Temporary Duty (16 page)

"Yep, got that done before the officers got here," Todd confirmed.

"Good. I am sorry I was not there to help you, but I am afraid I was busy." Dreelig took another, smaller sip of his drink. "I think that will be a permanent condition in the near future. Your officers are very demanding."

"We figured it out," Todd told him. "It wasn’t really all that hard."

"Yes." Dreelig pushed his glass around, smearing the condensed moisture into a rough circle. "You have gotten a great deal of work done with a minimum of supervision, and adjusted to new conditions without much fuss." He looked up at them from under his brows and sighed. "I suppose I expected the same from them. Now I do not believe that it will work out that way."

"Prob’ly not," said Peters dryly. "They’re too used to folks jumpin’ when they holler frog to be easy when things ain’t exactly what they expect."

"That is a colorful way of saying it, but I believe you are correct." He sipped again. "Commander Bolton has decreed that the officers need not learn the language, so I must now tell Znereda that the service people–the stewards–must all be taught English. I do not anticipate the interview with pleasure, but I do not see a way to avoid it, if the ladies and gentlemen are to be served as they require." He came down just a little harder on ‘ladies and gentlemen’ than necessary.

"Maybe we can be practice targets for the stewards as they learn," Todd offered. "That’d take some of the load off old Znereda."

Dreelig smiled. "That is what I intended to ask of you. Thank you for volunteering." He finished his drink and rattled the ice. "Of course, your other duties will remain."

"No problem," said Peters. "If we’re ‘ordinary members of the crew,’ we ought to lend a hand."

Dreelig nodded. "I wish to rest before the departure of your officers and machines. I recommend that you do the same. The second group will be arriving an
ande
later, and there will be few opportunities for rest."

"Yeah, you’re right," said Peters. He drained the last of his glass and stood up. Todd followed, tossing an
ornh
-piece on the table.

"I almost forgot my reason for searching for you," Dreelig confessed as he stood. "The Commander also says that
kathir
suits are not proper uniforms, even with correct markings. When required, the suit is to be worn underneath your ordinary clothing."

Peters sighed. "Well, Hell, we can pull dungarees on over it. But I was lookin’ forward to not havin’ to do laundry no more." He plucked at the material of the
kathir
suit.

"Laundry," said Todd in a tone of loathing.

"Look on the bright side," Peters advised. "No skivvies to wash, anyways."

"Hunh. You’re right, of course, but I’m not looking forward to trying to keep uniforms looking good for two years," said Todd crossly. "Especially dungarees. And do we wear boondockers, or not?"

"Not," Peters decided after a moment. "Dreelig, you can tell ‘em they mark up the deck or something."

"I can do that." Dreelig smiled. "We will meet another time,
ke
?"

"Yeah," Peters agreed. "See you later."

* * *

Showered, shaved, and spiffed, they were down in the bay in plenty of time. They set up their little group near the aft end of the midships hangar bay door and waited.

Dee led the officers out the forward door of their quarters, where they formed a double file and marched toward the planes. A pair split off to stand by each Hornet. "Oh, shit, we shoulda had a working party to take the ladders down," Peters groaned, but that had been thought of. Pilots boarded, and the other officer in each pair took the ladder down and stowed it. They then doubled across to the Tomcats, where they did the same. Canopies sighed down and clamped, and one by one, the Tomcats backed up a few feet, then turned forward down the centerline of the bay.

That brought the first one abreast of Donollo, who was standing, smiling benignly, a little in front of the group. Commander Bolton presented a salute, the best possible in flight suit, helmet, and gloves; Donollo responded by raising his left arm, nodding, and lowering the arm like a waiter showing someone to a table. Bolton brought his hand back down, and the Tomcat shot off down the bay, catching the sunlight, turning into a spark, then gone.

The others repeated the ritual in turn, Donollo putting in a magnificent performance as a catapult officer, the pilots following along because it closely resembled what they were used to. When the last Hornet was away, Donollo said something in a soft voice, making Dreelig laugh.

"Thank God they’re gone," said Dee, and both sailors looked at her. "We don’t believe in that way," she said, smiling, "but the phrase seemed appropriate."

"Real appropriate," Peters assured her.

"Very well done, everyone," said Dreelig. He was also smiling. "And now, rest if you can. The second group will arrive sometime after the middle of the next ande."

* * *

Five
utle
later they were again standing in the ops bay, watching sparks assemble aft.

These weren’t nearly so spiffy. All of them hit the bay opening without breaking anything, but the sailors winced several times. Todd, who had watched a lot of flight ops, thought they might have been better off to pick up the tempo a bit. A slow approach gave lots of time for minor corrections, and the paths were crooked as a snake’s track because most of the corrections were from nerves. It took over an utle to complete the evolutions with the ladders, and one pilot almost fell when the ladder, not properly secured, slumped to rest against the aerodynamic strake below the cockpit.

Forming up and marching was within their capabilities. Donollo said something, Dreelig repeated what he’d said before, and the sailors stood at attention and saluted at the right places. They were wearing undress blues over the
kathir
suits, and nobody paid them much attention.

"I’m Lieutenant Commander Carlyle," the leader told Dreelig. "As you can see, we need a lot more practice to be good enough."

"Senior Donollo thought you did very well," said Dreelig generously, after translating that for Donollo and getting a reply. "I introduce Dee. She will show you to your quarters." Dee gave him a black look and stepped to the front, and the company marched off across the bay, keeping rather better intervals than the first-line crews had.

They had filled out the welcoming party with half of the stewards, the ones who had helped out with unloading personal gear before. "All right, you know what to do," Peters told them, then in Grallt, «Work you know. Do.» Peer grinned and nodded, gabbled at the rest of the group, and headed for the first Hornet. Peters and Todd sighed and looked at one another.

"These will remain only long enough to be measured for
kathir
suits," Dreelig commented. "They must return for their free day, if I understand correctly."

"It’s a free day for everybody. Thanksgiving." Peters looked sour. "Good and bad. We gotta work harder, but it’ll be over with sooner."

"Yes, that is all true," said Dreelig. "I must go."

"Aye, aye," said Peters loudly. Dreelig looked startled, then amused, and went to collect the first group to be measured. The two sailors bore a hand with the unloading, fetching, and carrying.

The alternates were less standoffish than the primaries had been, to the extent that they were willing to accept the two enlisted men as guides and for familiarization with the facilities. All of their guides and advisors, including the stewards, were grateful for that. It meant they could take turns for naps of a few
utle
without leaving the officers to their own devices, and the officers themselves went down during fourth
ande
to be fresh for the trip. It wasn’t enough, but it was something.

Only about two-thirds of the pilots saluted Donollo as they departed, but "the Senior" raised his arm and beamed at each and every one of them, exactly as he had done for the first group. When they were finally away Peters and Todd were at least as beat as they had ever been, and Dee and Dreelig were wilting too. "Thank God they"re gone," Todd said to Dee, and she just smiled tiredly and flapped a hand at him.

"There is more that you need to know about the operation of the ship, so that you can instruct your associates when they arrive," Dreelig told them over the second meal. They’d skipped the first, sleeping in; after all, it was Thanksgiving. "And we need to consult with Znereda about how you can best assist him with language instruction for the stewards." He looked at his watch and frowned. "Znereda will not be available until the fourth
ande
. We should proceed with instruction. It should not take long."

"Lead on," said Peters.

Dreelig led them to the ops bay, then aft. The sailors got a bit apprehensive as they approached the open door, but the deck continued flat to the threshold, with no structure similar to the "round-down" of the aircraft carrier. Hefty pegs on top and bottom of the door held bearings that ran in slots that crossed the door opening, curving to continue parallel to the midships structure. Four low consoles stood next to the guide slot, spaced ten meters apart, in a row parallel to the ship’s centerline. "These are the retarder controls," Dreelig explained.

"Retarder controls?" Peters said with a frown as he and Todd bent to examine one. Like the control panel of the
dli
, it was sparsely populated: a pair of large knobs, two backward-reading meters, and little else.

"The retarders are used to slow incoming ships," Dreelig told them. "I don’t fully understand it myself. The controls must be set for the mass and speed of the incoming vessel."

"Arrestin’ gear," said Peters with a nod and a grin. "I been runnin’ arrestin’ gear damn near eight years now. I reckon I can learn a new type."

"You may know more about it than I do," Dreelig confessed.

"Probably," said Todd in a matter-of-fact tone. "Why doesn’t one of the regular crew come and explain it while you translate? It’s not convenient for you to be running back and forth every time we have a question you can’t answer."

Dreelig looked alarmed. "What do you mean, the regular crew?" he demanded. "We are all crew, yourselves included."

"Look, Dreelig, no offense and all that, but you couldn’t run this ship with a gun at your head," Todd told him calmly. "Just about anything we want to know, you’ve never troubled yourself to ask about. There have to be tech types who run the ship while you traders go along for the ride." He shrugged. "You called them ‘the ship people’ a while ago. We saw some down tending the engines. They wear blue and white on their suits."

"You have seen the engines?" Dreelig was thunderstruck. "I have lived on
Llapaaloapalla
for four eights of
uzul
, and I have never seen the engines. I do not know how to reach them anyway."

"Yeah," said Peters. "You stick to your own knittin’ while the others get on with gettin’ their jobs done. That’s a good way to work, but it’s got limits." He glanced sidelong at Todd. "In this here case, we’re gonna need to know quite a bit about these controls. Todd’s right, we better have a tech type around to answer questions."

"You make a good point." Dreelig stood, frowning, right arm across his breast, chin supported by the knuckles of his left hand. "But this arrangement has not been made. It will be a little difficult."

"Can’t see why," Todd pointed out.

"Yes, there is no reason you should know or understand," said the Grallt calmly. "Perhaps you should go back to your quarters. I will meet you there after I speak with the others."

"You got it," said Peters. "This is likely to take a while, I gather."

"Yes. Several
utle
, at least."

"Then we’ll probably fool around for a while," Peters told him. "If you don’t find us in our quarters, just come on down, we’ll probably be here."

"Yes, that is a satisfactory arrangement." Dreelig nodded and hurried off,looking concerned.

When he was out of sight, Peters turned to Todd. "That was a hell of a surprise to pull on your old buddy Peters."

"Sorry." Todd spread his hands. "I just now thought of it, actually. All the people in the engine room were dressed alike, and there have to be tech types around somewhere, but I just now made the final connection." He looked at Peters. "Makes sense, though."

"Damn right it makes sense. I’d've liked a little more warnin’, is all."

"Yeah, like I said, it just now came to me."

Peters looked at the controls for a moment, then turned away. "Ain’t no point in hangin’ around here. We don’t know what the adjustments are, and we ain’t gonna find out until somebody tells us."

Todd sighed. "So we wait."

Third meal came and went without Dreelig showing up, and they idled around their quarters until time for the next one rolled around. Fourth meal was a surprise: no choices today, everybody got turkey and dressing and all the usual trimmings. Highly appropriate down below, but the Grallt seemed a bit dubious. Todd saw one lift a sporkfull of cranberry sauce and look at it suspiciously; he pointed it out to Peters, and the two shared a chuckle.

After the meal they ambled back to quarters. The bay doors were open, fore and aft both, and the bow was pointed at the sun, making it hard to look in that direction and throwing long shadows from the rubble and clutter. That made it easy to find, and left them more dismayed than before at the sheer quantity of it.

It was about two
utle
, and seemed like a lot longer, before there was a knock on Peters’s door. He had been lounging on his bunk, bored and half asleep, and took his time answering.

"This is Engineer Keezer," said Dreelig without preliminary, indicating his companion with a gesture. The new Grallt was female, a little shorter than Dreelig and about the same age; she wore a two-color suit like the ones in the engine room, blue and white in four parts. "Keezer will explain the retarder controls and answer your questions. She is not very patient, so we should, ah, I believe your phrase is ‘get on with it.’"