Temporary Duty (35 page)

«Is this technology for sale?» Khrog asked, again with an odd intonation.

The sailor shrugged. «As I understand it, the reason we are here is to explore which of our products might be wanted by other people. As for this particular item, I see no reason why not, but I am too junior to answer your question directly.» Makers? It had sounded like a name or title when Ghnal said it. What was that all about? «Would you help me close the panel?» he asked.

Khrog Dhakgo obligingly took the forward end again. As Peters was securing the latches the kheil remarked, «You are a junior? Remarkable. You have an excellent command of the trade language. Where are your seniors? Can you introduce me to them?»

«I can take you to them,» Peters said. «They will wish to know who you are.» The polite Grallt formula implied without saying, what’s your status?

«I am the first of this company,» said Khrog with another alarming smile.

Oh, Jesus! «Then I am making a large mistake by speaking to you at all,» Peters told him. «I apologize for interfering. I will take you to my superiors at once.»

«No apologies necessary,» said Ghnal. «I don’t see that you have made any mistakes. Thank you for escorting us to the food hall, and for showing us the ship.»

«Yes, and for assisting us at the meal,» said Khrog. «Where are your superiors? Is the rather alarming person we met earlier one of them?»

Howell had been stuffy and abrupt, probably unsure of himself, and certainly resenting having to call on a Second Class for help; Peters knew he didn’t care to deal with the Grallt, and did so only when it was absolutely necessary. «He is my immediate superior, yes, but the ones you must talk to are the crews of our ships.»

«Kkh. I see where the confusion arose.» Khrog produced another smile, not so alarming, or perhaps Peters was getting used to it. «The Combat Dancers are only ship operators. They follow my orders.» He looked across the bay. «At the moment they are mingling with the
human
ship crews. We had no idea that the ship crews were the superiors here.» At Peters’s look he continued, «Don’t worry about it. These misunderstandings are common when two peoples meet for the first time.»

«I can see that might be so.» Oh, shit! "Ridley, you got an earbug? We got a situation here."

"Yeah. What’s up?"

"Turns out this here’s the bossman of this bunch of folks," Peters said. "My compliments to Master Chief Joshua, and it’d be best if we could get ‘em in touch with the officers."

"So this is the head fruitbat, eh?" Ridley said. "Don’t look like much to me. What the Hell are you doing skylarking with officers?"

"Cap’n Fruitbat to you," Peters corrected. "And that’s just the question I expect the Master Chief to be askin’, and I ain’t in the mood to repeat myself. You want to ask him to get down here?"

"No." Ridley stared, shrugged, then reached up, detached the bug, and held it out. "You talk to him. Channel two."

Peters stared back for a moment, took the earbug, and arranged it, not without a grimace of distaste at the other’s body heat still clinging to it. "Master Chief, this is Green Three-Seven."

"What are you doing on the channel, Peters?" the Chief wanted to know. "You’re not on duty."

"Yes, Chief, but we got a fu–, a mistake here, and I ain’t got the horsepower to straighten it out. I’d be obliged if you could meet me by the demonstration plane."

"Is this really serious, Peters?"

"Yeah–yes, Master Chief, I reckon it is."

"I’ll take your word for it this once. Where are you?"

"Down by the demo Tomcat."

"On my way."

"Thanks, Chief." Peters unclipped the earbug, handed it back to Ridley, who grimaced in his turn and wiped it down the front of his uniform jumper before clipping it in place. «In a moment, my immediate superior will be here,» he told the enkheil. «He will take you to the ones you should speak with.»

Khrog Dhakgo clapped him on the back. «John, I think your culture pays too much attention to status. While we are waiting for your superior, I want you to call us ‘Khrog’ and ‘Ghnal’ at least twice. Do you think Ghnal is pretty?»

Peters slumped his shoulders and laughed weakly. «Very well, Khrog. Yes, I think Ghnal is very pretty. That may be because I have not seen a female of my species in some time.»

Ghnal clapped her hands together, wing flaps making it a double pop. «Wonderful! You even have my name right, considering that you don’t have the flap in your throat to make the sound properly. And you told a joke, too.» She touched him on the forearm. «Don’t worry. You have done very well, hasn’t he, Khrog?» When Khrog nodded she went on, «If you have free time after this business is concluded, perhaps you would like to visit us? We have a very pleasant place, with a view of a lake. You would enjoy it, I’m sure.»

«Yes, I’m sure I would, but I don’t know if I will have any free time–Ah.» He was rescued by the appearance of Chief Joshua, in khakis over his kathir suit, hat firmly in place.

"What’s this all about, Peters?" Joshua wanted to know.

"Master Chief, this is Khrog Dhakgo. He’s the, well, they say the First of the enkheil squadron, I reckon he’d be about full Commander equivalent. We done got it backwards. The pilots are the enlisted, and these here are the officers, in this setup."

"I see," the Chief said dubiously. «Pleasant greetings,» he managed in Grallt, and saluted.

«Is this a respect gesture?» Khrog Dhakgo asked.

«Yes!» Ghnal Dhango hissed. «Return it, you oaf!»

Khrog inclined his head slightly and shrugged his wings with a pop. The Chief relaxed his salute and said, "Tell them to come with me, Peters. I’ll escort them to meet the officers."

Peters relayed that, and the reply: "They say OK, Master Chief, but they’re askin’ if I could come along to translate."

Joshua stared a moment, finally shook his head. "I don’t think that’s a good idea. Dreelig can handle it."

"Aye, Master Chief." To the enkheil: «Please go with Master Chief Joshua. Our superiors have translators available.»

Khrog Dhakgo half-spread his wings, furled them in a gust of air. «Very well,» he said shortly.

«And after this business is finished, you will come to visit. It’s settled,» said Ghnal. «Don’t worry, we’ll find you,» she said when he tensed up.

Peters shook his head as they walked off toward officers’ country. At the moment, Ghnal’s parting shot sounded more like a threat than an invitation.

Peters reported to the retarders for flight ops, correctly rigged out in helmet, flak jacket, and boondockers, but: "The Master Chief wants to see you in his office," Howell said with an unmistakable air of satisfaction. "Right now," he added with relish.

"Did he say what it’s about?" Peters asked.

"Hmph. You know as much about it as I do." The First Class smirked a little. "Probably more, in fact. Get going, nothing’s going to happen here for a while, and if it does, Jacks and Rupert can cover for you."

"Right." Peters stared a moment, then turned away and headed for the enlisted quarters hatch. First stop, his room. Anything that had that asshole Howell looking so damn happy was bound to call for undress blues, at least.

Master Chief Joshua’s door was always open. That didn’t mean you walked in on him without invitation; Peters banged on the doorframe. The Chief looked up from the computer he’d been punching at and barked, "Come!"

Peters took off his white hat as he entered. "You wanted to see me, Chief?"

"Yeah." Joshua snapped the computer screen shut and leaned forward, elbows on the desk, supporting his chin on his knuckles. After a moment he snorted, shook his head, shifted his forearms to lie on the table grasping his elbows, and leaned farther forward. "Just what did you think you were doing, sailor?" he asked in a voice that seemed more tired than irritated.

"Beggin’ the Master Chief’s pardon, but I don’t understand the question, Master Chief."

Joshua’s gaze intensified. "Don’t come that shit with me, Peters," he warned.

"I still don’t understand, Master Chief."

Joshua snorted again. "Hmph. All right, if you want to play ignorant and innocent, I’ll spell it out for you. You, Peters, are a Second Class Petty Officer in the United States Navy, isn’t that right?

"Yes, Master Chief," Peters replied softly.

"Good. Now, in the United States Navy, enlisted people are not authorized to engage in official contact with senior officers of foreign powers. In fact, they are specifically forbidden to do so. Were you aware of that, Petty Officer Peters?"

"Yes, Master Chief."

Joshua nodded. "Glad to hear it," he said sarcastically. "To continue," he leaned forward again, "In the United States Navy, and to my knowledge in all the armed forces of the United States of America, enlisted people, especially junior enlisted people, are not authorized to engage in substantive negotiations, for trade or otherwise, with officials of foreign powers. I will admit that it isn’t specifically forbidden by the regulations, but I’d say the first rule I mentioned would just about cover it, now wouldn’t you, Petty Officer Peters?"

"Yes, Master Chief."

"Good, I’m glad we agree." Joshua leaned back and folded his arms. "Now, with those two rules as background, I am gonna ask my first question again: Just what the Hell did you think you were doing running around with the CO of the opposing force like long lost buddies, accepting invitations, and making suggestions about trade matters, Peters?"

Peters stared straight ahead and thought furiously. "Beggin’ the Master Chief’s pardon," he said again, "I’m afraid the Master Chief’s understandin’ of the sequence of events is mistaken."

"Hmph." Joshua leaned forward again. "All right, Peters, I’ll bite. Just what was the sequence of events from your point of view?"

Peters took a deep breath. "I believe the Master Chief is aware that I’ve learned a little of the language they use on this here ship." When Joshua nodded sharply he continued, "The enkheil come over to the retarder consoles while we was strikin’ from flight ops, and tried to enquire of my section leader. Petty Officer Howell don’t speak no Grallt, Master Chief, and I offered my services as translator."

"I see," said Joshua. "What did they want?"

"They wanted to see the retarder consoles, Master Chief, and set up the procedures for how we was to alternate between our guys and the enkheil crews." He thought a moment. "Is the Master Chief aware that Ghnal Dhango, the one with the red fur, is the head of retarder crews for the enkheil?"

"No, Peters, I wasn’t aware of that." By the tone, Joshua didn’t care, either. He gestured, a little wave. "Continue, please."

"Aye, Master Chief. Anyways, we got the business about the retarders settled to Howell’s and Khrog Dhakgo’s satisfaction–"

"Just a minute," Joshua interrupted. "Krog Thak Go is the name of the CO, right?" And he’s the one you introduced me to when you called me?"

"That’s correct, Master Chief." Well, close enough, anyway.

"Continue, please."

"Aye, Master Chief. As I was sayin’, we got the business with the retarders concluded, and Khrog Dhakgo asked where away was the chow hall. We was done strikin’ the evolution, and I had no specific duties at that point, so I offered to show ‘em where to get some chow, Master Chief."

"I see," said Joshua again. He clasped his hands, fingers intertwined. "And you took chow with them, as I understand it."

"Yes, Master Chief."

"What did you talk about over chow?"

Peters thought back. "Just general stuff, Master Chief, like people from different places talk about. Stories, mostly."

"Stories," Joshua said with a caustic edge. "You gave them a pretty detailed look at the Tomcat, or so I hear."

Ridley was the source of that, no doubt. Peters nodded. "Yes, Master Chief. To my understandin’ the reason the Tomcat was parked where it was, with a sentry, was to provide the new folks with somethin’ to look at, and to serve as an example of our stuff. The enkheil expressed an interest, and at the time I didn’t see nothin’ wrong with the idea, Master Chief."

"You ‘didn’t see nothin’ wrong with the idea’," Joshua mocked.

Peters flushed a little. "No, Master Chief."

"And all this time you thought you were talking to a couple of ordinary folks, I take it."

"Yes, Master Chief, to the extent that folks with wings from another planet can be considered ordinary folks, that is."

"Yeah, right." Joshua laid his hands on the desk, asked tiredly, "At what point did you become aware that this Krog whatever was the skipper of that bunch, Peters?"

"Only at the very end, Master Chief, and I immediately got in contact with the proper person in my chain of command, as I am instructed to do, Master Chief."

"Which is me."

"Yes, Master Chief."

"All right, Peters, now we get to the point. I’m gonna ask this one time: Did you, at any time in that conversation, suggest to those people that any of our stuff might be for sale, or offer any kind of trade suggestions?"

"I might’ve, Master Chief." Joshua glared, and Peters went on hurriedly, "We was just talkin’, Master Chief, about the stuff we make, on both sides. We was bound to make suggestions." He spread his hands in frustration, hurriedly returned them to their clasp in front when the Master Chief’s glare intensified. "I know I ain’t got the horsepower to make any kind of agreement, Master Chief. I didn’t make no proposals or suggest prices or like that. We was just talkin’ about what was around." He shook his head. "I can’t say any better’n that, Master Chief."

"No, I don’t suppose you can, Peters." Joshua’s tone was tired; he brought his hands together and rested his chin on them again. After a long pause he said, "I don’t want to go through this again, Peters."

"No, Master Chief."

"I think you’ve been getting the idea that you’re something special because you know the language. Well, that’s so to a certain extent, but what you are is a Second Class Petty Officer, and from where I sit you’re bucking for Third, do you understand what I mean, Peters?"

"Yes, Master Chief."

"In the future I expect you to keep a low profile, do you understand me?" Joshua forestalled Peters’ acknowledgement with a handwave. "You’re expected to provide your knowledge of the language to those who need it, to help in relations with other people, but you are not to go haring off on your own, making agreements and setting up trade, because you are not some kind of half-assed ambassador, you understand?"