by neetha Napew
“Sent by whom, might I be so bold as to inquire?”
“Why, by Botany, of course,” Zainal replied. Which, at one level, was true enough.
“Ah yes, the planet that you have discovered.” “No, Zerkay, the planet on which I was dropped.”
This information appeared to stagger Zerkay to the point where Zainal was afraid the man might tumble off his stool.
“You? An Emassi? Were dropped?” “Like a common criminal” was the unuttered qualifier.
“I was dropped, and I stay,” Zainal replied firmly.
“Yes, I see,” Zerkay said, and perhaps, Zainal thought, he really did. One day Zainal would discover who had made sure that a Catteni had been included in a disparate lot to be left to live or die on an unknown planet. However, Zerkay recalled himself to the business at hand, leaning an elbow casually on the stall, glancing at his halfempty cup and then at the list dangling in Zainal’s fingers. “And how shall we judge the worth of each carton? For I think your friendly veteran will have already told you that trade has been very slow”
“Surely not slow for a man of your acumen.” Zainal gestured toward Zerkay’s obviously large and expensive stall, with its wellbuilt amenities and outbuildings. “And trading finesse.” Zainal indicated the fine fabric in which Zerkay clothed himself. So, Zainal thought, the initial courtesies were over. He had to play a very delicate balance now between desire and acquisition. His first encounter with a Barevi merchant was allimportant ... at least on what Kathy called their “coffee” standard.
“Is coffee another of those items no longer available on Earth?” Zerkay asked casually.
“What use could you possibly have for these parts?” Zainal coun
tered, flicking his fingers toward the pile of cartons. “We Catteni are an inventive race, to be sure, but . . .” He let his tone drop off.
“But you would surely be searching them out to deliver the units into the hands of those who can assemble them effectively?” shrewd Zerkay replied.
“It is, of course, a tentative venture,” Zainal said, lifting his hand in a diffident manner.
“There is uncertainty all through the system,” Zerkay admitted. “But you have more command of particulars than a minor merchant on Barevi.”
“Minor?” Zainal infused his tone with disbelief. “No merchant on Barevi has ever lacked uptodate information.”
Meanwhile, some of the younger people in the marketplace were sidling up to Eric’s stall. One of them was bold enough to flip over the cards Gail had made. They giggled at the golden teeth. Instantly, Fer ris stepped forward to give an explanation of dentistry and to forestall any attempt to make away with the cards in the spirit of mischief. For a little fellow, Ferris had learned from the Masai how to act with imposing authority.
Two pounds a carton was what Zerkay accepted to make the trade a deal. As well as samples of the other grinds, which Kathy packaged up before his eyes, making the measures generous. She marked the bags and advised him to keep track of those he preferred so they could supply him with his preference.
“And then I must produce more cartons for your inspection?” Zerkay was slightly amused. “This is not the way business is ordinarily conducted at Barevi “
“No?” Zainal asked politely, his eyebrows arched above an incredulous expression.
“Buyers do not set up stalls and woo the sellers to return items collected on another planet.
“Are you the man who brought about the end of the Eosi?”
“I am.” Zainal dropped his voice to a somber tone of regret. “You have already achieved much. 1, as one of many, am in debt
to you.
“Then do me the courtesy of telling other merchants that I deal honestly for the goods I require,” Zainal said with great dignity. “That will be my pleasure,” Zerkay said, rising from his stool. It was retrieved by one of his escorts and neatly folded up. “Good trading, Emassi.” He inclined his upper body respectfully and then, turning on one heel, walked back to his own stall.
As he was just out of sight, two of the young Catteni began to struggle over who had the right to look at the dentistry display. Eric came out and, by the simple expedient of removing it from con tention and glowering at the miscreants, settled the problem. “If you should happen to know of someone with loose teeth, or who has lost teeth and wishes replacements, I am ready to supply the need,” Eric said after them with a great deal of dignity. The younger Cattem withdrew before this unusual man took punitive measures.
“I could go to the drinking places. That’s where most of the damage takes place, according to what Natchi says,” Ferris suggested slyly to Eric. The dentist was somewhat taken aback by such a direct, if
practical, method of finding customers. “I could speak to the owner and tell him where men who lose their teeth can come to have them repaired.”
Discreet advertising was, of course, legitimate, so Ferris went off to see what he could discover.
While Ferris seemed fascinated by Eric, Ditsy seemed more interested in running errands and generally keeping his eyes open. It was he who remembered about the lift power packs and, somewhat diffidently, came to Zainal the next evening with an idea.
“We did pretty well swapping those lifts, didn’t we, Zainal?” he began tentatively.
“We wouldn’t have had as many coffee beans and the other good
things we traded them for, that’s certain,” Zainal replied encouragingly.
“I know which merchant handles sales of new packs,” Ditsy said. “We shall need more, certainly, to take back with us,” Zainal agreed.
“Couldn’t we use more lifts?” Ditsy asked. “We could.”
“They don’t recycle anything in Barevi. Did you know that?” “Yes, I did,” Zainal replied, thinking of the piles of waste gathered up by Rassi workers on a daily basis.
“Natchi said that’s how he got his lift. He makes a living from it, even if he did get it from a stinking old garbage dump.”
Said in Ditsy’s crackly voice, “dump” sounded more final than ever. “And you’d like to get one from the dump and see if you can fix it?”
“Well, they are useful items, and we don’t have any now, do we, ‘cause you traded the ones we had.”
“That’s right, I did. And I know that Jelco wanted one of ours very badly.”
“Yeah, he was almost drooling over it,” Ditsy said with a bit of malice in his smile. “Asking us stuff like its service longevity and capacity ‘n’ stuff that I didn’t know. Natchi’s been telling me about a lift’s versatility and showing me how to make full use of one.”
“Has he?” Come to think of it, Zainal had seen the two in deep conversation together. He wished that his own sons would find something honorable in the old soldier, rather than the usual contempt of the healthy for the infirm. But then, as Kris reminded him, his sons had had a very tough time for a few years and were probably still recovering from the “trauma.” Certainly they were a little confused about where they belonged. A tutor would help them find their way.
“Yes. He says with the tools we got, he could fix any we could find and have them in firstclass working condition. You see,” and now Ditsy’s demeanor changed, “no offense, but Cattem don’t take care of their machinery at all well.”
“I know that.”
“Natchi said that there is normal wear and tear on any machinery, but a lot of that could be avoided with a simple servicing or minimal care. Mostly, in the case of the lifts, just not dumping the lift on its side in the dirt and muck around here.” The boy had contempt for such irresponsibility. But then, he had lived through the terrible times of the occupation and his personal values came from that experience.
“So me and Natchi was”
“Were,” Zainal corrected without thinking.
“Werethank youwondering if we had your permission to bring a few things, like basically sound lifts, back to the BASSOne and fix ‘em?”
“I think that’s a very good i
dea.”
Then Ditsy added forthrightly, “Between what I get in my hand for running errands now and then, which Kris said I don’t have to throw into the coffee bowl, me and Natchi can get some bargains. We could use a coupla more lifts back home, couldn’t we?”
“In Botany?”
“Either Botany or Terra,” was Ditsy’s response.
“That’s a very good idea, Ditsy, and you have my permission, indeed my assistance, as well as my encouragement.”
After that little chat, Ditsy was most often gone from the stall on pursuits of his own, and Ferris was looking for the toothless, to the point where running errands fell to Peran, Bazil, and Clune. Zainal was not so fond a father that he did not realize that it was his sons who complained about Ditsy and Ferris not doing their fair share.
It was not unusual to have to roust the boys from whatever discarded mechanical wonders they and Natchi were involved in to help bag beans for the next day’s sales. And, to Zainal’s momentary cha
grin, Ditsy had to remind him about trading for new power packs. Ditsy said that, in point of fact, he needed several types.
“Natchi knows a great deal about machinery” Ditsy informed him, “and we got several things working real well but they need power packs. Are they like our old batteries?”
“The components are entirely different and the power more intensified.”
Zainal was almost amused by Ditsy’s careful separation of our as in Terran, and yours, as in Catteni. No harm in that since Ditsy was very careful about his manners in addressing any Barevian.
Two days after Ditsy and Natchi had successfully restored four lift panels, a young man appeared at BASS1, asking to speak with Emassi Zainal. Natchi surveyed the man with shrewd eyes.
“Come from the hiring hall?” he asked.
“Yes, sir. A position for tutor is said to be still open.”
Liking what he saw, for Natchi was a good judge of men, the old veteran gave him directions to Stall Ninetytwo in the marketplace. Not long afterward, Zainal saw a tall young man coming directly toward him, a tentative smile on his face. Could this fellow be a potential tutor? Observing him carefully as he approached, Zainal saw that he walked like a pilot, with a buoyancy, like someone not quite accustomed to a lighter gravity and yet with the balanced stride of an athletic person.
“Are you Emassi Zainal?” he asked, coming directly to Zainal. “I understand that you are looking for a tutor?”
“I am,” Zainal replied, looking the young man over.
“My name is Brone “ He offered Zainal a firm hand and shake. He stood squarely on his feet but out of the main flow of those using the aisle. Nor did he draw aside when several shabbily dressed Catteni passed by, as some of the other passersby did, as if not wishing to be infected by the lesser ranks. Zainal did not wish for his sons to be taught by a judgmental personality. They had endured enough of that sort of mental bias at the hands of their relatives.
“Tell me something about yourself, Brone,” Zainal said and motioned for Kris to pour two cups of coffee. “And enjoy a cup of our coffee.”
Brone reached into his belt pouch and withdrew several items: a sheet of paper, which turned out to be his educational background, neatly written, and an uptodate license allowing the person (the ID picture was a slightly younger Brone) to pilot any intersystem craft. “I see you passed in your first attempt,” Zainal said, studying the card.
“I reviewed old test runs and studied hard,” Brone replied, attempting to belittle what had been a sensible notion.
“Would you consider the position of tutoring my sons until such time as you might move on to captain your own ship?”
Brone smiled, an unusual response between two Catteni who had just met.
“I doubt, in today’s economic situation, that I will have much chance to pilot a ship. Also, you must realize that I can only teach what I already know,” Brone said.
“Your duties might include flying, for which you would get credit.”
A look of hungry hope flashed on the young man’s face and was quickly controlled.
“1 want my sons to learn the basics and the protocols that every young Catteni must learn.”
“That much I can teach, as well as navigational mathematics and port law,” Brone said.
“You would not object to spending time on Botany?”
“I hear that it is a very beautiful planet, with a light gravity.” Zainal chuckled. Born on a heavy world and physically adapted to
the problem, it was amazing how every native Catteni dreamed of living on a lightgravity planet. Of course, their gravitybred muscles then gave them more advantages over the indigenous species. It was one of the main reasons they had been able to overcome soldiers pitted against them in the invasion.
“My sons should not lose any more of their heritage,” Zainal said. “We are leaving shortly, Brone, to return to Botany. My sons are standing over there by the two Terran women. Would you be able to join us at such short notice?”
“They are wellgrown lads,” Brone said noncommittally. “Peran is the elder and Bazil the younger.”
Brone nodded. “I did not like my tutor.” “Nor did I,” Zainal admitted.
“They wish to be pilots like their father? I heard that you were a scout.”
“They have shown interest but they are too young to know their own minds.”
“I didn’t at their ages,” Brone admitted candidly. “I had no option,” Zainal remarked.
“I heard that you were unable to answer your Eosi call.”
That was a polite way of putting the matter, Zainal thought. And it also indicated that Brone had done some discreet questioning about him as a possible employer.
“I had been dropped on Botany at that point,” Zainal replied with equal candor, holding the young man’s steady gaze, though not telling the whole truth of the affair, which was no one’s business. Zainal still had no clue as to who had included a Catteni in that hapless load of unwilling colonists.
“Which appears to have been felicitous,” Brone replied diplomatically.
Zainal found that he liked the candidate’s appearance, attitude,and answers. He saw Natchi coming in the back of the stall and nodding encouragingly. He saw Kris looking over at the close conversation they were having and decided on one last test of the candidate and beckoned her to join them.
“This is my mate, Kris Bjornsen, Emassi Brone,” he said, and the young man acknowledged the introduction with a respectful bow. “Lady Emassi Kris, it is my pleasure to meet you.”
“Oh?” Kris drawled, slightly amused that he knew her by rank. Brone bowed again. “I knew one of the families you sheltered on Botany. They spoke highly of you and were delighted with your rank award.”
“Did they?” Kris replied, astonished, for the Catteni ladies had not been at all appreciative of her efforts during their stay on Botany. “Come, Brone, I shall introduce you to my sons. Then, if you have no objection, we can quarter you on the BASS1. They can help you bring your belongings.”
“What text and study books do you have on the ship, Emassi?” “Few, and no more than is usually carried on a KDM.” Zainal scooped up what Catteni coins were in the coffee bowl and pressed them on Brone. “Find what you want to use from the secondhand bookstall. Spend as you see fit. You will be the one teaching. I shall reimburse you for any extra you spend. This evening we can discuss study subjects and hours at our leisure.”
Brone agreed and went off with the boys.
“You know, Chuck, it’s odd. There wasn’t the usual brawl last night,” Kris said as she watched the two boys walk away with their new tutor.
Chuck gave a snort. “No, because Natchi tells me Kapash really does keep order in the market. Of course, I wouldn’t like to be caught.” “Oh?” Kris prompted.
“I don’t approve of his methods.”
“Which are? I wouldn’t think Catteni would be impressed by his punishment triangle.”
“’Tisn’t tha
t. He locks brawlers up and sells them to the next slaver in. Gotta keep those mines supplied, you know”
“Oh!” She almost tripped she was so surprised. “That would be quite a deterrent, wouldn’t it?”
That was not as much reassurance as she thought a fightfree Barevi would be. However, there were customers awaiting their cups of coffee and queries about what could be traded for the beans. As Kris finished serving a new customer with the last cup of the current urn, Zainal decided it was time to close, and they packed up the things to be taken back to the BASS1.
At dinner, Brone talked just enough to impress his new shipmates as well as his tutees with his basic understanding of current affairs on both Barevi and Catten. Natchi had the street gossip, but Brone had an overview. As Zainal had suspected, Kamiton had had trouble with his new government. No one had expected it to be easy. The Eosi were, as Kris might say, a hard act to follow since they had exerted such a strict, fearbased control over their underlings and total authority over their doings.
The loss of any new planets, rich with mineral assets, bit hard into the Catteni economy. Nothing ran as smoothly without the threat of Eosi disfavor. There were shortages at the existing mining planets and colonies. Catteni mines had not been producing their expected quotas since the Eosi, who had employed subtle ways of ensuring that quotas were met, were dispatched. No new products in the markets meant fewer buyers. Kapash’s management of the market had indeed reduced the destruction caused by drunken spacemen, but they, in turn, found little to buy in the markets with their accumulated wages. Coffee, therefore, had an unusual popularity with those for whom it was a novelty and with those who had tasted it while occupying Earth.
While there was no place on this planet where coffee beans could be cultivated, there were jungle highlands on Botany. Kris had mentioned that this was a laborintensive crop, since the beans had to be handpicked when ripe, but Zainal thought there would be plenty of hands to pick for assured supplies of the beverage. And if the Catteni addiction remained strong, they would have a solid market for export of Botanygrown beans. The very idea of exporting to the Cattem amused him. They could hold out for any price they cared to put on the commodity. “Black gold,” Kris said they had once called coffee beans. Earth, of course, could export to Barevi, but first they needed cargo ships, which Botany happened to have several of for cargo runs. But first things first: like the spare parts that were needed. It might be decades before Earth could gear up its production lines.