Free Freedom’s Choice by Anne McCaffrey

she gave nothing away, Kris had to pretend she’d sprained her ankle. Sarah kept busy getting cold water to reduce the swelling. Joe, Fek, and Slav worked on servicing their big exploratory vehicle or writing reports. Leon Dane was reported to have gone off with Zainal, Bert, and Raisha to be at some emergency at Camp Shutdown. But the rumors persisted.
    â€œWe’ll still surprise them,” Mitford said as he pulled the little air-cushion runabout up against the hedge. They’d seen a few of the avian predators on their way, so he took what cover there was. “I hope.”
    â€œWe’re alone, sarge, so I’ll give you a piece of my mind on that stunt you pulled…” Kris had the satisfaction of seeing Mitford flush with embarrassment. “You had no right to insult Zainal that way…and even less right to use
me
as his surety. I came awful close to hitting you…” She cocked her fist in demonstration.
    â€œGoddammitall to hell’n’gone, Kris Bjornsen,” Mitford recovered sufficiently to snarl at her, “I had to! I do trust Zainal, quite likely more than I’ve ever trustedanother human being…and he is human to me…” Mitford’s response was as fervent as hers had been and his eyes were sparking. “But I can’t take any chances. With him or you.” He let out a deep snort, rubbing his hands through his close-cropped hair in a gesture of exasperation and, oddly, impotence. “And I need
him
more.
We,
” and he meant the colony, “need him more.” Then, in one of his swift mood changes, he grinned at her, impudent and oddly melancholy. “I would have liked to be where he is now with you…” He held up both hands quickly in defense. “Don’t take me up wrong, Kris. But you’re a fine woman and Zainal’s the only man I wouldn’t try to muscle out.”
    It was Kris’ turn to be embarrassed. She had vaguely known that Mitford fancied her, though after he kept sending her out with Zainal, she had to decide that she had imagined it.
    â€œI’m sorry, Chuck,” she said, all her previous aggravation dissipating. “It sort of happened and you kept throwing me at him…more or less.”
    â€œMore,” and Mitford let a wry expression touch his rough features, “because I shouldn’t. And you were the only one
I
could trust to keep him alive until the rest of them figured out he was far more valuable alive than dead.”
    â€œWe owe you a lot, sarge,” she said, and touched his arm lightly and gratefully. “But you still made me real mad yesterday.”
    Mitford laughed, stretching his legs out the side of the parked vehicle.
    â€œYeah, well, sometimes, I gotta do what I gotta do, and there was no time to call in some of the brass we got around here now.”
    â€œHa!” Kris grinned back at him. “You wanted to do this one yourself without any brass involved. But I strongly suspect you really better let the others in on planning Phase Two…”
    â€œAnd Phase Three,” said Mitford, turning his head slightly to gaze off down the field, its ground cover matted down by the frequent landings of the transport ship and unconscious bodies. He scratched at his head again and looked back at her. “I’d be stupid, real stupid, not to get the strategists in on Phase Two. But this first one…That,” and he jabbed his thumb into his chest, “was for me! And you,” he added magnanimously. “In fact, I’m sort of phasing me out.”
    â€œOh come now, Chuck…”
    â€œNo, I mean it, Kris. We’ve got nearly nine thousand here now. I knew what I was doing for five hundred and eighty-two, even two thousand, but…goddammitall, I want to be the one finding the good stuff, not leave it up to you and Zainal, or the Doyles or that Scandinavian crowd. Me, Chuck Mitford, wants to have some of the