With a cheery wave at him and a farewell hug and kiss for Sandy, Kris left the crèche, her conflicting emotions gradually easing as she focused all her attention on the mission.
* * *
Raisha took off in the scout to test the space beyond the Bubble just as Zainal aimed the KDL at the “back door.” She poked the prow through the obstacle long enough to get a reading that there was nothing immediately visible in space. Zainal eased the KDL through the Bubble just above the southern polar region. He wasn’t the only one to expel a gust of relief that the maneuver was unrestricted and the KDL allowed to exit. Then he aimed the ship toward the nearest of the five moons, and using that to hide his trajectory surveillance, made all speed to that point. Once there, he plotted the course out of the system and to Barevi’s.
Even at the speed the KDL was capable of making, the journey would take three weeks. So there was more time in which to perfect their Catteni roles, and learn to automatically respond to orders and queries. The meager library of the KDL did contain spaceport plans for those planets under Catteni domination. These were enlarged for study, especially by Bert and Balenquah if the chance of a second hijack was feasible. Scott was not yet committed to that objective.
“He wants a warship,” Mitford confided to Zainal and Kris. “Firepower.”
Zainal considered that. “It might be possible to steal weapons but even Catteni keep guards on warships. We don’t have enough for crew. Maybe another time.”
Chuck and Kris gawked at him in surprise and he grinned back.
“Who was it who said, ‘Think big’?”
“Dick Aarens?” Kris suggested.
There were also maps of Barevi town which augmented the memories of those who had spent time in it. And how much a flitter should cost to such and such a destination. How to argue with cheaters, how to act if accosted for a fight.
“Catteni always fight,” Zainal said. “Work off anger that way. Avoid at all costs.”
“Hey, it’s easy enough to topple a Catteni,” Yuri said, and proceeded to demonstrate a jujitsu maneuver on the unsuspecting Zainal. One moment the Emassi was on his feet, the next flat on his back on the deck, looking both surprised and annoyed.
When Yuri offered him a hand up, he ignored it but he was smiling when he got back on his feet.
“Teach us!”
So jujitsu, karate, and other forms of martial arts were included in the daily training sessions.
“It is better we do no…” and Zainal grinned, “species injuries.”
“As if the Farmers would know or care,” scoffed Balenquah.
“We will know and we will care that harm has been done,” Zainal said, making his position plain to the surly pilot.
“You’re a fine one to talk,” Sev Balenquah replied at his most contentious.
“I am finer than you to know,” was Zainal’s retort.
At this point Mitford, who was sitting next to the pilot, jabbed him so roughly in the ribs that he was winded.
“There’s a brig on this ship,” Beverly said. “D’you want to spend the rest of the trip in it?”
“Have it your way,” Balenquah said, and, pushing away from the table, stalked off.
When Beverly would have called him back, Scott shook his head.
“We’d better watch that one,” Marrucci murmured to Beverly. Both the general and Scott nodded. “Can’t figure out what’s wrong with him. And he’s even gotten to fly again.”
* * *
Everyone took turns in the galley, leaving the Catteni food stores alone since they were even worse in taste than the bars supplied to transported prisoners. The KDL had originally had three freezers: two medium-size and one large storage type. That was now in the mess hall, while one of the mediums was in the hospital. But the remaining one was adequate for the journey since Zainal expected to restock perishable goods from the markets at Barevi. Surprisingly enough, the Catteni galley had the equivalent of a microwave heating device so that the prepackaged soups, bread, and meals that the mess hall had contributed to the mission could be reheated.
By the time the first contact was made with Barevian planetary authority, they had all perfected their skills to the best of their abilities. Even Balenquah could spit out appropriate answers. Despite his more glaring personality defects, he was a natural linguist and Zainal hoped to use him to accompany Kris on her buying missions.
“He glowers just like my old boss,” Kris said, “typical nasty Tudo. Whoops, not Tudo, Foto,” she said, correcting herself. She had known “Foto” before she was aware of the distinction between Emassi and Drassi.
When hailed by the Barevian perimeter guards, Zainal, posing as Drassi Kubitai, barked the responses and Kris understood every word he said and every word the duty officer said. The KDL was officially the KDI, since the KDL would be listed as missing. There was no problem in the code.
“Sloppy,” Zainal muttered under his breath, thankful though he probably was that this was the case.
He elected to overfly the town to give everyone the aerial aspect of it and help orient them, giving a description of each area on his way to their appointed docking facility.
Mack Su was the putative navigator and Yuri the engineer. They both had immediate work to do, checking in with the port authorities: Matt Dargle to handle the paperwork and show the log which Zainal had created for them, while Yuri organized refueling, watering, and the usual docking procedures. Zainal paced about the dock area to be sure they encountered no immediate difficulties as the various teams disembarked for their assignments.
Coo and Slav went off first, pretending pathetic eagerness to be away from the Drassi, while Pess stayed on board with Matt, Bert, and Beverly. The latter two should not be seen. Pess and Matt had basic Barevi and some Catteni so they were the best ones to stay behind and prevent unauthorized entry. Ninety and Dowdall would see if there were any humans in the slave markets. Zainal, Mitford, and Scott would go into the center of Barevi and have a meal and some drinks and hear what there was in the way of gossip. Then, when Mack and Yuri had finished their details, Yuri and Marrucci would combine with Kris and Balenquah to get supplies in the market. Some could even be charged to the ship so they could use what Catteni money they had for other things, like the “plursaw” additive the Deski needed. The original shipment was running low and there were new Deski babies in need of it. Zainal had made up a shopping list for them to display, as most Tudo couldn’t read or write more than their own names, and signed it “Drassi Kubitai.” He also made Kris practice the glyph for “Kubitai” in case she had to sign chits for orders.
Kris was scared to the nails on her toes in the heavy Catteni boots. They were a bit large for her, although that only made her plod in a more authentic Catteni gait. She’d probably get heel blisters in spite of fluff-padding the toes but she marched as smartly as the others did out of their berth and onto the main dock staging area. There were few Catteni lounging about, watching Rugarians and Deski shift crates, loading and unloading material at other berths. The ship, berthed three places beyond the KDI, looked like another of her class, still so new she had few meteor pockmarks, or dinges, on her hull and all of her paint looked fresh.
Marrucci caught Kris in the ribs with his elbow, looking at the ship as a possibly hijackable victim. She grinned and mouthed “No way, Jose!” at him. He kept grinning.
They saw no Terrans at all once they were out of the main facility and looking about for flitters. Zainal had said there were always a few waiting for possible passengers. They approached the first, its driver a wizened old Catteni whose face was badly scarred. Balenquah gave the orders, as sullen as a Catteni, and shoved everyone on board, his fingers lingering a little, too long on Kris’ hip as he did so, grumbling about wanting to get this duty over with. He squeezed himself next to Kris on the hard, wide seat, his thigh pressing against hers in a way that made her want to punch him good. She could do nothing now but sit there and endure his attentions. Had the
man no wits about him at all? Didn’t he know she’d never let him get away with such nonsense? Wait till they got back to the KDL…no, KDI, she must keep that alteration firmly in mind. With the maneuvers of the flitter in and out of traffic, Balenquah must be enjoying the ride, rubbing constantly against her leg. Marrucci caught her eyes once and gave her a look that meant he had not missed Balenquah’s ploy.
Then they were over the open market area, their driver skillfully avoiding arrogant ascending flitters in the fashion that had always caused Kris near heart failure in her slave days. They got down safely enough and the driver grabbed the fare Balenquah offered and then flung his craft aloft, out of the way of incoming craft.
“Don’t push me around, Balenquah,” Kris said in an undertone as they moved off.
“Who? Me?”
Marrucci prodded his back, telling him, in Catteni, to talk right, then asked Kris, also in the language, which direction to take.
“Here is food market for Deski additives. We buy enough, they deliver.”
“We buy plenty,” Marrucci said. “Where?”
Kris had been looking around and spotted a crowd of Deski. “There!”
“Deskis! Huh!” Kris wasn’t sure if Balenquah was acting in character or just being his charming self.
On their way, they passed a booth selling the alcoholic beverages only Catteni could stomach, but Balenquah insisted on stopping to sample one, saying he was thirsty.
“Not good,” Kris said, frowning because that was the best way to prove to Balenquah that he should try one. All were swill but let him find that out.
Laughing and jostling her, he pointed to the amber bottle and a large glass, Even the stall owner looked surprised. Guffawing, Balenquah clapped Kris so hard on the back that she nearly lost her balance, but, knowing what was to come, she stood firm and waited.
Balenquah was even stupid enough to try to knock back the entire portion. He should have watched another Catteni who was sipping cautiously. As the raw liquid began to burn down his throat, his eyes bulged and his grayed skin turned red enough to startle her, but somehow he got most of it down.
“Told you not good,” Kris said, deepening her voice. “Better over there!” And she pointed to the corner where her master used to take a drink on market days. She left Balenquah to recover from the pilth—ah, she remembered the name of that particular poison—and strode on toward the Deski. She was also keeping on the alert for any bands of Catteni swaggering around the market area just looking for trouble. Marrucci waited with Balenquah while Yuri moved out in step beside her.
“Good on you,” he muttered in English, and she elbowed him. “Agreed,” he added in Catteni.
They could both hear Balenquah hawking and spitting behind them, and gasping as his system tried to cope with the Catteni equivalent of antifreeze. It certainly smelled like it. The pilth had also affected Balenquah’s vocal cords and he was reduced to gargling unintelligible words when he and Marrucci joined them at the Deski plursaw stall, for that was all this merchant sold. She argued over delivery charges but then added more for an immediate delivery to the KDI. This was actually the most urgent of the supplies they were after. The next was salt: enough to use to preserve meats. Sugar was not a commodity known to the Catteni, so she was to get enough vinegar for pickling. These were easy, since she’d dealt with kitchen supplies and knew where to find them. At the same stall, she was astonished to discover what looked like rolls of cinnamon bark in a sack and a keg of nutmegs: the spicy scent of them was so familiar. She lifted a piece of curled brown bark high enough to her nose to be sure that it was indeed cinnamon—though what it was doing on Barevi was beyond her.
Then, in the gravelly voice she affected for Catteni words, she asked, “What’s this?” of the stall-keeper, dropping the bark curl indolently back into the bag and brushing her hand off on her uniform as any Catteni would.
She understood only half of what he said, catching that it was from Terra and used in cooking. She should try some. She pretended indecision until Marrucci tapped her shoulder and came to her rescue.
“Drassi Kubitai likes new things. Try it.”
That’s when they lucked out because the two commodities were so unusual and suspect that the stallkeeper had been unable to shift any and was feeling he’d made a bad purchase. So the bargaining began in earnest, but in the end she got the spices, the full keg and the sack, and had him throw in a large bag of peppercorns which he also hadn’t been able to sell. Kris had no problem getting him to deliver to the KDI and could barely contain her delight in finding the seasonings. The mess hall would bless her forever. She also got gallons of vinegar of a good quality.
In the next rectangle over, Kris found fabrics of all kinds, colors, and patterns and materials, some of which she recognized as Terran manufacture, which both pleased and upset her. The Catteni must be looting the Earth right, left, and center. She suppressed resentment and went about bidding for whole bolts, in different shades and weights for children’s clothes. The local weaving industry would suffice for any females who wanted something to wear that wasn’t made over from Catteni coveralls, but the kids’ needs were different. Kris bought enough to make the shopkeeper ask if she was a trader.
“Drassi is,” she said as if she thoroughly disapproved, pointing with no real attention to what she was buying. The last shop also sold needles and indifferently she threw a handful of packets on the counter and made the shop owner scrawl a receipt for her. “Drassi requires.” Which was all she needed to say. “Deliver by sundown and will get extra,” she said, winking as she had seen her steward master do from time to time.
Then she looked around for her shipmates and found them near a fruit seller’s stall as Balenquah tried to restore his throat lining.
“I told you no good,” she said, and took a gorupear from the display pile. She turned her head slightly so the stall-keeper would not see that she did not have Catteni-size teeth as she tore off the tough peel as any good Catteni soldier would do and spat it out on the street. One thing sure, she never thought she’d be eating these lovely winy fruits again. My, she’d come a long way from that forest. She pointed to a net of the pears, asking the price.
“Four,” she said, and then began haggling for a discount, just like in the old days. She got them at a good price—enough for everyone to enjoy on the way back to Botany—and tied the nets together, slinging them over one shoulder. Yuri and Marrucci were watching her. “Tell you later,” she said in Catteni. “This way.”
They went through another arcade, doors open to display and Wares of the more permanently sited merchants, to where she thought she’d find ironmongery. The mess hall had also asked for some big stewing pots and cooking sheets. That sort of thing would be there, and sure enough, she acquired five cauldron-size kettles and some huge baking tins. She also saw other items that were definitely Terran in origin, like the fabrics. If there was so much looting on Terra going on, maybe they’d be lucky enough to find medical equipment. Leon Dane had patiently drawn out the tools he especially needed. If she did, they’d basically filled today’s list. She wanted to be out of the market area soon. Once the guard changed, there’d be all kinds of gangs of them off duty, drinking and looking for trouble: any trouble. She wanted to get out of the area before the guards arrived.
Knives of the fine size and shapes Leon Dane had wanted were indeed available, in one of the arcade stores, but at a price higher than Zainal had estimated. She bought what they had funds for—bundles of scalpels, lancets, and the retractors, small-headed hammers, surgical saws. It looked from the display as if Earth hospitals had been thoroughly looted. Still, she bargained so hard that the trader wanted to know why she needed such Terran things.
“Terran? What’s that?” and she pretended to try to find the name on the scalpel’s handle.
“Where you been?”
“There and back,” she said with an indifferent shrug.
“Make it fast,” Marrucci said i
n an irritable tone, and jerked his head over his shoulder at a gang of Catteni entering the rectangle at the far end, six abreast and brushing past everyone and everything in their way.
“Pack them. We have other business today,” she said, and managed enough saliva to spit into the gutter with. Turning her head, she was able then to gauge the speed at which the gang moved. “Get Bal to a flitter,” she told Marrucci. “Yuri stays.”
She didn’t trust Balenquah if those Catteni muscled him out of the way.
“What takes you so long, Foto?” she snapped at the storekeeper, who was making quite a job of packing the tools, but then the blades were very sharp.
Marrucci did get Balenquah out of the way: thanks to the pilth, he was in no condition to argue much. She had just got her hands on the packet from the shopkeeper when Yuri was bowled into her, knocking her into the shopkeeper’s cabinet, causing half his stock to tumble about and several pieces—since the cabinet was open on his side—to stick into him. He was howling with pain and rage as he plucked sharp objects from his thighs.
Yuri reacted, ducking under the first swing of a squat Catteni guard and then kicking out at the assailant’s kneecaps with a double strike that had the guard howling with pain and dropping to the ground. The shopkeeper shouted for help and grabbed at Kris, almost tearing the precious package from her hand. But she twisted her arm down and up and freed herself. When he came around the cabinet, bleeding from the cuts, she got him square in the guts with a karate kick, thrusting him backward and into another glass-fronted cabinet. She heard him scream as a shard of glass penetrated his backside, but she didn’t stop.
“Out of here,” she yelled in good Catteni, fright thickening her voice as she grabbed at Yuri’s uniform just as he flipped another Catteni to his back.
Several of his mates, reacting to his groans and curses, started after them but Catteni are not good runners and Yuri and Kris had very good reasons to run as fast as they could.
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