Freedom's Challenge by Anne McCaffrey Page A

the very satisfied grin on Iri Bempechat’s face. Chuck looked suspiciously bland, one eyebrow twitching while he played with his pencil, slipping it up and down through the fingers of his right hand, a sure sign of complicity. And suddenly Aarens’ niggling little suggestion was only Aarens tossing a spanner in works that didn’t happen to include his participation.
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    THE VERY NEXT DAY, THE DESIGNATED PILOTS climbed into Baby, the scout ship, and took off for the peek out of the Bubble’s remarkable material. They drew straws for takeoff and landing and the other in-flight duties since this was also a training mission.
    The official mission directors took places in Ray Scott’s office, grouping around the bridge console, which had been taken from the crash-landed transport that had made the Fifth Drop. So those in Scott’s office would have a chance to see what Baby did and saw. Someone had thought to rig speakers outside the hangar so that the many that wouldn’t find places in the office could at least hear what was going on.
    â€œOn site,” Raisha said, her voice ringing with suppressed excitement. “Still the same space flot. Can’t see that any of it has moved a centimeter. Gino’s easing Baby’s nose in between two of the largest of the disks the Eosi vessel left behind.” She chuckled.
    â€œGood choice,” Ray said, grinning. “The geo-synchronous satellite might not even notice we’re looking out.”
    â€œHold it right here,” and there was such a change in Raisha’s tone that everyone tensed. “How big did Zainal say the Catteni fleet arm is?”
    Apprehensively, Ray looked toward Zainal. The Catteni immediately leaned over the speaker grill.
    â€œHow many do you see?” he asked as calmly as if he was asking how many rocksquats were visible.
    â€œTwo of those dreadnoughts, I think. We’re not entirely outside the Bubble yet but the skin is transparent and we can see out.” What she didn’t add, “and I hope they can’t see in,” hovered unsaid but understood.
    Kris felt goosebumps rising on her arms and rubbed them away.
    â€œThere are also three flotillas of other smaller craft,” and Hassan Moussa took over the reporting, “five in each group, beside and above the two big guys you can probably see on the bridge monitor.”
    â€œYes, we see them. Are they the dreadnoughts, Zainal?” Ray asked, beckoning for Zainal to stand beside him.
    Zainal nodded. “What else?”
    â€œWouldn’t they be enough?” Jim Rastancil asked facetiously.
    Zainal shrugged.
    â€œHey, we’ve got other junk in the sky,” Hassan continued. “Shall I widen the screen?”
    â€œYes, please,” Zainal said, crossing his arms on his chest, the picture of objective observer.
    â€œIt’s the dreadnoughts I worry about,” Ray said, rubbing his chin nervously.
    â€œWhat other ships are there, Hassan?” Zainal asked blandly.
    â€œBulky cargo type carriers and one transport larger than the KDL or KDM. Heading toward the nearer moon.”
    Ray looked at Zainal. “You were right about the moonbase. What sort of air-to-ground missiles would they have? Something heavy enough to penetrate the Bubble?”
    â€œStay where you are, Gino,” Zainal cautioned. “I do not know, Ray. Eosian weapons are powerful but the Bubble is an unknown quantity.”
    â€œBaby has not fully penetrated the Bubble,” Gino said. “Hassan’s just telling you what we can see through it.”
    There was a sudden flash of blinding whiteness, which stunned everyone watching, causing them to have retinal flashbacks. It took several seconds before clear vision was restored to those in the office.
    â€œI do believe they’re trying to breach the Bubble,” said Hassan after a moment, and he sounded highly