Freedom's Ransom by Anne McCaffrey Page A

countries. Brazil, of course, was the major producer. Coffee beans take a tropical climate, you know.”
    Snatches of old television advertisements flashed through her mind.
    â€œWhich type? Arabica or robusta?”
    â€œCoffee beans by any name.”
    â€œThere are, or should I say
were
, twenty-eight coffee-producing countries. Asia, Africa, Indonesia, South America, the various islands in the Caribbean—”
    â€œTwenty-eight?” Kris breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness.
    â€œWhy?” asked the doctor, mildly curious by her relief.
    â€œBecause there will be coffee beans somewhere that haven’t been seized by the Catteni. They’re addicted to coffee, you see.”
    â€œNot quite, but I’m glad to know my errant memory could supply you with information. If you’ll wait a moment, I’ll just look it up in the encyclopedia.”
    â€œNot necessary right now, Doctor, but if you couldbring the reference with you to the meeting tonight?”
    â€œYes, yes, of course.”
    â€œIt’s the roasting that does it, you know,” he added in a helpful tone of voice. When she gave him a startled look, he expatiated. “Raw coffee beans have to be stripped of the exterior fruit pulp, which makes a good animal feed, the beans dried and roasted before grinding, you know. The coffee bean is a drupe.”
    She did remember about grinding, and the thought of freshly roasted and ground coffee made her inhale a deep breath, recalling just how good roasting beans smelled. Unforgettable as well as indescribable.
    â€œYes, yes, that isn’t as important as knowing where to get more is.”
    â€œGet more?”
    â€œRansom, Doctor, ransom!” she said and left on the echo of that cryptic remark.
    She fortified herself by chanting “twenty-eight” all the way back to the hangar, which was now as crammed full of busy folk as it had been empty earlier. She let herself into the office she usually shared with Zainal and plunked herself down at the first available station, flipping on the computer. She only needed to type a few lists. Like all twenty-eight countries and the major producers of finished coffee products.
    What measure should they use in figuring worth? Would coffee beans be as valuable to the Catteni as gold? Hmmm. Imagine a scoop of freshly roasted beans being as valuable as a similar weight of gold? She chuckled to herself and began to type. “There are twenty-eight coffee-producing countries on Earth—in South America, Africa, Indonesia, Asia, and various Caribbean countries and they can’t all have been ransacked by the Catteni.”
    The noise of happy laughter made her look up and peer out of the open hangar door just as an air sled, crammed with young people, every one of them festooned with the limp bodies of rock squats, lurched by.
    And how much were rock squats worth by the pound?The ounce? The individual critter? Had anyone ever opened a shop with such diverse commodities?
    â€œA carton a carcass?” The slogan slipped into her mind. Well, that would do until another crossed her mind.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    EVERYONE TURNED OUT FOR THE COUNCIL meeting. She had expected that much but she was delighted to see that even Mike Miller’s miners and farmers from the northern reaches of the Retreat continent as well as Chief Materu from the south were present. As she hovered by the steps to the raised dais, she saw that Clune and Peran were escorting Chief Materu and introducing him to others. She couldn’t see Floss but she did spot Bazil, Ditsy, and Ferris.
    Chuck came in with Dorothy on his arm, his two cousins right behind him, looking excessively proud of him. They had more color in their faces this evening so she hoped they hadn’t got too much sun, then reminded herself that they were from Texas and would know to be careful of too much sunning. Zainal arrived with Peter, Iri