Freedom's Landing by Anne McCaffrey Page A

this point. But she remembered that stillish waters could run deep. Sandy hadn’t told her not to dunk herself in, but she also hadn’t said she could. She bellied down to the edge of the water and took a quick sip: it had a soda-ish aftertaste but it wasn’t bad. She buried her face in the water, then, sucking in a longer drink. That was when the desire to be rid of the sweat and dirt of the past few days became irresistible.
    Kris was first prudent enough to see if the vine rope reached far enough into the water so she could hang on to it for her bath. It did. She sloughed off the wrap-around boots and the coverall and, keeping the vine rope in one hand, eased herself into the water. It was cold: no doubt about that, but it felt so good. She gave herself as thorough a scrub as she could with one hand—and no soap—in probably the fastest bath she’d ever taken. Using her blanket, she driedherself as well as she could with the nonabsorbent material and rinsed out the bloodied sleeves of her coverall and the front of it where blood had spattered. She was back in her clothes, despite the dampness, and putting on the boots when she heard voices nearing. She hauled herself up to the top and started back, much refreshed by the respite.
    She kept close to the right-hand wall as the group descending passed her.
    â€œWe gotta keep hold of that rope,” one of the men was saying, “’cos the current’s fast according to the Cat.”
    â€œGod, what I wouldn’t give for a razor!”
    â€œSharpen your knife, buddy,” someone else said with a laugh. “That’s what pioneers did.”
    When Kris found her way back to her sleeping place, she saw that Patti Sue was the only one there, and still asleep. She dithered to herself about bringing some food back and making sure the girl ate, but maybe sleep was more important. The way the hunters had been bringing in game there’d be some for her when she did wake up. Only how long would the game remain stupid enough to hang around and die? There were a lot of people to be fed.
    That was when she heard a lot of noisy shouting and glad cries. She made her way to the main cave again and tried to figure out what all the shouting was about. Everyone seemed very pleased. Bart was grinning like he’d just drawn a lotto number.
    â€œWhat’s up, Bart?”
    â€œThey found food. A mountain of it.” Then he recalled himself to his duties and turned the pieces cooking at his fire before they were reduced to char.
    â€œWhere? Things we can eat?” Kris found herself regarding the French-browned food hungrily.
    â€œI guess so—or why roar so much?” he said with a shrug.
    Kris took herself where she could hear what was being roared.
    â€œMountains of food!” “Some kinda storage cave. Like a silo.” “And other doors we couldn’t open…yet!” “They’d have to be saving for centuries.” “No one near, nofootprints, just cracks in the stone like something real big stood there.”
    She worked her way through the excited people toward the front of the cave, hoping to see someone she could ask for specifics. The “storage” cave bit worried her. It suggested that Zainal’s information had been incorrect. You don’t store things, especially food, where there’re no bodies to eat it.
    â€œâ€¦Scratch tests will give you a quick idea,” an Asian was saying in a firm voice. “They worked on some of the game you guys caught as well as the roots and berries.”
    â€œCan we use the same method for the Rugarians and the Deskis, Matt?” she heard Mitford’s voice ask.
    â€œGee, I don’t know, Sarge. I was paramedic for human types.”
    â€œZainal, can you ask ’em?” Mitford switched to Barevi.
    â€œYes. I will ask,” and Kris saw a movement among those crowded around Mitford as Zainal left to make his