Freedom's Ransom

Chapter Seven

When they got close enough to Terra, looking much the same as Kris remembered it from NASA shuttle photos, they could also see some of the larger space junk.

"Let's just see what is still operational," Zainal said. "If it's only the spare parts that are needed, maybe we can supply those."

"We don't have them: yet," Kris reminded him.

Jacqueline Kiznet, who preferred to be called Jax, brought up a screen image of the satellite distribution.

"Earth looks like a porcupine with all that junk," she exclaimed. "'Junk' is probably accurate," Kathy Harvey muttered. "As I heard it, the Catteni used the comm sats for target practice."

"Some are obviously still working since the communications net-work is functioning, even with occasional gaps," Mpatane remarked. "So not all are gone. Since I'm up here, I can get the working ones to respond to a code I happen to know"

Zainal drifted over to the nearest units, some with three long solar panels and some with only two, and eased close to one whose solar panels on the nearest port side were gone. The same damage was vis ible on the next four they passed. Mpatane kept a record of their IDs.

"They don't look damaged otherwise," she murmured. "Still have their ears."

"Ears?" Zainal asked, surprised.

"Those round objects are actually called 'ears,' and they catch the signals and bounce them on to their coded destinations."

"No power, no work," Gail Sullivan said, a sad tone to her voice. "We shall need to get as many solar sails as we can find, then," Zainal said, as if that solved the whole problem.

Some did answer, feebly in a few cases, others more robustly, to Kathy's signals, each new response raising the hopes of the entire crew. The suggestion of redistributing the operational ones was met with the remark that each satellite had a mission package that defined its parameters so that they were not interchangeable.

"And this next one," Jax Kiznet said from her pilot's chair, "is a loose cannon. See how it wobbles?"

"Looks to me as if it got its controls blasted," Harvey said, peer-ing at the twisted protuberances that would have provided guidance. "Its solar wings don't seem to be damaged."

"This KDM has a tractor beam, doesn't it?" Mpatane asked Zainal, who nodded. "Could we capture it?"

"We could, but why?"

"Well, for one thing, it's small enough to be hauled on board so we could examine it at our leisure. Work experience for when we need to repair other units," she said.

Zainal enabled the tractor beam, which locked onto the spinning comet sat. The jerk of contact went through the scout ship, rocking several folks roughly about. But no one was injured.

Getting the comm sat on board was not as easy, although the cargo area could be sealed off from the rest of the ship so the outer hatch could be opened. Gravity on the KDM could also be turned off, to make maneuvering the unit easier. It was, Kathy Harvey re-marked, rather like getting a whale onto a trawler.

"If we just had someone to give it a good push," McColl re-marked, smoothing his white brush mustache as if that action gen-erated useful thought. He was the oldest of the pilots Chuck had seconded.

"Do we have any cargo nets left on board the ship?" Zainal asked thoughtfully.

"Yes," Chuck Mitford replied. "Steel mesh, too. Are you going to do a cowboy act?"

Zainal merely widened his eyes at Chuck until Chuck gave a pan-tomime of a rope being thrown. Zainal snorted. "It is easier to match velocities and park in front of it."

"Snare it in the hatch?" McColl asked, astonished. He whistled. "That will take some piloting."

Zainal regarded him steadily. "I am accustomed to doing such things."

"Wasn't even suggesting you aren't a top-flight pilot, Zainal," Mc-Coll replied quickly. "But I do want to see you play catch." He grinned to mitigate any slur on his abilities.

"And so you shall," Zainal said. "Chuck, bring that net up to Number One Hatch." He settled himself down at the control panel to do the necessary placement and picked a comm sat that had had both "ears" blown off and much of its impressive span of solar panels cut off short. While he had said it was "merely" a job of matching ve-locities, it required very careful "puffs" of his thrusters to slow the KDM down and introduce a rate of closure with the satellite of about one-quarter to one-half meter per second.

"How are you going to intercept that much mass at that rate, Zainal?" Kathy asked.

"I do have to allow for momentum, velocity plus mass, but it shouldn't be too high for the mesh to handle if it's standard Catteni issue. As for the KDM, the winches are built much heavier than that. Chuck, have you got the net in the cargo hold?"

"Gimme a few, Zainal," Chuck said, obviously puffing from phys-ical exertion. "Had to stuff it on a lift platform. Unhandy thing." "Steel mesh?"

"Yup, standard Catteni issue."

"That's what we need," Zainal said, feeling more confident about all this. Kris gave him a look, implying that he was doing what she called "showing off" but what he called "proving" his skill as a pilot. "It'll also discharge the static on the comm sat in space instead of in the cargo hold."

"Zainal, got it in place against the hatch. We're getting back to the lock. Ah, now, we're all safe. Ready when you are. The net's rigged to go."

"Grab hold, crew. I've got to go weightless." He snapped off the ship's gravity, then opened the hatch and watched while first a bulge of the net cleared the starboard side of the KDM, and then the rest followed, ballooning into space but still tethered to the vessel. "Park-ing" the KDM in front of the object he wished to capture, he "puffed" the thrusters just enough to catch the rectangular comm sat in the mesh. There was an almighty flash as the steel mesh encoun-tered the comm sat and discharged static.

Mpatane floated at a porthole, watching the mesh close around the satellite. Suddenly she was blinded by a burst of light, and she clenched her eyes shut.

"What was that? Looked almost like lightning," she exclaimed. "What you saw was the voltage potential on the satellite equaliz-ing. Visible here, too," Chuck explained. "Those things can build up quite a charge sitting there, what with all those solar storms and rela-tivistic electron flux bombarding them all the time. It's a good thing we didn't send someone out on EVA! That would have been nasty." Zainal grunted, as if dismissing the prospect of danger.

"Wow!" Kathy exclaimed, blinking against the sudden blue-white glare.

"Neat fireworks," Ferris said, awed.

Watching carefully on his starboard screens, Zainal saw the net tighten around its catch and slowly be reeled back to the ship. With a deft hand on his thrusters, he edged the ship so that the netted comm satellite entered the hatch.

"Mitford, make sure you get the satellite on the floor of the hold as closely as you can," Zainal said. "I don't want it smashing our deck plates when I turn the gravity back on."

"Will do. I'll need a minute or two. Got to repressurize the hold and whatnot."

"Take your time," Zainal replied, the model of Catteni patience. After a few minutes of silence, Chuck said, "Zainal, this thing's heavy as hell. Can you push the ship up so it will drift toward the floor?"

"Get clear, and make sure there's nothing between it and the cargo flooring."

After two quick puffs of the thrusters, a dull and satisfying thud echoed through the ship.

"We've got it now, Zainal, thanks," was Chuck's enthusiastic reply. "Wait one while we get it braced with something: Okay: good to go now"

"The KDM," Zainal murmured to Kathy, "is a workhorse but you can get it to do more than just haul stuff from one planet to another." "To be honest, Zai," Gino Marrucci said, and he'd already flown KDMs between Earth and Botany, "I didn't believe you could do that with this."

"Can we see what we snared?" Mpatane asked. "I've only seen pictures of the comm sats before they were launched. Never one on site, so to speak."

"Crew, gravity's coming on. Three, two, one." Zainal flicked the toggle to the "on" position. "Mitford, secure the hatch. Don't want that thing rolling out on us."

"Couldn't roll if it wanted to, Zainal. It's too heavy. And besides, it's square blocks stuck together, not a ball."

Those in the lock with Chuck were busy examining the catch be-fore Zainal, Gino, and Kathy Harvey arrived.

"Hey, it's a Boeing 601. We can mount just about anything on this baby. Some of the parts for these things are on that wish list," Mpatane said with respectful delight.

"Can we service it then?"

"If we had the parts, we could," Mpatane said, circling the unit, putting her fingers through the holes some target practice had made in the "ear" and sighing at the blatant vandalism. "I wonder how many more fell to some Catteni's notion of fun. Ooops, sorry, Zainal." "Not to worry, Mpatane. But it can be serviced?"

"If we can find the spare parts, sure. I don't notice any holes in the mission package or the control units, but you did keep a record of its orbit, didn't you, Zainal?"

"Yes, it's logged. So all we need to do is repair it and put it back in space."

"We'll have our work cut out for us," Mpatane said with a heavy sigh. "This one is one of many, you know. Do we get to do them all?" She cocked her head impudently at Zainal.

"As many as we have to to extend the working footprint needed to ensure worldwide communications. We'll need some sort of con-ference with someone down there to figure out how many satellites will be required to make a big enough footprint."

She exhaled over the enormity of the task.

"Well, it's a job," she said with such resignation that everyone chuckled in semi-agreement, semi-sympathy.

"Check the unit over, will you, Mpat, and see what else has been damaged. I'm hoping we can just unscrew, detach, and/or replace faulty parts."

"Plug in and go," Gino said, pushing a triumphant fist in the air.

"Now, crew, lash it down so when we enter Earth's atmosphere, it doesn't buck its way about the hatch," was Zainal's final remark as he turned to go back to the cockpit.

Part of the inbound journey was then occupied by a full exami-nation of the comm sat by the communications experts, with an em-phasis on how to replace damaged solar vanes and restore power to the damaged equipment. They kept a list of the deployment of those that they thought they could repair. If they had the spare parts.

"I never imagined we had so much orbiting the planet," Kris said that night in the mess hall as she served the assembled crew.

"Junk, a lot of it," Harvey said with understandable contempt. "Too far out to be burned up in the atmosphere:"

"Raining hot metal down on unsuspecting folk," Gail said. "It did happen, you know. Australia got quite irate over some instances."

"I thought Australia was sparsely populated outside of the major cities."

"There are people and sheep in the outback, as well as Abotigi-nals who didn't like their turf being pummeled by junk." "Expensive junk," Jax added, "still makes trouble."

Chuck came into the cockpit then with a sheet of notes in his hand. "Look, guys, in the category of 'once bitten, twice shy,' we ought to get contacted soon. Those NOR-AD boys in the Cheyenne mountains are sharp. Catteni couldn't even budge them."

"You mean, they have a space station backup?" Kris said.

"Of course we do," Kathy said, almost contemptuously. "First world community project, called Watch Dog, with sensors at about forty-two kilometers from Earth. No one is ever going to catch Earth unawares again. Only, does anyone know what to say?"

"Of course I do," Chuck said, clicking his tongue. "I arranged a code before I came back to Botany. That's why I had a radio put on board. It's all set up. They ought to make contact about now. We are forty-three thousand klicks from Earth's surface, ain't we?"

It was one minute and forty-two seconds before the radio unit crackled, startling them all even if they were waiting for it.

"This is Watch Dog. What are you doing in our space?" "Not very polite," Zainal murmured.

"To the point, however," Kathy said, pleased, and eyed Chuck Mitford sternly.

"Botany boys are back, Watch Dog."

"Oh, the Botany boys, huh?" was the laconic reply. "You are a green for go, Botany Boy. What's your destination?"

Chuck grinned fatuously around and winked at Kathy. "Newark Airport."

"What's your business?"

"Liaison with New Jersey Coord Dan Vitali." "Roger that, Botany Boy. Is that Mitford talking?"

"Chuck Mitford, aboard the Botany spaceship Baker Alpha Sugar Sugar One.

"Roger that, Baker Alpha Sugar Sugar One. Who's your crew?" "Emassi Zainal, pilot, and Captain Kathy Harvey, copilot; Gino Marrucci, radio officer; flight engineer is Lieutenant Mpatane Cum-mings. Twelve passengers."

"You are free to proceed. Will alert Newark Airport and Coord Vitali. Over and out."

"Over and out-and thanks, Watch Dog."

"Newark radio frequency is 118.3, Ground Control 121.8 MHz. Out."

"Roger."

"Clever Chuck," Kris said with a sigh of relief. "I didn't think about possibly getting shot out of the skies."

"A little late but we learned."

"Was the International Space Station blown out of the skies?" "No, like its predecessor, it had a charmed life. It also had no ar-mament when the Catteni came through and was hidden by the planet so it didn't come in for some target practice. Now it's armed and ready."

Chuck nodded approval.

"Botany boys!" Zainal said with a snort.

"Seemed easy to remember. Newark ain't much, but the airport's one of the few kept manned, and with the KDM being a vertical takeoff and landing ship, no problem to land there. Or anywhere. Newark's also closer to the coordinators we need to talk to."

"Wouldn't JFK be bigger and better?" Kris asked. She'd always been impressed by that huge airport.

"No, too far out in Queens, and we ain't got the right contacts there."

The KDM had reached the atmosphere, and even before Zainal called for a "safety-belt check, people," all were strapped down_ Peran and Bazil occupied the jump seats and were fascinated by the ap proach to a planet they had heard about but never seen, even in pic-tures. The KDM nosed into the atmosphere and the bucking started in earnest. Then suddenly it smoothed out and the spaceship was running east with the patchwork of the midwestern states passing be-neath them at incredible speed.

Gino warmed up the radio and got the Newark frequency, then nodded to Zainal. Gino's bright tenor sounded amiably bored as he requested permission for Baker Alpha Sugar Sugar 1 to use the runway.

"KDM, you're cleared into Newark," was the calm response. Gino blinked and even Chuck looked surprised at the insouciance of the acknowledgment. "We have you on radar at:" The voice suddenly was tinged with near panic. "Jeez! KDM, are you in trouble?"

"No," Zainal replied, "all systems are normal."

"Christ, KDM," Newark Approach responded, and noise of con-fusion filtered from the background. "You've dropped ten thousand feet in the last two seconds! You're going to be on top of the airport in-here, I'll patch you to the tower." In the background, very clearly, could be heard "Call out the crash trucks. This one's going to augur in!"

"KDM, this is Newark Tower. You are cleared for immediate landing on runway Twenty-two-R. Winds calm at two hundred ten degrees. Your altitude is-about three thousand. We have you on ra-dar. Say your intentions."

"I intend to land, if I may. Main engines will engage in a hover at one hundred feet."

Newark Tower replied, "Hover? Roger, KDM, you're cleared to land." Since the operator clearly forgot to unkey his microphone, they could hear him. "He says he's going to hover that thing. Has anyone ever heard of the Cats hovering? Jeez, duck!"

Right on the mark, the KDM's main engines kicked in and brought the spaceship to a hover a neat one hundred feet from the runway. Zainal had Kathy bring the craft down to a mere ten feet be-fore radioing the tower. "KDM requests parking instructions."

The tower operator was slow to reply. "Uh, roger, KDM, you are cleared to taxi to the West Park area. Take any convenient spot and any route you need."

"Yes, we are taking most direct path to West Park Area."

The tower contact cleared his throat suddenly. "Uh, KDM, what's your port of origin? For the record, I gotta clear you. Your port of origin and flight docket?"

"We are inbound from the planet Botany, wishing to make con-tact with Coordinator Dan Vitali. Do not have a flight docket, what-ever that is these days."

"Inbound from where? Dan Vitali?" Everyone in the cabin could hear the barrage of questions from a number of startled voices in the tower with the operator.

"Ohmigod, get Vitali on the phone. Snap to it. We got I dunno how many tons of spaceship hovering above us."

"Hell, we ain't Bakersfield or the Space Center. What's he doing in our skies?"

"Trying to land, I think. Watch Dog cleared it with the boss about two hours ago. Code just came in. Have you got Vitali yet? This is-man, like, urgent. No messing."

Everyone in the cockpit, except the two Catteni boys, grinned at the panic they were causing.

"Baker Alpha Sugar Sugar One, have you a Chuck Mitford on board?" Tower asked a short minute later, this query considerably more courteous than his first reaction.

"Affirmative to that, Tower."

"Please await inspection and escort to the coord. They are on their way. Sorry, it's a bit of protocol."

"Inspection? Good Lord, and when I think of all the alien goods we have on board, we're in trouble," Kris said facetiously. "I wonder how much duty they'll charge for the electronics on board."

"I suspect they are more cautious now," Kathy Harvey said dryly, "than they used to be. And this is obviously a Catteni spaceship, even if you call yourselves the Botany Space Force. So we're not exactly aliens."

"Nor old-time, just long-lost friends," Gino added.

They were landing in the dusk of that day. Runway and perime-ter lights came on. As Zainal lightly lowered the KDM to the paving in the Y that formed the international landing area, the view screen showed them the facade of the main facility. Someone wearing a striped luminescent jacket waggled lighted wands, directing them to turn into the appropriate bay, and Zainal obediently turned the nose of the KDM in that direction. As they approached, everyone in the cockpit could see that many people crammed the windows of the fa-cility and the ground-level doors.

There was no way they could match with an airway but the KDM had an extrudable ramp so one was not needed for the spaceship. As the KDM came to a halt, Sally Stoffers, showing an unexpected hu-mor, gave the usual flight attendant's warning about remaining seated until the seat belt sign went off and being careful about unloading overhead compartments. Her wit sent a ripple of laughter through the cockpit and the tension of landing eased.

"Well done, Zainal, well done," Kathy, Kris, and Gino said, and Chuck clapped Zainal on the shoulder to indicate his approval. Then there was the hollow sound of someone tapping on the hatch.

"Hey, in there. Open up. Don't keep Coord Vitali waiting."

"Coord" had to be short for "coordinator," but they pronounced it as one syllable, "kward."

The announcement seemed to be blasted through the hull of the ship. The ground crew, which had originally been one man with the lighted hand paddles, had grown to a sizable crowd. Someone had a bullhorn, on which the "open up" message was being bawled.

"Let's go meet our hosts," Zainal said on the intercom.

"Can we spare some rock squats for the landing crew, Kris?" Chuck asked. "And some to present to Coord Vitali?"

"Bribery or landing fees?"

"I suppose a bit of both," Chuck said. "Good public relations. Latter-day Cattenis arrive bearing gifts. Union, kids." He cocked his finger at Peran and Bazil. They unstrapped their seat belts and obeyed. Kris followed, fretting over whether or not there was sufficient un-frozen rock squat to offer. She found Clune and had him bring up some wheat sacks.

"Don't know if these will be useful," she said when they had all congregated in the lock.

"Wheat?" Chuck grinned. "Always."

Zainal punched the open tab on the lock frame and the hatch slipped up while the ramp extended, forcing people to stand back from the port side.

"Hi, y'all," Kris said, wondering how her embarrassed greeting came out in a slightly southern drawl. She smiled broadly and then of-fered the tray of cold roasted rock squats to the man who had guided them in.

"These are cooked and taste a little like chicken," she said.

The tray was almost ripped out of her hands and passed around, everyone reaching for a section. The tray was empty in seconds. "Call it a landing fee," she added. "And we have some wheat here, if that's any use."

"All supplies go to a licensed caterer," a stout woman said, charg-ing forward and directing the disposal of the sacks. "Our thanks. And this is good," she added, waving the remains of her portion of the rock squat.

"Did she inhale it?" Kathy muttered to Kris, who shrugged. Zainal led their mission down the ramp, Chuck close beside him, trying to find a familiar face in the dusky light.

"Yo, here, Chuck." A tall man wearing a baseball cap, a faded Levi's jacket, and oil-stained trousers with frayed cuffs over heavy leather boots stepped forward, waving both arms.

"Hi, Collin. Can we see the coord?" "Yeah, sure, he's waiting inside."

"Kathy, grab another tray of rock squat, will you? And, Clime and Herb, hoist a coupla sacks of the wheat and flour," Kris ordered to those behind her.

"Can we come, too, Father?" Peran asked, bouncing behind Kris. She let him pass her to stand by Zainal.

"People who come in peace bring kids," she murmured.

By then, Collin was embracing Chuck with great masculine slaps on the back and, in between, broad gestures for the rest of them to come down the ramp. "Botany Boy gets back, huh? Coord Vitali should be here by now," Collin said nervously, resettling his cap on his bristle-cut hair as he motioned for everyone to proceed to the airport building. "He sure was surprised to get a note from Biff."

"Bif" Zainal and Marrucci asked in surprise. "Alias for Watch Dog," Collin said with a laugh.

Another man, also capped, strode out of the gaggle of observers to lead the way and hurry people along. Zainal nodded at Gino and Jax to stay behind, on guard, and followed the man, with Chuck and Collin joining the little procession.

They were led upstairs to what Kris identified as a once-elegant VIP lounge, though considerably the worse for wear now, judging by the stains on the upholstery and the general seedy appearance and stale air. Much at his ease in one of the armchairs was the man Kris thought must be this Coord Vitali. As his name suggested, he had an Italianate countenance, swarthy skin, black hair, and a beard barbered close to a strong jawline. He also looked to have been a much stouter person for his clothes, which were of good quality, hung loosely on him and his face was gaunt. But he flashed a genuinely welcoming smile and met Chuck with an outstretched hand, vigorously seizing Chuck's.

"Chuck Mitford, we have all heard of you," he said, his tone slightly awed.

"From your Texas colleague, I hope," Chuck said, ignoring, as he usually did, any reference to the legend of his efforts on Botany. "From him as well. He said you might be paying this part of the Free World a visit."

"And let me introduce the rest of my motley crew," Chuck said, grinning. "Our Cattem friend is Zainal, his two boys, Peran and Bazil; Captain Kathy Harvey, copilot; Kris Bjornsen, Zainal's mate; Gino Marrucci, our radio officer; Lieutenant Mpatane Cummings, flight engineer; and Alexander McColl, one of our pilots; and Clime and Herb, with the wheat sacks on their shoulders. Dr. Eric Sachs, lately of Columbus Circle. Allow us to present a small gift from Botany," Chuck said, taking the tray of roasted rock squats from Kris and presenting it with due ceremony to Coord Vitali. He raised thick brows inquiringly.

"Rock squats, cooked and ready to eat," Chuck said. "We lived on these birds the first few months on Botany. Make good eating." Between his offering and his words, those in the room who had stood back politely while the big men made their meeting looked ea-gerly at the tray.

"Don't mind if I do,"Vitali said, picking up a half squat and tak-ing a good bite with astonishingly white teeth. "Hmmm, very good. Pass it around," he mumbled as he chewed, his face lighting up with pleasure. "Hey, well, tasty. Nice to have something to sink one's teeth into. Chickens here are scarcer than their teeth."

The contents of this tray also disappeared very quickly, and then Clime and Herb carefully deposited the sacks they had hefted in. "Some wheat and flour for your supplies," Chuck said. "Gift of the Farmers."

"Hey, don't look like no Trojan horse, do they?" Vitali quipped. "Accepted with thanks. Anyone seen Grace so we can turn the wheat over to Catering Supplies, legal-like?" There was a bustle in the room and someone had obviously made a hurried call because the same woman arrived, this time with her own helpers and, with another curt nod of thanks, gestured for the sacks to be taken off.

"Well, we got some business we need to take care of in Manhat-tan," Chuck said, perching on the edge of another armchair. "Can you get us there?"

"Ain't a nice place no more," Vitali said, his eyes flickering over the women and the two Catteni boys in the group.

"Being dropped on Botany wasn't any nicer," Kris said as Kathy came to stand by her shoulder, looking equally firm.

"No, I 'spect it wasn't. Please, sit." Dan Vitali gestured for them to seat themselves and pull their chairs closer to him.

"Dr. Sachs here," and Zainal gestured at the dentist, "would like to take possession of his dental chair and the equipment from his office."

"Oh?" Vitali blinked in astonishment. Then comprehension brought a knowing smile to Vitali's face. "Catteni like gold crowns, don't they? Hey, well, Doc, wish you luck. Where was your office in the good of days?"

"Columbus Circle."

"You're in luck. Big trading there with the Cardinal Coord in charge," he said, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. "And we deal with him regular. Repossessing your equipment will be no problem."

Eric blinked, confused, until Dan Vitali gave him a reassuring look. "I can set up the repossession. No problem." Then he cocked a forefinger at Zainal before swinging it to Eric again. "Heard Catteni got into dentistry-replacing their front teeth. Hear tell they don't have dentists on their planet." Then Vitali tensed, his jaw dropped and he stared at Eric. "You going to Catten to set up your practice? Brave man." Then comprehension brought a sly gleam to Vitali's face. "Well, actually," Eric stumbled and turned to Zainal again.

So Zainal, speaking in a low tone for Vitali's ears only, explained about Barevi and his assignment. As soon as he mentioned the comm satellites, Dan Vitali held up his hand.

"Wendell's the one you need to talk to about comm sats," he said, and waved a man forward. "John Wendell, Chuck Mitford and friends," he added, smiling at Kris, Kathy, and Zainal's sons. "John keeps my phone system working," he said by way of explanation. John acknowledged the introduction as he came forward, rock squat bones in his hand. He was a wiry man, in the Levi's that seemed al-most a uniform. He also wore a broad belt from which depended pouches and on which were fixed special loops. Visible as a mound under his Levi's jacket was a mobile phone. He wore a baseball cap decorated with a Motorola M logo.

One of Vitali's cohorts passed around cups of coffee, thanking them quietly for the food. Instant coffee, Kris could tell the moment she had a mouthful, but it was welcome. She wondered if coffee figured in bartering at Columbus Circle. She remembered photos of that New York landmark with artists' sketches and paintings propped up against the Circle's balustrade.

"And you hope to trade dentistry, gold crowns, for spare parts?" Vitali asked.

"We have other things that may be tradable," Zainal said cau-tiously.

"You're going to need a lot if you're trying to ransom all the loot the Cats took: no offense, Zainal." The coord nodded courteously. "They got just about anything portable. We could restart some industries for the most urgent stuff but we haven't got ores. Mines are in production but it's slow, and we're just beginning to have coal for them. What you got handy 'sides wheat-which we appreciate, I as-sure you-that can pay for the gasoline and men to get you safely to Columbus Circle and back?"

Zainal was slightly taken aback by the query but, recovering, gave his broad shoulders a little twitch of acceptance. "Should have brought a lot more rock squats." He glanced apologetically at Kris. "We have some small quantities of ore. What had you in mind?" Zainal asked, his expression bland.

"We can use just about anything: copper, tin, lead, zinc, iron, right here in New Jersey, Zainal. Whatcha got?"

"Gold?"

"If that's all you got." Vitali's reluctance to accept the former stan-dard was an interesting insight into the current economy.

"Could manage some copper and tin, I think," Zainal finally ad-mitted. "How much?"

"Pure ore? Or recycled?"

"Some pure ingots mined on Botany."

"Well, in that case," and Vital' slapped his knees with flat hands, "I think we can do a trade."

"How much?" Zainal repeated. "We didn't think we'd need ores here."

"Here, there, and everywhere. We have some mines open, spe-cially for coal," Vitali went on, "but it's transporting it to where it can be worked is the problem."

"They say they're going back to sail, Coord," one of his minions remarked with the smirk of a mechanically oriented man for such a primitive alternative.

"Don't knock sails, Binjy," Vitali said amiably. "It did Colum-bus okay."

"Yeah, Coord, yah. Guess it started the whole shebang." "However they get it to Detroit and other places ain't our prob-lem. Getting things started again is. We ain't got tires, batteries, spark plugs, windshield wipers. You know, the stuff we used to take for granted." Vitali waved one hand in frustration. "Some stuff doesn't re-quire much ore but-"

"How much: in pounds, Vitali?"

"Pounds? Well, I'd say ten pounds would be the least I'd be able to accept for the loss of the irreplaceable supplies it'll take to get you all the way to Columbus Circle." He glanced down at the note on his pad.

"Eric has to go here, to get supplies," Zainal said, offering the exact address.

"Oooh," murmured Vitali but he didn't seem too put out. "Subways don't run anymore?" Kathy asked sharply. "Thought they were working on mass transportation as a top priority."

Vitali flung his head up, regarding her with something close to pity. "D'you know how much it costs to run a subway, girl? Even if we had diesel fuel?"

"No, sir, I don't, but we've all been sort of out of touch with what's been happening recently on Earth."

"We do get electricity on at least part of every day, to do water pumps and lights in hospitals 'n' essential things like that. Ain't got no time for fripperies that we used to consider rightful."

"Five pounds each of copper and lead settle our account with you, Vitali?"

Vitali drew in a long breath, regarding Zainal and rubbing his hands on his worn Levi's. "Well, I think it might. Can probably trade them to someone for something. You're sure it's pure?"

"Smelted on Botany, never felt a pick or shovel before we came." "Hmmm, pure stuff's worth a lot more."

"Indeed it should be," Zainal agreed amiably. "And that covers our expedition to Columbus Circle? And our second stop at West Thirteenth Street before we come back to the KDM? Deal?" Zainal held out his hand, hoping to conclude the bargain.

To his surprise, Vitali closed the deal with a shake. "This'll help more than you know. We're out of everything." He waved his hands around his head in frustration. "You bring us a load of tires back and you can name your price.

"I saw sheds full of tires and battery boxes," Chuck said. "All on Barevi. "

"All looted from us, too," Vitali said, scowling. "I'll take anything off your hands you can get: for anything you ask for: that we might still have. It's raw materials we need right now, to get industry started."

"We'll keep your wish list in mind," Kris said with a courteous nod. "Our main objective is to get spare parts and repair the comm sats." "Speaking of which, Mr. Wendell," Kathy began, and that man looked around him as if he didn't realize she could mean him. "Are you familiar with the Boeing arrays?"

"Sort of. Why?"

"We have one on board the KDM-"

"You what?" John Wendell's eyes went wide with astonishment. "Zainal netted it, neat as you please. But I'd appreciate a profes-sional survey of how best to repair it."

"Antennae and solar panels gone, I'll bet, sight unseen." "Yes, exactly."

He motioned Kathy to one side and the pair engaged in a spirited conversation with many gestures on Wendell's part while Kathy lis-tened, Kris thought, with far less reserve than she usually showed. Wendell was a personable-looking man and obviously well versed in his specialty. At least, Kathy looked impressed.

"Keeps us in contact real good," Vitali said approvingly. "Now, you guys want to go into Manhattan and grab the doc's stuff, right? It's essential to this operation of yours on Barevi, right? Aside from the issues of wear, tear, and personnel, what sort of a vehicle had you in mind?"

"Any sort of truck will do. Pickup, if you have one."

Vitali gave a little snort. "Even one with good tires. You're in luck. So that's the transport and you'll need a guide and some guards, un-less you have weapons." He cast a wary glance at Zainal. "And I don't mean those nerve whips either, Cattem."

"We will need your guides, and your guards for we have no weapons, but we're not defenseless," Zainal replied, as he held up his big hand and made a sizable fist.

Vitali cleared his throat.

"We have more wheat, if that can be tossed in to sweeten the pot," Kris offered.

"That's a sure enough sweetener, little lady, being as it will feed everyone, and a full stomach makes people easier to live with. Okay, Zainal, you got a deal, a truck, guide, and guard and my safe conduct for you tomorrow. Night's not a good time for going through the tunnel anyway, to mention only one hazard."

"The Lincoln Tunnel?" Kris exclaimed.

"Yes, ma'am, that and the Holland are the only ways to get to the island. No fuel for ferries, though they may start commandeering pleasure boats soon," Vitali said in the greatest of good humor. "We'd be pleased for you to join us for a meal here."

"We wouldn't want to deprive you," Kris said, having seen the dismay on several faces when Vitali made his offer. "We have enough rations on board and we wouldn't want to tap more of your resources than absolutely necessary." Particularly, she thought to herself, if it takes more of our raw ores.

"You'll sleep on board then?" Vitali asked, beaming appreciatively. "Yes, and be ready to move out whenever you have made the arrangements. We do need to replenish our water tanks."

"Water's still available-and guaranteed," Vitali said. "I'll have to check with the coords involved, as a matter of courtesy and for your security, but I can set up the transport personally," he said, so con-vincingly that Zainal nodded.

"If you've someone to take charge of the metal ingots, we can un-load them tonight," Zainal said, showing goodwill.

"Our pleasure, I assure you," Vitali said. Then he gathered several of his officers around him and gave quick, low, confident orders. The men left to obey them.

Coffee and business finished, Zainal stood, ready to make delivery of the ingots, however much he may have wanted to hold such com-modities back to trade on Barevi. Kathy asked to bring John Wendell on board to look at the comm sat, which Zainal thought a good idea. "Fine-looking lads, Zainal. They yours?" Vitali asked, rising to his feet.

Zainal nodded and introduced his sons. Peran and Bazil made courteous bows and offered limp hands to the coord, who smiled be-nignly at them.

"Got one about the same age," Vitali said. "If you've got two on board for the trip, I've another I can lend you: my grandson. For the good of our relationship, of course."

"If we were returning directly to Botany, that would be a possi-bility, Coord Vitali, but we go on to Barevi, and that is not a place I would suggest a young Terran visit right now. My sons travel with us for tutoring there." Peran and Bazil regarded their father with such shock that Vitali grinned.

"I see." There was regret in Coord Vitali's voice but he concluded the visit with a firm handshake, and the two groups separated.

"A tutor, Father?" Peran began as they started back down the stairs to the ground level.

"A tutor, Peran," Zainal said so firmly that the boys bowed their heads in rueful acceptance.

"Oh, and Zainal, have no worries about your ship's safety while here on the ground," Vitali said, pausing in the doorway of the VIP suite. "We have an excellent perimeter security. Sleep well and soundly."

"We're obliged," Zainal said, winking at Chuck, who grinned back. There was no real chance that anyone could break into the KDM. She had good external security devices, too.