'All in favour, please stand!' Iri signalled to Dorothy, as Council secretary, to count the vote.

It was not a unanimous vote but more than two-thirds of those attending the meeting approved and that was all, Judge Bempechat said, that was needed.

'Let's devoutly hope we succeed,' Kris murmured to Peter, sitting next to her.

'That was almost too easy,' he replied, 'or have such diehards as Anna and Janet changed their tunes?'

Kris had not looked to see if those two conservative women who had such high and righteous morals and little compassion were in the audience. It took her a time to find them, sitting at the back. 'They don't look happy, do they?' she said, for she had been certain they'd have a negative response from that pair.

'Well, they do have family back on Earth, as I'm sure you've heard them tell.'

Kris nodded and then caught her breath as Janet got to her feet.

'I raise the question of relatives being allowed here on Botany. I know that some folk are in terrible physical condition and could benefit by being here, away from the scenes of stress and destruction.'

Dorothy raised her hand to Iri to be heard.

'We have, indeed, been addressing that problem in the Council, Janet. As you will have heard, Chuck has brought his cousins back, and we will certainly entertain other applications for refuge. But, as you all know, Botany works because we all do. We can, of course, admit a quantity of folk whose mental and physical state would improve by a change of scenery, but we must weigh our resources and staffing levels. If you would like, Dr. Hessian and I will set up interviews with those wishing to offer space available to relatives. Would that be acceptable, Janet?'

'What about those valleys? And the one we fixed up for the Catteni families?'

'It has limited occupancy but it certainly figures in our plans to accommodate affected folk.'

'Affected?' Janet retorted, incensed. 'I'll have you know-'

'Discuss what you know with me in the interview,' Dorothy said firmly, effectively cutting off Janet's spiel before she could get started. 'See me after this meeting and we'll arrange a time, Janet.'

Kris would have liked to throttle Janet - once again. Botany was a sanctuary and should be available to those suffering from trauma: but not on a wholesale basis. The recovery of those victims who had suffered from the effects of the mind-machine had proved that Botany's serene beauty could eradicate stress and injury. Certainly there were people here trained - and available - to help.

One more reason to have better communications between the two planets: to forestall a mass exodus from Earth to Botany. This planet could sustain the people already here but not a mass immigration from Earth. She liked Botany as it currently existed, with a good balance of people and skills. If it were to be overbalanced in one direction - like becoming a vast hospital - it would founder under such weight. Still, it was the resilience of the community that had proved its strongest asset. Then she wondered about the feasibility of constantly running spaceships back and forth.

'Are there any more matters that need to come before the Council and the people?' Iri Bempechat asked, looking around the room.

'Hearyez, hearyez,' Chuck said, using his paradeground voice to cut through the babble to be sure Iri's message had been heard. 'Any more business for the Council and the assembled?'

A long pause answered that query.

'We got schedules to keep then,' Leon Dane said, rising to his feet.

The judge gave one more bang of his gavel then got to his feet - a little stiffer for having sat for so long in one position. Then he put his gavel back inside his official robe and walked off the dais.

The assembled broke up into small groups to discuss the meeting, and Janet was at the foot of the small flight of steps to intercept Dorothy Dwardie.

'Is this town-meeting approach how you've managed so much out of so little?' Captain Harvey asked Kris as she leaped down from the front of the dais.

'More or less,' she said and grinned when she saw some of the male Botanists whom she knew were still single homing in on the attractive officer.

'Look, don't get yourself stuck with the shiftless coming in droves to live off the fat of the land here,' Captain Harvey added, discreetly shielding what she said from the approaching males.

'What do you mean, shiftless?'

'There are always losers who assume the mantle of vulnerability to take the easy way out. What would you do with those who won't perform?'

'Don't know yet. We'll probably try to screen those who come and limit how long they can stay,' Kris said. 'But staying on Botany will definitely require showing they can contribute.'

'That's what old Earth is discovering right now. Who can contribute. Not all in the same degree, but there are many ways of contributing to a common good, aren't there?'

'Yes, Captain, there are. Captain Harvey, may I introduce Bob Sterling, Ben Wately and Ian Halstrip. You may have a lot in common since they man our communications.'

'Thanks, Kris,' Bob Sterling said in his unmistakable Aussie accent. 'Appreciate the intro.'

'Actually, we need the captain's advice if she wouldn't mind?'

Not at all,' the redhead replied, shaking hands in turn with each of them. 'What have you in mind?'

'Well, if you'd like some refreshment,' and Ben managed to take her arm in a courteous fashion as he gestured towards the drinks and desserts that were being served at the main counter, 'we thought we might settle a few technical problems.'

As the captain allowed herself to be led away, Kris grinned and looked around for Zainal. They still had a lot of details to sort out before the morning. To start with, where were they going first? Earth? The good Dr. Hessian, for all he could be a crashing bore, had turned up a tremendous amount of information on coffee, and if she couldn't find what she needed in Brazil or Venezuela, there were always Zaire and Ethiopia and Java. And she had had several tons of grain released to the expedition: less than a skimming of two silos, so she didn't feel she was plundering anything. It always paid to have more than one string to your bow, didn't it? And if the shine of nuggets wouldn't do it, maybe 'black gold' would!

The KDM had its new ID painted on its bow and emblazoned along both sides: BASS-1, for Botany Airforce Spaceship 1. Or Baker Alpha Sugar Sugar 1.

Kris thought it looked pretty smart before she became involved in organizing the food supplies on board, into the cargo space or the refrigerated unit. Flats and flats of roasted rock squat and loaves of bread were boarded as well as convenient twenty-five-pound sacks of wheat and a dozen of flour, enough for her to make bread on the journeys and at Barevi.

Many fluent Catteni-speakers were coming along as well as some specialists like Herb Bayes, an electrician who'd be needed on Barevi, plus Captain Kathy Harvey to complete her pilot training and Mpatane Cummings, the communications expert, Eric Sachs, Floss, Clune, Ferris, Ditsy and Zainal's two boys, who were very excited about going. Kris wondered if Zainal had warned the boys that he would be getting them a tutor on Barevi. Well, she wasn't going to cloy their excitement with a detail that was, in some respects, not her business. Sally Stoffers was along as their bookkeeper and accountant. She was bunking with Floss, a situation neither woman liked but there was only so much cabin space on the KDM, adequate enough for the numbers that had good reason to be on this expedition.

4

When they got close enough to Terra, looking much the same as Kris remembered it from NASA shuttle photos, they could also see some of the larger space junk.

'Let's just see what is still operational,' Zainal said. 'If it's only the spare parts that are needed, maybe we can supply those.'

'We don't have them... yet,' Kris reminded him.

Jacqueline Kiznet, who preferred to be called Jax, brought up a screen image of the satellite distribution.

'Earth looks like a porcupine with all that junk,' she exclaimed.

"'Junk" is probably accurate,' Kathy muttered. 'As I heard it, the Catteni used the comm sats for target practice.'

'Some are obviously still working since the communications network is functioning, even with occasional gaps,' Mpatane remarked. 'So not all are gone. Since I'm up here, I can get the working ones to respond to a code I happen to know.'

Zainal drifted over to the nearest units, some with three long solar panels and some with only two, and eased close to one whose solar panels on the nearest port side were gone. The same damage was visible on the next four they passed. Mpatane kept a record of their IDs.

'They don't look damaged otherwise,' she murmured. 'Still have their ears.'

'Ears?' Zainal asked, surprised.

'Those round objects are actually called "ears", and they catch the signals and bounce them on to their coded destinations.'

'No power, no work,' Gail Sullivan said, a sad tone to her voice.

'We shall need to get as many solar sails as we can find, then,' Zainal said, as if that solved the whole problem.

Some did answer, feebly in a few cases, others more robustly, to Mpatane's signals, each new response raising the hopes of the entire crew.

The suggestion of redistributing the operational ones was met with the remark that each satellite had a mission package that defined its parameters so that they were not interchangeable.

'And this next one,' Jax Kiznet said from her pilot's chair, 'is a loose cannon. See how it wobbles?'

'Looks to me as if it got its controls blasted,' Harvey said, peering at the twisted protuberances that would have provided guidance. 'Its solar wings don't seem to be damaged.'

'This KDM has a tractor beam, doesn't it?' Mpatane asked Zainal, who nodded. 'Could we capture it?' 'We could, but why?'

'Well, for one thing, it's small enough to be hauled on board so we could examine it at our leisure. Work experience for when we need to repair other units,' she said.

Zainal enabled the tractor beam, which locked onto the spinning comm sat. The jerk of contact went through the ship, rocking several folks roughly about. But no one was injured.

Getting the comm sat on board was not as easy, although the cargo area could be sealed off from the rest of the ship so the outer hatch could be opened. Gravity on the KDM could also be turned off, to make manoeuvring the unit easier. It was, Kathy Harvey remarked, rather like getting a whale onto a trawler.

'If we just had someone to give it a good push,' McColl remarked, smoothing his white brush moustache as if that action generated useful thought. He was the oldest of the pilots Chuck had seconded.

'Do we have any cargo nets left on board the ship?' Zainal asked thoughtfully.

'Yes,' Chuck Mitford replied. 'Steel mesh, too. Are you going to do a cowboy act?'

Zainal merely widened his eyes at Chuck until Chuck gave a pantomime of a rope being thrown. Zainal snorted. 'It is easier to match velocities and park in front of it.'

'Snare it in the hatch?' McColl asked, astonished. He whistled. 'That will take some piloting.'

Zainal regarded him steadily. 'I am accustomed to doing such things.'

'Wasn't even suggesting you aren't a top-flight pilot, Zainal,' McColl replied quickly. 'But I do want to see you play catch.' He grinned to mitigate any slur on his abilities.

'And so you shall,' Zainal said. 'Chuck, bring that net up to Number One Hatch.' He settled himself down at the control panel to do the necessary placement and picked a comm sat that had had both 'ears' blown off and much of its impressive span of solar panels cut off short. While he had said it was 'merely' a job of matching velocities, it required very careful 'puffs' of his thrusters to slow the KDM down and introduce a rate of closure with the satellite of about one-quarter to one-half metre per second.

'How are you going to intercept that much mass at that rate, Zainal?' Kathy asked.

'I do have to allow for momentum, velocity plus mass, but it shouldn't be too high for the mesh to handle if it's standard Catteni issue. As for the KDM, the winches are built much heavier than that. Chuck, have you got the net in the cargo hold?'

'Gimme a few, Zainal,' Chuck said, obviously puffing from physical exertion. 'Had to stuff it on a lift platform. Unhandy thing.'

'Steel mesh?'

'Yup, standard Catteni issue.'

'That's what we need,' Zainal said, feeling more confident about all this. Kris gave him a look, implying that he was what she called 'showing off but what he called 'proving' his skill as a pilot. 'It'll also discharge the static on the comm sat in space instead of in the cargo hold.'

'Zainal, got it in place against the hatch. We're getting back to the lock. Ah, now, we're all safe. Ready when you are. The net's rigged to go.'

'Grab hold, crew, I've got to go weightless.' He snapped off the ship's gravity, then opened the hatch and watched while first a bulge of the net cleared the starboard side of the KDM, and then the rest followed, ballooning into space but still tethered to the vessel. 'Parking' the KDM in front of the object he wished to capture, he 'puffed' the thrusters just enough to catch the rectangular comm sat in the mesh. There was an almighty flash as the steel mesh encountered the comm sat and discharged static.

Mpatane floated at a porthole, watching the mesh close around the satellite. Suddenly she was blinded by a burst of light, and she clenched her eyes shut.

'What was that? Looked almost like lightning,' she exclaimed.

'What you saw was the voltage potential on the satellite equalizing. Visible here, too,' Chuck explained. 'Those things can build up quite a charge sitting there, what with all those solar storms and relativistic electron flux bombarding them all the time. It's a good thing we didn't send someone out on EVA! That would have been nasty.'

Zainal grunted, as if dismissing the prospect of danger.

'Wow!' Kathy exclaimed, blinking against the sudden blue-white glare.

'Neat fireworks,' Ferris said, awed.

Watching carefully on his starboard screens, Zainal saw the net tighten around its catch and slowly be reeled back to the ship. With a deft hand on his thrusters, he edged the ship so that the netted comm satellite entered the hatch.

'Mitford, make sure you get the satellite on the floor of the hold as closely as you can,' Zainal said. 'I don't want it smashing our deck plates when I turn the gravity back on.'

'Will do. I'll need a minute or two. Got to repressurize the hold and whatnot.'

'Take your time,' Zainal replied, the model of Catteni patience.

After a few minutes of silence, Chuck said, 'Zainal, this thing's unwieldy as hell. Can you push the ship up so it will drift towards the floor?'

'Get clear, and make sure there's nothing between it and the cargo flooring.'

After two quick puffs of the thrusters, a dull and satisfying thud echoed through the ship.

'We've got it now, Zainal, thanks,' was Chuck's enthusiastic reply. 'Wait one while we get it braced with something... Okay... good to go now.'

'The KDM,' Zainal murmured to Kathy, 'is a workhorse but you can get it to do more than just haul stuff from one planet to another.'

'To be honest, Zay,' Gino Marrucci said, and he'd already flown KDMs between Earth and Botany, 'I didn't believe you could do that with this.'

'Can we see what we snared?' Mpatane asked. 'I've only seen pictures of the comm sats before they were launched. Never one on site, so to speak.'

'Crew, gravity's coming on. Three, two, one.' Zainal flicked the toggle to the 'on' position. 'Mitford, secure the hatch. Don't want that thing rolling out on us.'

'Couldn't roll if it wanted to, Zainal. It's too heavy. And besides, it's square blocks stuck together, not a ball.'

Those in the lock with Chuck were busy examining the catch before Zainal, Gino and Kathy Harvey arrived.

'Hey, it's a Boeing 601. We can mount just about anything on this baby. Some of the parts for these things are on that wish list,' Mpatane said with respectful delight.

'Can we service it then?'

'If we had the parts, we could,' Mpatane said, circling the unit, putting her fingers through the holes some target practice had made in the 'ear' and sighing for the blatant vandalism. 'I wonder how many more fell to some Catteni's notion of fun. Ooops, sorry, Zainal.'

'Not to worry, Mpatane. But it can be serviced?'

'If we can find the spare parts, sure. I don't notice any holes in the mission package or the control units, but you did keep a record of its orbit, didn't you, Zainal?'

'Yes, it's logged. So all we need to do is repair it and put it back in space.'

'We'll have our work cut out for us,' Mpatane said with a heavy sigh. 'This one is one of many, you know. Do we get to do them all?' She cocked her head impudently at Zainal.

'As many as we have to to extend the working footprint needed to ensure worldwide communications. We'll need some sort of conference with someone down there to figure out how many satellites will be required to make a big enough footprint.'

She exhaled over the enormity of the task.

'Well, it's a job,' she said with such resignation that everyone chuckled in semi-agreement, semi-sympathy.

'Check the unit over, will you, Mpat, and see what else has been damaged. I'm hoping we can just unscrew, detach and/or replace faulty parts.'

'Plug in and go,' Gino said, pushing a triumphant fist in the air.

'Now, crew, lash it down so when we enter Earth's atmosphere, it doesn't buck its way about the hatch,' was Zainal's final remark as he turned to go back to the cockpit.

Part of the inbound journey was then occupied by a full examination of the comm sat by the communications experts, with an emphasis on how to replace damaged solar vanes and restore power to the damaged equipment. They kept a list of the deployment of those that they thought they could repair. IF they had the spare parts.

'I never imagined we had so much orbiting the planet,' Kris said that night in the mess hall as she served the assembled crew.

'Junk, a lot of it,' Harvey said with understandable contempt. 'Too far out to be burned up in the atmosphere...'

'Raining hot metal down on unsuspecting folk,' Gail said. 'It did happen, you know. Australia got quite irate over some instances.'

'I thought Australia was sparsely populated outside of the major cities.'

'There are people and sheep in the outback, as well as Aboriginals who didn't like their turf being pummelled by junk.'

'Expensive junk,' Jax added, 'still makes trouble.'

Chuck came into the cockpit then with a sheet of notes in his hand. 'Look, guys, in the category of "once bitten, twice shy", we ought to get contacted soon. Those NORAD boys in the Cheyenne mountains are sharp. Catteni couldn't even budge them.'

'You mean, they have a space station back up?' Kris said.

'Of course we do,' Kathy said, almost contemptuously. 'First world community project, called Watch Dog, with sensors at about two hundred and fifty kilometres from Earth. No one is ever going to catch Earth unawares again. Only, does anyone know what to say?'

'Of course I do,' Chuck said, clicking his tongue. 'I arranged a code before I came back to Botany. That's why I had a radio put on board. It's all set up. They ought to make contact about now. We are two-five-five thousand klicks from Earth's surface, ain't we?'

It was one minute and forty-two seconds before the radio unit crackled, startling them all even if they were waiting for it.

'This is Watch Dog. What are you doing in our space?'

'Not very polite,' Zainal murmured.

'To the point, however,' Kathy said, pleased, and eyed Chuck Mitford sternly.

'Botany boys are back, Watch Dog.'

'Oh, the Botany boys, huh?' was the laconic reply.

'You are a green for go, Botany Boy. What's your destination?'

Chuck grinned fatuously around and winked at Kathy.

'Newark Airport.'

'What's your business?'

'Liaison with New Jersey Coord Dan Vitali.' 'Roger that, Botany Boy. Is that Mitford talking?' 'Chuck Mitford, aboard the Botany spaceship Baker

Alpha Sugar Sugar One.'

'Roger that, Baker Alpha Sugar Sugar One. Who's your crew?'

'Emassi Zainal, pilot, and Captain Kathy Harvey, copilot; Gino Marrucci, radio officer; flight engineer is

Lieutenant Mpatane Cummings.'

'You are free to proceed. Will alert Newark Airport and Coord Vitali. Over and out.'

'Over and out - and thanks, Watch Dog.'

'Newark radio frequency is 118.3, Ground Control

121.8 MHz. Out.'

'Roger.'

'Clever Chuck,' Kris said with a sigh of relief. 'I didn't think about possibly getting shot out of the skies.'

'A little late but we learned.'

'Was the International Space Station blown out of the skies?'

'No, like its predecessor, it had a charmed life. It also had no armament when the Catteni came through and was hidden by the planet so it didn't come in for some target practice. Now it's armed and ready.'

Chuck nodded approval.

'Botany boys!' Zainal said with a snort.

'Seemed easy to remember. Newark ain't much, but the airport's one of the few kept manned, and with the KDM being a vertical takeoff and landing ship, no problem to land there. Or anywhere. Newark's also closer to the coordinators we need to talk to.'

'Wouldn't JFK be bigger and better?' Kris asked.

She'd always been impressed by that huge airport.

'No, too far out in Queens, and we ain't got the right contacts there.'

The KDM had reached the atmosphere, and even before Zainal called for a 'safety-belt check, people', all were strapped down. Bazil and Peran occupied the jump seats and were fascinated by the approach to a planet they had heard about but never seen, even in pictures. The KDM nosed into the atmosphere and the bucking started in earnest. Then suddenly it smoothed out and the spaceship was running east with the patchwork of the midwestern states passing beneath them at incredible speed.

Gino warmed up the radio and got the Newark frequency, then nodded to Zainal. Gino's bright tenor sounded amiably bored as he requested permission for Baker Alpha Sugar Sugar One to use the runway.

'KDM, you're cleared into Newark,' was the calm response. Gino blinked and even Chuck looked surprised at the insouciance of the acknowledgement. 'We have you on radar at...' The voice suddenly was tinged with near panic. 'Jeez! KDM, are you in trouble?'

'No,' Zainal replied, 'all systems are normal.,

'Christ, KDM,' Newark Approach responded, and noise of confusion filtered from the background. 'You've dropped ten thousand feet in the last two seconds! You're going to be on top of the airport in - here, I'll patch you to the tower.' In the background, very clearly, could be heard 'Call out the crash trucks. This one's going to auger in!'

'KDM, this is Newark Tower. You are cleared for immediate landing on runway Twenty-two-R. Winds calm at two hundred ten degrees. Your altitude is - about three thousand. We have you on radar. Say your intentions.'

'I intend to land, if I may. Main engines will engage in a hover at one hundred feet.'

Newark Tower replied, 'Hover? Roger, KDM, you're cleared to land.' Since the operator clearly forgot to unkey his microphone, they could hear him. 'He says he's going to hover that thing. Has anyone ever heard of the Cats hovering? Jeez, duck!'

Right on the mark, the KDM's main engines kicked in and brought the spaceship to a hover a neat one hundred feet from the runway. Zainal had Kathy bring the craft down to a mere ten feet before radioing the tower. 'KDM requests parking instructions.'

The tower operator was slow to reply. 'Uh, roger, KDM, you are cleared to taxi to the West Park area. Take any convenient spot and any route you need.'

'Yes, we are taking most direct path to West Park Area.'

The tower contact cleared his throat suddenly. 'Uh, KDM, what's your port of origin? For the record, I gotta clear you. Your port of origin and flight docket?'

'We are inbound from the planet Botany, wishing to make contact with Coordinator Dan Vitali. Do not have a flight docket, whatever that is these days.'

'Inbound from where? Dan Vitali?' Everyone in the cabin could hear the barrage of questions from a number of startled voices in the tower with the operator.

'Ohmigod, get Vitali on the phone. Snap to it. We got I dunno how many tons of spaceship hovering above us.'

'Hell, we ain't Bakersfield or the Space Center. What's he doing in our skies?'

'Trying to land, I think. Watch Dog cleared it with the boss about two hours ago. Code just came in. Have you got Vitali yet? This is - man, like, urgent. No messing.'

Everyone in the cockpit, except the two Catteni boys, grinned at the panic they were causing.

'Baker Alpha Sugar Sugar One, have you a Chuck Mitford on board?' Tower asked a short minute later, this query considerably more courteous than his first reaction.

'Affirmative to that, Tower.'

'Please await inspection and escort to the coord. They are on their way. Sorry, it's a bit of protocol.'

'Inspection? Good Lord, and when I think of all the alien goods we have on board, we're in trouble,' Kris said facetiously. 'I wonder how much duty they'll charge for the electronics on board.'

'I suspect they are more cautious now,' Kathy Harvey said dryly, 'than they used to be. And this is obviously a Catteni spaceship, even if you call yourselves the Botany Space Force. So we're not exactly aliens.'

'Nor old-time, just long-lost friends,' Gino added.

They were landing in the dusk of that day. Runway and perimeter lights came on. As Zainal lightly lowered the KDM to the paving in the Y that formed the international landing area, the view screen showed them the facade of the main facility. Someone wearing a striped luminescent jacket waggled lighted wands, directing them to turn into the appropriate bay, and Zainal obediently turned the nose of the KDM in that direction. As they approached, everyone in the cockpit could see that many people crammed the windows of the facility and the ground-level doors.

There was no way they could match with an airway but the KDM had an extrudable ramp so one was not needed for the spaceship. As the KDM came to a halt, Sally Stoffers, showing an unexpected humour, gave the usual flight attendant's warning about remaining seated until the seat belt sign went off and being careful about unloading overhead compartments. Her wit sent a ripple of laughter through the cockpit and the tension of landing eased.

'Well done, Zainal, well done,' Kathy, Kris and Gino said, and Chuck clapped Zainal on the shoulder to indicate his approval. Then there was the hollow sound of someone tapping on the hatch.

'Hey, in there. Open up. Don't keep Coord Vitali waiting.' 'Coord' had to be short for 'coordinator' but they pronounced it as one syllable, 'kward'.

The announcement seemed to be blasted through the hull of the ship. The ground crew, which had originally been one man with the lighted hand paddles, had grown to a sizable crowd. Someone had a bullhorn, on which the 'open up' message was being bawled.

'Let's go meet our hosts,' Zainal said on the intercom.

'Can we spare some rock squats for the landing crew, Kris?' Chuck asked. 'And some to present to Coord Vitali?'

'Bribery or landing fees?'

'I suppose a bit of both,' Chuck said. 'Good public relations. Latter-day Cattenis arrive bearing gifts. C'mon, kids.' He cocked his finger at Bazil and Peran. They unstrapped their seat belts and obeyed. Kris followed, fretting over whether or not there was sufficient unfrozen rock squat to offer. She found Clune and had him bring up some wheat sacks.

'Don't know if these will be useful,' she said when they had all congregated in the lock.

'Wheat?' Chuck grinned. 'Always.'

Zainal punched the open tab on the lock frame and the hatch slipped up while the ramp extended, forcing people to stand back from the port side.

'Hi, y'all,' Kris said, wondering how her embarrassed greeting came out in a slightly southern drawl. She smiled broadly and then offered the tray of cold roasted rock squats to the man who had guided them in.

'These are cooked and taste a little like chicken,' she said.

The tray was almost ripped out of her hands and passed around, everyone reaching for a section. The tray was empty in seconds.

'Call it a landing fee,' she added. 'And we have some wheat here, if that's any use.'

'All supplies go to a licensed caterer,' a stout woman said, charging forward and directing the disposal of the sacks. 'Our thanks. And this is good,' she added, waving the remains of her portion of the rock squat.

'Did she inhale it?' Kathy muttered to Kris, who shrugged.

Zainal led their mission down the ramp, Chuck close beside him, trying to find a familiar face in the dusky light.

'Yo, here, Chuck.' A tall man wearing a baseball cap, a faded Levi's jacket and oil-stained trousers with frayed cuffs over heavy leather boots stepped forward, waving both arms.

'Hi, Collin. Can we see the coord?' 'Yeah, sure, he's waiting inside.'

'Kathy, grab another tray of rock squat, will you? And, Clune and Herb, hoist a coupla sacks of the wheat and flour,' Kris ordered to those behind her.

'Can we come, too, Father?' Bazil asked, bouncing behind Kris. She let him pass her to stand by Zainal.

'People who come in peace bring kids,' she murmured.

By then, Collin was embracing Chuck with great masculine slaps on the back and, in between, broad gestures for the rest of them to come down the ramp. 'Botany Boy gets back, huh? Coord Vitali should be here by now,' Collin said nervously, resettling his cap on his bristle-cut hair as he motioned for everyone to proceed to the airport building. 'He sure was surprised to get a note from Biff.'

'Biff?' Zainal and Marrucci asked in surprise.

'Alias for Watch Dog,' Collin said with a laugh.

Another man, also capped, strode out of the gaggle of observers to lead the way and hurry people along. Zainal nodded at Gino and Jax to stay behind, on guard, and followed the man, with Chuck and Collin joining the little procession.

They were led upstairs to what Kris identified as a once-elegant VIP lounge, though considerably the worse for wear now, judging by the stains on the upholstery, and the general seedy appearance and stale air. Much at his ease in one of the armchairs was the man Kris thought must be this Coord Vitali. As his name suggested, he had an Italianate countenance, swarthy skin, black hair and a beard barbered close to a strong jawline. He also looked to have been a much stouter person for his clothes, which were of good quality, hung loosely on him and his face was gaunt. But he flashed a genuinely welcoming smile and met Chuck with an outstretched hand, vigorously seizing Chuck's.

'Chuck Mitford, we have all heard of you,' he said, his tone slightly awed.

'From your Texas colleague, I hope,' Chuck said, ignoring, as he usually did, any reference to the legend of his efforts on Botany.

'From him as well. For he said you might be paying this part of the Free World a visit.'

'And let me introduce the rest of my motley crew,' Chuck said, grinning. 'Our Catteni friend is Zainal, his two boys, Bazil and Peran; Captain Kathy Harvey, copilot; Kris Bjornsen, Zainal's mate; Lieutenant Mpatane Cummings, flight engineer; and Alexander McColl, one of our pilots; and Clune and Herb, with the wheat sacks on their shoulders. Dr. Eric Sachs, lately of Columbus Circle. Allow us to present a small gift from

Botany,' Chuck said, taking the tray of roasted rock squats from Kathy and presenting it with due ceremony to Coord Vitali. He raised thick brows inquiringly.

'Rock squats, cooked and ready to eat,' Chuck said. 'We lived on these birds the first few months on Botany. Make good eating.'

Between his offering and his words, those in the room who had stood back politely while the big men made their meeting looked eagerly at the tray.

'Don't mind if I do,' Vitali said, picking up a half squat and taking a good bite with astonishingly white teeth. 'Hmmm, very good. Pass it around,' he mumbled as he chewed, his face lighting up with pleasure. 'Hey, well, tasty. Nice to have something to sink one's teeth into. Chickens here are scarcer than their teeth.'

The contents of this tray also disappeared very quickly, and then Clune and Herb carefully deposited the sacks they had hefted in.

'Some wheat and flour for your supplies,' Chuck said. 'Gift of the Farmers.'

'Hey, don't look like no Trojan horse, do they?' Vitali quipped. 'Accepted with thanks. Anyone seen Grace so we can turn the wheat over to Catering Supplies, legallike?' There was a bustle in the room and someone had obviously made a hurried call because the same woman arrived, this time with her own helpers and, with another curt nod of thanks, gestured for the sacks to be taken off.

'Well, we got some business we need to take care of in Manhattan,' Chuck said, perching on the edge of another armchair. 'Can you get us there?'

'Ain't a nice place no more,' Vitali said, his eyes flickering over the women and the two Catteni boys in the group.

'Being dropped on Botany wasn't any nicer,' Kris said as Kathy came to stand by her shoulder, looking equally firm.

'No, I 'spect it wasn't. Please, sit.' Dan Vitali gestured for them to seat themselves and pull their chairs closer to him.

'Dr. Sachs here,' and Zainal gestured at the dentist, 'would like to take possession of his dental chair and the equipment from his office.'

'Oh?' Vitali blinked in astonishment. Then comprehension brought a knowing smile to Vitali's face. 'Catteni like gold crowns, don't they? Hey, well, Doc, wish you luck. Where was your office in the good of days?'

'Columbus Circle.'

'You're in luck. Big trading there with the Cardinal Coord in charge,' he said, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. 'And we deal with him regular. Repossessing your equipment will be no problem.'

Eric blinked, confused, until Dan Vitali gave him a reassuring look. 'I can set up the repossession. No problem.' Then he cocked a forefinger at Zainal before swinging it to Eric again. 'Heard Catteni got into dentistry - replacing their front teeth. Hear tell they don't have dentists on their planet.' Then Vitali tensed, his jaw dropped and he stared at Eric. 'You going to Catten to set up your practice? Brave man.' Then comprehension brought a sly gleam to Vitali's face.

'Well, actually,' Eric stumbled and turned to Zainal again.

So Zainal, speaking in a low tone for Vitali's ears only, explained about Barevi and his assignment. As soon as he mentioned the comm satellites, Dan Vitali held up his hand.

'Wendell's the one you need to talk to about comm sats,' he said, and waved a man forward. 'John Wendell, Chuck Mitford and friends,' he added, smiling at Kris,

Kathy and Zainal's sons. 'John keeps my phone system working,' he said by way of explanation. John acknowledged the introduction as he came forward, rock squat bones in his hand. He was a wiry man, in the Levi's that seemed almost a uniform. He also wore a broad belt from which depended pouches and on which were fixed special loops. Visible as a mound under his Levi's jacket was a mobile phone. He wore a baseball cap decorated with a Motorola M logo.

One of Vitali's cohorts passed around cups of coffee, thanking them quietly for the food. Instant coffee, Kris could tell the moment she had a mouthful, but it was welcome. She wondered if coffee figured in bartering at Columbus Circle. She remembered photos of that New York landmark with artists' sketches and paintings propped up against the Circle's balustrade.

'And you hope to trade dentistry, gold crowns, for spare parts?' Vitali asked.

'We have other things that may be tradable,' Zainal said cautiously.

'You're going to need a lot if you're trying to ransom all the loot the Cats took... no offence, Zainal.' The coord nodded courteously. 'They got just about anything portable. We could restart some industries for the most urgent stuff but we haven't got ores. Mines are in production but it's getting the raw stuff to the smelting plants as well as coal for them. What you got handy 'sides wheat - which we appreciate, I assure you - that can pay for the gasoline and men to get you safely to Columbus Circle and back?'

Zainal was slightly taken aback by the query but, recovering, gave his broad shoulders a little twitch of acceptance. 'Should have brought a lot more rock squats.' He glanced apologetically at Kris. 'We have some small quantities of ore. What had you in mind?' Zainal asked, his expression bland.

'We can use just about anything: copper, tin, lead, zinc, iron, right here in New Jersey, Zainal. Whatcha got?'

'Gold?'

'If that's all you got.' Vitali's reluctance to accept the former standard was an interesting insight into the current economy.

'Could manage some copper and tin, I think,' Zainal finally admitted. 'How much?'

'Pure ore? Or recycled?'

'Some pure ingots mined on Botany.'

'Well, in that case,' and Vitali slapped his knees with flat hands, 'I think we can do a trade.'

'How much?' Zainal repeated. 'We didn't think we'd need ores here.'

'Here, there, and everywhere. We have some mines open, specially for coal,' Vitali went on, 'but it's transporting it to where it can be worked is the problem.'

'They say they're going back to sail, Coord,' one of his minions remarked with the smirk of a mechanically oriented man for such a primitive alternative.

'Don't knock sails, Binjy,' Vitali said amiably. 'It did Columbus okay.'

'Yeah, Coord, yeah. Guess it started the whole shebang.'

'However they get it to Detroit and other places ain't our problem. Getting things started again is. We ain't got tyres, batteries, spark plugs, windshield wipers. You know, the stuff we used to take for granted.' Vitali waved one hand in frustration. 'Some stuff doesn't require much ore but-'

'How much... in pounds, Vitali?'

'Pounds? Well, I'd say ten pounds would be the least I'd be able to accept for the loss of the irreplaceable supplies it'll take to get you all the way to Columbus

Circle.' He glanced down at the note on his pad.

'Eric has to go here, to get supplies,' Zainal said, offering the exact address.

'Oooh,' murmured Vitali but he didn't seem too put out.

'Subways don't run any more?' Kathy asked sharply. 'Thought they were working on mass transportation as a top priority.'

Vitali flung his head up, regarding her with something close to pity. 'D'you know how much it costs to run a subway, girl? Even if we had diesel fuel?'

'No, sir, I don't, but we've all been sort of out of touch with what's been happening back here on Earth.'

'We do get electricity on at least part of every day, to do water pumps and lights in hospitals 'n' essential things like that. Ain't got no time for fripperies that we used to consider rightful.'

'Five pounds each of copper and lead settle our account with you, Vitali?'

Vitali drew in a long breath, regarding Zainal and rubbing his hands on his worn Levi's. 'Well, I think it might. Can probably trade them to someone for something. You're sure it's pure?'

'Smelted on Botany, never felt a pick or shovel before we came.'

'Hmmm, pure stuff's worth a lot more.'

'Indeed it should be,' Zainal agreed amiably. 'And that covers our expedition to Columbus Circle? And our second stop at East Thirteenth Street before we come back to the KDM? Deal?' Zainal held out his hand, hoping to conclude the bargain.

To his surprise, Vitali closed the deal with a shake. 'This'll help more than you know. We're out of everything.' He waved his hands around his head in frustration. 'You bring us a load of tyres back and you can name your price.'

'I saw sheds full of tyres and battery boxes,' Chuck said. 'All on Barevi.'

'All looted from us, too,' Vitali said, scowling. 'I'll take anything off your hands you can get... for anything you ask for... that we might still have. It's raw materials we need right now, to get industry started.'

'We'll keep your wish list in mind,' Kris said with a courteous nod. 'Our main objective is to get spare parts and repair the comm sats.'

'Speaking of which, Mr Wendell,' Kathy began, and that man looked around him as if he didn't realize she could mean him. 'Are you familiar with the Boeing arrays?'

'Sort of. Why?'

'We have one on board the KDM-'

'You what?' John Wendell's eyes went wide with astonishment.

'Zainal netted it, neat as you please. But I'd appreciate a professional survey of how best to repair it.'

'Antennae and solar panels gone, I'll bet, sight unseen.'

'Yes, exactly.'

He motioned Kathy to one side and the pair engaged in a spirited conversation with many gestures on Wendell's part while Kathy listened, Kris thought, with far less reserve than she usually showed. Wendell was a personable-looking man and obviously well versed in his speciality. At least, Kathy looked impressed.

'Keeps us in contact real good,' Vitali said approvingly. 'Now you guys want to go into Manhattan and grab the doc's stuff, right? It's essential to this operation of yours on Barevi, right? Aside from the issues of wear, tear and personnel, what sort of a vehicle had you in mind?'

'Any sort of truck will do. Pickup, if you have one.'

Vitali gave a little snort. 'Even one with good tyres. You're in luck. So that's the transport and you'll need a guide and some guards, unless you have weapons.' He cast a wary glance at Zainal. 'And I don't mean those nerve whips either, Catteni.'

'We will need your guides, and your guards for we have no weapons, but we're not defenceless,' Zainal replied, though he held up his big hand and made a sizeable fist.

Vitali cleared his throat.

'We have more wheat, if that can be tossed in to sweeten the pot,' Kris offered.

'That's a sure enough sweetener, little lady, being as it will feed everyone, and a full stomach makes people easier to live with. Okay, Zainal, you got a deal, a truck, guide and guard and my safe conduct for you tomorrow. Night's not a good time for going through the tunnel anyway, to mention only one hazard.'

'The Lincoln Tunnel?' Kris exclaimed.

'Yes, ma'am, that and the Holland are the only ways to get to the island. No fuel for ferries, though they may start commandeering pleasure boats soon,' Vitali said in the greatest of good humour. 'We'd be pleased for you to join us for a meal here.'

'We wouldn't want to deprive you,' Kris said, having seen the dismay on several faces when Vitali made his offer. 'We have enough rations on board and we wouldn't want to tap more of your resources than absolutely necessary.' Particularly, she thought to herself, if it takes more of our raw ores.

'You'll sleep on board then?' Vitali asked, beaming appreciatively.

'Yes, and be ready to move out whenever you have made the arrangements. We do need to replenish our water tanks.'

'Water's still available - and guaranteed,' Vitali said. 'I'll have to check with the coords involved, as a matter of courtesy and for your security, but I can set up the transport personally,' he said, so convincingly that Zainal nodded.

'If you've someone to take charge of the metal ingots, we can unload them tonight,' Zainal said, showing goodwill.

'Our pleasure, I assure you,' Vitali said. Then he gathered several of his officers around him and gave quick, low, confident orders. The men left to obey them.

Coffee and business finished, Zainal stood, ready to make delivery of the ingots however much he might have wanted to hold such commodities back to trade on Barevi. Kathy asked to bring John Wendell on board to look at the comm sat, which Zainal thought a good idea.

'Fine-looking lads, Zainal. They yours?' Vitali asked, rising to his feet.

Zainal nodded and introduced his sons. Bazil and Peran made courteous bows and offered limp hands to the coord, who smiled benignly at them.

'Got one about the same age,' Vitali said. 'If you've got two on board for the trip, I've another I can lend you: my grandson. For the good of our relationship, of course.'

'If we were returning directly to Botany, that would be a possibility, Coord Vitali, but we go on to Barevi, and that is not a place I would suggest a young Terran visit right now. My sons travel with us for tutoring there.' Bazil and Peran regarded their father with such shock that Vitali grinned.

'I see.' There was regret in Coord Vitali's voice but he concluded the visit with a firm handshake, and the two groups separated.

'A tutor, Father?' Bazil began as they started back down the stairs to the ground level.

'A tutor, Bazil,' Zainal said so firmly that the boys bowed their heads in rueful acceptance.

'Oh, and Zainal, have no worries about your ship's safety while here on the ground,' Vitali said, pausing in the doorway of the VIP suite. 'We have an excellent perimeter security. Sleep well and soundly.'

'We're obliged,' Zainal said, winking at Chuck, who grinned back. There was no real chance that anyone could break into the KDM. She had good external security devices, too.

5

Once outside, a truck kept pace with them. As they neared the ship, Zainal opened the ship's comm unit to alert Gino to their return. The ramp was extended and Gino and the rest of the crew framed the open hatch as they watched the return of their crewmen. Kris noticed the pessimism on Zainal's face as he cycled the cargo holds to the one containing their metal ingots. He must have been wishing he hadn't said anything about having ores, but she felt paying for a convoy to safely acquire Eric's equipment was worth the swap. Botany did not produce much ore but the deposits were high quality. At least she thought the miners would object less to losing copper, zinc, tin and lead even though in some instances those ores were far more useful than gold, silver or platinum. Nevertheless, she could see how it pained Zainal to hand over the ingots and how eagerly Vitali's men received them.

Kris did not seek her bed yet. She was still absorbing the import of their interview with Vitali and other, less obvious information that she had gathered. Earth's victory was a hollow one, despite evidence of recovery. The rock squats had been worth their weight in any metal, and while they still had a few trays to spare, fresh bread might be useful to have on hand for goodwill and any unexpected 'fees'. She hauled another sack of flour out of the supply locker and mixed up a triple batch of bread dough. It could rise overnight, have another quick rise as rolls, which would be easier to distribute than loaves, and be ready for their journey.

Kathy was still in heavy conference with John Wendell, who was almost drooling over the comm sat in the cargo hold. She was listening avidly to his remarks, jotting down notes and looking all too bright-eyed, Kris thought, and not the least bit reserved.

Kris was grateful to fall asleep once she hit her bunk, and answered Zainal's sleepy muttered 'Who's there?' with a kiss, which sent him back to sleep with a smile on his face. She hated to be roused by the alarm the next morning but rose and flicked it off before the noise woke him. It was fair. He often let her have an extra half hour. In the galley, she started the big oven and punched down the dough, deftly separating it into convenient rolls before she made the morning's breakfast of boiled groats. She wondered if it would be hard to find cinnamon and maybe raisins somewhere in Manhattan. She had often longed for a Danish at breakfast.

It was the smell of baking bread that got folk out of their beds before the official Klaxon sounded.

Everyone was dressed and ready when the security sensors beeped a proximity alert. Chuck greeted those who arrived in a battered pickup truck. He eyed the load bed but it looked long enough to hold Eric's equipment. He also tossed in a coil of rope on top of the two lift platforms, which he and Clune carefully loaded, ignoring questions from the curious guards.

The truck had a wide front seat, which Zainal and Kris took. She was seated next to the driver, careful to keep her backpack full of rolls from being crushed against the battered dashboard. She was aware that the driver's pistol dug into her left hip and eased her buttocks slightly to the right. The smell of freshly baked bread vied with the smells of oil, diesel fuel and unwashed bodies. As surreptitiously as possible, she held the pack closer to her nose. Then a final passenger wedging himself next to Zainal slammed her back into the driver's holster. The door was closed only because someone outside the truck gave it a good push.

'Sorry about the squeeze,' the latecomer said, 'but I'm Jelco, your official guide on this tour of New Manhattan.' He nodded amiably at Zainal and Kris. 'Driver's Murray. He don't talk much but he's a good driver. We were lucky to get him for this job. I believe he claims he knows every hole in every avenue and street in the city.'

Courteously Kris nodded to her left and was startled by a toothless grin. She wondered if he knew he was driving a dentist to his old office. She also wondered if he could enjoy the nice crunchy bread they had in their backpacks. Murray hadn't so much as glanced at the backpack she held in her lap but he must have smelled the bread because his nostrils flared every now and then and he had to lick his lips frequently. Salivating, possibly.

The smell of fresh bread had its own magic.

'Dover and Wylee are our guards, case you wanted to know. Good men.'

Which was what Kris hoped they would prove to be.

'We'll have Kejas and Potts through the tunnel. They're actually the Midtown Coords men this week. They wear red bands.' He pointed to the Kelly green one on his upper arm. 'We do a week on, a week off tunnel duty.' Zainal nodded.

There were very few people around as Murray drove slowly out of Newark Airport, its vast parking lots empty, except for a few burned-out autos. Then Murray pulled out onto a three-lane highway. Along the weedy verge of the highway, damaged bushes and trees were showing growth with new sprouts, and the occasional forsythia had some blooms. Shortly they turned again, off the turnpike onto the approach to the Lincoln Tunnel. Signs had been torn down but the wide highway, though pocked with gravel-filled holes, was empty except for their pickup and a cart full of what looked like potato sacks to Kris, laboriously drawn by two raggedly dressed men. The wheels were not pneumatic but wooden, rimmed by metal, and the axle squealed for lack of lubrication. Three small boys, walking behind the cart, eyed the truck. From the dirt on their faces, Kris wondered if they had dug the potatoes that were in the cart.

The New Jersey entrance to the Lincoln Tunnel had never been a prime residential area in its heyday and certainly looked war torn now, the high sidewalls full of pockmarks. Other types of debris, probably from fighting to protect the tunnel approach, had been pushed to one side, leaving two lanes of the once six-lane approach clear, one on either side of the dividing parapet.

'Heavy fighting?' she asked, unnerved by the desolation, and needing to talk.

Murray nodded. 'Only good midtown access to the island, ma'am, and had to be defended.' To the last man? she wondered.

'Hmmm, well done,' she said, noncommittally. And then the road on the left was free of the bombed buildings. This road had always provided a breathtaking view of New York City, as it swept around in a long right hand curve to the tollbooths and the actual tunnel faces. But the view of New York was vastly changed from her recollection of it. It was as if all the buildings had somehow been blunted. Oh, the Chrysler and the Empire State buildings were still standing, but others, including the Radio City complex, looked as if they'd been sliced off. The once proud city had gaps in its fabled silhouette. They travelled down towards the huge entrance plaza, swinging past tollbooths that had been shattered into rubble. Pieces of burned-out vehicles had, as on the approach roads, been pushed to the sides but gave mute testimony to the fierceness of attack and defence.

'And to think I once griped about waiting in the lines,' Jelco remarked. Then armed men appeared from a galvanized shed, tucked under the shadow of the eastbound tunnel entrance. Murray slowed to a stop and turned off the engine, reaching for a sheaf of papers that had been tucked behind the eyeshade. Jelco swung down from the truck's cab and strode to the approaching guards, whose weapons were slung over their shoulders. Jelco had a slip of paper in his hand that Kris thought was decorated with seals and Kelly green ribbons. Jelco had an earnest conversation with a guard, showing him the paper, while a dour man who reeked of sweat was thumbing through Murray's papers. The breeze was unfortunately coming across him and into the truck cab. Evidently soap and deodorant were no longer available.

'Would you like some fresh rolls?' Kris asked nervously and held one up for the man to see. She thought for a moment that the rest of his squad would rush the truck but the man with Jelco issued a sharp order and they moderated to a swift walk. She handed Murray the rolls to pass around and noticed that he dropped one into his own lap, though how he would manage without teeth, she didn't know. He simply tore a piece off the roll and popped it into his mouth, his eyes widening with appreciation at the taste.

'Thanks, miss,' said the first guard, tipping his fingers in a salute. He passed rolls out to the rest of his unit.

'Klaus?' he yelled, attracting his leader's attention, and lofted a roll, which Klaus neatly hooked out of the air. 'Sorry, ma'am, but a search is required. Becky, front and centre,' he yelled over his shoulder, and a woman soldier quickly advanced.

Kris had never been frisked before but, considering what she had seen on the tunnel's environs, she had no intention of protesting against such a security measure. Klaus gestured for Zainal to step out so he could be checked over, too.

'She's clean,' Becky said after a fairly cursory feel of Kris's arms and legs, back and waist. Kris offered her a roll. 'Thank you. Ain't had fresh-baked bread in ages.' She bit into it with an almost savage gusto and chewed vigorously, nodding her approval. In all, a dozen rolls had been passed out before Kris was waved back into the truck. She was glad she'd made the offer, judging by the happy expressions on the tunnel guards' faces and the appreciative thumbs-up gestures as the truck was allowed to roll into the eastbound tube.

'I'm Wylee,' said a small man who came back to the truck with Jelco. 'Tunnel squad. Just wanted to reassure you that the fans have been circulating the bad air out. You got anyone in your group who's asthmatic or has respiratory problems?' He looked at Kris as he spoke, trying to ignore Zainal's solid Catteni form.

'None I know of.,

'Well, the air in the middle of the tunnel ain't exactly one hundred per cent unpolluted, ma'am. Anybody has any problem, call me, huh? We got respirators.' He motioned to the backpack he was wearing. His expression suggested that he didn't want to use them unless he absolutely had to. Oxygen was still free, wasn't it? Kris thought, feeling almost rebellious. She did not really know what those left on Earth had had to face so she swallowed the smart rejoinder. She felt the tilt of the truck as those in the back hauled up Wylee.

As Murray was waved to proceed into the left-hand tunnel, she had more to concern her. She wasn't claustrophobic but she really didn't like the idea of all the water over her head, and looked at the cream-tiled walls of the tunnel to see any signs of lack of maintenance. She didn't know what to look for - but cracks or moisture staining the walls would be obvious signs. Yet if this was one of the only accesses to New York City from the mainland, it would behove them to keep it in good repair.

She was somewhat surprised to see a huge dumpster at the entrance and noticed that there were bits of cement and odd pieces of metal jutting from it. Then the truck swerved to the right and she saw the burned-out chassis of a car on the left. This was not the last wreck she was to see in the tunnel. Few had been burned out but all had been stripped down to the chassis.

'Recycling,' Murray said around a mouthful of his roll.

'We'll get the junk out of the tunnel one of these years,' Jelco said cheerfully. 'And sometimes, when we have a group coming through, we get them to hump a chassis out for us.'

When they were out of sight of the tunnel entrance she saw that the raised walkway along the inner side of the tunnel had been damaged, though most of the cement and tiles had been cleaned away from the break.

'That's as far in as the invaders got,' Jelco said, point ing to where the damage ended with a hint of pride. 'But then,' and he cast a quick glance at Zainal, 'Catteni don't like being underground, do they?'

There was a look on his face that suggested he'd hoped to see Zainal react.

'True enough,' Zainal said with complete composure. 'You did well to fight off Catteni soldiers. No other species has been able to.'

'So I heard,' Jelco replied amiably.

That exchange seemed to please both participants and the rest of the journey, past other cars stripped to the bare bones of their chassis, passed without remarks. Kris had to keep reminding herself that Wylee had said the air had been circulated so she must be imagining the stink, but the stench of petrol, oil and burned tyres was heavy enough to keep her taking shallow breaths to keep her lungs as uncontaminated as possible by the stale air. Shipboard air got to smell stale, too, but this tunnel was rank with ancient odours.

'Nearly there, ma'am,' Jelco murmured reassuringly. She was undeniably relieved to see more light on the tunnel tiles.

She smiled, turning her head in an almost regal nod in his direction. She would be glad to fill her lungs with clean air again. Then the truck drove up out of the tunnel. Debris from the old Port Authority Building was tumbled around the exit; she inhaled and wished she hadn't for there was a stench of rot and garbage that almost made the tunnel's air seem sweet. Two huge dumpsters were on either side of the exit, filled almost to capacity with debris that had been cleared from the tunnel. Maybe they should have used the lifts and brought out more, like one of the car bodies. But Zainal had mentioned that the floats had only so much power in their batteries and he had no spares to replace them with.

Then they had to go through a second security check, and Kris passed out the rest of the rolls she had in her backpack. Again the identity papers were shown, and

Wylee swung out of the truck and went to confer with the squad leaders, beaming as he passed out the rolls to grateful Manhattan recipients.

'Green for go,' he said, coming to the window. 'Roll away, Murray.' He added a grandiose gesture for the driver. Murray grinned, crumbs of the roll he had eaten visible on his gums, and shifted into first gear, ignoring the complaints from the transmission. She hoped the truck would last to bring the heavy dental equipment back.

The truck rolled up the curved road at Forty-first and onto Tenth Avenue.

'I can detour up Broadway so you can see Times Square,' Murray offered. 'Won't take much gas.'

'I think not, thank you, Murray,' Kris responded. She had seen that landmark once when her family had come east for a wedding, and she vaguely remembered the place for the cigarette smoke billboard and the coloured lights on in the middle of the day but she didn't think she could stand seeing it in ruins. Likewise she didn't want Zainal to see it at less than its best either.

Tenth Avenue was really a minefield of potholes through which Murray drove carefully. It had never been one of New York's finest neighbourhoods and looked even grimmer now. Especially when she saw the remains of a huge spit that had been erected over one of the potholes, still black from the fire that had been laid in it. A pile of utterly unfamiliar, and large, bones occupied one corner. And the street sign pole sported a huge skull. She couldn't imagine from what animal it had come.

'Had us quite a party that night,' Murray said, grinning at her. 'Rhinoceros, wasn't it, Jelco?'

Jelco nodded, a slight smile of happy reminiscence on his face.

'Rhinoceros?' Kris couldn't help blurting out the word.

'A rather large African beast. How on earth...' she looked across Zainal at Jelco for an explanation.

'Well, we couldn't feed the zoo animals,' he said with a wry grin, 'so they fed us.'

'Oh!'

'Miss going to the zoo on a Sunday, though,' Murray said. 'But we had enough to eat for everyone. Tough to chew, even if you had teeth.' He gave her another grin. 'But we had soup for a week afterwards from the bones. One day, maybe, we can erect a monument on the spot. Sort of thanks for the best meal many of us had had in weeks.'

'They were humanely put down, ma'am,' Jelco added. 'Better than all of us starving to death - and them, too.'

'Yes, yes, I quite see the expediency,' she murmured.

She was silent as she counted the streets on their way to Columbus. There were one or two street signs still in place - no more with skull adornment - and then the buildings turned from residences, if you could call the old shambles 'residences', to the beginning of office-type buildings. By then she realized that very few, except upper storeys, retained any glass panes in their windows. Many of the walls and entrances showed the pockmarks of bullets, and not a few entrances had no doors at all.

She hadn't seen many people about but as they neared the Circle, she saw folk hurrying in both directions, some carrying armloads or hauling the little wheeled carts as quickly as possible towards the Circle.

The Circle itself surprised her - no longer the place of artistic display but filled with carts and rudely made stalls, some with awnings to keep the sun and rain from whatever merchandise was on offer. She saw additional carts like the potato one.

'We got a bizarre every day now,' Wylee said, and Kris blinked at his mispronunciation because the place was indeed bizarre. Not only were there ardent traders making bargains but also swarms of men armed with weapons slung to be brought to bear quickly. They wore brilliant red armbands and berets with some sort of an insignia on them.

'We're in the Cardinal Coord now,' Jelco informed her, touching his own Kelly green armband. 'They keep the peace.'

'Peace?' Kris blurted out, astounded.

'You've no idea how hot under the collar people can get when they lose a deal,' Jelco said. 'Newark runs its own bizarre Saturday and Sunday at the airport. No one really likes the duty but every now and then we get a chance at something fresh and tasty.'

'Like the rolls?' Kriss asked.

'Those were elegant, ma'am,' he said earnestly. 'D'you have more?' he asked hesitantly.

'It'll smooth our way here in the Cardinal Coord?' she asked.

'Yes indeedy, ma'am. You've no idea.'

Possibly, she thought to herself, she didn't. But then, she'd had the reality of Barevi and Botany to open her eyes. Idly she thought of goru pears and how juicy they had tasted during her days of refuge in the forests of Barevi. And she thought she'd been deprived there! She wondered how much she could get trading fresh goru pears at this bazaar.

The truck was swinging around the Circle in the appropriate traffic pattern before Murray drove it up onto the wide concrete apron fronting Eric's office building, which dominated its arc of the Circle. Immediately Jelco swung out of the truck as guards from the entrance to the building came forward to protest illegal parking.

Jelco beckoned urgently at Kris, and she called for someone to bring out a fresh supply of rolls. It was Eric who hurried forward, the straps of his backpack looped over his forearm and a roll in his hand as evidence of the treat. The pack was quickly emptied and then Eric was fumbling in his pockets, producing his licence and a business card, which were passed around to verify his bona fides. Several of the guards kept curious people moving along, and it was evident why Dan Vitali had said they'd need guards.

However, Eric was approved and he waved for Zainal, Kris and the others to join him. If folks eyed Zainal warily, he was in the midst of armed men they patently trusted so they ignored a single Catteni.

'You're in luck,' the head guard was saying as they approached, Dover and Wylee unloading the awkwardlooking lift platforms. 'We got electricity for another half hour.'

'You mean the elevator's working?' Eric exclaimed, staring around at their party, his eyes bright with relief.

'Yup. The weekly dispensation. You guys got good timing,' the guard said, taking another bite from his roll and urging them into the foyer.

This was evidently a prime location to judge by the sophisticated stalls set about. 'Outta the way. Official business.' He had cleared customers away from the stalls to the voluble complaints of the merchants. Then they were at the elevator banks and with a flourish the guard punched the button. The light in the cracked display above the door came on. The elevator had been called.

Kris was not so sure about the noise that was coming from the shaft but she had not thought about having to walk up eighteen flights of stairs, much less coming back down.

'Both ways?' Eric asked.

'Only if you ain't got no more weight than you took up,' the guard informed him. 'Thing's ancient and stubborn. Has a tendency to get cranky and stop between floors. Passengers get to wait hours.'

Eric sighed. 'It would have been a squeeze with my units,' he said diffidently and was happy enough to step into the car, watching Jelco and Dover as they cautiously entered with the upright lift platforms.

The door creaked shut, and after Eric had punched the floor button with an air of importance, an alarming amount of chain rattling, hissing and bucking ensued until the elevator began to ascend. Kris's eye caught on the inspection card that most elevators displayed. This was an Otis, which she knew to be a reliable make, and a hastily penned notation informed that it had last been inspected on 2 July 1992.

For the life of her, Kris couldn't remember what date this day should be. The weather had been warm but the forsythia bloom she had seen suggested early spring. Time seemed to have stopped... at least recordable time. It had been so for so long that she endured one day at a time and was thankful to live through each one, week after week as they added up to months and then years, but she couldn't have said what day, week, month, or year - Anno Domini - she was currently living in. Nor did she wish to embarrass herself by asking. Anyway, Botany time was different from Earth time.

The elevator lurched to a stop, terminating Kris's anxiety about getting stuck between floors. The elevator had not only ascended but also had stopped at the desired destination. There, as proof, on the wall opposite were the figures, gold, framed in black, that identified the eighteenth floor. Eric stepped out first, the others following quickly on his heels as he led the way to the right. Office doors on either side of the dark corridor were ajar, which lit their way, but also showed them that few offices had escaped pilfering. Mostly chairs had been taken though Kris rather thought some of the stalls in the foyer had once been tables in the upper levels. Torn curtains flapped in whatever breeze whined around the eighteenth floor.

Eric let out several startled exclamations. He did not need the keys he had brought with him, for his outer door, too, had been forced open. But as he charged forward into the inner office, he let out a cry of relief as he spotted his dental chair and the tower, which held the drill apparatus. Relief changed to mild expletives as he saw that the drawers of his accessory cupboards were pulled out.

'They only looked and saw nothing they could use,' he cried after a closer examination.

'Now, where's your electrical supply? Like the man said, it's on and I don't want to electrocute anyone, especially me,' Herb Bayes said, lumbering forward.

Eric showed him both the panels and then where he would have to disconnect the tower and the chair, which could be adjusted by the dentist as needed. Kris remembered such a unit, with its foot controls, from visits to her own dentist. They had to pull up the carpet and unloosen the bolts that held the two pieces to the floor.

'If you'd help me, Kris,' Eric said, 'I have more in my workroom.' He pushed open the door to a small anteroom with worktops and drawers in wall cabinets, many of which had been opened. As he examined one cabinet, he exclaimed again in relief. 'Enough jaw trays, I think, and some of them must fit Catteni-size maws,' he was muttering to himself. He opened a wall cabinet and hauled out some paper shopping bags with the Saks Fifth Avenue logo on them as well as some bubble wrap. 'Here, help me package these things, Kris. And I've more in the storeroom - I hope.' He pulled out the drawers he wanted her to empty and then disappeared into a closet. 'Good, good,' he said, pulling some of the bubble wrap nearer so he could wrap mortars, pestles and other items for which she had no names.

'Now, if only Eddie Spivak has anything left, we'll be in business even in benighted Barevi. You don't know how lucky I feel right now, Kris,' Eric said, almost crowing with success.

'One for our side, Eric,' she said encouragingly.

By the time they returned to the main office, the men had finished disconnecting the dental chair and had the lift tilted up to take its burden. Zainal was explaining the controls of the apparatus, embedded in one long side of the platform. They secured the chair with the rope that Chuck had tossed into the truck.

'Hey, don't use it all on this,' Eric exclaimed. 'The drill rig is more important than the chair.'

'Whyn't you say so?' Bayes retorted huffily, tugging at a knot to be sure it was firm.

'See if you can find something else to tie it down with, Kris,' Eric said, waving his hand towards the corridor.

Kris went out, as much to escape the tension in the room as to be useful. She hadn't a clue where to find more ropes - someone would have found such a prize long before they arrived. But she did find some dusty draperies of a heavy fabric, and wondering that they had been left untouched, she hauled three pairs down. It must have been an attorney's office, to judge by the bindings on the books on the shelves. It was almost a travesty to have to use the draperies but once back in Eric's office, she asked him for something sharp to cut with and he provided her with a knife. She didn't ask what it was originally intended for, but with it she managed to tear the fabric into strips, which she then connected into a rope of sorts. She had yards of it, ready in time for the tower to be secured to its platform. Several of Eric's wrapped bundles were secured by adhesive tape (which he had also found a quantity of in his stores) to the empty spaces on the lift. They added a scatter of text- and reference books, nurses' uniforms, and some aprons. There were still more parcels for herself and Eric to carry. Zainal took several from those at her feet and then they felt ready to make the long descent.

The men, with Zainal showing them how to guide their cumbersome bundles, manoeuvred into the corridor and towards the stairwell. Fortunately the powered units were easy to manipulate though the first landing on the way down took some angling, but once they found the trick to it, they proceeded at a fair pace down the stairs. Without the lifts they never would have managed. Even so, by the time they reached the last landing, everyone was sweating and winded, even Zainal. Kris leaned heavily into the final stair post, struggling to slow her heartbeat and pulse.

'Not as fit as I thought I was,' Eric admitted, wiping his sweating forehead on his sleeve. 'You guys have been splendid,' he said, beaming at the team.

'Yeah, yeah,' Dover said in a caustic tone.

'Free dentistry for your entire family?' Eric asked.

'If you got to start here, you'd never finish, Doc,' Dover remarked, 'but kind of you to offer.' His tone was nearly sarcastic but he caught the look Jelco gave him and nodded his head.

Their reappearance, not to mention their odd cargo, caused a complete silence in the foyer as they reached the ground floor. A few nasty looks were cast in Zainal's direction but he ignored them. The silence continued as everyone watched the levitated heavy equipment float to the front doors. These were glassless but Dover pushed the frames open, hauling the front of his lift with

'Hey, what'll you take for one of those things?' a bearded man asked, pulling at Eric's sleeve.

'No one has that much money,' Eric replied.

'I wouldn't insult you by offering you money, man,' was the retort.

'That's enough, Mac,' the Cardinal head guard said, moving swiftly between the two men. Kris idly wondered what the man would have offered as she followed the others out of the foyer. The fresh breeze cooled her face and smelled of newly mown grass and other, less salubrious odours.

'What's in there?' the guard asked, pointing to the Saks carriers.

'Oh, there was a sale on,' she said whimsically and deposited them in the truck bed on one side of the dental chair. Her wrists and arms ached from lugging the oddments down so many flights. If they hadn't had the floats, how would they have managed? With great relief, she hauled herself back into the front seat and reached for the bottle of water that she had seen earlier. She was parched. She handed it to Zainal when he slid in beside her. Murray pulled another container from the door pocket on his side and took a long swig before a whistle reminded him that a guard was clearing the pavement and street so they could depart.

'Where to now?' Murray asked.

'One-twelve East Thirteenth Street,' Jelco said, con sulting his notepad. 'Eddie Spivak's Dental Supplies.'

'A snap,' Murray said. 'We can go right down Ninth, or would you prefer Broadway or even Fifth?'

'Most direct route, Murray. We gotta conserve petrol, y'know,' Jelco said repressively.

'Gotcher!'

'Murray, is Macy's still there?' Kriss asked softly. 'Yeah, but it still don't talk to Gimbels, which ain't,' and he bestowed another of his frightening toothless grins on her, reminiscent of Popeye.

'Oh!'

There was more traffic on the street now - most of it handcarts, many of them heaped with clothing and rolls of fabric. Kris remembered Floss and wondered what she had to trade for some blue cloth. As they passed a cart, she saw the blue had a huge stain down the middle of the bolt and she shrugged the incident aside.

They turned left on Fourteenth to Second Avenue and then turned right, and Kris noticed there seemed to be few vehicles. Maybe one-way streets were no longer required as traffic controls. She didn't remember this area at all, if she'd ever been in it. There were three- and four-storey houses, all made into tenements to judge by the fire escapes, interspersed with concrete-block buildings that would house family-owned businesses of some sort. There were two cafes: she could see people at the counters eating whatever it was, and drinking. Coffee? She licked her lips. A cuppa would taste nice right now. Give her some energy. She was beginning to sag with fatigue. She wondered how the rolls were holding up and if there were enough to 'do lunch' for everyone. They still had two trays of rock squats.

'One hunnert and twelve,' Murray said with some pride, pointing to a three-storey building that had a store front clearly marked EDDIE SPIVAK, DENTAL SUPPLIER.

Eric sighed with relief. Some of the ground-level stores on both sides of the street looked empty from looting. Eddie Spivak's windows boasted iron grilles and there was a pull-up aluminium shutter across the front, a certain deterrent to pilfering. Murray pulled over to the side and instantly people's heads popped out of the upper-storey windows.

'Neighbours!' he said with some disgust as he turned off the motor. 'So?'

Eric had already vaulted out of the truck back and was running down the narrow walk between Eddie's and number 115. He pounded on the door.

'Eddie? Eddie Spivak? It's Eric, Eric Sachs. Are you there? Open up! Is he home?' Eric craned his neck up, looking through the iron slats of the fire escape at the observers. 'I'm a dentist. An old customer of Eddie's. Where is he?'

'He's in. Leastwise,' an old woman cried in answer, 'ain't seen him or his missus today,' she added warily.

'EDDIE!' Eric put his hands to his mouth to shout. 'IT'S ERIC SACHS!' He rattled the doorknob and then stopped, peering through the grille on the small window set in the door, trying to see inside.

Suddenly the door was pulled in and an old man stood in the doorway, staring at what to him was evidently an apparition. He had a scalpel in his raised hand that he immediately lowered after recognizing his visitor.

'Dr. Sachs!' The man came forward, embracing Eric enthusiastically. 'I can't believe my eyes and ears. It's been years! Where did you go to?'

'Long story,' Eric said, 'but do you still have any supplies? I'm setting up my office in a new location and I need a few things... if you have them.'

'Who'd rob a shop like mine?' Eddie said, shrugging. Then he saw the truck and its load. 'You really are moving, aren't you? Sudden?'

'Sudden,' Eric said, grinning as Kris and Jelco joined them, Zainal following more slowly. 'These are my friends Kris Bjornsen and Jelco. And Zainal behind them

-312is also.'

'What's a Greenie doing on this side of the Hudson?'

Eddie asked, suddenly half-closing the door as if he feared Jelco might barge into his premises.

'Escorting us. We had to work through coord channels, you might say,' Eric said with a dismissive flick of his hand.

'Haven't done much business,' Eddie said in a gloomy tone. 'Who has time for dentistry when the world has gone to pot?'

'I do,' Eric said. 'How's Suzie? The grandkids?'

'Suzie's been ill, and I don't know where my son, the lazy wretch, has got to.' Evidently the shortcomings of his son was an old topic of conversation between them but Eddie stepped back and gestured politely for Eric to enter.

Kris, a spare pack with more than a dozen rolls in it looped over her arm, followed. There was an acrid smell in the air, similar to the one in Eric's small laboratory. Every profession has a special kind of odour attached to it, she thought.

However, nothing was wrong with Eddie's olfactory senses because he sniffed, probably catching the odour of the rolls.

'I need some porcelains. Some of the good Liechtenstein ones,' Eric said. 'The darker shades, if you still have any.'

Eddie gave a shrug. 'Darker shades aren't that much in demand. Come.'

He beckoned them farther in and flipped at a wall switch. Lights came on.

'Well! Whaddya know. Lights. Lights, Suzie. She's been doing some knitting, you see. Someone supplies the wool, she supplies the hands,' he said, again shrugging off such a necessity. 'No one teaches girls housewifely arts any more, you know.'

The lights showed a small foyer with two stools and a countertop. Eddie lifted the edge of the section near the wall and walked back into an area where he stored his wares.

'Good to have light. You'll be able to see the Vitapan shade chart.' He rooted under the counter for a moment and then handed Eric a piece of cardboard with what looked to Kris like teeth inserted around the edges. Eric immediately started examining it, glancing from time to time at Zainal. Then, as if recalling himself to the task at hand, Eric pulled a piece of paper out of his shirt pocket.

'I gotta list of other things I'll need. Jaw trays. Sizes one and two, mandibular-oh, twenty-one through twentyfour.'

Eddie gave a little guffaw. 'Whom are you doing dentures for? Neanderthal man? Don't know if I have any jaw trays those sizes. But maybe I have...' He walked straight to a row of cardboard boxes, neatly extracting one about halfway down with such a deft yank that none of the ones above it were disturbed. It clattered when he put it on the countertop.

'And some bonding gel. Several tubes of that, please.'

'Hmm. Got that, and you're lucky,' he added a moment later, four tubes flat on his hand. 'Last I got and who knows when more will be made. Not that there's such a big demand for this either. Where are you setting up practice?'

'Botany,' Eric said, then tapped the porcelain teeth. 'I'll have all the colours from B-four through D-three.'

'Done.' Eddie was pulling out yet another drawer: they could hear the clicking of glass against glass, and then he started pulling individual vials out, setting them on a tray.

'Next? You don't know what a relief it is to be back at work,' Eddie said with a huge sigh.

'Who's dere wid you, Eddie?' asked a querulous female voice from the small hall that led to the back of the building.

'Eric Sachs, Suzie.'

'Eric? But I heard he got transported.'

Eddie gave Eric a wide-eyed stare.

'I was, but I'm back, Suzie. Good to hear your voice,'

Eric said, raising his to be heard.

'Oy, Eric, you wouldn't believe what we've been through,' Suzie said, and a very frail-looking woman came into the light of the foyer. Her hair was skinned back from her face and bundled into a neat chignon. She clutched an old plaid dressing gown around her and her face looked pinched with hunger and sorrow.

'I have a little idea, Suzie m'dear, and it must have been dreadful for you,' Eric said sympathetically.

'Don't kvetch, Suzie. This is business,' Eddie said, evidently to forestall a litany of disasters.

'How's Molly keeping?' she asked, willing to exchange information as well as kvetch.

'I don't really know,' Eric said, darting a glance at Kris.

'We may be able to find out today,' Kris said, hoping that Dan Vitali might have a connection to the Florida coords so Eric could check the registry lists of the area.

'So many friends dead, and gone who knows where?' Suzie said, her tone plaintive. 'How are you finding clients these days, Eric?' She pointed with a worn and arthritically gnarled hand at the tray Eddie was filling.

'I find those I can,' Eric replied. 'It's good to contemplate being useful again.' He shot a grin at Zainal, who was still in the shadows of the doorway.

'Useful is good,' Suzie agreed and sat down abruptly on one of the stools. It rocked under her and Eddie steadied her by the arm. She wasn't a big woman but awkward. She hauled a handkerchief out of her pocket and blew her nose. 'Always a cold. Never am warm enough these days. I could have gone to visit Becky in Florida before IT happened. At least I would have been warm.'

'Stop with the kvetching, Suzie. Who's been warm this winter? No one.' He evidently asked and answered many questions out loud, for she shrugged and inched herself to a comfortable position on the stool, hugging her thick dressing gown around her. Then she sniffed, looking round.

'I smell bread. Oh, God, I'm going out of my mind. I can smell bread.' Then she looked at Kris. 'I haven't smelled bread in months!'

'We have brought bread and some other food to trade for these items,' Eric said. 'We thought that was better than money.'

'Never thought anything would be better than money,' Suzie said, rubbing her fingers together in an age-old gesture.

Though neither Eddie nor Eric had mentioned paying for the items that were now displayed on the countertop, Kris opened the backpack and, indeed, the odour of fresh bread wafted out. Kris offered Suzie a roll.

'I baked them myself,' she said, almost apologetically, and passed the roll to her. The old woman tentatively reached out for the bread, glancing at her husband as if she didn't dare complete the gesture until he had agreed. He nodded.

'Take it,' Kris said and extended her hand until the roll was nearly in the woman's fingers. They closed on the bread as if the woman was afraid Kris would snatch it away from her.

'Would you excuse me?' Suzie said, holding the roll protectively against her chest as she backed out of the room.

Kris placed the backpack on the counter and offered a roll to Eddie, who eyed it as Murray had, with longing.

'I've nothing to offer you to drink,' Eddie said wistfully.

'We have all we need,' Eric said soothingly.

Eddie took another deep breath. 'You could charge for the smell of it, you know,' he murmured. 'What else?' he asked, hands on the edge of the counter.

Eric named a few more things, which Eddie scurried to find from his supplies.

'Now, I gotta tell you I can't charge it, Eric, though you were always one of the promptest to settle your account,' Eddie said, eyeing the roll. 'And two rolls ain't enough.'

Kris peered into the backpack. 'Fifteen, sixteen rolls.' 'Well...'

'And some other food. Zainal, ask Dover to bring in a flat of the rock squats.'

'Rock squats?' Eddie asked, surprised.

'A sort of avian from Botany that is very tasty. Game bird. It's been cooked.'

'Kosher?' Eddie asked.

'You're asking kosher?' Eric said, surprised. He rested a hand on Eddie's and squeezed reassuringly. 'I know God is everywhere and sees all, but you look like you need a few good meals. However, to reassure you, this is a kosher-type game bird and hunted, which is permissible, even if it is alien. Are you going to go kosher on me when I have good food to offer you in return for all this?'

'We do have gold,' Zainal suggested.

'Gold, shmold, what good is gold with shortages like we got?' Eddie demanded.

'You were never that orthodox, Eddie,' Eric said so firmly that Eddie Spivak gave a little shrug.

'No, but I still got my ethnic pride.'

Eric blew an exasperated breath out just as Dover came in with the rock squats. He had judiciously covered the tray with one of the clean bread towels. With a flourish, he flicked off the towel to show the browned halves of rock squat.

Despite long-held principles, Eddie peered at the display. Kris could see his lips moving, not so much from hunger as from counting. The flat held twenty-four portions. And, when he achieved the total, Eddie clasped his hands together, almost reverently.

'Enough food for days!' he said on a happy sigh. 'And the bread, too?'

'Both. Enjoy and have good health,' Eric said. 'Is this enough for what I have purchased?'

'More than enough. Can we make soup out of it, too?' he asked Kris, pointing to the rock squats. 'They look like chickens.'

Kris laughed. 'Chicken soup is good for colds. I don't know as we ever used it specifically for that on Botany, but it does make a good soup.'

'You have saved us, then, Eric,' Eddie said with great solemnity, clasping his hands together against his chest.

'The backpack isn't ours to trade,' Kris said when she heard Jelco clear his throat. 'And I could use the flat tray back, too, if you don't mind.'

'A minute, please,' Eddie said and, flipping up the counter leaf, stepped out. He started for the hall down which Suzie had disappeared and then whipped back, neatly picking up a rock squat half before he was off again.

They could hear a shriek and then a gabble of excited comment before Eddie came back with a tray and a bread basket. He upended the backpack into the basket and carefully transferred the roasted meat to the tray, licking his fingers when he had finished the operation.

'Hmm, not bad.' He grinned like a happy gnome.

Eric held out his hand. 'Then we have a done deal?'

Eddie grasped it, shaking firmly. 'Best deal I've been able to make in weeks.'

Then Eric carefully packed away his supplies in the canvas carrier and pulled the loops over his arm.

'Will you be back again from this Botany place, Dr. Sachs?' Eddie asked as everyone shifted towards the door.

Eric gave a diffident shrug. 'Who knows?'

They exchanged more good wishes as Eddie saw them to the door. Once in the alleyway, they could hear him closing bolts and turning keys.

Urchins had gathered around the truck, Murray trying to shoo them away while Wylee stood, legs spread, in the truck bed, trying to look fierce.

'Let's get this show on the road,' Jelco said, motioning for Kris and Zainal to get back in the front seat. 'Didja get everything you needed, Doc?' Jelco asked as Eric carefully handed the backpack up to Dover, advising him to place it carefully.

'Actually, more than I hoped I'd find,' Eric said, swinging up onto the back of the truck. 'Eddie Spivak always kept his inventory current. Nothing here is close to its use-by date.'

Kris gave a chortle. "'Use-by" date has probably lost its significance. And I don't know about anyone else, but I'm hungry. We've enough rock squats for lunch, you know. And about two dozen more rolls.'

'Let's do this down the road a bit,' Jelco said, motioning to the kids who were now standing back from the truck. 'I don't want to cause a minor riot, being seen to have food.'

'Oh!' was all Kris could say. 'Maybe we should...' she began, thinking of the wizened, hungry little faces.

'Charity begins at home,' Jelco said so firmly that Kris put her usual compassion on hold. They really didn't have enough to share.

They pulled up farther down Thirteenth, where there was no audience looking out of upper storeys. Murray almost gulped down his portion of rock squat, licking his fingers for any juice, before he pulled apart his ration of roll. No one asked for seconds. But there were still supplies left.

They proceeded back to the Lincoln Tunnel, Kris trying not to look at the pathetic little clusters of people at street corners, ragged and hungry looking. They stopped only long enough for the Eastside guards to check them off as returning, though the cargo was eyed with curiosity.

Kris didn't even give a thought to the air she was breathing in this second pass under the Hudson River. She wouldn't die of a lungful of tainted air. She took a deep breath once they came out on the other side.

'Hey, New Jersey smells pretty good.'

'Even Secaucus smells pretty good now there ain't no more pigs raised there,' Murray said. 'Mind you, I wouldn't mind the smell if it'd get me a roast of pork now and again.'

They proceeded south on the turnpike until they saw the airport on the right. Also visible was the unmistakable bulk of the BASS-l, sitting on the runway just where they had left it.

6

Their return must have been observed because Jelco's phone buzzed. He answered it with an affirmative - evidently a response to a query about their mission's success. He listened silently for a moment, casting a sideways glance at Zainal before closing the phone.

'As soon as we unload the stuff, Coord wants to have a chat with you. Nothing serious,' he added when he noticed Kris was anxious. 'Sort of kinda to get your impressions, I think. He's real proud of our sector and wants to be sure the other coords did right by you, too. Gotta keep discipline, y'know.'

'You guys were marvellous,' Kris said with genuine appreciation.

'Sometimes it works out that way, ma'am,' Jelco admitted, saluting her with two fingers. 'Glad we could oblige.' He licked his lips, blushing when he realized what he had done. 'Bread was super... and so was lunch. Those squats of yours are real tasty.'

'Chickens all gone?' she asked, trying to put him at ease.

'Ages ago. Don't even think there are any eggs anywhere.'

'Well, we've been farming rock squats awhile now so a supply of them is guaranteed.'

'What's Botany like, huh?'

'Well, I suppose it's like this continent was before the White Man came. We got a coupla bad things - night crawlers.' Even the thought of them made Kris's spine shiver. 'And an avian beast about the size of a divebomber. But they've been quiet awhile. We got six-legged critters we call loo-cows, good eating, too, but they don't give milk. Say, anywhere we could trade for cinnamon or raisins?'

Jelco chuckled, raising his eyebrows like 'you gotta be kidding?' before he shook his head. 'Long gone. We could trade for spices if any were coming in. And if any were coming in, they'd be landed at New York.' He gave a helpless little shrug. 'We'd get some from the Waterfront Coord but we ain't had any. Raisins? Grapes come in the autumn, don't they? I remember my gran making grape jelly.'

'A peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich,' Kris sighed with nostalgia.

'Now and then we get some peanuts up from the south, but we don't waste time making butter out of them.'

She sighed again and then the truck pulled in front of the terminal and stopped.

Jelco got out and beckoned for Zainal and Kris to come with him, then issued a few low words to Murray to take the truck around to the BASS-1 to unload. Kris asked Eric for the last of the rock squats and any leftover rolls. Zainal hooked the straps of the depleted backpack over his arm while Kris took the last flat of rock squats.

'Would the coord have had lunch already?' she asked as she balanced the flat carefully. Wouldn't do to tip good food into the dirt and debris on the once well-swept pavement.

There was a bit of a delay while the door guards vetted them, and since the female assigned to frisk her pinched her, Kris was not of a mood to reward her clumsiness with a roll.

'You get to go in the front way, this time,' Jelco said and led them down a wide corridor.

She was surprised that most of the glass sides of the promenade were still intact, though several showed that the airport had not entirely escaped attack. There were a few bullet holes with cracks radiating out from the hit and some windows had been patched with duct tape. That was one item she had many requests for. How the world had run prior to its invention she didn't know. Not that she thought they should trade gold for it, but she might get an argument out of Herbie Bayes or Pete Snyder on that score. She smiled, and then they were swinging into the plush-carpeted executive area. This was well kept with even a few potted plants - of a high survival type - set about to give it a 'decorated' look.

There was a busy inner office, with cell phones burping and buzzing, several PC stations and everyone busy. But not too busy to glance up and react to the sight of a Catteni being formally ushered in. Almost as if Zainal had taken a hint from her previous regal pose, he nodded to workers on either side of the walkway as they passed. A plaque on the door said VICE-PRESIDENT and below that a roughly printed sign read, Daniel X. Vitali, Coordinator, Newark Airport HQ. She took a firmer grip on the flat as Jelco tapped on the door. One of the secretaries, busy at her keyboard, looked up and jerked her head to indicate they should go right in.

The divine smell of coffee - real coffee, ground and dripped - assailed them as they entered. Dan Vitali, coordinator, looking no more rested than he had the previous evening, was pouring himself a cup. He greeted them genially, waving at the guests to help themselves at the coffee station.

'Real coffee,' he said. 'In your honour.' He raised his cup in a toast.

'Real food to go with it,' Kris said, knowing how to make a drama out of this fortuitous entrance. 'And bread.'

'More of the stuff you passed out last night?' The green coordinator smiled with considerable pleasure, seating himself at the big desk amid a stack of paperwork and clipboards. Kris served him first, Zainal passed around the pack of rolls, and Vitali's expression was incredulous. 'Real bread?'

'Fresh this morning,' she said and served them to the half-dozen people in the room working at desks or waiting to present papers and letters to their commander.

'We eat, kids,' Dan Vitali said, pushing his chair away from the desk and leaning back as he took his first bite of the roll, Kris was pleased to see.

'Oooh, that goes down easily, Kris Bjornsen, very easily. Jelco says everything went well?'

'He's right and we can't thank you enough for setting everything up for us,' Chuck said, pulling up a stool and sitting down. He found a blank piece of paper, carefully folded it into quarters, then placed his coffee cup on a corner of the desk.

'I hope you take it black,' Jelco was saying as he poured coffee into enough mugs to go around. 'We ain't had creamer in ages.'

'We take it black,' Kris said. 'Unless you have some sugar?'

'Packet?' Jelco said, holding up several of the packets that used to be served in restaurants.

'One'll do me fine.'

When she caught his eye going to the sagging backpack, she gestured for him to take another roll. He did and once he had served everyone coffee, he leaned against a map-filled table at one side of Vitali's desk.

Vitali was busy with his impromptu snack. He, too, licked his fingers, drying them on a towel that he took from a lower desk drawer and wiping his mouth as well.

'That was an unexpected dividend,' he said, burping once. He looked up and suddenly everyone in the room save Jelco found business that took them from the office. 'Now,' and he gestured to a sack on one end of his desk - a sack that bore the logo of a well-known pharmaceutical company, 'I gotta deal pending I'm hoping you can help me with - since I know what humanitarians you are.' His grin was devious. 'You ain't got any restrictions on you about where you fly while you're in Earth's atmosphere, have you?'

'I don't believe so,' Chuck said. 'Though I might need a reason if I'm asked.'

'Good! I didn't know if you had only an in-and-out licence or not.'

'I set it up to be able to get the stuff we need to trade with,' Chuck said.

'Great! Now, that package is drugs, badly needed in Kenya.'

Chuck hmmmed diplomatically and glanced at Zainal to see if he understood. Zainal gave a quick nod.

'We don't have enough gasoline in any of our planes to make such a flight. How's your fuel situation?'

'Where do we have to go?'

'Like I said, Kenya. Outside Nairobi. If that ship of yours can do another short flight, it would help immensely if you could make a small detour to the west, to the Kiambu Ridge area - near the Great Rift

Valley, to give you a landmark few could miss.'

Kris's eyes went wide. Chuck knew what that place meant and he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, to listen more intently.

'It also happens to be one of the big coffee-producing areas of Africa. They do the robustas, if you know the difference. Kiambu Ridge coffees are the creme of the creme for full flavour. Use 'em to give more taste to lesser beans. I gotta deal going with the local coord that if I can get those medicines to him, he'll see I can fill my plane' - and now there was a decidedly wicked twinkle in the coord's eyes - 'full of coffee beans. Roasted beans. Oh, we got a facility in Newark that roasts but they'd want their cut, too.'

'Wow!' Kris said. Catteni had become addicted to coffee during their stay on Earth. To be able to trade roasted beans would mean they'd have a surefire commodity few Catteni would pass up. Maybe they could even set up a coffee bar to serve those dealing with Zainal and the others for more important items, like spare comm-sat parts, tyres, batteries, and what was the other thing so desperately needed? Spark plugs, she thought, but they wouldn't be top of the list.

'My deal is that if you take that... KDM did you call it?... you can keep ten per cent of whatever you bring back to me.'

'How do you know we'd come back with a KDM-load of coffee beans?' Chuck asked, grinning.

'You're the only one I'd trust to do so, Mitford,' Dan Vitali said, looking straight into the sergeant's eyes. 'Now I've met you, I believe everything I been told about you.'

'Thank you,' Chuck replied with a nod of his head, but the grin hadn't left his face.

'Of course, Jelco will come with you as he's dealing for me,' the coord added with a sly grin of his own.

'Of course,' Chuck agreed affably.

'Is ten per cent much?' Zainal asked.

'That'd be one in every ten sacks of raw beans.'

'Not raw, Chuck,' the coord said firmly. 'Roasted. Like

I said, I don't want to split more than I have to. Each sack of beans weighs fifty pounds.'

Kris sighed and Vitali laughed.

'We could do a lot with a KDM-sized load.'

'They made a deal for a plane load,' Chuck reminded him, 'not a spaceship full.'

'Jelco will handle that detail. The stuff we bring is more than they asked for but it will stop the epidemic of typhoid they got on their hands right now.'

'Typhoid?' Kris said. 'Is that back?'

'I don't think it ever went away in some parts of the world,' Chuck said.

'There's broad-spectrum antibiotics in the package, polio, the latest cholera vaccine, on account of that's endemic where there's so little hygiene and lots of starvation, and some other stuff - ointments for the kind of sores that are rampant in Africa, which the laboratory said could be useful there. But Kenya is willing to trade for it. Especially as there won't be any ships going that way for a while. Not even by sea.'

'Then we can be, as you said, philanthropists as well as haulers,' Chuck said and looked at Kris and Zainal to see if they agreed.

'Coffee,' Kris said with a sigh. 'Wow!'

'There is an area down by the Masai encampment on Botany,' Zainal mentioned idly, 'hot enough and with sufficient rain on the mountains to grow coffee beans. It might be worth it to try cultivating our own coffee on Botany. If we were going straight back to Botany, I'd risk bringing some plants,' Zainal said and shook his head in regret.

The coord leaned forward across the table. 'How can someone get into Botany?'

'Like, immigrate?' Chuck asked. 'We discussed that before we left, sir. We can only accept so many invalids before our economy is disrupted. We took in a shipload of those folks the Eosi tried to brainwash and they've integrated well into our population. We agreed to accept applications, preferably people who have some sort of skill that can help the commonweal,' at which Vitali nodded sagely, 'but we could use a discreet number of young folk to increase the gene pool for future generations.'

'All sorts?' Vitali asked, his expression intense.

'All sorts,' Chuck agreed. 'We're pretty representative of races, creeds and colours to begin with, on account of we had no choice in the first place getting dumped there.'

'Hmm. So, what sort of occupations are you aiming for?'

'Anyone trained in biology, botany, medicine. Even another dentist.'

'Will you be coming back here soon?'

'Oh, we'll be back when we spring loose some of the stuff the Catteni heisted,' Chuck said with a wave of his hand. 'We can also send back more wheat, I think.' He looked for approval at Zainal and Kris, who nodded solemnly. 'Maybe some protein. We got these loo-cows. Got six feet and no milk, but they make good eating.'

'Meat? Red meat?' Vitali asked in an almost wistful voice.

'I like the rock squats better myself,' Chuck said amiably, 'but any kind of steak goes down easily.'

'Even rhinoceros, I hear tell,' Kris murmured, overcome by whimsy. Vitali flashed her a startled look.

'Yes, well, I can see that this might be the beginning of a mutually profitable association,' Vitali said. He lifted the medicinal package towards them and some papers, including a map and airplane charts.

'Got these from one of the airlines in case they'd be any use to a spaceship,' he said, handing them across to Chuck, who slipped them inside his shirt before shaking hands with the coord. 'We don't, by the by, intend to hog all the coffee beans to ourselves, you know.'

'Glad to hear it, Vitali,' Chuck said, and then the man offered his hand to Kris and Zainal.

Jelco came forward and plucked the medicines from the desk and accepted his superior's handshake.

'Glad we could make a deal, Mitford.'

As they left the coord's office he was calling his assistants back in, searching through clipboards to see which had the priority of his immediate attention.

'Coffee,' Chuck said under his breath as Jelco led them down corridors and steps and eventually back onto the deserted expanse of the airfield. 'We can sure use ten per cent of what the KDM can hold.'

Kris was wondering about improving on a mere ten per cent. She couldn't quite sort fifty pounds of beans into individual portions, nor how much weight the KDM could haul, but she did believe that they could probably sell any coffee they could bring to Barevi.

She wondered if the Kenyan coffee merchants might do a deal with them for tyres, batteries and spark plugs. She didn't want to be greedy but so much depended on their success. For both Earth and Botany.

She found herself rushing up the ramp of the KDM, grateful to hear voices, experiencing an unexpected nostalgia for the ship as a haven. Good Lord, what had got into her?

Then Kathy was there, giving her a big hug, Jax was beyond, grinning like a fool, and the boys rushed to greet their father, demanding his attention with glad cries at his return.

Kris and Zainal thanked Jelco and asked him to thank Wylee, Murray, and Dover for their assistance.

'Miss Kris,' and for the first time she detected his southern accent, 'it was a real pleasure. 'Sides, you bake a mean loaf of bread! I'll see you tomorrow. Until then, ciao.'

And with another salute of two fingers to his eyebrow, he left them, lounging away towards the terminal building.

'We managed to trade for fresh food,' Jax told Kris excitedly. 'You should have seen Ferris and Ditsy. They just knew where stuff was growing.' She waved a hand towards distant green fields. 'And they brought back carrots! And potatoes! I haven't had them in years! We know you were successful with the dental stuff, and boy, did those guys covet the lifts.'

'I don't know how we would have gotten those units down eighteen flights without them. And, Kathy, thanks for helping me with the rolls,' Kris said, squeezing her arm gratefully, 'because they opened doors everywhere.'

'Those simple rolls?' Kathy was amazed.

'We'll do a full report at dinner, as we've a lot to discuss, but right now, is there enough hot water for me to have a shower? I feel sticky.'

'You don't look sticky,' Kathy said with mock horror and whooshed her down the corridor to her quarters. 'We filled all the water tanks, and there should be plenty of hot by now.'

The water was hot and Kris let it sluice down her body, soaping herself well, luxuriating in the warmth until Zainal tapped on the shower door. The amenity was not large enough for them to share the shower as they often did at home but she gave herself one more rinse before she emerged and let him in.

While dressing, Zainal said that they would discuss the upcoming coffee-bean project with the entire crew. Considering the benefits of such an excursion for the commonweal, she doubted anyone would object to the detour.

Before they left, Kris had told Ferris to barter another sack of wheat for a good supply of carrots and potatoes. They did taste unbelievably good. She wished they could take seedlings back to Botany but not with a long stopover at Barevi. There was a green salad as well with early lettuce (greenhouse lettuce, which Clune said was evidently a thriving business, delivering crates of fresh produce to be taken into the city) and spring onions, crunchy and sweet. She wondered about dried beans. Well, besides coffee beans.

Jax Kiznet had had more air miles on Earth than anyone else, so Zainal had given her the charts to see what she thought of piloting for the trip.

'Well, I haven't flown over Africa,' she demurred, looking at the flight charts, 'but if we could land the KDM here, I don't see why we can't at Nairobi. The Jomo Kenyatta Airport's an international facility - or was,' she added. 'There's a good one at Mombasa, too, plus the port. We aren't circumscribed to just this area, at least I didn't get that impression from our interrogation on the way in. I'll just check frequencies and weather reports.'

'We need to go to the northeast of Nairobi to the coffee plantation area... and the Kiambu Ridge area.' Kris found the place, which had been underlined on the detailed map.

'Oh, near the Rift Valley,' she said, following Kris's pointing finger. 'Well, that's hard to miss and so is Lake Rudolf.'

'We don't need to go that far north.'

'No, we don't,' Jax said, staring down at the map. 'I like the idea of getting coffee.'

'I think we all do,' Kris agreed. 'Even Zainal's beginning to become addicted.' ax grinned back. She was doing some figuring. 'Look, if we can go orbital, we can do the great circle route at orbital velocity and it'll only take the KDM an hour and ten minutes to reach our destination. Wow! Hey, I like hypersonic!'

'Kenya's where Chief Materu comes from, isn't it?' Bazil asked.

'Right you are,' Zainal said, giving the boy a hug. 'And we have another reason for being there. Olkiloriti.'

'Oh, hey, that's right,' Kris said, remembering their earlier search for the acacia plant that had proved to be the unexpected weapon that had brought about the defeat of the Eosi, who had suffered respiratory failure from inhaling the dust.

She grinned at Zainal, spreading her hand in acceptance of the excuse. 'As if bringing vaccines to Kenya isn't enough.'

'Only how did you happen to get to be messenger?' Clune asked cynically.

'Evidently, individual coords will arrange things to suit themselves.'

'We'll just hope that's a good enough excuse.'

'Well, we know the Biffs are at two hundred and fifty kilometres and their sensors are fixed outward, not inward,' Kathy pointed out. 'So we're delivering medicines. Big deal.'

Jax talked with the meteorology folk at Newark Tower, got the latest reports - no turbulence anticipated - and had her flight plan checked. There had been judicious gifts of rock squats to the tower staff so they were disposed to be helpful... once they got over the shock of a vertical landing and takeoff craft.

'We coulda used a whole flock of the durned squats,' Clune said as they finished the last of the supply.

'They're a game bird so they're also kosher,' Kris said, and no one else quite appreciated why Eric guffawed.

The equipment that was now lodged in the cargo hold had fascinated Ferris. Later Zainal told Kris that Eric had explained to Ferris exactly what he had traded from Eddie Spivak and what it was used for. They decided that a number C-4 Vitapan shade matched the boy's tooth colour, and Eric had pantomimed how he would use it, bonding it to a tooth in layers. Although Eric couldn't set up his equipment, he did check Ferris's teeth and found some cavities that ought to be taken care of as soon as possible. Ferris did not remember ever having been to a dentist and, because he knew Eric, did not have any anxieties about having his teeth fixed. During the evening, Eric checked over everyone on the ship, even Kris, and he shook his head over the state of her teeth. Zainal submitted and Eric said that he could probably fix the chip off one of Zainal's eyeteeth: in Zainal's case, not caused by a brawl but a fall against something tougher than Catteni teeth. Bazil and Peran were pronounced to have excellent teeth with not a trace of decay, though Peran's bite could stand a little correction.

The next morning, after Jelco boarded the KDM, they received clearance to leave Newark Airport, with many good wishes for a safe flight. New York Center was going to turn them over to Air Africa Control so certain protocols were taken care of. And now that they were aware of the surprise a vertical lift and takeoff vessel gave Tower Control crews, they would handle their appearance at Jomo Kenyatta International Airport with more aplomb if they had to land there.

Kris decreed that, since the rolls had been so useful in New York, she didn't see why they wouldn't be in Kenya, where they might meet more people who would be delighted with freshly baked bread.

The notion of baking her way across the Atlantic and the Dark Continent left her grinning.

She did her baking with the help of Clune and Floss. The girl was still a restless type and had not liked being immured in the KDM the previous day when 'everyone else' appeared to be out and about and having fun. She ignored the fact that Ferris and Clune had lugged heavy sacks of potatoes back to the ship, and that Peran and Bazil had carried in bundles of carrots and greens. THEY had been out and about her native planet. Kris recognized a certain merit in her complaints and hoped she would be able to include Floss in some unusual activity at their current destination, even if she only helped with the rolls and bread they were going to use as goodwill offerings. She couldn't remember if Kenyans ate bread as a rule but it had once been a British colony and probably bread was known, no matter what other cereal grain was more popular. Jax remembered something about manioc but didn't know what it was. Kathy had suggested rice but Kris didn't think Kenya was rice country, which required irrigated fields. Kenya did have avocados, bananas and other fresh fruits that might be available. They'd just have to wait and see. A banana, Kris thought whimsically, would taste very good. It had been so long since she had had one!

They were not challenged on the flight. The Atlantic Ocean was not that exciting from a high altitude. Even Africa was more a pattern of greens and beiges as they sped across it on the great circle route. Jax handled the controls well as they dropped out of hypersonic space, being high enough for a view of Lake Rudolf and the ripple of the Rift Valley. Nairobi Tower welcomed them in their space and gave them directions to their destination.

'Follow the big road northwest fifty miles: you can probably see it - it's the C-84 and keep the Karura forest on the port side. You're looking for a small town among ridges. About thirteen land kilometres from the airport. We understand that you are vtol and there is sufficient parking in front of the warehouse to accommodate you.'

'Over, Nairobi, and thank you. Out.'

'They said they were from Botany,' they heard the air controller say. 'Where the hell's Botany?' Whatever response he got was lost as he shut off his microphone but those in the cockpit grinned at his confusion.

They found the site without too much trouble. The forest was unmistakable and the road twisted, visible to the starboard of the thick trees. Jax reduced airspeed. In fact, she laughed that it took almost more time to lose speed than it did to make the transatlantic segment.

It was easy to follow the road, visible through the lush forestry when the land swept upward to the very edge of the Rift Valley area.

As a final identification, the warehouse had KIAMBU RIDGE painted in big white letters on its roof.

'Hey, neat,' Jax said with relief at having almost completed such a prestigious run. 'Hope they don't freak out seeing a spaceship land.'

'Open the hatch and let the smell of fresh bread waft out and entice them to our web, hehehehe,' Kris said, doing her evil-witch imitation and rubbing her hands together. Chuck grinned but the display was lost on Zainal, though Floss, whom Kris had made sure had one of the jump seats to witness this landing, gave a contemptuous 'Pshaw!'

Though the KDM was no longer supersonic, it made sufficient noise in landing to bring a number of people out of the warehouse. The building had a galvanized roof, propped up by pillars of cinder blocks, but the facade was lined with local stone. As Jax cut the engines, Zainal and Jelco took places at the hatch until it was safe to open and extend the ramp. Several men, dressed in the long skirts used for cool comfort on this continent, came forward to greet them.

'Hi there, I am Jelco, representing Dan Vitali, Newark Airport Coordinator,' Jelco said, holding the pharmaceutical package up so it was visible.

A very tall black man grinned, his teeth so white in his face that Bazil, standing by his father, was astonished and automatically came out with a Masai greeting.

Startled, the man halted midstride, staring first at Bazil and then at Zainal.

'Catteni?' he demanded, his nostrils flaring, smile disappearing.

Whatever Bazil said in response relieved the man, and he resumed his welcoming grin. He said something else and Bazil gave what was obviously a very courteous reply.

'He did not think our race could speak his language,' Bazil said in a proud aside to his father. 'He feels honoured for his entire tribe.'

'Good,' Jelco murmured. 'We have the medicines that were requested.'

A second man, a stethoscope lying around his neck and sweat dripping down his shoulders, heaved a dramatic sigh of relief and stepped forward. 'You cannot know how many lives you will be saving with this. Welcome, and thrice welcome. I'm Dr. Standish.' He looked through the contents, sighing with relief as he identified the various packages. 'Will you excuse me if I dash off?'

'Certainly,' Jelco said. 'We understand the need for haste.'

'What I don't understand is how you got here so fast. My coordinator only got the radio message an hour ago.'

'This ship is hypersonic, Doctor,' Zainal said, 'and we understood that time was critical.'

'You have no idea,' the doctor replied, somewhat distracted. 'Father Simeon's prayers are the most efficacious I have ever encountered. Excuse me.' He dashed off to a waiting jeep that bore a faded Red Cross insignia and some other emblems that neither Kris nor Chuck could identify.

'Please to come inside. Coffee is available for your pleasure,' said the African. 'I am Chief Sembu.'

Bazil then suavely introduced the arrivals and included Floss, who was hovering, slightly out of sight. Sembu was once more astonished when Floss gave him a greeting in the Masai's Swahili dialect. Kris urgently gestured for her to accompany the party.

Jelco strode into the warehouse and into what was obviously a tasting room. The smell of rich, dark coffee was a fragrance everyone inhaled and there was a small pot of brown sugar fragments to sweeten the fine brew. Underlying the coffee odour was something else, fruity, which Kris couldn't identify.

Jelco and Sembu sat opposite each other and began the dickering.

'A plane we could load easily,' Sembu was saying, gesturing to the contents of the warehouse, glimpsed through the separating window. 'That... aircraft looks as if it could take all we have bagged.'

'And roasted?' Jelco asked.

'Well, not all are roasted,' Sembu had to admit. 'For one thing, we counted on an average-sized plane. Secondly, our buyers usually have their own roasters and prefer to have their people supervise such a delicate operation.'

'Will Barevi appreciate "careful" roasting?' Kris asked Zainal. She knew the process took time but did they have any to spare?

'How much is already roasted, Chief Sembu?' Jelco asked.

'We surmised that you would bring the largest aircraft you have,' Sembu said with an understanding grin. 'A 747, perhaps. We have sufficient to fill that size craft that have been roasted, as we agreed with Coord Vitali.'

'And enough for a two-thousand-ton capacity?' Chuck asked.

'Hmm, but not all would be roasted.'

'Beggars can't be choosers.'

'Nor winners poor losers,' Sembu said and extended his hand to Chuck. 'I can provide you with a roaster and instructions, but roasting is a delicate business.'

'We'll take the roaster, and the mistakes will be ours,' Chuck said, taking the hand. 'In all fairness to Jelco here and the green coord,' he added, 'they'd no idea we'd be dropping the KDM in their lap, so to speak.'

The deal was struck and the chief gave orders to his workers to start loading. At which point Zainal called back to the ship to bring out the lifts. He suspected they'd be needed to load the roaster though he'd no idea what size the thing would be.

That was providential because the large and bulky roaster could accommodate three sacks of beans at a time. It was loaded onto the KDM. Sembu was fascinated by the lift, even after Zainal warned him that its power pack was half-drained, but trading it bought them all the fresh produce they could store as well as four twenty-five-pound sacks of the rough brown sugar that Kris and Floss found in the local market. Kris also bought some lengths of a blue fabric displayed at the market so that Floss could finally have some new dresses. The girl was touched that Kris remembered such a detail amid all the others she was currently handling. Kris tried to find cinnamon and raisins but no one paid her much mind in the scurry to load the coffee beans. The entire warehouse of coffee bean sacks fitted neatly into two of the three KDM cargo holds.

'Having all robustas is great,' Kris said, 'but we could use some of the milder arabicas, too.' She had listened to enough of the spiel to have absorbed some details about the romance of coffee.

'They are grown elsewhere than Kenya,' Sembu replied. 'However, as ours are often used in combination with arabicas, and considering that trade is nonexistent, you might be able to exchange robustas for a few sacks of arabicas in, say, Santa Lucia in the Caribbean. If that's on your way, of course.'

'That's an island,' Kris said, trying to place it.

'In the Caribbean. There are many plantations on it. One, in fact, not far from the volcano.'

'Volcano?' An acceptable landmark, certainly.

'Oh, it's not active. Or wasn't when I last had news, but you might do a deal with them. Their beans are very good - for arabicas,' he said with a slightly deprecating smile for a lesser breed, 'but excellent in its category.'

Kris grinned.

'Asante sana,' Bazil said politely, bowing slightly to the man.

'I never thought I'd hear a Catteni speaking Swahili. It is worth much to have you here,' Sembu said, smiling benignly down at the sturdy boy.

'Would you know, sir, where we can get some olkiloriti?' Kris asked.

'But of course.' Sembu was really surprised.

'We found some bushes the last time we were here,' she said, 'for the Masai tribe that now resides on Botany. They require the plant for a rite of passage.'

'You have Masai on Botany?'

'Yes,' and when the man frowned, Kris hurried on. 'They have their own settlement on the southern peninsula and we brought them some acacia bushes but there is always a need for more olkiloriti.'

'The children grow well?' Sembu asked, interested. He had also beckoned a worker to his side and gave him a low command. The man raced down the hill at such speed Kris worried that he would do himself damage.

'I would soon have been a moran,' Bazil said proudly, 'but my father brought me with him on this trip.'

Shortly, Zainal reappeared, having finished securing the cargo, and joined Bazil.

'Sembu has offered to bring us olkiloriti,' Kris said.

'Ah, very good. Our thanks, Sembu. We promised to find more for Chief Materu.' He also winked at Kris, for now they could honestly answer queries - if there were any - as to why they had detoured to Kenya instead of departing spaceward from Newark. Jelco joined them while they waited for the return of the messenger, who came back panting somewhat from a quick round trip, but carrying a pouch that he turned over to Sembu. Who, in his turn, passed it over to Kris.

'Please to say that we of Kenya are happy to provide this to your Masai chief.'

'You must let the green coord know when you stand in need of medicines again, Sembu, and we will return.'

'For more coffee beans, no doubt.' The man's smile was understanding.

'I shall send along more power packs for the float, too,' Zainal promised, before he bowed formally to Sembu and waved at the other workers who were unwilling to miss any of this pageant. Then Zainal led them all back into the KDM and pushed the button to retract the ramp.

Carefully, so that little dust lifted from the ground to discommode Sembu, Jax lifted the KDM away from the heights and eased the ship over the forestry before she increased power. Heading west, she turned the KDM's nose skyward and increased power until the ship could once again engage its hypersonic drives and take them back to Newark.

It was almost anticlimactic to be back in Newark air space barely four hours after they had taken off - a fact that the air tower personnel remarked on as they extended a warm welcome back, 'so soon'. They were assigned their previous landing spot, and by the time Jax had landed the KDM, there were all kinds of trucks waiting to offload the precious coffee beans.

Twenty sacks of robusta beans were left in the KDM's hold and a good half of the fresh fruit and vegetables they had acquired at Kiambu Ridge. On the way back they had all enjoyed various fruits they had acquired: bananas, oranges, passion fruit, cape gooseberries with their lanternlike husks, custard apples and guavas, avocados, coconuts, papayas and pineapples. And there were even chicken eggs and milk. Kris made a huge custard for dessert and planned to treat everyone to pancakes for breakfast. The KDM had a freezer unit but not a refrigerator, so she could not keep milk fresh for long.

Rummaging in the galley cabinets, Kathy had found a grinder of sorts and managed to reduce some beans to the proper consistency to brew coffee, so everyone had enjoyed the spoils of their excursion.

She gave Murray half a dozen eggs and the same to Jelco as well as a carton of milk for his young child and a hand of bananas. She had a huge stalk to present to the caterer. And two green stalks to ripen on the way back to Barevi as well as several crates of oranges, limes and lemons.

Then she got in touch with the tower controller and bribed him with some of their own coffee beans to give her aerial maps of Santa Lucia so they could plot a course and see if they couldn't exchange a quantity of robustas for arabicas. Nothing else they had, even the largesse from Nairobi, would be useful for trade, and they had only three sacks of wheat left with which to trade on Barevi.

There was no need to mention to anyone that they planned to stop off at Santa Lucia but they did spend the night at Newark. If this next stop was anything like as hectic as the Kiambu Ridge one had been, Zainal thought they needed to be rested.

Kathy and Jax plotted the southern course, which they figured would take about twenty minutes, allowing another fifteen first to get to speed and then to slow down enough to land without damaging anything. The volcano, while not active, was currently sending a grey plume skyward so they had a fine guide to it on the northern tip of the island and a great look at the plateaus as well as the choice of several obvious landing sites. They saw several long, low, galvanized roofs that looked similar to the type used for bean storage in Kenya. Well, that made sense to Kris.

Somewhat to their dismay, they found that Catteni must have visited the plantation several years earlier for the KDM's type of ship was recognized and men armed with rifles and machetes were waiting as the ramp extruded. Chuck was their spokesperson and Zainal and his sons stayed tactfully out of sight. Kathy and Jax accompanied the sergeant, with the remaining float carrying a sack of robusta beans. The sight of the logo on the sack turned out to be the reassurance needed, and with a minimum of talk and an excess of pleasure, they managed to trade five robusta sacks and the remaining float for thirty arabicas, plus thirty more pounds of unrefined sugar. They got more green bananas and a case of local rum. Despite the fact that she was safe with Zainal, Kris did not join in the evening celebration once she had had a sniff of the liquor.

'That's stronger than Mayock's hooch,' Kris remarked, after a smell of the rum, and felt no desire at all to imbibe. She did reserve one bottle of the case for cooking. No one had cinnamon or raisins to trade. They were given more crates of citrus fruits, which would be novelties on Barevi. She wondered if she could manage to keep at least one stalk of the green bananas and a crate of oranges to bring back to Botany.

They stayed the night on the surface - at the owner's invitation - and evidently he had sent messages to his neighbours to come see what had landed on his parking lot. And they came in droves, on horseback. Bazil was much taken with horses and was put in the saddle of one animal (very gentle, Kris was assured) for a walk around. Peran, naturally, had to have a turn, too. It was a convivial evening and established their KDM as friendly.

When Kris suggested that they would probably return, they were begged to do so, and she made a list of the items for which they would gladly trade. She was not astonished to note that tyres, Toyota truck spark plugs and twenty-volt batteries were the most important items.

'We could keep all our KDMs busy hauling stuff in and coffee beans out,' she said to Zainal.

'Mmmm,' was his response. 'But these folks don't have what we desperately need.'

7

The next morning, when the KDM lifted from Santa Lucia, everyone was refreshed and keen to get on with the next phase of their mission. They logged out of the system with the Watch Dog and were given a cheerful 'farewell, come back again soon' from the Cheyenne Mountain NORAD facility. If Gino, who was pilot for the first leg of their flight to Barevi, cheerfully assured them that they would, there was no demur on their part.

'The Botany boys will be back,' he crowed as he signed out of Terran space, and the powerful engines of the KDM sent them galactically north towards Barevi.

As they neared the trading planet, there was more chat on the comm lines between Catteni captains, and whenever possible the duty officer repeated Peter's carefully composed commercial about the new trader and goods coming soon to Barevi. The other key members of the ransom group now spent shifts listening to Catteni messages and practising with Zainal's sons, who were delighted to be in the position of teachers instead of pupils. They also absorbed new vocabulary and phrases.

When not on duty, Peran and Bazil indulged in what Kris knew was simple sibling bickering but she was unable to discipline the boys. They certainly resented any interference in their 'discussions' or the way they teased Floss. Fortunately, Kris could distract Floss, and Jax and Kathy both helped the girl make a dress from the fabric Kris had unexpectedly found at the market in Kenya. Floss had gushed with appreciation for Kris's thoughtfulness. Of course, the boys teased Floss about that - when Zainal and Chuck were absent - but she was well able to make sharp retorts. There were a few incidents when they tried the same tactics on Ferris and Ditsy, but the two Terran boys were more than able to deal with the Catteni ones and earned their respect. Kris knew they resented her monopolizing their adored father's free time and were inclined to disregard any requests she made of them; she had expected that, even if she didn't know how to counter their impudence. But it was a long flight to Barevi. She would be very glad when there was a tutor assigned to keep them occupied.

When it came time for the BASS-1 to contact the Barevi space station that regulated all traffic in and out of the system, Captain Jax Kiznet was the pilot. This included her insistence that she did command the BASS-l, origin: Botany Free Planet. Zainal was sitting as copilot, letting her handle the contact and repeat the landing instructions. Barevi Tower was sarcastically upset over having a female answering their orders and evidently in command of a ship: a pilot of unknown ability flying in busy traffic space. Jax was quizzed on docking procedures by the space station commander, Ladade, who sounded surly until finally Zainal intervened and said that he, Zainal, had been her instructor and that she was competent to pilot, even in such a busy port.

'Hey, this Ladade backed down real quick when you said you were Zainal,' Jax said admiringly.

'See that you prove my ability to teach you properly,' was Zainal's reply.

She did, concentrating on the job. As they made their approach, Zainal kept checking the screen for any navigational anomaly. Although there were stiff penalties for abusing Barevian space, there were also hazards, which he hoped to help Jax avoid. The barges that carried intersystem traffic were known to deviate from their projected courses and provide obstacles. She had her eyes open for such problems and kept one eye on the screens.

'This is a very active spaceport?' she asked Zainal when he pointed out an erratic ship for her to avoid. 'And I thought there was a lot of junk in Earth space!' She pointed to the mass in the upper starboard quadrant.

'Oh, that,' Zainal replied, shrugging it off. 'That's real space junk. Barevi port facility is equipped to do major overhauls and refits. That's where they put carcasses and damaged structural members. And ships that don't pay their docking charges.'

'Oh? When they haven't a bean left?' she asked, flashing a quick grin at him.

She really was a good pilot, Zainal thought, wondering whom he should train next on their return to Botany. There were plenty of willing candidates. He had watched all of them on the simulator and they all had good reflexes and instincts. The Botany Space Force had enough cargo ships now that new pilots were always needed.

From space, Kris thought that Barevi Market really hadn't changed at all, except perhaps for its lack of eager customers filling the vast places. As they hovered above the docking facility seeking their assigned bay, Kris pointed out the overlapping squares of the market. She felt an almost - definitely almost - nostalgic relief at seeing it again. It was, after all, the site of the beginning of her amazing adventures. They'd already started the rumour mill with Peter's intentionally provocative commercial and they had had to keep the comm unit manned on a twenty-four-hour basis with their best Catteni speakers. Even Bazil and Peran had taken short stints, enormously pleased to be allowed such a responsibility, and certainly Zainal was delighted that they handled their first official duty so capably.

The next morning, Zainal sought out the market's manager and paid over almost all the Catteni coin he had to lease appropriate space in the market. Over several hundred years, the facility had grown from its original square, each addition overlapping older ones. The corners provided enclosed shops that afforded some privacy. Zainal wanted one for Eric's 'office'. The first week's rental reduced his small store of Catteni coins to a handful of loose change.

'What commodities, Emassi?' Chief Kapash asked.