“Very good point, Kathy,” Zainal said with an air of satisfaction. He switched on the intercom. “Chuck, stand by the airlock. We’re going to try to collect some space garbage. Can you defuse the charge as we did with the comm sat?”
“Sure, Zainal,” Chuck said. “In a few. I’ve been checking manifests.”
They were closing in on the loaf when he announced his presence at the airlock, with a handy chain to take the static charge away from the BASS-1.
“Open airlock and be prepared to lose gravity,” Zainal said and deftly hit the altitude thrusters so the broad side of the ship was presented to the intended captive. Then, with a blast on the warning hooter, he flipped off the gravity. Once again, the object sparked as the defusing chain hit it and not long after found itself eased into the airlock and the hatch closed on its prize. “Stand by, Chuck. We have a possible second.”
On the open link, they could hear Chuck wondering out loud why they needed garbage from an effing junkyard.
“Because they are right out in the open where anyone could see them,” Zainal replied cryptically.
“Oh!” Chuck’s response indicated enlightenment. As soon as the second bread loaf was in the airlock, Zainal ordered it closed, the maneuver over, and internal gravity was restored.
“Now, we’re out of here,” he said, turning the nose of the ship to starboard and easing it, by means of cautious spurts of the forward thrusters, out of the junkyard and safely into open space. “Captain Harvey, if you would resume piloting, we can proceed, full speed, to Botany.”
“Aye, sir,” she replied, still mystified by the diversion.
“Hey, there’s another bread loaf,” Peran said, pointing at three o’clock.
“Why, so there is, Peran. Good eyes on you,” Zainal said cheerfully, tousling his son’s hair—something he knew Peran disliked, but it distracted the boy. “It’ll be interesting to see if it’s still there on our return. Meanwhile, let’s go see what we snared.”
Peran and Bazil were both pleased at that invitation.
“Coming, Kris?” Peran asked.
“For the sake of my insatiable curiosity,” Kris said. Peran and Bazil had both been much nicer to her lately, though she didn’t think it had much to do with Brone’s influence. The change had started just after she had so staunchly rescued Ferris from Kapash’s vengeance. She would miss the boy’s cheerfulness, but he’d be fine with Eric and Tavis, and she was glad Zainal had relented and let him stay behind.
“Okay, Zainal,” Chuck said when those from the control room had made it to the lock. “I never thought I’d be rescuing junk from the deep six.”
“Because they were there, Chuck,” Zainal said. “Have we got any metal cutters for those chains?” he added as he took full note of the garlands of chain looping the objects.
Ditsy said he had some and went off to the hold where he and Natchi had stashed the tools they used to repair what they found at the Barevian junkyards. The boy didn’t have quite enough strength to make the tool bite through the chains, but Brone did. The chains fell away and Zainal opened the first lid and looked in. He gave a long whistle and then pushed the chest over to scatter its contents before the wondering eyes of the onlookers.
“Jackpot!” Ditsy said, kneeling down to scoop up handfuls of the coins that spilled out, and the larger oddments that had been disclosed. “Hey, look! A crown!” He picked up the huge, jewel-encrusted affair and put it on his head. Its rim fell to his shoulders, being much too wide to sit on his narrow skull.
Kris held up another golden band, and then pulled out from the coins a long rod with a globe on one end.
“This looks like the English scepter of state,” she said, trying to look queenly. “Just like the Eosi to enter the Tower of London and steal the crown jewels!”
Zainal held up a beautiful drinking bowl in gold, its jeweled rim sparkling in the hold’s overhead lights.
“And that’s a Cellini bowl,” she said, pointing to it. “I’ve seen pictures of something like it from a museum. The Eosi obviously were in line for the best of the best. What are the coins?”
Zainal sighed. “We could have used these.” He let some trickle through his fingers. “Catteni gold bunts, large coin as well as halves and quarters … probably mined from one of the Eosi’s holdings or the rents they were paid as landlords. These were minted in Barevi though. See the B stamped on it.” He showed it around the admiring circle.
Fascinated by the heavy coins, Bazil began to stack them in piles before casually scattering them back on the floor of the hatch.
“Didn’t know there could be so much coin,” Bazil said, awed. “We’d’ve got everything we wanted for just this much. ” He scooped up a double handful and then let it fall back, tinkling. He chased a piece that rolled away to the edge of the deck, catching it just before it disappeared into a slot by a girder. He carefully replaced it. “If we went back to Barevi, we could get just about everything else we needed.”
“We probably could, Bazil, but not today, I think. I don’t want to arouse suspicions,” Zainal said. “Our sudden wealth would make Kapash as well as Ladade very suspicious.”
“Won’t they be suspicious because we made that detour?”
“Possibly, but while they are greedy men, the KDM is faster than any of their ships and I did explain why we went there. Not unusual for a ship to search through a station’s junkyard. They would also have to have been watching very carefully to see what we took.”
“But I saw more loaves,” Bazil said.
“And we have other duties to perform right now”
“They’ll keep,” Kathy said.
“I’d love to put their noses further out of joint,” Chuck said, setting his jaw as he remembered all the slights and delays they had suffered at the hands of the merchants. “D’you think this was a wise idea, Zainal?”
“If we went back now, it would be a stupid move. I asked for a water tank. This is about the right size and conformation to anyone who might have been watching us from the station. They’ve yet to discover last night’s work. I certainly wouldn’t want to be back on Barevi when they do. Let’s organize the contents. And what’s in the other one?”
That chest proved to contain very carefully rolled-up paintings, some of which Kris recognized.
“The Eosi really knew what to loot,” she murmured, carefully re-rolling one painting.
“They would,” Zainal said. “And you spotted another loaf, didn’t you, Peran?”
“Yes, Father, I did.”
“Well, we won’t go back for it now. We know what we’re looking for and Ladade and Kapash will not. We shall hope that the Eosi’s deception lasts until our return, when we will search for any other unlikely objects in that junkyard.”
“And they do look like bread loaves!” Kris said, regarding the rounded lids and the rectangular ends, with a shade of respect for such subterfuge. “Whoever would have thunk it.”
Brone reappeared in the lock with writing materials and started an inventory list. Floss tried on the crown, which fit her better than it had Ditsy, although she declared that it was very heavy. “Uneasy is the head…” she said in a “quoting” tone but did not explain further. Then she spotted a diamond-and-ruby bracelet, which she fastened on her arm. Pleased with that, she started sorting through the coins for other jewelry. The boys found more and shortly had filled both her arms and found rings for all her fingers.
“Never thought I’d see this much ice! Nor so many kinds of rocks,” Floss crowed, striding gawkily around the hatch, her arms held out to display her finery in the manner of a fashion mannequin. “What would you like, Kris? Diamonds, emeralds, rubies, or sapphires? Dress-up time.”
Kris was attracted by the translucent glamour of pearls and wound several long strands around her neck, imitating Floss’s catwalk posture.
“Way cool!” Floss said when Kris stalked about.
“We have to return the crown jewels,” Kris said, almost regr
etfully, as such items were not much use to them. Only beautiful! She unwound the pearls and put them carefully in Brone’s lap. “C’mon, Floss, we’d better find something more appropriate to wrap those things in. I think I have some coffee bean bags left and enough labels.”
“Beans for the baubles, huh?” Floss said blithely, but she spent the afternoon with Jax, Gail, and Kathy playing with the jewelry as they packed and Brone inventoried it.
“Won’t buy much in a bazaar on Earth though,” she said once, scornfully. “Who’d trade this sort of stuff for a loaf of bread?”
“Would you believe a country?” Kris said, remembering her history lessons as she carefully padded the crown in a worn old rag of a towel. “At that, I think the towel is worth more on the open market. Sic transit gloria mundi.” She gave the crown a final pat.
“Sick transit Gloria … Who’s she?” Floss asked, curious.
“It’s Latin and refers to the transitory nature of human vanities.”
“Hey, look at me, Gloria. I ain’t sick,” was Floss’s giggling rejoinder.
“Well, look where all this,” and Kris motioned at the still large pile of jewelry awaiting packing, “ended up. As junk, orbiting hundreds of miles from civilization.”
“That is, if you can call Barevi civilized,” Floss said contemptuously.
Chapter Twelve
No one was happier to see Botany’s sphere grow larger in the forward screen than Zainal. Kris was delighted, too, because there were still five good-sized hands of bananas that were ripe but not yet overripe. They’d have to be eaten immediately on arrival. The two bushels of oranges had lasted fine, but the guavas and papayas were only sweet memories.
The last day everyone was busy cleaning up and smartening their downside clothing. Sally Stoffers had worked on a report for a formal presentation to the Council. Zainal issued orders that the BASS-1 be in readiness for a quick turnaround. Kris rather thought that, even if he admitted to wholesale robbery to the Council, they wouldn’t take as much offense if it would be received with rapturous gratitude on Earth.
The challenge to their presence came right on the dot of their entry into the sensor satellite’s range.
“This is BASS-1, returning to base. We are all well and accounted for,” Zainal said, formally replying to “Who goes there?”
“Hurrah! It’s Zainal back. Did you get everything we needed?” Zainal recognized the duty officer’s voice as Worry’s.
“More than we expected, Worry, less than we wanted, but there are distinct alternatives that must be examined,” Zainal replied, wanting to be honest if not explicit. “Can you call a general meeting for tonight?”
“Can and will. Welcome home, Zainal. All’s well here.”
o~O~o
From the size of the crowd that had gathered to welcome the wayfarers at the landing field, Zainal thought that anyone who was off work was there. And lots of the kids, so perhaps they could just hand out the bananas and oranges right there and then. It was afternoon on Botany, a cool, sweet-scented day. And midsummer of the local seasons. That meant he would have time to make another trip to Terra, and if that proceeded with dispatch, he’d still have time to catch the autumnal visit of the Farmers, collecting the harvest from their side of the planet. If the wheat looked to be a good crop, he could, in all good conscience, ask for more to take back to Earth.
Zane and Amy were there, Zane’s hand held by Rose Mitford, while Cherry was bouncing Amy to keep her happy. The bustle around her had startled her. Zainal happily counted the KDMs and KDLs settled on one side of the field and mentally assigned them crews and captains for their upcoming missions. That is, if he managed to talk the Council into going ahead with this venture. Maybe the bananas should go to the judge and the older folk, who would remember them from happier times.
It was good to be back on Botany, Zainal thought, as, hand in hand, he and Kris led the crew down the ramp. They had loaded the lifts with the bean sacks and fruits and these came into sight to cheers. Most of the cargo, however, was to remain in place. Sally had done an inventory, as well as the mission accounting.
There were cheers and happy reunions, and during all the fuss, Zainal introduced Brone to Worry, the judge, and Dorothy Dwardie—when he could get her out of Chuck’s arms. He was pleased, and Brone was astounded, by how courteously he was received. Zainal decided that perhaps his wildest imaginings might be feasible. Space was big and there were so few intelligent species. Why be enemies when being allies was far more practical?
There were so many queries fired at him that Zainal moved to the top of the ramp and held up his arms for silence.
“We’re very glad to be back, and it’s wonderful to see you all. You know that I’ve called a general meeting for this evening, and we’ll give you a complete account of our travels, and our adventures. We didn’t bring back all we went for,” and he anticipated the groan, “but we brought back a lot we didn’t expect to get.” He pointed to the bananas. “We can get more where they came from, but I think the kids ought to have bananas and oranges with their suppers. We do have a hundred and fifty pounds of coffee beans!”
A really enthusiastic cheer greeted that announcement. “And I think we can probably grow our own beans down on the peninsula.” He pointed to the south and west. There was a wilder and happier response to that suggestion. “We’ve more things to talk about and decisions to make because we need to consolidate our position, both on Earth and on Barevi. So save your questions for tonight. Only don’t make up any I can’t answer.” Good-natured responses to that followed him as he saw judge Iri Bempechat arriving late on the landing site and beckoned him to wait around for a little private chat.
Kris had gone to hug her children and talk to Cherry and Rose. Amy had “made strange” with her mother, and Kris was trying to coax a smile from her. Gradually people began to drift to their homes and toward the main buildings of Retreat.
“Yes, Zainal,” Iri said, stumping forward on his cane. “Your trip was eminently successful, but I perceive from your expression it brought up more questions than it answered.”
“So it did,” Zainal replied, relieved that the judge was so shrewd a man.
“Run them past me.” The judge beckoned for Zainal to accompany him as he stepped into his little motor cart. “Are you going home?”
“No, I must be sure those ceramic caskets are put in safekeeping. Ninety’s in charge of them but I want you to see what they contain.”
“Oh?”
“Eosi treasure—most of which I have no difficulty putting to the colony’s use, but some of the items should be returned to their original owners.”
“You found Eosi treasure?” The judge was fascinated. “What would they have considered ‘treasure’? And where did you find it?”
“In space, so technically, I think it can be considered the property of whoever finds it.”
“Hmmm … yes, traditionally, flotsam and jetsam are usually the property of the finder,” the judge suggested.
“I’m glad that is your opinion, too, but there are some very beautiful jewels and whole casks of what Kris said are old-masters’ paintings. Probably looted from museums. Apart from not knowing what to do with them, they are no use to us.”
“Not even as trade items?” Iri asked.
“Coffee beans and metals are good trade commodities. Fancy jewels, which in any case would look silly on a Catteni, are not. The Eosi had a huge appetite for acquisition just for acquisition’s sake. I think we can find out which museum owned the paintings. We also found that Earth isn’t interested in the non-edible or noncommercial at the moment. There is, however, a considerable treasure in Catteni coin, which I would like to put to use acquiring the rest of the items Botany and Earth need.”
“You are concerned for Earth?”
“Yes, the planet was raped by the Eosi, for the sheer pleasure of acquisition, it would now seem. My plan is to return there as soon as we can resupply BASS-1 and restore to them
some of the loot we reacquired. I also have a plan, which I must take up with the Terran coordinators, about establishing commerce with them. And bazaars.” Zainal couldn’t help but grin. “The Catteni captains took anything that wasn’t nailed down, as Ninety phrased it, Earth has gone back to bartering. I think that if we can get them to allow Catteni, or at least the Botany-registered Catteni ships back in their space to land at their trading points, everyone could find what they need and manage to barter viable objects for Catteni consumption. The market is very slow there and it needs new products. Mostly, it needs to dump unusable merchandise. Earth needs what’s sitting in warehouses uselessly. Barevi commerce would improve if we cross- traded, but I’m not sure if Botany, much less Earth, would be willing.”
“We come in peace. Take us to your bazaars?” Iri saw the irony.
“Why should Botany make all the effort to establish a rapport?” was Zainal’s next question.
“A good point. Is there a new stable government on Earth, as Chuck said?” Iri asked with hope.
“Yes, a coordination of efforts and resources,” Zainal said, approving what he had seen. “For instance, we traded medicines from one coordinator’s sphere of influence to another’s in Africa, and we got coffee beans, which turned out to make a remarkably tradable item on Barevi.”
“Catteni like coffee?” Iri asked Zainal in his dry way.
“You should have seen what a few pounds of beans could buy us. And you will. I plan,” and Zainal could feel enthusiasm return, “to obtain coffee bean plants on our next visit to Earth and try them in the southwest, near the Masai lands.”
“I do like a cup of coffee or three in the morning,” Iri said. “You didn’t bring back an espresso machine, did you?”
“No, but I’m sure I can trade for one on Earth. Whatever it is.”
Iri sighed again and put a veined hand with swollen knuckles on Zainal’s arm. “You get to my age and you find that food is about the only thing that tempts you.”
“We have coffee, from the Kenyan mountains, and the milder bean from Santa Lucia.”
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