Freedom's Ransom

Chapter Eleven

The morning when Eric started up his dental unit for the first time a new whirring sound broke through the usual noise of the mar-ketplace. Zainal swiveled around, toward the sound made by Eric Sachs's equipment, and saw a huge Catteni sitting in the dental chair, his mouth wide open and the broken stubs of his upper teeth visible. There were also more merchants waiting to receive a cup of coffee and more coins in the little dish Kathy had put out.

There were three other very burly Catteni, guards from the look of their gear and clothing, watching as Eric attended to the man in his chair. The man did not dare flinch or squirm, and shortly Eric told him he could sit up. Then he began to tell him his options, with pic-tures he had provided himself for just such demonstrations, while Ninety Doyle did what translations he could with the technical terms involved.

"I can provide you with new gold teeth," Eric said. "It will take several days as well as quite a few visits to me to prepare and fit the crowns. And the work is not cheap."

"I have plenty of money," the Catteni said with a shrug, fascinated by the photographs of the step-by-step process he was about to un-dertake. From the textbooks he had removed from his office, Eric had, with Gail's help, organized some illustrative examples of treat-ment on yet another set of flip cards. "I am told you take cartons of things. I have cartons. I was a Catteni cargo captain. I took much from storehouses."

Eric snapped his fingers and Ferris, who had been hovering at his elbow, immediately produced copies of the lists. The man glanced down the columns of alphanumerically listed items and shook his head. Ditsy then produced the various logos for the companies that manufactured the spare parts wanted. The man tapped a finger on several, including, Zainal noticed, the NASA and Boeing logos. "Have some cartons with these on them. You want?"

"First," Zainal said, stepping closer, "we will have to check the cartons to see if they are what we require."

The man grunted. "I am told you will buy anything."

"Not anything," Zainal said with a dignified contempt for such an assumption. "We have specific needs, and the services you require-as well as the gold for the teeth-will be expensive."

"I have gold," the man said with typical Catteni arrogance.

"It must be of a certain weight and purity," Zainal said, and Eric grinned at him-as much because Zainal had been relatively certain they would be required to supply the metal as because of his patient's attitude. Eric rummaged around in his supplies and brought up the gold-testing equipment.

"However, if you will show us your gold, we will see if it is of the quality that can be used for this unusual purpose."

"Gold is gold!" the Catteni protested.

"No, it is not," Eric replied, for he understood that much Catteni and the spirit of the remark. "For proper work, we need a certain quality of gold." He reached for his testing equipment, which their erstwhile customer recognized.

The man rose from the chair, signaled brusquely to one of his friends to stay and observe, then removed a nugget of gold from his pouch and handed it to Eric, as if certain of its intrinsic value and suitability.

"You come with me, then, and see what I have."

"Ditsy, if you will accompany me," Zainal said as he had no in-tention of wasting his time checking inventories.

"My pleasure, Emassi," Ditsy said with just the right touch of def-erence due a superior officer.

The man, who gave Zainal his name as Luxel, led them into the very depths of the marketplace, down rows of storage places, most with heavy metal doors and locks with complicated knobs and spikes. "The kind you lose hands from trying to open," Zainal murmured in an aside to Ditsy, who then kept his hands close to his sides.

Luxel finally halted at an intersection of corridors.

"Stay, until I call," he said, pausing only long enough to be certain they stopped before he turned right.

They could clearly hear the snick of metal, a rasp of hinges, and then Luxel called to them to come.

Ditsy ran on a little ahead of Zainal, but when he stopped by Luxel's side he gave a whistle that Zainal had heard, expressing sur-prise or amazement.

"Opensezme," Ditsy murmured. "Ali Baba!" He was clearly im-pressed. And so was Zainal when he joined him.

Hughes and Lockheed logos dominated the mess of cartons in Luxel's little shed. Ditsy had his list out and was delving into its depths when Luxel suddenly yanked Zainal across the entry, himself assum ing a blocking pose as three Catteni appeared in the alley. Zainal was quite willing to drape himself across the doorway, obscuring its con-tents from the passersby, who fortunately did no more than glance in their direction and quickly away, visibly picking up their pace to make speed past them. Luxel glared at Zainal as if he were to blame for their unexpected passage. Zainal returned his angry glance with an indif-ferent shrug. What did it matter if anyone saw what he had stored there? No one but Terrans could use it, much less buy it.

Clearly stenciled on the boxes were numbers and contents, and Ditsy had no trouble picking out items on the wish list. Solar Panel Array Assembled, HG-SP-88373-BO5, Expandable dish antenna: HG-MW-7712-d15-2-5. High on the list were circuit boards #A.05, but all Ditsy could find were A.01 and A.02. But that was a start. "Jeez, Zainal, it's all the solar panel stuff," Ditsy said, shielding his jubilant remark from Luxel's hearing.

"Calm down, lad, calm down. Just check them all off as if they were quite ordinary."

"Oops, sorry, boss. Shouldn't have given myself away like that." "No, you shouldn't have. Rule number one in bargaining: pretend you don't really want the items."

"I know, sir." Ditsy was most chagrined. "I'm sorry, Zainal, but most of the items are on here." He flicked the list as if it were annoy-ing him. As they were speaking English, Luxel was unlikely to have understood. He then crammed the list in his pocket as if he were dis-carding it but could not presume to litter the slab floor with his trash. He went to the doorway and lounged negligently against the frame.

"There are some items here that might interest me," Zainal said, ignoring the disbelief in Luxel's expression. "But these are crates"-he mimicked their shape "and the dentist man requires payment worthy of his skill, practice, and hard work, which is not as easily quantified as a mere crate."

"It is what the crate contains, Emassi," replied Luxel, still feeling he had the upper hand.

"You say you are a ship captain?" Luxel nodded.

"How much are you paid by the day?"

"It cannot take a full day's captaincy to pay to replace a tooth-when I have provided the necessary gold metal," was his protest. "And how long was it before you were allowed to dock a ship at Barevi port?"

"I had to serve only the minimum time before I got my full ticket," Luxel replied stoutly, expecting Zainal to be impressed. "How long was that?" Zainal insisted.

"In my fourth year." He still felt Zainal should be impressed.

"It was in his seventh year in the practice of his profession that Eric Doctor was allowed to contrive gold crowns."

"Seven years?" Luxel was impressed. "It can't be that hard to do."

"Watch and see how cleverly he will shape the metal." Zainal ticked off points on his fingers. "Then, how carefully he prepares your tooth, which will take several days' work, how he makes a mold to fit exactly in your face." Zainal's expression suggested that this "face" was not worth so much effort. "And then fits the tooth. That is not as easy as parking a ship at Barevi port and takes much more skill and training." Zainal gave a nonchalant shrug and, jerking his chin at Ditsy to follow him, walked out into the alleyway, paying no further attention to Luxel. They did hear the click and snick as the captain secured his shed and his footsteps as he hurried after them. As much, Zainal thought, to be sure they were going to quit the sheds as to catch up with them.

On their return, Zainal was instantly disquieted when he saw the gaggle of folk, some in the tunics of the market police, clustered in front of their stall. Ferris had been anxiously awaiting their return for he darted toward Zainal, pointing out Kapash, who was speaking to Bazil and Peran with menace. "Questions, questions, and your sons have been answering in the negative. Which, of course, is only cor-rect. You, Captain, must inform the merchants that you are the owner of that piece of gold and where you came by it." Ferris looked very worried and indeed, Zainal thought, had good reason to be.

The market security people were very careful to apprehend any thieves who might roam the market, and they were also on the look-out for suspicious quantities of any metals that might have been smuggled in without benefit of the percentage that by law the market should have on the sale of such commodities. Zainal had taken the precaution of making an inventory of all he had brought with him and the fact that it had been mined on Botany. He would not be subject to the tax if he used the gold in exchange for other items. But he knew the rules and he knew that Kapash was aware of that. Espe-cially since Kapash had known of Zainal's time spent in command of Barevi. There were subtle differences between gold from disparate worlds, and the market had experts who could differentiate. Luxel's gold would obviously not be part of Zainal's inventory. Zainal just hoped that Luxel's sample had been appropriately declared by him.

As Zainal strode quickly to join his people and defend their inno-cence, he noticed that Eric had a very tight knot of young men around his place.

"Your father, all respect to him," Kapash was saying to a staunchly defensive Peran, "knows that gold must be taxed."

"Not in exchange for goods and services," Zainal said, charging right up to Kapash, making his squad break apart. He pulled Peran back to him, hands on the boy's stiff shoulders, tightening his fingers to show approval.

"Whatever," Kapash retorted angrily, aware that he had possibly overstepped his duties by bullying the son. "There is the matter of dispensing an unknown beverage that was not stipulated as the pur-pose for this stall."

"We are not dispensing a beverage for a price, but as a private re-freshment while a bargain is being made," Zainal said crisply. He did not wish to antagonize Kapash but it was clear that the man wanted to cause trouble for him if he could.

"And the matter of that unusual equipment." Kapash gestured with a thumb over his shoulder at Eric's appliances. "They must be checked as possibly hazardous."

Zainal heard Eric's snort. "You obviously did not have a chance to visit Terra," Zainal retorted, "or you would know that this is dental equipment, to repair teeth."

"You there." Kathy Harvey pointed to a man in the forefront of the crowd that had now assembled to watch the scene. He had a grin on his face in anticipation of watching a fracas and it clearly showed his gold crowns. "You have gold teeth, so you can reassure Kapash that this equipment is useful."

"Me? How would I know that?"

"By the smile on your face. You have had similar work done on your teeth that Eric is beginning for the Catteni."

Kapash now gestured for the man to step forward. He did with great reluctance, jamming his upper lip down over his teeth. Eric stepped forward and met the man, putting his fingers on the man's chin.

"Open! Wider! Ah yes, good work," Eric said in Catteni, Judi-ciously peering into the man's mouth. "And halitosis, too. Remark-able diet your folk have, Zainal. Whatever you paid for it, you got a bargain for that work," he added, amiably slapping the Catteni on the shoulder. "But," and now he waggled his finger at Luxel, "I do better work. Does he have the goods, Zainal? Because his gold is the proper quality. I would ordinarily cut it with platinum, but I think the piece will go far enough to provide him with the caps those tusks of his re-quire. How do you grow teeth like that?" The last was said with ad-miration.

Eric shot Kapash a quick, measuring look and then resumed his place on his own dental chair and, folding his hands serenely across his chest, went back to observing the scene with amused detachment.

"You did not say that you were selling services, Zainal," Kapash accused him.

"You did not ask. We are selling services in exchange for goods, which is quite legal and requires no further licensing."

"But you are dispensing a beverage." He flicked dirty-nailed fin-gers at the cups on the table.

"We are, as I said, providing private refreshment for our customers as we discuss terms and prices."

"Would you care to discuss items with us, Market Commander Kapash?" Kathy Harvey said, with such a winning smile that Zainal hoped he'd remembered to tell her that the man was a known lecher. She offered him a cup she had just poured, and although he made a show of fighting with his principles, he took it quickly enough, savoring the smell of the coffee before he took a sip.

"That is splendid coffee. From Earth?"

"Yes indeed, a scarce commodity these days."

"And what are you trading it for? I need such facts for my report." A report Zainal was certain would never be written, much less filed. "As I mentioned before, we are looking for spare parts that were transported here during the recent occupation of Earth."

"Ah yes, Supreme Emassi Kamiton remarked to me that you might be seeking to purchase some bits and pieces."

"Yes, well, my success would mean that he"-Zainal lowered his voice and leaned toward Kapash-"would be able to improve his own communications network."

"How?"

"Ah." Zainal stepped back. "Now that would be telling, wouldn't it?" He gave a slight smile.

"What exactly do you wish to bargain for?" There was a little em-phasis on the "bargain," and since Zainal knew that as market man-ager Kapash would know exactly who might have what, including items he might have secreted in case they became valuable, Zainal al-lowed his smile to broaden. Zainal thought rapidly of a diplomatic way of diverting Kapash, a man known for his greed.

"This and that," he said with a negligent flick of his fingers. "What have you to tempt us?"

"How do I know that when you do not tell me what you seek?" Zainal thought quickly and noticed Ferris fondling his prized handset.

"Such items as this," he said, unclipping the unit from Ferris's belt and displaying the cell phone. "Invaluable communications unit. See, I am in contact with my ship at all times."

He depressed the panic button and instantly a voice, made tinny by the cheap handset, answered.

"Baker Alpha Sugar Sugar One."

"Zainal. Testing. Above board, out," he responded and closed the connection before offering Kapash the instrument to examine. They had devised a number of passwords for different situations. "Above board" was "Things are proceeding well," while "Mayday" meant "Emergency." "Marines are coming" would indicate immediate physi-cal help would be appreciated.

Between finger and thumb, Kapash accepted the unit from Zainal and turned it over.

"Connects across miles of empty territory so even the fastest ad-vance units may be in touch:'

Kapash handed it back with an air of disdain. "I can do that with any unit on Barevi."

"Certainly. I would expect you to be so equipped. But Botany is not so well supplied. Nor could we find more in the few unlooted storehouses on Terra. Most of the type we need on Botany are prob ably," and Zainal paused to swing his glance around the market, "here. However, coffee, too, is in short supply on Terra." Which was basi-cally the truth since there was no transport to bring the beans to for-eign marketplaces.

"No more?" Kapash was startled and sipped eagerly at his cup. "No. Much of Earth's agriculture was laid to waste. It takes time to grow proper coffee and it takes experts to harvest the crop and process it. There will be no more until the industry recovers from the occupation." Zainal didn't think the Catteni had looted all the items required for the production of coffee, but he was reasonably certain that he'd find some spare parts languishing here on Barevi, apart from those needed to repair the plantations' vehicles.

"None?" Kapash seemed genuinely upset.

"We have the last of the roasted beans." Which was certainly true of the beans they had acquired from Kenya and Santa Lucia. Kapash continued to look dismayed, but a flicker of thought be-hind his eyes told Zainal that, not only was the man fond of his cof-fee, but he would also wish to enjoy it without stint.

"What standard would you use to trade for more of the hand units?"

Zainal hefted his. "Equal weight of beans for the unit seems fair." Kapash turned toward the stall, saw the scales, and peremptorily gestured for Zainal to bring the unit over. He did and Kapash put it on one side of the scales. Zainal gave Kathy the sign to pour beans in the other side. She was scrupulous in making up the weight, even to the last bean, which edged on the side of generosity. Then she spread both hands out to indicate it was up to Kapash.

He looked at the beans, picked up a handful, and sniffed them. "They make a rich cooked coffee," Kathy said winningly. She used "cooked" for "roasted" since there was no equivalent Catteni word to describe the exact process.

"How many cups of coffee would that lot make?"

"If you grind properly, this should make four large pots of good, strong, black, rich cooked coffee. You probably have a nut grinder at home." She showed him the one she had brought from the BASS-1.

"Is that what those are used for?" Kapash remarked, lifting his eyebrows.

Zainal wasn't sure which he meant but it had been a wise precau-tion to bring along grinders and what was left of the glass drip-filter cafetiers. They even had a carton of the glass insets on board the BASS-1.

"A special brew requires perfect equipment, as I'm sure you have discovered, Manager Kapash," Zainal said suavely. Peran was begin-ning to jiggle in front of his father, restless now that the adults were so obviously absorbed, but Zainal tightened his hand on the boy's shoulder to remind him of the respect due Catteni adults.

Kapash's coffee was now cool enough for him to take a bigger swallow, which he seemed to be rinsing around in his mouth, savor-ing. "This is different from other brews I have sampled."

"You are currently enjoying a mild roast of arabicas," Kathy Harvey said and reached for another pot she had recently made and a clean cup. "Now this is from robusta beans, which give a much stronger taste."

Kapash's eyes widened with appreciation as he smelled the steam and, blowing on the liquid, attempted a sip of the new coffee. "Mmmm, much stronger and far more to my taste."

"There are many different types of beans, and combinations of them, Manager Kapash, for those subtle and sophisticated enough to appreciate the finer flavors," Zainal said. "What else have we brewed, Captain?"

Kapash actually seemed to have sophisticated taste buds because he was able to distinguish the milder roasts that Kris had made from the stronger robusta. He summoned a minion and sent him off to col lect the proposed merchandise. Of course, the handsets on Botany would be of no use unless they could put up the satellites, but Zainal was encouraged by the possibility. Leave it to the market manager to have set aside choice trading items.

Meanwhile, Eric was already at work on Luxel, pouring a sub-stance into those wide jaw trays he had insisted he must have, and making Luxel open his mouth so wide it looked as if he might lock his jaw hinge. Then Luxel had to sit, those things in his mouth, while Eric consulted his wristwatch and fingered a little blob of the green substance he had placed in Luxel's mouth.

What a bizarre way to regain possession of the spoils of invasion! Zainal wondered exactly what deal Eric had fashioned with Luxel. Four teeth to be replaced? How could they get Luxel to give them items from eight cartons, instead of only four? How many had Eric bargained for? And then there were the larger necessities: the frame-work on which the individual units would be hung as well as the thermal protective material. That didn't come in a carton but was as necessary for the satellites as the major units that powered, controlled, and directed them in orbit. There were moments when the magnitude of the task he had committed himself and the others to com-plete overwhelmed him. Sometimes, he thought, very privately so he couldn't hear it himself, that his success as executioner of the malig-nant Eosi was leading him to think he was invincible. He could be vincible on another mission, but not this one! So much depended on his success here on Barevi. It would certainly set a precedent.

"There." Zainal pushed the six bags of coffee beans toward Kapash. "You will deliver the hand units tomorrow?" Kapash blinked, and at first Zainal thought the man considered the beans a bribe. "We shall be looking forward to your messenger." He had completed a subtle bribe with Kapash, giving him the coffee beans before taking owner-ship of the hand units that had been the object of the trading. They could also expect more business from Kapash: he was definitely a cof-fee addict. There were more sacks of coffee beans in the capacious hold of BASS-1, and they knew where to get more. Then he saw Captain Harvey trying to get his attention and he strolled over to her.

"We'll need more beans, Zainal." Her eyes sparkled with this evi-dence of success. "While you were gone, we had a coffee fiend who has delivered us five Motorola crates of orbiting controllers. We defi-nitely need more beans."

"Do we have any coins to pay for a hire lift?"

Harvey thrust a hand into a pocket and emptied the contents into his hand: small coins, to be sure, but sufficient in number to pay Natchi's modest charge. He signaled the veteran from his box and then looked around for Peran.

The boy materialized beside him. "Return to the ship and ask Floss to come back with ten sacks of assorted beans. Here are tokens for Natchi's lift."

The veteran was almost as prompt in attending Zainal as Peran had been. "May we hire your lift again? Peran, my son, requires it for an errand."

"Such a sturdy lad, Emassi. Surely he will captain ships when he has finished his training."

Peran was agreeable to having such a future assigned him, and he straightened his frame to make himself appear taller, more worthy of such rank.

"Indeed, when his tutor approves his lessons," Zainal said, and Peran's face fell. "Now he must go about his father's errands." Zainal slipped Peran the tokens, which when he had offered them to Natchi, the old one-armed man had cheerfully waved aside.

"I owe you service for the many fine cups of coffee I have re-ceived, Emassi. I also need to walk. I will accompany your son." "My thanks, Natchi, for your courtesy."

Natchi performed a maneuver more salute than bow. Then, with smartness reminiscent of other days, he turned and followed Peran to where he had stored his lift.