Freedom’s Choice by Anne McCaffrey

where she had lain unconscious and vulnerable nine months ago, she could scarcely believe the change in fortune. And all because she’d rescued a fugitive Catteni.
    * * *
    As Kris discovered, while the curious—and they came in droves down from Camp Narrow—inspected the scout ship, Zainal’s debriefing with Mitford dealt more with the details of what he had observed of the rest of the planet during the landing orbit than with the flight. He had piloted in the initial stages, past the satellite, given the scout some rolls and yaws.
    â€œTo look out of control,” Zainal said with a grin, “and then I went behind the moon and out of the satellite’s range.” Of Bert and Raisha, he said, “Theyknow more than they think they do. Well trained. Able to drive while I looked. The scout makes fast…sketches…” He looked inquiringly at Kris, who supplied, “photos.” “Yes, photos, details of other continents. Got very close on last pass.” Zainal grinned. “Much better than what we were given.” And he paused, twitching one eyebrow in irritation over the earlier reluctant handouts.
    â€œRaisha said something about only two continents being farmed.”
    Zainal nodded. “One is empty but greening. Other not too good, I think. But I am not farmer.”
    â€œYou want us to shift our living space?” and Mitford waved over his head to mean the campsites the colonists now occupied, “and keep us out of trouble with the real landlords?”
    â€œLand…” and Zainal separated the two words in puzzlement, “lords?”
    â€œThe race which first claimed this planet.”
    â€œAh, landlords. Yes. This is considerable. A people who could make a prison of that valley we explored do not act as Catteni or Eosi do. They kept something in there, or kept something from getting in. That is not how Catteni or Eosi work.”
    â€œNor even humans, if you look at history,” Mitford said in a droll tone, crossing his arms on his chest again.
    Then, out of the corner of his eye, Zainal gave Mitford a long look.
    â€œPhase Two, sarge?”
    Mitford chuckled, dropped his arms to slap his hands on his knees. “You found weapons?”
    â€œEnough to overpower stupid Drassi,” Zainal said almost contemptuously.
    â€œThings are getting more and more interesting, aren’t they?” Mitford said to no one in particular.
    Someone nearby cleared his throat and Kris looked over her shoulder at a group of men she vaguely rememberedwere formerly military and naval brass. Instantly she was alarmed for Mitford’s sake. She didn’t want him summarily replaced by newcomers who figured they knew more about running this world than Mitford. It was Peter Easley who had cleared his throat.
    â€œSergeant, when you have a chance, we’d like a few words with you?”
    â€œMore than a few and your being here saves me sending for you,” Mitford said, stepping down from the driver’s seat. “Have you met Emassi Zainal and Kris Bjornsen yet?”
    There was a formal shaking of hands all round, hands which Kris noticed were callused and hardened by “civilian” labors. She noticed that everyone was respectful to both her and Zainal and told herself that she was imagining “hostile takeovers.” The cordiality of all nine did not seem forced. Their comments ranged from “Well done” to “A terrific boost to morale here.”
    â€œWhat Earth rank is ‘Emassi’ equal to, Zainal?” Mitford asked, and winked at Kris.
    â€œâ€˜Emassi’ is captain,” Zainal informed Mitford, regarding him blandly. “Emassi outranks sergeant,” he added, and grinned.
    â€œBeg pardon,” Peter Easley said, leaning forward politely, as if he thought he had missed something.
    â€œOld joke,” Mitford said. “Have you been in the ship yet, gentlemen?”
    They all nodded