by neetha Napew
“That’s stronger than Mayock’s hooch,” Kris remarked, after a smell of the rum and felt no desire at all to imbibe. She did reserve one bottle of the case for cooking. No one had cinnamon or raisins to trade. They were given more crates of citrus fruits, which would be novelties on Barevi. She wondered if she could manage to keep at least one stalk of the green bananas and a crate of oranges to bring back to Botany.
They stayed the night on the surfaceat the owner’s invitationand evidently he had sent messages to his neighbors to come see what had landed on his parking lot. And they came in droves, on horse back. Peran was much taken with horses and was put in the saddle of one animal (very gentle, Kris was assured) for a walk around. Bazil, naturally, had to have a turn, too. It was a convivial evening and established their KDM as friendly, Catteni and all.
When Kris suggested that they would probably return, they were begged to do so, and she made a list of the items for which they would gladly trade. She was not astonished to note that tires, Toyota truck spark plugs, and twentyvolt batteries were the most important items. “We could keep all our KDMs busy hauling stuff in and coffee beans out,” she said to Zainal.
“Mmmm,” was his response. “But these folks don’t have what we desperately need.”
he next morning, when the KDM lifted from Santa Lucia, everyone was refreshed and keen to get on with the next phase of their mission. They logged out of the system with the Watch Dog and were given a cheerful “farewell, come
back again soon” from the Cheyenne Mountain NORAD facility. If Gino, who was pilot for the first leg of their flight to Barevi, cheerfully assured them that they would, there was no demur on their part.
“The Botany boys will be back,” he crowed as he signed out of Terran space, and the powerful engines of the KDM sent them galactically north toward Barevi.
s they neared the trading planet, there was more chat on the l comm lines between Catteni captains, and whenever possible the duty officer repeated Peter’s carefully composed commercial about the new trader and goods coming soon to Barevi. The other key members of the ransom group now spent shifts listening to Catteni messages and practicing with Zainal’s sons, who were delighted to be in the position of teachers instead of pupils. They also absorbed new vocabulary and phrases.
When not on duty, Bazil and Peran indulged in what Kris knew was simple sibling bickering, but she was unable to discipline the boys. They certainly resented any interference in their “discussions” or the way they teased Floss. Fortunately, Kris could distract Floss, and Jax and Kathy both helped the girl make a dress from the fabric Kris had unexpectedly found at the market in Kenya. Floss had gushed with appreciation for Kris’s thoughtfulness. Of course, the boys teased Floss about thatwhen Zainal and Chuck were absentbut she was well able to make sharp retorts. There were a few incidents when they tried the same tactics on Ferris and Ditsy, but the two Terran boys were more than able to deal with the Catteni ones and earned their respect. Kris knew they resented her monopolizing their adored father’s free time and were inclined to disregard any requests she made of them; she had expected that, even if she didn’t know how to counter their impudence. But it was a long flight to Barevi. She would be very glad when there was a tutor assigned to keep them occupied.
When it came time for the BASS1 to contact the Barevi space station that regulated all traffic in and out of the system, Captain Jax Kiznet was the pilot. This included her insistence that she did command the BASS1, origin: Botany Free Planet. Zainal was sitting as copilot, letting her handle the contact and repeat the landing instructions. Barevi Tower was sarcastically upset over having a female answering their orders and evidently in command of a ship: a pilot of unknown ability flying in busy traffic space. Jax was quizzed on docking procedures by the space station commander, Ladade, who sounded surly until finally Zainal intervened and said that he, Zainal, had been her instructor and that she was competent to pilot, even in such a busy port.
“Hey, this Ladade backed down real quick when you said you were Zainal,” Jax said admiringly.
“See that you prove my ability to teach you properly,” was Zainal’s reply.
She did, concentrating on the job. As they made their approach, Zainal kept checking the screen for any navigational anomaly. Although there were stiff penalties for abusing Barevian space, there were also hazards, which he hoped to help Jax avoid. The barges that carried intersystem traffic were known to deviate from their projected courses and provide obstacles. She had her eyes open for such problems and kept one eye on the screens.
“This is a very active spaceport?” she asked Zainal when he pointed out an erratic ship for her to avoid. “And I thought there was a lot of junk in Earth space!” She pointed to the mass in the upper starboard quadrant.
“Oh, that,” Zainal replied, shrugging it off. “That’s real space junk. Barevi port facility is equipped to do major overhauls and refits. That’s where they put carcasses and damaged structural members. And ships that don’t pay their docking charges.”
“Oh? When they haven’t a bean left?” she asked, flashing a quick grin at him.
She really was a good pilot, Zainal thought, wondering whom he should train next on their return to Botany. There were plenty of willing candidates. He had watched all of them on the simulator and they all had good reflexes and instincts. The Botany Space Force had enough cargo ships now that new pilots were always needed.
From space, Kris thought that Barevi Market really hadn’t changed at all, except perhaps for its lack of eager customers filling the vast places. As they hovered above the docking facility seeking their as signed bay, Kris pointed out the overlapping squares of the market. She felt an almostdefinitely almostnostalgic relief at seeing it again. It was, after all, the site of the beginning of her amazing adventures. They’d already started the rumor mill with Peter’s intentionally provocative commercial, and they had had to keep the comm unit manned on a twentyfourhour basis with their best Cattem speakers. Even Peran and Bazil had taken short stints, enormously pleased to be allowed such a responsibility, and certainly Zainal was delighted that they handled their first official duty so capably.
he 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 settled 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 implied 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 bluntfeatured 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 intelligence 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 expeditions, there was surely some young man who would meet his requirements.
On his return to the ship, he passed by storage sheds with doors ajar, and men working among cartons displaying Terran manufacturers’ logos. Yes, Chuck had been right. Most of what they urgently needed was here. To acquire tires and batteries and the spark plugs required 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 stepdown 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 properly 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, onearmed exsoldier 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 mindNatchiand 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 singlehandedly 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 BASS1’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 convenient loading spike, and the number of greenfletched 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 removed the boisterous youngsters to give Kris a break from their bickering. “Much interest?”
“Think most of the other ships in port sent someone to take a gander and had quite a few notsosubtle 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 domination. “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 onearmed 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 tossup, 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 either 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 comforts 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 redolenthot grease, oil, and stale ship fuel: the usual compound in this sort of area.
“They’ll all know by tomorrow” Zainal shrugged with an indifference 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 dirtencrusted 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 Ninetytwo,” 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 toggle. “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 pocketed 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 ransomables.”
