Freedom's Ransom

Chapter Nine

The next morning, Zainal sought out the market's manager and paid over almost all the Catteni coin he had to lease appropriate space in the market. Over several hundred years, the facility had grown from its original square, each addition overlapping older ones. The corners provided enclosed shops that afforded some privacy. Zainal wanted one for Eric's "office." The first week's rental reduced his small store of Catteni coins to a handful of loose change.

"What commodities, Emassi?" Chief Kapash asked.

"Various. Food items from Botany and oddments. We expect to trade for items available only on Barevi."

"Yes, Supreme Emassi Kamiton told me"-the commander paused for Zainal to recognize the significance of his having had a personal interview with such a personage as the Supreme Emassi-"that you were coming and you must be accorded the respect and privileges of a trader. However, I will have no personal disputes set-tled in my market space."

"Will you also police the market to be sure we are allowed to trade freely?"

"I'll have you know we allow no brawling or bullying within the confines of the marketplace," Kapash said, straightening at the im-plied slur on his management. Zainal had known the man from his previous tour of duty on Barevi. Kapash was running more to fat than muscle for his extra flesh strained his uniform and destroyed the fit of it.

"My! How Barevi has changed," Zainal remarked and noticed the smug grin on Kapash's blunt-featured face as he accepted the keys to the enclosure he had just leased and left the office. He didn't fail to see Kapash give a sign to one of the huge Catteni in the outer room and knew that all his movements would now be reported back to the chief. Nothing new in that. May the fellow at least have the intelli-gence to understand what he saw. Zainal hadn't run Barevi's market for a full Catteni year without learning a few tricks and the counters to them.

His next task was to apply at the hiring hall for a tutor for Peran and Bazil. The two boys were running a little too wild for his liking. He knew they flagrantly disobeyed Kris and that they had gotten a lit tle out of hand by the end of the long journey here. That must stop. The hiring hall had the usual number of unemployed, some with the unmistakable look of "command" about them, but he required more than authority to control and shape his sons. He filled out the form, specifying a younger man, preferably one with pilot training, and definitely with a good educational background in the sciences. Considering the current situation with no new exploratory expe-ditions, there was surely some young man who would meet his re-quirements.

On his return to the ship, he passed by storage sheds with doors ajar, and men working among cartons displaying Terran manufactur-ers' logos. Yes, Chuck had been right. Most of what they urgently needed was here. To acquire tires and batteries and the spark plugs re-quired to repair Terran ground vehicles might be less of a challenge than getting the comm sat components. He passed by a large locked unit that smelled aromatically of warm rubber, for the sun was hot enough to heat many of the inadequately vented warehouses.

He took one last look at his new premises, checking first on the electrical system and taking pictures with a small camera. Bayes had also supplied him with a unit that would test the circuits and power available. They did have some step-down transformers for Eric's equipment. The shop was equipped with a stout reinforced door, though only a broken chain and lock dangled from the latch. Well, there were many ways to lock a door. A faucet slightly askew on its pipe let out rusty water, which gradually cleared. When it did, Zainal filled a small bottle so they could analyze it in the ship's little medical station. Generally speaking, such resources were potable and the rust was only from long disuse. He was within his rights to insist on prop-erly filtered water, and the last thing they needed was to distribute anything contaminated to their customers.

He also rented the largest lift platform that he spied in the street in front of Kapash's office, available from its owner, an old, one-armed ex-soldier whom he thought he remembered from his Barevian year as market manager. The man certainly recognized him. Veterans were allowed to work on the docks as compensation for their loss of limbs. A name came to mind-Natchi-and seemed to be accepted by the garrulous veteran. The poor devils all looked alike, distinguishable only by the parts they were missing.

"They'll all be watching you, Emassi Zainal," Natchi remarked out of the side of his mouth. "We have heard rumors of your return. And how you single-handedly accomplished the end of Eosi domi nation. This has not made you popular in all places. Do not lower your guard for a moment," the veteran muttered as he handed over the lift control hand unit. "You kept Barevi relatively calm the year you were here. May you prosper."

Zainal nodded in acceptance of the warning. "If you hear more, come to my shop. We shall always have a hot drink for you, Natchi, and a seat in the shop whenever you need to rest your old bones."

"Old they are, Emassi. Return the lift when you have no further need of it, and my gratitude that you remembered my name." Zainal nodded and, guiding the lift in front of him, went back to the BASS-1's berth. He assumed his most aloof manner as he made his way, glad, after Natchi's warning, that he had already put Chuck on an alert status at their berth.

"They been around like flies," Chuck said, scurrying to join him when he spotted Zainal approaching. "I was improving Peran's and Bazil's targeting skills." He pointed to the dartboard hung from a con-venient loading spike, and the number of green-fletched darts lodged in the King ring. "Bazil's got the keener eye, but what could be more typical than me teaching two kids an old game?"

"Nothing," said Zainal, though he suspected that Chuck had re-moved the boisterous youngsters to give Kris a break from their bick-ering. "Much interest?"

"Think most of the other ships in port sent someone to take a gander and had quite a few not-so-subtle inquiries. Merchants' reps, all of 'em, trying to figure out what we're going to sell."

"Make me a copy of these," Zainal said, tossing Chuck the keys. "And do we have digital locks with us?"

"I've got locks aplenty. I'll set up several, in fact, because I heard rumors that there are some who have bones to pick with Emassi Zainal " Zainal nodded for he knew many Catteni considered him a traitor, even if he had managed to end the restrictive Eosi domina-tion. "Who's market manager? Vitters?"

"Kapash is market manager."

"Had dealings with him before?" Chuck asked. "Don't know him but Vitters was useless. Kept forgetting who took the biggest bribes from him. Wonder who killed him?"

"Not our problem, and we'll have more than our share, I suspect." Zainal gave a shrug. "I know of Kapash, let us say. He may not be an improvement over Vitters. And once we have goods on the premises, I'll want to be sure nothing is missing the next day. Natchi, a one-armed veteran, has also warned me. Natchi is to be given as much coffee as he wishes. He'll do more than cool his drink with his breath if he hears anything we should know. Is Clune the biggest man we've got? Or Ninety Doyle?"

"It'd be a toss-up, Emassi." Chuck grinned and, with a flourish, gestured for Zainal to precede him up the ramp and into the KDM. "Even the biggest Catteni would think twice before tangling with ei-ther of them unless they were totally nuts."

"Have I still got the spy on my tail?"

"Big ugly son, straggly beard, wearing dirty yellow pants and a blue vest?"

"You've seen him. The very one." "Wouldn't like to upset that fellow!"

"I don't want anyone leaving this ship alone. Only in groups of two, preferably three. The women are definitely not to leave without a male escort."

"What would they leave for?" Chuck demanded. "All the com-forts of home."

As Zainal reached the main corridor, he could smell the fragrance of fresh coffee and made his way quickly to the wardroom, where, as if she had known his exact moment of return, Kris had a cup ready to hand him when he entered.

"The boys saw you coming," she said, smiling. "I was roasting more coffee beans. Tell me what you think of this brew. Maybe I can get the right balance yet. Could you smell it on the dock?" He could hear the exhaust fan whirring but he hadn't smelled the aroma on the dock. Other things had been redolent-hot grease, oil, and stale ship fuel: the usual compound in this sort of area.

"They'll all know by tomorrow" Zainal shrugged with an indif-ference he didn't feel. In fact, he was seething with anticipation to witness the stir they would make in the unexpectedly torpid atmo sphere of what had once been a hectic and active marketplace. He had also tread on parts stuck in the mud of the market aisles. The one he dug out was indeed a spark plug but too dirt-encrusted to be saved; another was a circuit board of some type. What Chuck had reported was correct: merchandise was being wantonly and casually destroyed. So much for Kapash's boast that he kept the facility in order.

Chuck came in then, hanging the dartboard back on the wall in its usual spot.

"Another cup, please, Kris, before I take a casual"-Chuck grinned that "casual" was not the most apt adjective-"stroll around the market."

"Take Clime and Ninety with you and show them Stall Ninety-two," Zainal said. "Northwest corner. There is a wooden floor to which we can attach Eric's equipment. We'll need new bolts and, of course, the locks."

"Is that far from what you Catteni euphemistically call a drinking spot?" Kris asked hopefully. She remembered all too clearly the brawl she had nearly been embroiled in the last time she'd been in Barevi.

"Yes, and not near the main intersections," Zainal added, satisfied. "On a good wide aisle."

"Did you catch the names of any merchants?"

Zainal handed Chuck the hand cam he had been using on his tour of the market areas. "Which one of our crew can develop film?" he asked, taking out the film he had used up on his return to the KDM. "Then we can see who our neighbors are."

"Gail," Kris said and, going to the wall unit, she depressed a tog-gle. "Lieutenant Sullivan to the wardroom, please."

"Coming," was the cheerful reply.

It didn't take her long to arrive, almost breathless, at the door. She raised her arm to salute, but changed the motion to pushing her hair back from her face. Zainal had long since requested that formality be reserved for those times when other Catteni were present, but service habits were hard to break.

"Can you please process these, Gail?" "Certainly, sir. Are they urgent?"

"Reasonably. And no one is to leave the ship alone. Especially you women. Never leave without a man with you: preferably Clime or Ninety. Pass the word along."

"Yes, Zainal. I will." She widened her eyes briefly and then flicked her fingers at him in a salute and turned left down the passage. Kris took a new camera unit from a closet and handed it over. He pock-eted it, patting the slim rectangle for a moment.

"Should we all carry one, just in case?"

"No reason why not. Photo proof might be necessary and some of what I shot might not develop because of shadow but:"

"We might be able to identify enough to help find the right ran-somables."

Kris finished the thought. "We are adding tires, batteries, and spark plugs to the list, aren't we?"

He nodded a vigorous affirmative.

"The name of the market chief is Kapash. He would not want the world and Barevi to know that, at one time, he was storing illegal substances: flip, strew, and lily."

"Oh?" Kris said, her tone asking for elaboration.

"Flip destroys Catteni balance. It's a powder and, blown into the face, can cause vertigo. Often illegally used during fights. Too much can destroy balance completely. Strew clings to skin and has an ob noxious stink to it. It also clouds memory. Lily is the worst. It's toxic, especially to the Turs, and was often used to subdue them. In quan-tity it can be lethal to any of the known species. I don't think it was used on Earth, but it might have been."

"Lily is your word for a bad drug? I used to love stargazer lilies. They could scent up a room for weeks." She smiled nostalgically. "Why did you warn me about such substances?"

"I'm warning you about Kapash. You may threaten him with ex-posure if he makes any move on you or any of the crew. Dealing with any of those three drugs carries a mandatory sentence to one of the mining colonies. He'll know that."

"So he wouldn't want that bruited about."

"No, he would not. Your threat is-if you need to use it-that if you are not back by a specified time, such information will be deliv-ered to the space commander, Ladade. He knows I know, but he can't touch me. Or hasn't tried to. As I told the lieutenant, no one is to leave the ship alone. I'd rather you," and he pointed his finger at her, "went out only with me or Clune."

"Isn't Alex McColl big enough, too?" Kris asked, grinning. She knew she shouldn't feel so cocky, but she had benefited from ses-sions with Mpatane Cummings in unarmed combat training, and was adept enough to have floored Clune and Chuck in exercise sessions. Mpatane might look delicate but she was dangerous with hand and foot. She'd had Kris doing some toughening exercises with the edge of her hand. Mpatane could split a hunk of wood with a blow. She'd also taught Kris how to send a man's nose into his brain with the heel of her hand. Not, Kris thought, that a Catteni nose would not be as fragile as the human equivalent, but a crack there would certainly smart enough for her to get out of a Catteni's clutch. Catteni used genital guards even when off duty, so the classic ploy of a knee to the crotch would not be an option. Kris was glad to have other time-tried maneuvers, and got quite adept at flooring anyone who dared grab her: once you knew how, it was simple to use the force of a rush to the attacker's detriment. Most of the Catteni fighting she had ob-served had been flailing fists and butting heads. Not much finesse, more pure brute force. She now had countermeasures but would pre-fer not to have to use them.

"We could get in a few good licks in ten seconds," Kris said, noticing that the other women bristled a bit at the notion that they couldn't defend themselves. "But Catteni don't fight fair," she added.

"Just a safety precaution. Until you know the Barevi market area, you need to have a fail-safe," Zainal said, accepting their rebuff. When he gave Kris an admonishing glare, she gave him an impudent grin.

They spent the rest of the afternoon getting the bulky dental ele-ments onto Natchi's big lift and checked to be sure they had everything else they needed. They had found a digitally locked strongbox for the smallest gold items. The metal ingots were a little easier to safekeep, being heavy and bulky in themselves and not something even a Catteni could slip into a pocket. They had more than enough of a crew to leave someone on board on comm watch at all times, and Bayes had rigged a perimeter alert in the berth against snoopers. The KDM, aka BASS-1, had integral shielding against electronic snoopers so one person on board should be sufficient. Possibly two or three. Herb Bayes knew some rudimentary Catteni.

One of the first things Zainal wanted to liberate was a carton of handheld comm units so that all members of his group could keep in touch no matter where they were on Barevi. He gave each of the women a tiny Mayday patch that would emit a ten-second yowl if they got cornered. The sound was one that was particularly irritating to Cattem ears and was guaranteed to let them escape while their would-be assailant was battered by the noise.

The water tested 99 percent pure without any unusual bacteria or noxious minerals. It was a bit high in iron but that would be tempo-rary, as Zainal knew from his term as market manager that the piping was all properly done. The tap only needed to run a bit. Sometimes, just to be awkward, the market manager would do silly things, like health checks on a merchant. A water filter from the survivor kit would let them filter enough water for the first urnful of coffee-just to be on the safe side. Zainal hoped that the coffee could be made quickly enough so that he'd've collected some local credits before Ka-pash figured out a new way to derive income from their stall. Zainal surely hoped that Kapash would prove to be a caffeine addict. That would be useful. After reading the manual for the roaster, they had been able to dry several more sacks of beans on their flight to Barevi, and the results had brewed into a decent coffee. They'd do more once they found out how the beans were selling. Kris was keen to try some blending of the two bean types.

The next morning, when Zainal woke up early, he could already smell the onboard coffee. Dressing quickly, he went to the galley and found Kris pouring cups for those already gathered in by the delight ful aroma. She had made pancakes, too, from the last of the flour, milk, and eggs on board. There were ripe bananas to start with and he was becoming quite fond of the fruit. They had several big stalks of bananas slowly ripening in the hold along with the oranges they had taken on board at Santa Lucia. They would see how things went be-fore they offered the fruits in the market. But there was a three-week limit to the bananas and they might well have to trade them for what they could get, even if Kris had hopes of returning with some to Botany as a special treat. The oranges would keep and some of the other fruit had been bought green enough to make the trip back to Botany.

"I made another big pot of coffee," Kris was saying now, as Floss and the boys joined them in the galley, "so we could bring some to the stall just in case we have early customers," she told him, jerking her chin at the big padded thermal bottle.

"Good thinking:"

"Do my best with the first cup of coffee," she replied. One of the things Zainal particularly liked about Kris was her ability to wake up in a good mood. It certainly started the day off well for those work ing with her. She had toasted the last of the baked bread she'd been able to make from the flour they had brought from Botany.

If Zainal remembered correctly, there had been a bakery in Barevi market, unless a fight had trashed it. The one he remembered had done good business, especially after some of the Terran breads had been offered for sale, when different types of flour became available following the mass looting of Earth. Coffee and bread from Terra were good things.

"We're ready when you are, Zainal," Bayes said. "All loaded on the lift."

Despite the heat of the coffee, Zainal managed to drink it down, felt it slosh in his belly and hoped it would have its usual stimulating ef-fect on his system. Kris carefully handed him a nicely browned slice of bread, spread with some of the sweet stuff he liked. He smiled at her. "Take the hottle," she said, nodding to the padded affair.

By its convenient handle, he swung it off the worktop and fol-lowed Herb Bayes, Chuck, Captain Harvey, Sally Stoffers, and the two Doyle brothers, who were on the first shift of the ransom team. His sons followed him, eager for their first glimpse of famed Barevi. Zainal hoped that someone would apply for the job of tutor. While experience in the market-as well as their command of both lan-guages-would be useful, they badly needed training in other areas. They wouldn't like it, but then, he hadn't enjoyed his schooling ei-ther. Piloting was always good training to have.

Other merchants were beginning to open their stalls one by one, pausing in the process to talk to their neighbors and assure waiting customers that they would be ready presently. His team made short shrift of setting up, since they would be buying, not selling merchan-dise. Even the coffee wasn't for sale, offered only as a courtesy to those who came to show their goods.

"Filter the first water that comes out, Ninety," Zainal murmured to the heavyset Doyle brother.

"Smart, too," Ninety muttered back as the tap spat rusty water into the filter material, but there was soon enough to fill the big urn. Bayes nodded assurance that the power conduit was good and they wouldn't need a transformer to handle the electrical current, while Kathy Harvey set out cups, brown sugar, and the Botany sweetener and every spoon from the galley. Kathy had taken it upon herself to be sure the spoons did not go missing.

Zainal hadn't liked milk in his coffee when they'd had enough to use it, said it ruined the full coffee taste, which he preferred dark and sweet. Thinking about it made him pour a cup from the hottle. Sec-ond one was nearly as good as the first, and he could savor the taste. Then Natchi appeared at his elbow.

"Does that smell like I think it does?" the old man murmured, in-haling deeply. Oh, it does. It's coffee, isn't it?" He was salivating in an-ticipation.

"Coffee," being an alien word, sounded the same from Catteni lips as it did from Terran. Zainal had noticed that the Kenyans called it kahawa.

"I brought my own seat," Natchi said, holding up a battered crate as he reminded Zainal of the previous day's promise. Zainal poured him a cup.

"Put your seat where you will be comfortable, Natchi, behind the stall where you won't be trampled in the rush," Zainal suggested when he saw that sharp noses down the line were picking up the un-mistakable aroma from his pouring.

"We have a list of items we are looking for," he said in a carrying tone, glancing down the row of stalls and catching the gaze of several other merchants, "and those who wish to peruse the lists might enjoy a warming cup."

By then, the others with the dental equipment lift had arrived, with Eric Sachs hovering at the tailgate, anxious that his precious equipment not be harmed. Only if it fell on someone else's toe, Zainal was sure, gesturing for Eric to use the cubicle they had rented for dental work. Ferris and Ditsy had offered to see if they could find men in the drink shops who might need Eric's skills and persuade them to come and see the wonders of tooth repair and restoration. As aids, Gail, who had a gift for printing and sketching, had done a flip chart depicting examples of the dental care Eric could provide, even putting a small diamond in one crown when she had heard that Mike had included some flat-cut stones in their barterables.

"You say you have a list?" asked a low voice at Zainal's side, and he saw a man, ostentatiously wearing a communications badge, stand-ing beside him.

"Yes, we do, please step up," Zainal replied, remembering what Peter had told him of the ways of treating prospective sellers.

"Who speaks Cattem besides yourself, Emassi?" (Clune had men-tioned during the journey here that no one would ever mistake Zainal for anything but Emassi class, no matter what he did or how he introduced himself.)

"All who are here, merchant. Captain Kiznet, I think list two," and he held out his hand to Clune for a copy of that list. They had printed up lists of units and numbers, as well as logos of the various manufacturers whose items they were eager to find. "And would you like a cup to sip?"

"The aroma attracted me first, Emassi," was the unusually candid reply, and Peran was quick to pour another cup from the hottle and present it with suitable dignity to the merchant. "I grew accustomed to this Terra drink, but it is hard to obtain in any quantity." Zainal chose to ignore the subtle request for more information about his sources. "It may be stronger than the brew you drank on Terra, merchant, and you may wish to add sweetener."

The man took a sip and let it drain down his throat with an ex-pression of delight and relief. "No, it is fine as it has been poured, Emassi. "

Kathy was holding out a copy of the list to the prospective trader. She had also put out a little bowl, and totally without shame, she caught the merchant's eye and rubbed her thumb against her forefin ger suggestively. "Have as many cups as you desire," she said very gra-ciously. Zainal watched the man's face, but he showed no offense and, indeed, dug into his pocket and flipped a coin into the bowl, which already held some small change.

"We try to serve only the very best brew. This is called robusta, grown in the mountains of Kenya and considered the best of the best. It is, however, strong and you might prefer a milder brew"

The man cleared his throat and swallowed. "True, but exactly what is needed to start a chilly morning and a day's trading." He held out his hand to take the list from Kathy. "Ah, these all seem to be electronic parts from Terra."

"We are looking for spare parts to repair damaged machinery" Zainal said cautiously. "Do you know if you have any of these items in your stores?" According to the reconnaissance Chuck had done, this man did.

The man raised one hand over his shoulder, twiddling fingers, and suddenly two younger men were by his side.

"Check our stores and see if any of these items are in stock." He passed the list over. The clerks ran off but not without a longing sniff in the direction of the coffee.

"Return swiftly," Zainal added to their retreating backs, "and have a drink."

"Do not be so quick to offer enticements, Emassi," the merchant said, "or you will have all the raff and scaff of the market begging." "The raff and scaff," Zainal said, gesturing toward Natchi, who was savoring each sip of his cup, "often know local gossip and fact. Natchi and I have known each other a long time and I find his talk is informed and genuine."

"I am Zerkay, Emassi," the merchant said, "and it is right that you should treat him with respect."

"As a veteran, he is due some preference." Zainal was not going to get into an argument about the treatment of ex-soldiers when he knew very little about the man to whom he was speaking.

Zerkay had finished his second cup, and when he would have added another coin, Zainal stayed the gesture and beckoned for Kathy to replenish his supply.

"Have a cup of the freshest brew, Merchant Zerkay, and from different beans and grind. Let me know which you prefer," she said in Catteni. She even had the right inflection of inferior to superior in words and cadence, and Zerkay raised his eyebrows in appreciation. "Your Terrans speak good Catteni."

"They practice," Zainal replied, not without a touch of pride. "Amazing," Zerkay said, lifting the freshly made coffee close enough to his nose to sniff appreciatively. "Hmmm. Yes, I can smell the difference. Lighter, milder."

"Arabica beans, grown on the highlands of Santa Lucia," Kathy replied.

"Highlands?" Zerkay asked.

"There are many sorts of coffee beans grown in Terra, Zerkay, and nearly as many ways of preparing the cup you drink."

"Are there? How interesting. I did not know. But then, I have had little chance to enjoy Earth." He inclined himself first toward Kathy and then toward Zainal, obviously quite eager to be indoctrinated.

"We can supply you with the beans you like best, Zerkay, that is, if we can agree on the items I require."

"Have you enough coffee to satisfy both your needs and my tastes?"

"That is what we must discover, Zerkay." Zainal held his cup up to Kathy for a refill.

"Ahhhh!" Zerkay raised his hand, signaled with his fingers for an-other of his young minions to attend him, and this one placed a stool by the table for his senior to use.

There was a bustle and reshuffle of people at the far end of the broad market corridor, and for a moment Zainal was afraid that the advancing pile of cartons would tumble off the lift that transported them. The cargo had not been tied to the lift bed and Zainal feared for the safety of all the so-irreplaceable items. Then the two young men appeared, one towing the lift, while the second made frequent adjustments to the piled cartons to prevent any from falling off.

Zainal caught Kathy Harvey's glance and the flick of white paper in her hand, doubtless a copy of the list. He made a flourish with one hand for her to check the items proffered. Most of the cartons were prominently embellished with the Terran Motorola logo, and some were indeed cell phones. Another carton seemed to hold switching mechanisms, vitally needed for the satellites. Zainal had memorized some of the relevant alphanumeric combinations of parts used by the various manufacturers of what he most needed, and these looked right: three letters and six or more numbers with a final letter.

Kathy Harvey was calling out the codes on the boxes to Bayes, who was checking them off.

"Pay dirt, boss," she said in English. "How about we give the nice man his own bean grinder as a special offer? Bayes hooked one up on an extension and we can give a demonstration. And let him smell the difference in the roasted beans. He has a big enough nose."

"Not that it'd work with all the stinks around here," Bayes re-marked sotto voce.

"Coffee has its own indescribable smell. He may not catch the nu-ances, but would he admit that he doesn't when we give him the pitch?" Kathy replied.

"Which cup did you prefer, Zerkay?" she asked at her most def-erential.

"The one I just had," the merchant replied, noting that Bayes had finished checking off the list and handed it with a bow to Zainal. Zainal nodded approval and settled himself on the edge of the stall top to see what was the most vital on this list to bid for.

"We must decide a fair exchange for this merchandise," he said. "Since you like coffee, are happy to find a supply, would you consider trading in coffee beans?"

"You have the beans themselves?" Zerkay was impressed.

"With great difficulty, but we have managed to obtain a small quantity," and Zainal thought of the full cargo hold of fragrant beans in their sacks, "which I will offer for the specific goods I have been sent to find."

"Sent by whom, might I be so bold as to inquire?"

"Why, by Botany, of course," Zainal replied. Which, at one level, was true enough.

"Ah yes, the planet that you have discovered." "No, Zerkay, the planet on which I was dropped."

This information appeared to stagger Zerkay to the point where Zainal was afraid the man might tumble off his stool.

"You? An Emassi? Were dropped?" "Like a common criminal" was the unuttered qualifier.

"I was dropped, and I stay," Zainal replied firmly.

"Yes, I see," Zerkay said, and perhaps, Zainal thought, he really did. One day Zainal would discover who had made sure that a Catteni had been included in a disparate lot to be left to live or die on an unknown planet. However, Zerkay recalled himself to the business at hand, leaning an elbow casually on the stall, glancing at his half-empty cup and then at the list dangling in Zainal's fingers. "And how shall we judge the worth of each carton? For I think your friendly veteran will have already told you that trade has been very slow"

"Surely not slow for a man of your acumen." Zainal gestured toward Zerkay's obviously large and expensive stall, with its well-built amenities and outbuildings. "And trading finesse." Zainal indicated the fine fabric in which Zerkay clothed himself. So, Zainal thought, the initial courtesies were over. He had to play a very delicate balance now between desire and acquisition. His first encounter with a Barevi merchant was all-important: at least on what Kathy called their "coffee" standard.

"Is coffee another of those items no longer available on Earth?" Zerkay asked casually.

"What use could you possibly have for these parts?" Zainal coun- tered, flicking his fingers toward the pile of cartons. "We Catteni are an inventive race, to be sure, but:" He let his tone drop off.

"But you would surely be searching them out to deliver the units into the hands of those who can assemble them effectively?" shrewd Zerkay replied.

"It is, of course, a tentative venture," Zainal said, lifting his hand in a diffident manner.

"There is uncertainty all through the system," Zerkay admitted. "But you have more command of particulars than a minor merchant on Barevi."

"Minor?" Zainal infused his tone with disbelief. "No merchant on Barevi has ever lacked up-to-date information."

Meanwhile, some of the younger people in the marketplace were sidling up to Eric's stall. One of them was bold enough to flip over the cards Gail had made. They giggled at the golden teeth. Instantly, Fer ris stepped forward to give an explanation of dentistry and to forestall any attempt to make away with the cards in the spirit of mischief. For a little fellow, Ferris had learned from the Masai how to act with im-posing authority.

Two pounds a carton was what Zerkay accepted to make the trade a deal. As well as samples of the other grinds, which Kathy packaged up before his eyes, making the measures generous. She marked the bags and advised him to keep track of those he preferred so they could supply him with his preference.

"And then I must produce more cartons for your inspection?" Zerkay was slightly amused. "This is not the way business is ordinar-ily conducted at Barevi "

"No?" Zainal asked politely, his eyebrows arched above an incred-ulous expression.

"Buyers do not set up stalls and woo the sellers to return items collected on another planet.

"Are you the man who brought about the end of the Eosi?"

"I am." Zainal dropped his voice to a somber tone of regret. "You have already achieved much. I, as one of many, am in debt to you."

"Then do me the courtesy of telling other merchants that I deal honestly for the goods I require," Zainal said with great dignity. "That will be my pleasure," Zerkay said, rising from his stool. It was retrieved by one of his escorts and neatly folded up. "Good trad-ing, Emassi." He inclined his upper body respectfully and then, turn-ing on one heel, walked back to his own stall.

As he was just out of sight, two of the young Catteni began to struggle over who had the right to look at the dentistry display. Eric came out and, by the simple expedient of removing it from con tention and glowering at the miscreants, settled the problem. "If you should happen to know of someone with loose teeth, or who has lost teeth and wishes replacements, I am ready to supply the need," Eric said after them with a great deal of dignity. The younger Cattem withdrew before this unusual man took punitive measures.

"I could go to the drinking places. That's where most of the dam-age takes place, according to what Natchi says," Ferris suggested slyly to Eric. The dentist was somewhat taken aback by such a direct, if practical, method of finding customers. "I could speak to the owner and tell him where men who lose their teeth can come to have them repaired."

Discreet advertising was, of course, legitimate, so Ferris went off to see what he could discover.

While Ferris seemed fascinated by Eric, Ditsy seemed more inter-ested in running errands and generally keeping his eyes open. It was he who remembered about the lift power packs and, somewhat diffi-dently, came to Zainal the next evening with an idea.

"We did pretty well swapping those lifts, didn't we, Zainal?" he began tentatively.

"We wouldn't have had as many coffee beans and the other good things we traded them for, that's certain," Zainal replied encour-agingly.

"I know which merchant handles sales of new packs," Ditsy said. "We shall need more, certainly, to take back with us," Zainal agreed.

"Couldn't we use more lifts?" Ditsy asked. "We could."

"They don't recycle anything in Barevi. Did you know that?" "Yes, I did," Zainal replied, thinking of the piles of waste gathered up by Rassi workers on a daily basis.

"Natchi said that's how he got his lift. He makes a living from it, even if he did get it from a stinking old garbage dump."

Said in Ditsy's crackly voice, "dump" sounded more final than ever. "And you'd like to get one from the dump and see if you can fix it?"

"Well, they are useful items, and we don't have any now, do we, 'cause you traded the ones we had."

"That's right, I did. And I know that Jelco wanted one of ours very badly."

"Yeah, he was almost drooling over it," Ditsy said with a bit of malice in his smile. "Asking us stuff like its service longevity and ca-pacity 'n' stuff that I didn't know. Natchi's been telling me about a lift's versatility and showing me how to make full use of one."

"Has he?" Come to think of it, Zainal had seen the two in deep conversation together. He wished that his own sons would find some-thing honorable in the old soldier, rather than the usual contempt of the healthy for the infirm. But then, as Kris reminded him, his sons had had a very tough time for a few years and were probably still re-covering from the "trauma." Certainly they were a little confused about where they belonged. A tutor would help them find their way.

"Yes. He says with the tools we got, he could fix any we could find and have them in first-class working condition. You see," and now Ditsy's demeanor changed, "no offense, but Cattem don't take care of their machinery at all well."

"I know that."

"Natchi said that there is normal wear and tear on any machinery, but a lot of that could be avoided with a simple servicing or mini-mal care. Mostly, in the case of the lifts, just not dumping the lift on its side in the dirt and muck around here." The boy had contempt for such irresponsibility. But then, he had lived through the terrible times of the occupation and his personal values came from that experience.

"So me and Natchi was-"

"Were," Zainal corrected without thinking.

"Were-thank you-wondering if we had your permission to bring a few things, like basically sound lifts, back to the BASS-One and fix 'em?"

"I think that's a very good idea."

Then Ditsy added forthrightly, "Between what I get in my hand for running errands now and then, which Kris said I don't have to throw into the coffee bowl, me and Natchi can get some bargains. We could use a coupla more lifts back home, couldn't we?"

"In Botany?"

"Either Botany or Terra," was Ditsy's response.

"That's a very good idea, Ditsy, and you have my permission, in-deed my assistance, as well as my encouragement."

After that little chat, Ditsy was most often gone from the stall on pursuits of his own, and Ferris was looking for the toothless, to the point where running errands fell to Peran, Bazil, and Clune. Zainal was not so fond a father that he did not realize that it was his sons who complained about Ditsy and Ferris not doing their fair share.

It was not unusual to have to roust the boys from whatever dis-carded mechanical wonders they and Natchi were involved in to help bag beans for the next day's sales. And, to Zainal's momentary chagrin, Ditsy had to remind him about trading for new power packs. Ditsy said that, in point of fact, he needed several types.

"Natchi knows a great deal about machinery" Ditsy informed him, "and we got several things working real well but they need power packs. Are they like our old batteries?"

"The components are entirely different and the power more in-tensified."

Zainal was almost amused by Ditsy's careful separation of our as in Terran, and yours, as in Catteni. No harm in that since Ditsy was very careful about his manners in addressing any Barevian.

Two days after Ditsy and Natchi had successfully restored four lift panels, a young man appeared at BASS-1, asking to speak with Emassi Zainal. Natchi surveyed the man with shrewd eyes.

"Come from the hiring hall?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. A position for tutor is said to be still open."

Liking what he saw, for Natchi was a good judge of men, the old veteran gave him directions to Stall Ninety-two in the marketplace. Not long afterward, Zainal saw a tall young man coming directly toward him, a tentative smile on his face. Could this fellow be a po-tential tutor? Observing him carefully as he approached, Zainal saw that he walked like a pilot, with a buoyancy, like someone not quite accustomed to a lighter gravity and yet with the balanced stride of an athletic person.

"Are you Emassi Zainal?" he asked, coming directly to Zainal. "I understand that you are looking for a tutor?"

"I am," Zainal replied, looking the young man over.

"My name is Brone " He offered Zainal a firm hand and shake. He stood squarely on his feet but out of the main flow of those using the aisle. Nor did he draw aside when several shabbily dressed Catteni passed by, as some of the other passersby did, as if not wishing to be infected by the lesser ranks. Zainal did not wish for his sons to be taught by a judgmental personality. They had endured enough of that sort of mental bias at the hands of their relatives.

"Tell me something about yourself, Brone," Zainal said and mo-tioned for Kris to pour two cups of coffee. "And enjoy a cup of our coffee."

Brone reached into his belt pouch and withdrew several items: a sheet of paper, which turned out to be his educational background, neatly written, and an up-to-date license allowing the person (the ID picture was a slightly younger Brone) to pilot any inter-system craft. "I see you passed in your first attempt," Zainal said, studying the card.

"I reviewed old test runs and studied hard," Brone replied, at-tempting to belittle what had been a sensible notion.

"Would you consider the position of tutoring my sons until such time as you might move on to captain your own ship?"

Brone smiled, an unusual response between two Catteni who had just met.

"I doubt, in today's economic situation, that I will have much chance to pilot a ship. Also, you must realize that I can only teach what I already know," Brone said.

"Your duties might include flying, for which you would get credit."

A look of hungry hope flashed on the young man's face and was quickly controlled.

"1 want my sons to learn the basics and the protocols that every young Catteni must learn."

"That much I can teach, as well as navigational mathematics and port law," Brone said.

"You would not object to spending time on Botany?"

"I hear that it is a very beautiful planet, with a light gravity." Zainal chuckled. Born on a heavy world and physically adapted to the problem, it was amazing how every native Catteni dreamed of liv-ing on a light-gravity planet. Of course, their gravity-bred muscles then gave them more advantages over the indigenous species. It was one of the main reasons they had been able to overcome soldiers pit-ted against them in the invasion.

"My sons should not lose any more of their heritage," Zainal said. "We are leaving shortly, Brone, to return to Botany. My sons are standing over there by the two Terran women. Would you be able to join us at such short notice?"

"They are well-grown lads," Brone said noncommittally. "Peran is the elder and Bazil the younger."

Brone nodded. "I did not like my tutor." "Nor did I," Zainal admitted.

"They wish to be pilots like their father? I heard that you were a scout."

"They have shown interest but they are too young to know their own minds."

"I didn't at their ages," Brone admitted candidly. "I had no option," Zainal remarked.

"I heard that you were unable to answer your Eosi call."

That was a polite way of putting the matter, Zainal thought. And it also indicated that Brone had done some discreet questioning about him as a possible employer.

"I had been dropped on Botany at that point," Zainal replied with equal candor, holding the young man's steady gaze, though not telling the whole truth of the affair, which was no one's business. Zainal still had no clue as to who had included a Catteni in that hapless load of unwilling colonists.

"Which appears to have been felicitous," Brone replied diplomat-ically.

Zainal found that he liked the candidate's appearance, attitude, and answers. He saw Natchi coming in the back of the stall and nod-ding encouragingly. He saw Kris looking over at the close conversa-tion they were having and decided on one last test of the candidate and beckoned her to join them.

"This is my mate, Kris Bjornsen, Emassi Brone," he said, and the young man acknowledged the introduction with a respectful bow. "Lady Emassi Kris, it is my pleasure to meet you."

"Oh?" Kris drawled, slightly amused that he knew her by rank. Brone bowed again. "I knew one of the families you sheltered on Botany. They spoke highly of you and were delighted with your rank award."

"Did they?" Kris replied, astonished, for the Catteni ladies had not been at all appreciative of her efforts during their stay on Botany. "Come, Brone, I shall introduce you to my sons. Then, if you have no objection, we can quarter you on the BASS-1. They can help you bring your belongings."

"What text and study books do you have on the ship, Emassi?" "Few, and no more than is usually carried on a KDM." Zainal scooped up what Catteni coins were in the coffee bowl and pressed them on Brone. "Find what you want to use from the secondhand bookstall. Spend as you see fit. You will be the one teaching. I shall re-imburse you for any extra you spend. This evening we can discuss study subjects and hours at our leisure."

Brone agreed and went off with the boys.

"You know, Chuck, it's odd. There wasn't the usual brawl last night," Kris said as she watched the two boys walk away with their new tutor.

Chuck gave a snort. "No, because Natchi tells me Kapash really does keep order in the market. Of course, I wouldn't like to be caught." "Oh?" Kris prompted.

"I don't approve of his methods."

"Which are? I wouldn't think Catteni would be impressed by his punishment triangle."

"'Tisn't that. He locks brawlers up and sells them to the next slaver in. Gotta keep those mines supplied, you know"

"Oh!" She almost tripped she was so surprised. "That would be quite a deterrent, wouldn't it?"

That was not as much reassurance as she thought a fight-free Barevi would be. However, there were customers awaiting their cups of coffee and queries about what could be traded for the beans. As Kris finished serving a new customer with the last cup of the current urn, Zainal decided it was time to close, and they packed up the things to be taken back to the BASS-1.

At dinner, Brone talked just enough to impress his new shipmates as well as his tutees with his basic understanding of current affairs on both Barevi and Catten. Natchi had the street gossip, but Brone had an overview. As Zainal had suspected, Kamiton had had trouble with his new government. No one had expected it to be easy. The Eosi were, as Kris might say, a hard act to follow since they had exerted such a strict, fear-based control over their underlings and total au-thority over their doings.

The loss of any new planets, rich with mineral assets, bit hard into the Catteni economy. Nothing ran as smoothly without the threat of Eosi disfavor. There were shortages at the existing mining planets and colonies. Catteni mines had not been producing their expected quo-tas since the Eosi, who had employed subtle ways of ensuring that quotas were met, were dispatched. No new products in the markets meant fewer buyers. Kapash's management of the market had indeed reduced the destruction caused by drunken spacemen, but they, in turn, found little to buy in the markets with their accumulated wages. Coffee, therefore, had an unusual popularity with those for whom it was a novelty and with those who had tasted it while occupying Earth.

While there was no place on this planet where coffee beans could be cultivated, there were jungle highlands on Botany. Kris had men-tioned that this was a labor-intensive crop, since the beans had to be handpicked when ripe, but Zainal thought there would be plenty of hands to pick for assured supplies of the beverage. And if the Catteni addiction remained strong, they would have a solid market for export of Botany-grown beans. The very idea of exporting to the Cattem amused him. They could hold out for any price they cared to put on the commodity. "Black gold," Kris said they had once called coffee beans. Earth, of course, could export to Barevi, but first they needed cargo ships, which Botany happened to have several of for cargo runs. But first things first: like the spare parts that were needed. It might be decades before Earth could gear up its production lines.