Temporary Duty (18 page)

"Yeah. There’s talk the U.S. might ask Cuba if they’d like to join up, and when we was in Cuba that was one of the big things to talk about. Some folks there are hot for it, but when I told Granpap that he about bust a gut laughin’."

There was silence for a few minutes. Dreelig emptied his glass and set it down. "You still have not told me why you are willing that we Grallt should know enough to negotiate effectively with your people."

"Yeah." Peters slumped down in his chair. "Well, thanks to all that, there’s two kinds of people. One kind, like Todd was sayin’, they own the factories that’re still workin’, and they got a pretty good life. They get to go to school and learn about all kinds of things. So they get to be officers, and government folks, and that. And then there’s us."

"The ones who don’t have jobs, you mean," said Dreelig.

"That’s right," said Todd. "Me’n Peters, we’ve got it good. We have jobs, and we get plenty to eat. But we both know people, lots of people, who don’t have either one."

"Just about everybody we know, outside the Navy," Peters commented. Dreelig was looking impatient, so he continued, "If the folks that’s runnin’ things now get your stuff,
kathir
suits and spaceship engines and that, they’ll figure out how to build it, and they won’t need to trade for it. That’ll mean a few jobs, buildin’ the new stuff –"

"But if they don’t get your stuff, then they’ll have to give you something of ours for it," Todd interjected. "And if we have to trade for it, it means opening up the factories again. Making the things we know how to make, for trade. Lots of work, lots of good jobs."

"So you are willing to frustrate the ‘suits’ in the interest of trade," said Dreelig. "Well, if it is of any use to you, I think your analysis is correct. Your people will be better off in general by trading." He shook his head, looked from one sailor to another. "You have both said that you do not have very good training, that you have not been educated well. Yet you have made what is actually a fairly sophisticated argument. How is it that poorly educated people can know this?"

"Well, it didn’t happen all that long ago," said Peters with a shrug. "There’s lots of folks around who know what was goin’ on before things fell apart. They talk. Ain’t much else to do, of a winter evenin’." He shrugged again. "There’s more’n one way to learn, it ain’t all schoolin’. We ain’t had much formal education, but we heard lots of talk."

Dreelig glanced at his watch, signaled the waiter. "We have missed fifth meal, and I am hungry. Let us eat here."

"Fine with us," said Todd. "But I’m afraid you’re buying again. We’re broke."

Dreelig smiled faintly and nodded. "Order what you wish. I will, I believe the phrase is, take it out in trade."

Commander Bolton’s decision that the pilots needn’t learn the language had consequences. Znereda was highly irritated; he was also highly organized, and got the stewards and a dozen other people through a preliminary course in the English language. After that the sailors spent almost half of their work time having inane chats in baby talk. With four and two eights of people to train, it was barely enough. It helped that all the Grallt seemed to have a knack for languages, and were able to help one another to a large extent.

Dreelig, Dee, and Donollo made two more trips downside, coming back to confer with their still-mysterious superiors and having little time for socializing. The few times they were able to meet, the Grallt "ambassadors" were tired but cheerful, and reported that negotiations were proceeding more smoothly. "We might actually get something done before we leave," Dee reported optimistically.

The freight hauler made two trips a
llor
, a few to Mayport and the rest to Naval Support Facility Norfolk. Engineer Keezer reappeared to supervise the adjustment of the retarder consoles for its return, and Peters grabbed Peer and a girl called Se’en as translators and stuck his nose in. It didn’t seem difficult if you knew the numbers. At the end of each trip the language class was adjourned while they ferried the cargo into the humans’ living and working spaces. The storage areas below their quarters got filled, and the working spaces were taking shape, with desks, chairs (including heavy leather briefing chairs), storage cabinets, and the like.

Chief Warnocki had taken their word about the welding equipment; there was gear for everything from oxyacetylene to LIG, and literal tons of rod and wire. Emergency rations and dietary supplements took an entire truckload and filled two rooms. There were a couple of cartons of spare uniforms, all for the officers and chiefs. There was sheet aluminum and steel, rivets, screws and bolts, and a few odd-shaped boxes containing parts for fixing the planes. That and the welding gear would have filled most of the storage space, so they shifted it over to the shoprooms in the number-three hangar bay. One big skid held computer gear, printer consumables, and network components.

There were pillows. Apparently the request for pillows was a real puzzle for somebody; what they wound up with was three pillows.

Each.

What there wasn’t was radios. Peters had expected, at minimum, several Military Common Communications Equipment sets, and he’d had a hazy notion that specialized antennas would be useful. Two big cartons and a rack on a skid held deck earbugs, their base station, and a stack of relay nodes, but that was it for comm gear. He looked it over with a sour expression, exchanged a wordless look and a shrug with Todd, and ordered them stowed below enlisted quarters.

They bugged out on the last unloading detail, trying to snatch a few
utle
of sleep before the rest of the humans arrived. 0700, December 1st, in Mayport was in the middle of the fourth
ande
aboard
Llapaaloapalla
; that meant most of the work would have to be done during fifth and sixth
ande
–again–and the sailors had adjusted–again–to the ship’s schedule.

They were up, showered, shaved, and in dress blues, in time to see all three
dli
head out for the pickup. Laundry had turned out to be available on the same basis as meals were; by Peters’ calculation, the pay they were due in two more
llor
would just about clear them for meals, laundry, and what they owed at the bar. He sighed. He’d been broke before, and no doubt would be again. Beer is not a necessity of life, after all. Looking neat for Chief Joshua probably was.

Dreelig, Donollo, Dee, and the language students formed the welcoming committee; Peters and Todd joined them by the enlisted quarters hatch. Peer and Pis turned up, having set up a collation of cold cuts and sandwich makings in one of the storage spaces. It was Pis who’d thought of that; he was a bright and thoughtful fellow. Peters thought he might even get over wincing at the name, someday.

Se’en, the girl translator, was the first to spot the drifting sparks aft. They weren’t holding any kind of formation, just loosely grouped, and they didn’t do anything fancy like making a pass and peeling off in order. One sped up while the other two slowed down, one nearly coming to an apparent halt, allowing the first to get on board before picking up the pace.

Apparently the retarders were correctly set, because there was only a whisper of air as the first
dli
entered the operations bay. The pilot–they could see Gell through the big square side port–brought the
dli
so close to the side that Peters was nervous about the wingtip, then swung around so that its hatch was presented to them, with plenty of space for people to stand around. As soon as it came to a halt and its step deployed, Peters was up the wing. "Get your hats on and pass it back," he advised as the first couple of men poked their heads through the hatch. They were all in dungarees; he winced but continued, "Bay counts as outside, this here’s starboard midships, render honors forward centerline." He pointed. "Forward is thataway."

Sailors piled out, ducking through the hatch despite its being high enough to walk through upright. Peters had to repeat his spiel a couple of times, but finally enough got passed back that they were coming out with hats firmly attached to heads and turning to salute the spot he’d specified. Then they walked gingerly down the nonskid, arms out for balance, and stepped carefully down the flap step, rubbernecking all the way. Later arrivals had to push through the gang to find a piece of deck big enough to stand on. Most of them had their heads back, looking at the overhead and pointing out structural details, but a few of the more intelligent ones were giving the Grallt, especially Dee and Se’en, a comprehensive once-over. There was a lot of conversation, mostly in hushed tones, a few raucous overcompensators.

The second
dli
flashed in as the chiefs emerged, turning around to salute toward the bow, then back. Warnocki went ahead down the gangway and Joshua turned to glare at Peters. "Got it all figured out, do you?" he asked, eyes intent.

"That’s what I’m supposed to be here for, Chief," Peters replied.

"Sure is," the chief allowed with a sharp nod, then squared his shoulders, tugged the brim of his hat to bring it straight, and walked erect down to the deck.

"Pleasant greetings," Dreelig told him calmly."Welcome aboard
Llapaaloapalla
, Chief Joshua." Peters and Todd had spent some time describing a chief’s uniform, and had made sure the Grallt knew the name. First impressions ….

Chief Joshua performed a snappy salute, which Dreelig returned with his lifted-arm gesture. "Glad to be here."

Dreelig smiled, and Peters could see the chief flinch; he and Todd had forgotten how odd that expression looked until you were used to it. "I hope you are still glad later, Chief," the Grallt said. "We will be together for some time."

"Yes, we will, if all goes well," the chief admitted, looking away, then forcing his eyes back. "Now if you’ll excuse me, sir, I need to get this evolution a little better organized." He glanced at Todd, mouth set, and shook his head. "I want to get everybody briefed in before we start turning them loose. Last thing we need’s a bunch of people straggling around."

Dreelig shrugged and smiled again. "You know your business better than I. Please proceed."

"Aye," the Chief said, and turned to the loose gaggle of sailors, now beginning to be augmented by the first of those from the second
dli
. "Listen up, people," he said, voice cutting across the babble. "Form up, section leaders get your people together. Let’s start looking a little military here." He looked at Peters, who was standing by the hatch, advising on procedure as the sailors emerged, then turned to Todd. "See the short fat First Class ET over there? That’s Kellmann, he’ll be your section leader. Might as well get on over and join your section."

"Aye, Chief," said Todd, and set off briskly.
Well, back in the Navy, I guess,
he said to himself. The third
dli
came in, enough faster to generate a couple of twangs, as he approached his new boss. Kellman glanced briefly at the younger sailor, then gave his attention to the approaching ship, and Todd, having seen a
dli
land before, took time to look the other over. He was a little old for a First Class, probably just before getting promoted to Chief in the normal order of things, swarthy and black-eyed, with heavy straight black hair, neatly parted.

"You must be Todd," was his greeting once the
dli
settled and began taxiing over. "I’m Dan Kellman."

"Kevin Todd."

"You’ve already been aboard two weeks, I hear."

"Yeah, Peters and I were sent up here to get things ready."

"Heard that. How’d you get along?" Kellman waved at the Grallt spectators.

"Real good," said Todd seriously. "They’re good folks."

"Glad to hear it." Kellman paused, looked Todd in the eye. "I’m maintenance section leader for 97, the Hornets. You got any particular job you want?"

Todd considered. "I was plane captain before, Mikmacs. Like to do that again."

"Got any trouble dealing with women?"

"Women, Hell." Todd shook his head. "Those are officers."

Kellman barked a short laugh. "OK, you got it. The rest’ll draw straws, but I’ll put you on the skipper’s bird, you’ve got the seniority." He shook his head. "TO’s real simple, mostly blank, I’ll get you a copy." He waved at the crowd of sailors. "Come on, they’re getting formed up."

Peters had again taken it upon himself to serve as greeter and initial orientation for the third
dli
-load of sailors. Now they were all on the deck, and he stood up straight, shook his head, and came slowly down the nonskid to join them. Chief Joshua intercepted him at the step. "Get with Chief Warnocki, he’s going to be Chief of the Deck and acting Air Boss. He’ll give you a unit assignment."

"Aye, aye, Chief," Peters replied smartly enough, keeping his face straight with an effort. His thought paralleled Todd’s:
Back in the Navy, I reckon
. Looking the group over confirmed the impression he’d gotten watching them get off the
dli
: they were really heavy on senior petty officers. Four chiefs besides Joshua and Warnocki, although one of those was the medic, Gill; and out of two hundred sailors, more than half were First or Second Class. There were gonna be a lot of people who were section leaders down below but were just crew here.

He got in line in the group behind Warnocki. Chief Joshua was out front, waving people over to their sections. Finally they were all still, not in really sharp ranks but at least standing in neat groups. Donollo took a step up onto a box of some kind, and Chief Joshua gave him a sharp salute. The older Grallt responded with the standard raised left arm, expression sardonic, and launched into a flood of sonorous Grallt.

Hearing the speech for the third time, Peters found himself understanding a few words, and had a hard time keeping a straight face. The elder Grallt was upbraiding them all in solemn rolling periods for vicious personalities, perverted habits, and lack of personal hygiene. When Donollo ran down, Dreelig ‘translated’ a speech nearly identical to that he’d given the officers, except a little longer.