie, Doctor Hessian," Dorothy said firmly but kindly.

"This colony survives because everyone… everyone… is willing to do the basic tasks as well as the application of their previous profession, whatever that might have been. My entire team looks forward to your helping us with the psychological treatment of the remaining Victims. Treating trauma response has been such an overwhelming task that even I have been doing this, as a much needed change of pace. There are so many more Victims," and her voice was not exactly imploring him to be reasonable, as encouraging him, "than we can effectively treat with so few psychologists, psychiatrists, nurses. Will you join our treatment team, Doctor Hessian?"

"Arumph. Be part of a team?" and his voice and manner reminded Dorothy of the English actor Robert Morley at his most pompous and petulant. "You're not serious? I hardly think so. Not with my exemplary qualifications."

Fortunately, there were few people around as dusk settled over Retreat so she steered him to the flagstone path that would eventually lead to his current residence.

"Yes, they certainly are, Doctor Hessian," Dorothy said warmly. "I am quite familiar with your professional background. However, the psycho-' logical team here is under my direction and we have designed a multi-modal treatment program, which has indeed healed the trauma of many of the Victims. While your work within the psychoanalytic community is a valuable asset to the field, we have employed a social learning framework here because of its efficacy with psychological trauma:'

"And I would, I opine, have to use…" and once again Dorothy was treated to the magnificent disdain he could inject into such a small word, "this… this multi-modal treatment?"

"Yes, you would, since we have found it to be so effective. I worked with trauma units before I was… dropped here. But undoubtedly you would not be aware of my professional work in that area:'

"No, I am not," he said in a flat discounting of any expertise she might have. "Especially since you now have someone of my stature in the field.

Surely you realize that a change of treatment models would benefit those still in the grip of what appears to be catatonia. When the main troops ar-five, as it were," and his supercilious tone suggested that he was smiling con-descendingly at Dorothy. "… the reserves are no longer needed."

Dorothy was undaunted. "Let's take a stab at this situation from the viewpoint of research, and see what happens. I understand that it is probably a shock for you to discover that there are other treatment models with empirical efficacy greater than the one you are most familiar with and have evidently spent most of your life studying. I know, for example, that your resume includes eight books on the life and work of Freud in theory and psychoanalysis. I really do believe that you will be a tremendous asset to the Victims."

There was no immediate response by Dr. Hessian.

"Doctor Hessian, please don't misunderstand me. I am not implying any undervaluing of Sigmund Freud or the power of his work. I think that Freud was one of the greatest thinkers of all time in the study of nervous disorders. It's just that we are using a model with proven efficacy, and the model your work is based in is most applicable to a different treatment problem-not neurosis. We're dealing with deep mental trauma, not neuroses."

His earlier long stride, as if he had intended to outwalk her, had shortened.

Now he stood, head down, pulling at his lips.

"I doubt that you and I, Doctor Dwardie, can ever work together with any degree of mutual respect, much less find a basis for a proper course of treatment for these unfortunate Victims."

"I can accept that, although with great regret, Doctor Hessian. No, please don't go yet. There is one trauma case I'd like a chance to discuss with you. It was one that baffled all of us."

"Oh?"

"Yes, now do sit down, Doctor Hessian," and she indicated a strategically placed stone bench that had a magnificent view of the Bay, "this might take a little time."

"I should imagine so."

"Well," and Dorothy seemed to be taking a breath before plunging into this case. "There is a professional woman, Doctor K a psychologist of exceptional brilliance-whose case, though successful, was very difficult. She experienced the mind-wipe shortly after a series of Victim deaths, or so one observer tells us. These had resulted from the effects of the modulated electrical current level. Some of the early deaths were those who had been trained as neuropsychologists although leading professionals of all branches of sciences also were among the dead."

"Yes, I had heard that," Dr. Hessian was willing to admit, "from talks with Doctor Seissmann. Evidently Doctor Stanley Kessler was one. Tragic loss to the field."

"I agree," Dorothy said. "From various sources, we did learn that the Eosi reduced the current to prevent additional deaths due to central nervous system overload. Unfortunately the reason was less humanitarian than selfish. The Eosi were killing before they could complete the retrieval process that would extract the information they wanted. To be useful, the subject had to remain in a state of altered consciousness, therefore alive, during the probe."

"What could be their interest in neuropsychology?" Dr. Hessian asked.

"This is theory, of course, because they mind-wiped leading profes-sionMs and state officials on a random basis but it might have to do with increasing the compliance level of the races they have dominated. They have had an unusual amount of resistance from Earth's races and they may well have been trying to find a way to disempower their ability to resist. Just 'turn them off; so to speak, by inhibiting or altering the synaptic receptor response.

It would have the same effect as removing the drive unit from a computer-you can ptmch the keys but nothing will happen. For some reason, and fortunately for the rest of those subjected to the mind-wipe, the Eosi went off on another tact of mental exploration entirely. Or the percentage of death was discouraging."

"What happened to those who were so examined?"

"Some experienced organic damage to both frontal lobes from experimental current levels. Still others were left with the effects of psychological trauma and some had both. In addition, many have had survivor guilt, as they were aware of the eminence of many that died. They have, quite naturally, questioned their own worth at having remained alive. Others grieved.

Actually, in the case of Doctor K, there was some of both."

"Tell me more," said Dr. Hessian and, to Kris and Sarah, he sounded both curious and smug.

"Our patient, Doctor K, heard of the deaths of several such scientists, colleagues at the university, and prior to her own ordeal under Eosian instrument.

And, while the mind-wipe current level had been reduced and no further deaths resulted, she was severely traumatized. Having the power of her mind stolen by ruthless aliens who had strapped her into a chair and assaulted her with a searing blue beam of bright, laserbrine light was devastating.

She had flashbacks of the blue beam following her, aimed directly at the forebrain, entering her head while she was physically and psycholog ically paralyzed, unable to escape."

"Hmmm. Could cause severe neuroses, indeed." He cleared his throat.

"You have told me about the trauma Doctor K experienced. Now I'd like to know something about her development history, psychological defenses, and pre-morbid adjustment level."

Dorothy took a deep breath as she was coming to the difficult part.

"Pre-morbid adjustment level is not a very useful concept in the treatment of post-traumatic stress disorder of highly functioning individuals. The focus is more closely conceptualized as helping them gain self-efficacy and self-control over their symptoms at the conscious level."

"Well," and Dr. Hessian's tone was pompous, "if you don't take pre-morbid treatment into account, you are not offering comprehensive treatment."

"In your theory that is true: in mine, technically, it's not," she replied.

"Imagine a nearly new automobile that is totally destroyed in a head-on collision.

We would seldom ask how well it ran prior to the accident or expect it to return to its nearly new form after a visit to the body shop. In fact, such wrecks are discarded. But, with people, the nature of the human spirit often allows them to achieve an amazing level of functioning so that they can transcend the level of the trauma. Teaching how to do that by employing techniques from cognitive psychology, behavior therapy, and multi-modal treatment has proven efficacious."

Another pause. "Well, then, tell me," Dr. Hessian said again with that hint of gracious condescension, "what were the symptoms of post-traumatic stress that were most difficult to treat?" he asked.

Dorothy decided that he was trying to buy time to revise his strategy.

"Doctor K had temporary post-trauma amnesia and flashbacks of the blue light. She could not sleep or remain awake without recurrent images of the blue light attacking her forehead. Everywhere she went, it haunted her. In dreams as well as in waking life, she was trailed by this nasty flashback that impeded every aspect of her recovery:'

Dr. Hessian straightened himself, a smug gleam in his eye and Dorothy wondered what hole he would try to pick in her method. He was making eye contact now while he assumed his characteristic condescending expression.

"This is why pre-morbid adjustment is so important to know;' he said.

"I would guess there was some unresolved conflict in this woman's background that made her more prone to the flashback. Do you know if there was some unresolved guilt toward a parent or unresolved shame in the area of sexuality, for example, that showed itself in this way?"

By now the sun was disappearing behind the mountains. They could hear others hurrying home but no one used this path. She didn't want to rush the man but they would soon have to leave, to avoid the night crawlers.

However, she had to make an end of this power struggle between the two opposing camps of psychological treatment. The base of their current discussion, she reasoned, is power, not just theory. There are two ends to this rope: he is pulling one end and I have hold of the other in this psychological tug-of-war. I will decide not to play and see what happens.

"Well," Dorothy said out loud, "while I would continue our discussion, we must make it back to our respective residences before full dark. I had wanted to tell you that the way we treated Doctor K's flashbacks was to bring under stimulus control using a fading procedure combined with deep muscle relaxation. We also provided her with an imagery intervention which was highly effective."

Dr. Hessian looked at her, unimpressed. He was probably not inspired by the a-theoretical even if it was effective.

"We'd best call it a night;' she said, standing up and his deep-rooted courtesy made him get to his feet, too. "I hope you decide to join us.

Would you sleep on it? We could use your clinical help and perhaps you could summarize Doctor Kessler's work and present it to the treatment staff. It might be a fitting tribute since you knew him. Anyway, let me know what you decide."

She took the few steps back to the safety of the flagstone path but turned back, assuming a humble expression. "Oh," she said, "Doctor Hessian, before I leave, I do need to apologize to you." She even managed the slightest hint of chagrin.

"Apologize to me?" he repeated, obviously pleased that she was seeing the mistake of her own ways.

"Yes, you see, presenting the case of Doctor K was my way of attempting to share with you the power of the treatment model. I guess I was not successful in helping you see that."

"Well," he said, with an almost gracious wave of his hand, "you tried."

"The irony," she responded gently, "was that while most of the case data was accurate, one part was not. I changed the gender of the doctor involved."

"Well, I hardly think that is signifieant."

"Not when Doctor K is you. We used social learning techniques to revive your fine mind, Doctor Hessian, and they worked."

She saw his gaping mouth and hurried away, leaving him to digest that final thrust.

KRIS AND SARAH HAD RUN as fast as they could to leave the scene of their eavesdropping.

"Should we apologize to Dorothy?" Kris asked, her expression repentant.

"How were we to know Hess/an would come in, all ruffled and precipitate a set-down? I hope he got it from her, too," Sarah replied, not the least bit repentant. Then she shuddered. "I hadn't heard her theory about what the Eosi might have been trying to do. Make zombies out of all of us:'

Kris had a sick feeling in her guts. She shook her head slowly in denial.

"No, Zainal is certain that the Eosi were trying to search for possible new scientific theories…"

"And what, pray tell, was that?" Sarah asked acidly.

"A point, but it wasn't just psychologists and psychiatrists that got the treatment. There were heads of state and government departments and whatever NASA personnel they could find. All kinds of specialists." Kris realized she was talking more to reassure herself than Sarah. And she wasn't sure she was convincing. "Well, with all the information that's come back, the High Command," and she managed a grin, "are sure to come to some conclusions. I'm sure Dorothy would have told Leon Dane, at least, since he's still more or less chief medic."

"Well, it's not something we just ask about, is it?"

"Nope, but that doesn't mean we can't find out if it's been discussed;' Kris muttered under her breath. "That's the downside of being away from here. You can't keep up with what's happening."

Sarah raised her eyebrows and regarded Kris with a wry grin. "Look who's talking? You've been traveling the galaxy and I'm stuck at home…

Oops!" She caught Kris' arm, then pointed to the cluster of torches at the dark edge of the settlement. "Demonstration!"

They were not so far away they didn't hear the gasp as the latest arrivals witnessed the emergence of night crawlers. They could hear male shouts of surprise and alarm and female cries of terror. They saw plainly the shadows of a milling throng, wanting to put distance between themselves and the wet, slimy denizens of the night ground. A chant began, and from the depth of the voices, the two friends decided that was a Maasai response to danger.

"I'm glad they're on our side," Kris said.

"Me, too, and Joe won't be on mine if I don't get home," Sarah said and turned off toward her own home on the flagstone path where their way parted.

WHEN KRIS REACHED THEIR HOUSE, Zane was asleep andZainal busy with papers on the table, so she slipped in to check on her son. He'd grown inches in the weeks she'd been away. What else had she missed of his development?

Zainal grinned at her. "He walks well now."

She pulled up another chair to sit beside him, their bodies barely touching at shoulder and thigh. She had worked herself into a nervous wreck on the walk home, thinking about Dorothy's theory. WeLl, eavesdroppers never heard anything good, about themselves or other matters: as just demonstrated.

But maybe Zainal could reassure her. She was certain to have nightmares tonight, remembering the blank looks of the Victims as they had been led off the two K-ships.

"Zainal?" she began and then noticed he was dealing with figures and time slots, and entry windows through the Bubble. "What's being planned now?"

Zainal leaned back, tossing the pencil to the table and stretching until his tendons cracked which made her shudder. The sound made her wince, thinking of bodies on a rack.

"Kamiton met some of the other leaders, and I must agree with some of their ideas." Zainal linked his fingers together across the back of his broad head. Which reminded Kris of the burning question.

She put her hand on his upper arm in brief apology. "The Eosi couldn't come up with a means to turn off all our minds, could they?"

Zainal tipped his head back, roaring with laughter, and she had to hush him. Zane would sleep through a great deal of noise but not a bellow like that.

He slipped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a reassuring squeeze, his face against her cheek.

"They've only one of those mental helmets. They could scarcely cope with the millions of you Humans, and that's what they'd have to do.

Though Ray asked Kamiton, too, if it was possible. It isn't! It would be bet ter if we could put the Eosi under that device." He made a grimace, a new trait of his which made him seem all the more Human. She'd caught the surprise in Kamiton's eyes over Zainal's facial reactions. Very un-Catteni, probably. "Of course, their enlarged heads wouldn't fit so we can't use that as a way of cutting them down to size."

She grinned back at him. "So?"

"So, since Kamiton needs to get back, we are going to see what other mischief… is that the right word;' and his yellow eyes twinkled at her, "we can get into. Actually," and he retrieved the pencil to tap it on the various sheets that she realized were now laid out in a semi-circle on the table, "Beverly wants to dazzle them with surprises everywhere. Everyone who went back to Earth is all for it:' His expression was solemn. "Your planet had taken a terrible beating and still won't succumb to practices the Eosi have always found effective. If not being able to get through the Bubble has been frustrating Mentat Ix, why not prod them elsewhere! Frustrate them more! Confuse them! Harry-I thought that was a man's nameharry them until they don't know how to deal with the various strikes we'll make:'

"Well, there're ways to totally confuse a computer;' Kris said, "and make it blow up. Could there be a way to do that to the Eosi?"

"Kamiton thinks it's a good way to go;' Zainal said, with a sly grin. "He says it might be the right way, too."

"So?" and she pulled one of the sheets toward her which Zainal then deftly shifted back.

"So, since Kamiton can get access to all the recognition codes, and find out which ships of which class have been destroyed or believed lost, we can make our fleet into a much larger one:'

"By changing the code name?"

"And where it appears. For instance, as Emassi Venlik, I need to bring back all the metals I had to off-load in the asteroid belt. First, as Emassi Kulak, I will go to a mining planet and acquire a load…;' He interrupted himself. "Walter Duxie says he can't mine enough to make a full load of interesting stuff, so we go where they are mining it. Then, we take that load back to Catten." He stopped and took a deep breath. "I wish to bring my sons to safety here," and he looked her squarely in her eyes.

"Of course," Kris said quickly. "They would be at risk if the Eosi found out you're still alive."

"There is one who is sure I am," Zainal said in a heavy voice.

"Your brother?" And when he nodded, she went, "but where are your sons now?"

Zainal clenched his teeth a moment before he answered. "With my sire."

"Aren't they…" and she stopped because it was obvious from the pain in his eyes and the tension in his body that they were not safe. "Kamiton's seen them?"

Zainal nodded.

"Well, it's an easy way for me to increase my family," she said in an airy tone.

"I will be their father but you will not be able to mother them;' he said, surprising her. He held up his hand. "They are now too old to be moth-ered.

But if you can be their friend, that will help integrate them."

"We've managed to integrate everything from Deski to Maasai, there should be no problem with integrating two Catteni boys."

Zainal gave an odd snort. "They will be safer here than on Catteni and Kamiton wants to bring his. Though he would prefer to bring his woman and set her and them in one of the closed valleys. We may have to assume responsibility for any other young who might be used as hostages by the Eosi against the activities of their sires."

"I'd think…" but she stopped when he put his hand over hers. "Okay, it's your call. So are we all going back to Catten with you?" She really didn't want to: that heavy gravity had been a killer, but she wouldn't desert him for such a specious reason.

"Drassi Kulak proved very useful," he said with a grin.

"So, once we've delivered all this ore, what else is on the agenda?"

Zainal smiled. "Karoitoh can find out the other places where Humans have been dropped. Some of them are very bad places, where many deliveries of workers have to be made, and we may not find any Humans left. But we will make the effort."

"Oh."

"Three of the ships, with a change of ID, will go back to Earth and see what else they can… what does Chuck call it… liber-"

"Liberate;' and Kris grinned.

"Liberate any poorly guarded ships. If they are loaded with loot, we will just take off. Otherwise, we will have what Leon calls a 'shopping' list."

"Well, you guys didn't lose much time planning, did you?"

"Kamiton thinks we must strike as often and as hard as possible to prove to the others in our group that we have ways to annoy and hamper the Eosi domination. To make them helpless to counterattack."

"Lord help us if that Bubble bursts," she said. "But it must be so very satisfying to you, and Kamiton, to make the Eosi helpless."

Zainal kept nodding his head but his smile altered from anticipation to immense satisfaction. "We also do no species injury:'

"Oh, Lord, that's a good thing. I wouldn't want to lose the good opinion of the Farmers. That Bubble is essential to making any of these plans of yours work."

"I do not think the Farmers will find fault with what we do. They are, I think, flexible entities;' And when Kris nodded in agreement, he added with a droll smile: "What impresses Kamiton most about Humans is your flexibility. We Catteni do not possess that."

"Ha! You're as flexible as anyone on this planet."

He stroked her short, blond hair, running his fingers through it. She'd had to wash it nearly fifteen times to get the awful dye completely out.

"I have learned;'

"The more remarkable when all your lifetime before you had to operate on a need-to-know basis."

Zainal turned his head away, looking out into the darkness around them. "I want my sons to know all they want to know."

"I think sometimes we forget what a gift free thought is:'