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 at-tractive communications officer.
"Look, don't get yourself stuck with the shiftless corning 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 con-tribute? Not all in the same degree, but there are many ways of con-tributing 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 ac-cent. "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 toward 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 be-fore 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 or 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 re-frigerated unit. Flats and flats of broiled 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.
All the 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, who was a communications expert, Eric Sachs, Floss, Clune, Ferris, Ditsy, and Zainal's two boys, who were very ex-cited 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.
Chapter Seven
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 Harvey muttered. "As I heard it, the Catteni used the comm sats for target practice."
"Some are obviously still working since the communications net-work 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 vis ible 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 Kathy'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, peer-ing 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 comet sat. The jerk of contact went through the scout 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 maneuvering the unit easier. It was, Kathy Harvey re-marked, rather like getting a whale onto a trawler.
"If we just had someone to give it a good push," McColl re-marked, smoothing his white brush mustache as if that action gen-erated 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 pan-tomime 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," Mc-Coll 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 ve-locities, 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 meter per second.