Freedom's Ransom (24 page)

“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 contention 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 Catteni 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 first-class working condition. You see,” and now Ditsy's demeanor changed, “no offense, but Catteni 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.

“Were—thank you—wondering if we had your permission to bring a few things, like basically sound lifts, back to the BASS-One and fix 'em?”

“I think that's a very good idea.”

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 chagrin, 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 BASS-1, 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 Ninety-two 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 up-to-date license allowing the person (the ID picture was a slightly younger Brone) to pilot any inter-system 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.

“I 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 light-gravity planet. Of course, their gravity-bred 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 well-grown 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 BASS-One. 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 that. 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
fight-free 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 BASS-1.

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, fear-based 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.