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prime real estate without their say-so.
Now I know I've mentioned to you that most of us are beginning to think we
ought to leave the Farmers' installations alone and find our own.
That's why I have scout parties out all over the continent." 'Hold it there a
minute, sergeant,' Rastancil said, getting to his feet. 'Thought you
dismantled all those Mechanicals so that the Farmers would come and see who
was vandalizing their planet?"
i
"That was the only option open to us then, sir. But we've been having
discussions about that,' and Mitford gestured to Easley, Fetterman and up the
hill towards Camp Narrow. 'I wasn't the only one who wanted to get off this
planet then." He paused. 'I'm not so sure I want to leave now, And I know a
lot of others have had second thoughts like me. But that,' and he pointed
back towards the scout ship, 'alters everything.
Or . . . hell, you should see that as well as I can." And he ended with his
arms at his sides, waiting for reaction.
"Definitely the situation has changed,' Easley said and heard murmurs
seconding that. He seemed to be appraising the moods around him. 'Phase
Two seems feasible but, as Sergeant Mitford says, it's going to need some
intense planning and good timing . . .
even with weapons at our disposal. I suggest that we adjourn and discuss ways
and means."
"Scout hides,' Zainal said and pointed towards Camp Narrow.
"You're going to fly it in?" asked a man with a rather rakish mustache as he
got to his feet, brushing off the seat of his coverall.
"I'd like permission to be aboard, sir. I was mission control on the last
shuttle project. Trained as a test pilot. Gino Marrucci." Zainal looked to
Mitford who nodded. Then Zainal looked at Scott.
"You come too?" Someone stifled a chuckle but Scott, controlling his
expression, stood up. 'I would like to." 'Ship only holds eight at the most,'
Kris-said, though she'd hoped to be one. 'You have to go, sergeant."
"Then you do, too,' said Mitford, jutting out his chin.
"One more,' Zainal said. 'Air force man?" 'I was air force,' the black
general said and he stood, grinning.
"John Beverly." 'That's settled then,' said Peter Easley. 'Shall I
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drive your runabout back to Camp Narrow, serge? And be sure the
garage's . . . or should I say, hangar's ready.
"Good idea,' Mitford said.
Zainal pivoted and, without looking back to see who followed, led the way back
down the field.
"Always meant to go see the display at Houston but never found the time,'
Mitford said conversationally to no-one in particular in the group walking in
step with him. He grinned as Kris made a hasty leg change to match strides
with the others.
"Happens all the time with us military types."
. ., "Okay, okay,' Joe Latore was saying when he saw the phalanx moving m on
the spaceship, and gestured for those in line to make way.
Grumbling started from those next to go until Mitford swung into view, when it
was replaced by cheers for Zainal and Mitford.
"We're gonna fly this baby up to Narrow now,' Mitford said.
"You'll get a chance to look inside later." 'You mean, the Catteni are gain'
to be lookin' for it?" a man asked m a nervous tone.
"Naw,' said Bert, appearing in the open hatch. He grinned when he saw the
delegation and jumped to the ground, waving those behind him from the last
tour to make a quick exit. 'Why would a Catteni in his right mind want to
live on Botany if he could get off?" There was good-natured laughter at that
sally, as those still hoping to see inside the prize began to drift back up
the hill.
"Gentlemen,' Bert waved the new group in. 'Shall I . . .?" he began to
Zainal, as if he anticipated being replaced.
"You must watch me do it,' Zainal said. 'These watch, too."
"I'll bet they do,' Bert murmured low enough for only Kris and Zainal to hear
as they passed him.
Kris stepped up, into the hatch, ahead of the brass. She wasn't going to be
left behind this time. Mitford did give precedence to Scott, Beverly and Gino
Marrucci. When they reached the bridge, Raisha was in the second seat and
hastily got to her feet.
Zainal gave her a nod and then pointed to Bert to take her place while he
folded himself into the pilot's chair.
l
"Secure hatch, Raisha,' Zainal said and looked at the arrangement of those
standing in the cramped space of the small bridge. He nodded and gestured for
them to stay where they were.
Kris inched closer to Mitford who was just behind Zainal.
"You watch good?" Zainal said to Bert, who nodded as Zainal's fingers moved in
slow sequence over toggles and switches. 'Got that?"
"Yes, yes . . ."
A quick glance around and Kris saw that Bert was not the only one memorizing
the sequence. Beverly and the test pilot were the most eager, but Scott's
expression was less critical.
"Ve-ry smooth,' Beverly said. He was the first to be conscious of the
vertical take-off.
"It is extremely manoeuvrable craft,' Zainal said in an instructional tone,
two fingers of his right hand on the grip.
"One of its biggest . . ." He tipped his head back towards Kris, for her to
give him the word he needed.
"Assets,' Kris supplied.
"Ass-ETS, not asses?" Zainal asked, blank-faced.
"You pick up too much bad language, man,' she muttered as everyone else
grinned.
"In space as well?" asked Beverly.
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"Better in space,' Zainal answered, as he depressed a button on the panel in
front of him and began a horizontal forward movement, skimming safely above
the heads of those moving back to Camp Narrow.
"That satellite won't see the movement?" Scott asked.
Kris wondered if the Admiral would ever give Zainal any slack.
"Not that kind. Very basic and geo-synchronous,' Zainal replied, twitching
one shoulder. 'I use only . . . guide . . ." He craned his head about,
for Kris's help.
"Guidance,' Beverly supplied. 'Thrusters? Or rockets?"
Zainal made a gesture with his free hand as if pressing the Earth away from
him.
"We'd call 'em thrusters, I think,' Beverly said. 'Do they move?" and he
rocked his hand to indicate different positions.
Zainal, flashing a look at the signals, nodded. He was watching the landscape
closely.
"Is there much fuel left?" the test pilot asked, looking over the gauges and
dials. 'Which one?" 'This one,' Bert said and tapped it.
A needle point just a shade over a half-way mark.
"Reason two for Phase Two. Transport will have fuel,' Zainal said.
"How far will what there is take us?"
Zainal shrugged. 'Not back to your Earth."
"What sort of fuel do you use?" asked the test pilot.
Zainal rattled out some Catteni sounds and then grinned at the pilot.
"Can't make here." He made another correction, moved a toggle and the pilot
gasped.
"You're gliding in?"
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