Free Freedom's Landing by Anne McCaffrey Page B

keeping him about all the time. That was easy: he’d send Zainal out on reconnaissance: they’d need to know the terrain wherever they finally came to roost. Send Bjornsen with him, and keep two potential problemsout of his hair. He’d have enough. Not that he hadn’t made a good start but oh, lord, how did he get in this situation in the first place? Mitford, he told himself, don’t you know the first rule of Survival?
Don’t
volunteer!
    â€œYou were telling me you
work
for the Eosi? The Catteni are not the overlords?” he asked Zainal in Barevi.
    â€œNo, Eosi. Emassi take orders. Eosi order the galaxy.”
    That chain of command didn’t seem to sit well with the Cat either, Mitford thought, reading the way the guy set his jaw as resistance, if not downright rebellion.
    â€œâ€˜Emassi’ is not the word I heard for ’captain,’” Mitford went on in a bland voice.
    He caught the gleam of Zainal’s eyes in the moonlight as the big Cat glanced down at him.
    â€œâ€˜Emassi’ one word for a captain,” and Zainal’s lips curled up. “Special captain. You have heard ‘Tudo’ more. And ‘Drassi.’”
    â€œYeah, ‘Tudo’ for ground and ‘Drassi’ for space? Right?” So, as Mitford had thought, this Catteni was a couple of cuts above the usual individual the Sergeant had met. “So which was it set us down here? Tudo, Drassi, or Emassi?”
    â€œDrassi by order of Eosi,” and that didn’t sit well with the Catteni either.
    â€œYou killed a Tudo, then…”
    â€œAs I have told you,” Zainal said quietly but with an edge to his words.
    â€œJust checking.”
    Zainal chuckled. “Know that Emassi have no reason to lie.”
    The first moon was now well above the hills and shining hard into their faces, lighting the rocky track so that they didn’t inadvertently step on sleeping bodies. For a big guy, Zainal was agile. Course he was used to a heavier gravity, but that didn’t keep some Cats from being damned clumsy, squashing bystanders in their brawls.
    â€œWe’ll be left alone now to get on with the job of settling in?”
    â€œThat is the way.”
    â€œHow soon before anyone checks in?”
    Zainal paused, walking in silence, then held up two fingers. “Depends. Drop more prisoners if we live. Then check in half a year, year. See how we do.”
    â€œYou’re part of ‘we’?” Mitford wasn’t sure if he liked that suggestion of solidarity. The Cat hadn’t been in the same boat as the humans: figuratively, that is. Or maybe he was.
    Zainal snorted. “I drop. I stay. I am not against you. I am
with
you.”
    â€œFine by me,” Mitford said, waited a beat, “but you won’t find everyone exactly welcoming.”
    Zainal chuckled. “Emassi are also not welcome everywhere. I will survive.”
    Somehow Mitford didn’t doubt that a moment. And he intended to keep this Catteni alive. Mitford could think of several ways, easy, that this Zainal might be of use to him, especially if he was also discontented with these Eosi overlords who ordered everything. “Then if we can keep alive, they unload more rebels?”
    â€œRebels?”
    â€œYeah, rebels,” Mitford said, “people like us who protest Catteni rule.”
    Zainal grinned. “Good word, rebels. I like it.”
    â€œYou wouldn’t be a bit of a rebel yourself, perhaps?”
    â€œPerhaps.”
    Mitford caught the edge on that mild rejoinder and wondered.
    â€œWe must talk about this at a later date,” Zainal said. “You speak Barevi lingua well,” he added in a louder voice.
    â€œI’m a survivor, Emassi. And learning the local lingo fast is essential to survival. I got enough of five-six languages from Earth to get around the world: Barevi wasn’t hard to pick up.”
    â€œNo, it is