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. Especially 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 innocence, 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 purpose for this stall.”
“We are not dispensing a beverage for a price, but as a private refreshment 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, Judiciously peering into the man’s mouth. “And halitosis, too. Remarkable 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 require. How do you grow teeth like that?” The last was said with admiration.
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 fingers 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 emphasis on the “bargain,” and since Zainal knew that as market manager Kapash would know exactly who might have what, including items he might have secreted in case they became valuable, Zainal allowed 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 physical 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 advance 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 probably,” and Zainal paused to swing his glance around the market, “here. However, coffee, too, is in short supply on Terra.” Which was basically the truth since there was no transport to bring the beans to foreign 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 behind his eyes told Zainal that, not only was the m
an fond of his coffee, 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 precaution 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 beginning 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, savoring. “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 collect 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 substance 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 complete overwhelmed him. Sometimes, he thought, very privately so he couldn’t hear it himself, that his success as executioner of the malignant 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 ownership of the hand units that had been the object of the trading. They could also expect more business from Kapash: he was definitely a coffee 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 evidence of success. “While you were gone, we had a coffee fiend who has delivered us five Motorola crates of orbiting controllers. We definitely 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 received, 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.
Chapter Eight
By the time they reached their stall the next day, a goodly crowd was waiting. So they scurried to get the next urn of coffee started and poured out what was in the bottle for the impatient customers. Among them were interested sellers, and Zainal and Chuck began again checking their lists against the proffered items. Much coffee was consumed: Zainal was beginning to think that he was getting all Barevians addicted to the beverage. Well, there was nothing wrong with supplying a desired substance.
About mid-morning, when Zainal was winding up a good deal with someone who had twenty-volt truck batteries to trade, Bazil appeared, a very anxious expression on his face. Unwilling to interrupt Zainal at what was obviously a crucial time, Bazil approached Kris, pulling her sleeve urgently.
“My father must help. It’s Ferris. He’s being hauled to Kapash’s office as a thief,” Bazil said.
For a moment, sheer funk robbed Kris of any strength.
“Where is he? What did he take? Do you know, Bazil?”
“He’s been visiting all the drinking places, talking to the servers. Like he told Zainal he would do, to advertise Eric’s services. Then a big guy arrived this morning, swearing Ferris had robbed him. He didn’t say what, but Ferris ran, and one of the market guards caught him. They’re hauling him off to Kapash’s office. Oh, Kris, if he’s put in that triangle, he’ll be killed.” Bazil was almost sobbing with fear.
Kris was really torn about interrupting Zainal. Maybe she could handle this. She beckoned to Chuck. Clune, having heard what Bazil had said, stepp
ed forward.
“I’ll come, too,” he said, pumping up his biceps.
Chuck also saw how deeply involved Zainal was in the business of trading and he took Kris’s arm.
“What could he have stolen? And yes, I know his history, Kris, but we’ll get him out of it. I know Kapash has just been waiting for the chance.” Chuck scooped up something from the digitally locked box before he slammed it shut and passed it over to Sally Stoffers, telling her to guard it. She knew it contained gold flakes and the smaller nuggets. “We’ll just see if we can deal with this.” Kris saw the marked hesitation on Bazil’s face.
“I am Lady Emassi, Bazil. I can deal with a mere market manager. Tell Zainal we’ve gone to the manager’s office, Sally, but only when he’s finished dealing. It’s this way, isn’t it, Bazil?” Kris said, striding down the long side of their square.
Bazil still looked scared and dubious but he ran to catch up with her, worried about Ferris. While she knew that Bazil might be feeling cheated of his father’s support, she also knew that Zainal would be annoyed with his son for interrupting him.
There was an interested crowd around the manager’s office but Kris, with Chuck and Clune beside her, formed a wedge and pushed her way through, alarmed to hear Ferris sobbing.
“I stole nothing. It was on the floor. The man said I could have it,” he was saying.
“Who are you?” the man demanded, and she saw the gap in the front of his teeth.
“I am Lady Emassi, a rank conferred on me by Supreme Emassi Kamiton,” she announced, squaring her shoulders and trying to control her panting, for they’d rushed to get there. “Ferris is one of our young people. What do you allege he has stolen from you?” She knew she was imitating Dame Edith Evans at her most regal and repressive, but perhaps it would work.
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