Freedom's Landing

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Book: Read Freedom's Landing for Free Online
Authors: Anne McCaffrey
real good before she did any drinking. Andshe wouldn’t drink too much at first go, she told herself, remembering her survival course again. No one of those drinking seemed to be suffering any ill effects as she watched. And watching them drink became unbearable. She had to moisten her mouth and throat and guts.
    She struggled to her feet, still holding the cup and lurching against the person lying sideways to her. She saved herself from falling on her face by propping her free hand on a cocked, bony hip.
    â€œSorry,” she said automatically but the body didn’t so much as twitch.
    It also felt cold and rigid through the coverall material. Startled, she peered up at the gaunt, odd-cheeked face—a Deski, and from the open mouth and staring eyes, another casualty to Cattenti mass productions.
    â€œYou poor devil,” she murmured, shaking spasmodically. She got up in the next try, as much to get away from the corpse as to get to the water. That was her first priority.
    She started in a direct line to the stream before she noticed what some people were doing in and around the water and veered uphill. As she neared the stream, she saw that it bordered this field, coming from beyond the oddly formed tall vegetation and cascading in almost steps down past the field and beyond the trees on the lower edge. The sound of the water rippling spurred her stumbling steps into a firmer stride. Only the severest self-control kept her from dropping to her belly and burying her face in the clear stream. The water was divinely clear, running over a rocky bottom. Such a stony bed would filter out most impurities. Besides, the Catteni had put them close to water so they’d probably tested it. No one farther down the stream had yet snowed ill effects, although the way in which they were contaminating the stream disgusted her. Still, the water before her was clear. She dropped to her haunches and rinsed the cup, doing a bit of polluting herself as a film of the residue in the cup was carried away. She only allowed herself to scoop out enough to cover the bottom of the cup. She sipped once to moisten dry lips. Sipped again and rinsed the cool, sweet water around in hermouth, letting the parched tissues absorb the moisture. Her throat demanded its share. She swallowed slowly, attempting to trickle the water down drop by drop. They landed coldly in the pit of her stomach and her system insisted on more of the same. By then her taste buds had revived enough to appreciate the taste of the water, better by far than any designer water she had ever drunk either at home in Philadelphia or in Colorado. Good, simon-pure, mountain spring water.
    A loud altercation started among the people downstream of her. Well, maybe not an unpleasant argument for there seemed to be cupsful of water thrown about. A few people moved away, out of the range, content to watch as they drank from their cups. She watched and sipped. She was not about to get embroiled in any group, not until she had figured out a few details: like where were they? What were they doing here? Were there any Catteni in discreet guard over them? What besides knives were in those crates and who had taken control of them? She intended to get at least one knife. Preferably two—one to hide in her boot. That once-derided survival course had included instructions on how to sharpen, use, and throw a knife. And the guys on the top of the crates
were
humans.
    Thirst eased somewhat, her stomach started growling. She reached in her coverall and took out the package, carefully opening it. That was why they’d been given food ahead of time, then. To eat at this destination. Water laid on. As she’d also no idea how long she’d been without eating, or drinking, she broke off a third of the bar and carefully nibbled at that, interspersing it with more judicious sips of water. By the time she’d finished her portion, she felt considerably better.
    She rose and looked around

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