"They been around like flies," Chuck said, scurrying to join him when he spotted Zainal approaching. "I was improving Peran's and Bazil's targeting skills." He pointed to the dartboard hung from a con-venient loading spike, and the number of green-fletched darts lodged in the King ring. "Bazil's got the keener eye, but what could be more typical than me teaching two kids an old game?"
"Nothing," said Zainal, though he suspected that Chuck had re-moved the boisterous youngsters to give Kris a break from their bick-ering. "Much interest?"
"Think most of the other ships in port sent someone to take a gander and had quite a few not-so-subtle inquiries. Merchants' reps, all of 'em, trying to figure out what we're going to sell."
"Make me a copy of these," Zainal said, tossing Chuck the keys. "And do we have digital locks with us?"
"I've got locks aplenty. I'll set up several, in fact, because I heard rumors that there are some who have bones to pick with Emassi Zainal " Zainal nodded for he knew many Catteni considered him a traitor, even if he had managed to end the restrictive Eosi domina-tion. "Who's market manager? Vitters?"
"Kapash is market manager."
"Had dealings with him before?" Chuck asked. "Don't know him but Vitters was useless. Kept forgetting who took the biggest bribes from him. Wonder who killed him?"
"Not our problem, and we'll have more than our share, I suspect." Zainal gave a shrug. "I know of Kapash, let us say. He may not be an improvement over Vitters. And once we have goods on the premises, I'll want to be sure nothing is missing the next day. Natchi, a one-armed veteran, has also warned me. Natchi is to be given as much coffee as he wishes. He'll do more than cool his drink with his breath if he hears anything we should know. Is Clune the biggest man we've got? Or Ninety Doyle?"
"It'd be a toss-up, Emassi." Chuck grinned and, with a flourish, gestured for Zainal to precede him up the ramp and into the KDM. "Even the biggest Catteni would think twice before tangling with ei-ther of them unless they were totally nuts."
"Have I still got the spy on my tail?"
"Big ugly son, straggly beard, wearing dirty yellow pants and a blue vest?"
"You've seen him. The very one." "Wouldn't like to upset that fellow!"
"I don't want anyone leaving this ship alone. Only in groups of two, preferably three. The women are definitely not to leave without a male escort."
"What would they leave for?" Chuck demanded. "All the com-forts of home."
As Zainal reached the main corridor, he could smell the fragrance of fresh coffee and made his way quickly to the wardroom, where, as if she had known his exact moment of return, Kris had a cup ready to hand him when he entered.
"The boys saw you coming," she said, smiling. "I was roasting more coffee beans. Tell me what you think of this brew. Maybe I can get the right balance yet. Could you smell it on the dock?" He could hear the exhaust fan whirring but he hadn't smelled the aroma on the dock. Other things had been redolent-hot grease, oil, and stale ship fueclass="underline" the usual compound in this sort of area.
"They'll all know by tomorrow" Zainal shrugged with an indif-ference he didn't feel. In fact, he was seething with anticipation to witness the stir they would make in the unexpectedly torpid atmo sphere of what had once been a hectic and active marketplace. He had also tread on parts stuck in the mud of the market aisles. The one he dug out was indeed a spark plug but too dirt-encrusted to be saved; another was a circuit board of some type. What Chuck had reported was correct: merchandise was being wantonly and casually destroyed. So much for Kapash's boast that he kept the facility in order.
Chuck came in then, hanging the dartboard back on the wall in its usual spot.
"Another cup, please, Kris, before I take a casual"-Chuck grinned that "casual" was not the most apt adjective-"stroll around the market."
"Take Clime and Ninety with you and show them Stall Ninety-two," Zainal said. "Northwest corner. There is a wooden floor to which we can attach Eric's equipment. We'll need new bolts and, of course, the locks."
"Is that far from what you Catteni euphemistically call a drinking spot?" Kris asked hopefully. She remembered all too clearly the brawl she had nearly been embroiled in the last time she'd been in Barevi.
"Yes, and not near the main intersections," Zainal added, satisfied. "On a good wide aisle."
"Did you catch the names of any merchants?"
Zainal handed Chuck the hand cam he had been using on his tour of the market areas. "Which one of our crew can develop film?" he asked, taking out the film he had used up on his return to the KDM. "Then we can see who our neighbors are."
"Gail," Kris said and, going to the wall unit, she depressed a tog-gle. "Lieutenant Sullivan to the wardroom, please."
"Coming," was the cheerful reply.
It didn't take her long to arrive, almost breathless, at the door. She raised her arm to salute, but changed the motion to pushing her hair back from her face. Zainal had long since requested that formality be reserved for those times when other Catteni were present, but service habits were hard to break.
"Can you please process these, Gail?" "Certainly, sir. Are they urgent?"
"Reasonably. And no one is to leave the ship alone. Especially you women. Never leave without a man with you: preferably Clime or Ninety. Pass the word along."
"Yes, Zainal. I will." She widened her eyes briefly and then flicked her fingers at him in a salute and turned left down the passage. Kris took a new camera unit from a closet and handed it over. He pock-eted it, patting the slim rectangle for a moment.
"Should we all carry one, just in case?"
"No reason why not. Photo proof might be necessary and some of what I shot might not develop because of shadow but:"
"We might be able to identify enough to help find the right ran-somables."
Kris finished the thought. "We are adding tires, batteries, and spark plugs to the list, aren't we?"
He nodded a vigorous affirmative.
"The name of the market chief is Kapash. He would not want the world and Barevi to know that, at one time, he was storing illegal substances: flip, strew, and lily."
"Oh?" Kris said, her tone asking for elaboration.
"Flip destroys Catteni balance. It's a powder and, blown into the face, can cause vertigo. Often illegally used during fights. Too much can destroy balance completely. Strew clings to skin and has an ob noxious stink to it. It also clouds memory. Lily is the worst. It's toxic, especially to the Turs, and was often used to subdue them. In quan-tity it can be lethal to any of the known species. I don't think it was used on Earth, but it might have been."
"Lily is your word for a bad drug? I used to love stargazer lilies. They could scent up a room for weeks." She smiled nostalgically. "Why did you warn me about such substances?"
"I'm warning you about Kapash. You may threaten him with ex-posure if he makes any move on you or any of the crew. Dealing with any of those three drugs carries a mandatory sentence to one of the mining colonies. He'll know that."
"So he wouldn't want that bruited about."
"No, he would not. Your threat is-if you need to use it-that if you are not back by a specified time, such information will be deliv-ered to the space commander, Ladade. He knows I know, but he can't touch me. Or hasn't tried to. As I told the lieutenant, no one is to leave the ship alone. I'd rather you," and he pointed his finger at her, "went out only with me or Clune."
"Isn't Alex McColl big enough, too?" Kris asked, grinning. She knew she shouldn't feel so cocky, but she had benefited from ses-sions with Mpatane Cummings in unarmed combat training, and was adept enough to have floored Clune and Chuck in exercise sessions. Mpatane might look delicate but she was dangerous with hand and foot. She'd had Kris doing some toughening exercises with the edge of her hand. Mpatane could split a hunk of wood with a blow. She'd also taught Kris how to send a man's nose into his brain with the heel of her hand. Not, Kris thought, that a Catteni nose would not be as fragile as the human equivalent, but a crack there would certainly smart enough for her to get out of a Catteni's clutch. Catteni used genital guards even when off duty, so the classic ploy of a knee to the crotch would not be an option. Kris was glad to have other time-tried maneuvers, and got quite adept at flooring anyone who dared grab her: once you knew how, it was simple to use the force of a rush to the attacker's detriment. Most of the Catteni fighting she had ob-served had been flailing fists and butting heads. Not much finesse, more pure brute force. She now had countermeasures but would pre-fer not to have to use them.