"Bribery or landing fees?"
"I suppose a bit of both," Chuck said. "Good public relations. Latter-day Cattenis arrive bearing gifts. Union, kids." He cocked his finger at Peran and Bazil. They unstrapped their seat belts and obeyed. Kris followed, fretting over whether or not there was sufficient un-frozen 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 of-fered 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, charg-ing 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, Clime and Herb, hoist a coupla sacks of the wheat and flour," Kris ordered to those behind her.
"Can we come, too, Father?" Peran 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."
"Bif" 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. 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 Cattem friend is Zainal, his two boys, Peran and Bazil; Captain Kathy Harvey, copilot; Kris Bjornsen, Zainal's mate; Gino Marrucci, our radio officer; Lieutenant Mpatane Cummings, flight engineer; and Alexander McColl, one of our pilots; and Clime 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 Kris 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 ea-gerly at the tray.
"Don't mind if I do,"Vitali said, picking up a half squat and tak-ing 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 Clime 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, legal-like?" 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 Manhat-tan," 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 al-most 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.