Free Freedom’s Choice by Anne McCaffrey Page A

fun.”
    â€œWho’ll you have on your team?” she asked, as much to cope with his surprising announcement. She knew very well that the colony had trained men, like Easley and Rastancil and governors like Ayckburn and Chavell, but Mitford had made the colony
work.
    â€œIt won’t be the same without you in charge. Not at all,” she said with deep regret.
    Now he touched her arm lightly and winked. “You won’t know I’ve been gone until I get back. Frankly, my dear, I’d rather someone else who really knows how to plan big pushes carried the can on Phase Two and Phase Three. But you can bet your last nickel, I’ll wangle some part in it.”
    â€œYou wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.”
    â€œHell, Kris,” and he was serious again, “I made a promise to the folks when I took command Day One that somehow we’d get free.” He looked off into the distance of morning mist-shrouded fields. “Free, yes. Leave? I’m not so sure about that now.” He lookedaround him at a landscape that no longer seemed alien and unreal.
    â€œI wondered,” she said, encouragingly.
    â€œIf we could come to some sort of an agreement with the landlords, either or both, this’d be a great place to build up without all those damned minorities messing up their own landscapes. It’d be a fresh start for everyone.”
    â€œWe’ve already made one, you know.”
    He nodded and knuckled his nose. “That I do. But free. I promised that and now we’ve got a chance to deliver.”
    â€œPhase Three might mean leaving here if the brass does buy Zainal’s master plan and free Earth, and Catten, from those Eosi.”
    He gave her a narrow-eyed look of pure devilment.
    â€œHell, gal, there’s at least one more war in this marine. I’m not at all sure of the combat zone or the weapons and you better believe,” and he waggled his finger at her sternly, “that I’m not going to be the only one to debrief that Zainal, article, clause, and all the fine print. There’s an awful lot we don’t know about the Catteni—not to mention the Eosi.”
    â€œAnd our landlords, the Farmers.”
    They both heard the faint rumbling sound from above, followed by a more vigorous rustling as Slav, Fek, Joe, Sarah, Whitby, and Leila pushed through the hedgerows just beyond them.
    Kris managed one startled glance at Mitford, wondering if their very private conversation had been overheard. He winked and pointed to the team, who were panting as if they’d been running a good distance.
    â€œFek hear,” the Deski said, grinning. “Scout comes.”
    Slav pointed and they could see the speck in the sky that rapidly increased in size. The noise became not louder but clearer. Suddenly more avians than any of them had ever seen at one time swarmed around it: somebodies dropped as oak seeds might, flittering and twisting groundward; some dropped more quickly as disparate sections, while those left alive did astonishing aerial maneuvers and flew away as fast as they could.
    â€œThat’s handy to know,” Mitford said with an approving grunt, and climbed out of the runabout. He stood, arms crossed on his chest, his eyes narrowing as he watched the ship’s steady approach.
    Was Zainal piloting, Kris wondered, or had he let Bert? Whoever it was made a very neat touchdown about twenty yards from the onlookers with a final burst of steamy exhaust from the portside thruster. The hatch moved open and Raisha jumped down, grinning radiantly. She snapped a salute to Mitford, which he returned.
    â€œMission accomplished, sir. All present and accounted for.” Then she threw her right arm in the air and let out an exceedingly unmilitary yell.
    With everyone else, Kris moved toward her, trying to peer around for a sight of Zainal, and Bert, too.
    â€œThat Zainal…he even let Bert land her,” Raisha cried,