Temporary Duty (47 page)

«Perhaps I should try it,» Dee said dubiously. «Am I permitted to come here?»

«Well, of course you are,» Cherin told her with some force. «The library is for everyone.»

«Thank you.» Dee looked around. Several patrons, some in
kathir
suits with
zerkre
markings, were sitting in comfortable chairs. «It’s a very quiet place, isn’t it?» she commented.

«Yes, libraries are quiet places,» Peters told her. «When you’re reading it’s better to have quiet, so you can listen to the voices the book makes in your head.»

«That’s a very poetic way to put it, but Peters is right,» Cherin told her. «Come any time, even if all you want is to be quiet for a while. I’ll suggest some things for you to read if you like.»

«Thank you, Cherin.»

«No thanks necessary. Peters, why did you bring Dee here? I don’t think it was romantic interest.»

Dee colored. «No, not romantic interest,» Peters assured the librarian with a smile. «Dee needs to visit the control room, and she’s a little afraid of the reception she might find there. I thought perhaps if she could meet you she might realize that not all of the zerkre eat babies.»

«That isn’t funny,» Cherin said sharply. «And to think I complimented you for being poetic only a moment ago! Dee, if you have business in the control room, just go there and ask. Even if you’re only curious you should go and ask. They might say no, but so long as you’re polite that’s the worst thing you should expect.»

«I suppose I know that intellectually,» Dee admitted. «But it’s hard to change old habits.»

«I’ll have to speak with some of the others,» Cherin said to Peters. «I knew not many of the Traders ever came up here, but I didn’t realize that they were afraid.»

«Perhaps Dee won’t be any more,» Peters said. «But now, if you will excuse us, we need to go to the control room.»

«You don’t need my permission,» the librarian pointed out. «Come again soon. You come too, Dee.»

«Thank you,» Dee said quietly.

«Now see, that wasn’t so bad,» Peters said when they were in the passageway.

«No, it wasn’t,» Dee admitted, and took a few steps. «It doesn’t seem right.».

«What doesn’t?»

«I have lived on
Llapaaloapalla
all my life. You have been here only a little over five zul, yet you know more about the ship than I do!»

«Perhaps so,» Peters admitted. «I found an interest and followed it. You could do the same if you wanted to.»

«Yes, that’s true, isn’t it? It’s unfortunate that I didn’t know that before.» Dee squared her narrow shoulders. «Lead on. I’m still not looking forward to this, but it’s starting to feel like something I should have done long ago.»

Dhuvenig looked Dee over pretty comprehensively, seeming to like what he saw. «Further instruction?» he asked when their errand was explained. «I thought you were past that. You have been operating the retarders for some time now.»

«Did you know about the accident?» Peters asked.

«Yes, I went down to check if anything had happened to the ship’s structure, and I stopped to look at the wreckage. The air caught the wings on the ship and threw it against the overhead structure, as I understand it. The crew were very lucky. If they had hit only a few tell forward or aft they would almost certainly have been killed.»

«That’s how I understand it as well, but my superiors feel that it is possible faulty operation of the retarders contributed to the accident,» Peters explained. «They want us to have further instruction, to avoid such incidents in future.»

«I suppose I see their point, but it’s based on a misunderstanding of the retarder system,» Dhuvenig pointed out. «The retarders can only check motion in a line parallel to the ship’s long axis. If the approaching ship moves to one side or the other the retarders can’t stop it. You couldn’t have prevented the accident by changing the way you operate them.»

«That is how I understood the situation, and I attempted to explain it,» Peters agreed. «But because I was one of the operators at the time, they won’t necessarily take my word for it.»

«Again I can see their point.» Dhuvenig sighed. «The problem is that Keezer doesn’t like working with you humans. I will have to find someone else with both the knowledge and the free time.» He looked at Dee. «Why did you bring Dee along for this errand? Not that I have any objections, but you certainly know the language well enough.»

«It has to do with the politics in our group. It would be better if my superiors didn’t know I came here. They might be more suspicious, thinking that I might have made some special arrangement with you to avoid blame. But Dee was afraid to approach you by herself, so I agreed to come along.»

Dhuvenig nodded. «Oh? That sort of thing happens sometimes. I will instruct whoever I send not to mention it.» He looked Dee up and down. «Dee, if you need to contact us again, you should come by yourself. We aren’t
ferassi
here.»

«Dee doesn’t feel comfortable coming to the control room,» Peters told him. The unfamiliar word didn’t parse in the Grallt he knew. Probably it meant something like ‘monster’ or ‘ogre’.

«Yes, I know some of the traders feel that way,» Dhuvenig observed. «Come back any time, Dee. You can ask for me especially, and I’ll do what I can for you.» He smiled. «Come whenever you like, even if you don’t have business. Perhaps we could get to know one another better.»

«Thank you, Dhuvenig,» Dee said a little weakly.

«No thanks necessary. Is there more?»

«No, Dhuvenig, I think that’s all.» Peters told him when Dee didn’t respond.

«Yes,» the Grallt responded with a short nod, and Dee and Peters turned to leave.

Outside the bridge access Dee stopped and leaned against Peters. He put his arm around her shoulders, realizing with a start that it was the first time he’d touched her. «See, that wasn’t so bad,» he offered.

«No, not really. Dhuvenig was nice, I thought. I was frightened the whole time, though.»

«You should get over that. You will have to come back again, because I might not be able to take the risk. Don’t worry. Dhuvenig will be glad to see you.»

«You think so? Why would Dhuvenig be happy to see a Trader in his control room?»

«I don’t think his interest has anything to do with traders and zerkre,» Peters said with a smile.

She moved away and looked up at him. «What, then?» she asked suspiciously.

«It wouldn’t be a bad arrangement,» Peters suggested. «He’s a nice guy with lots of status, and he seems interested. You should pursue the matter.»

«Wearing my airsuit, I suppose,» Dee offered, with a hint of irony.

«You should do that anyway, but it wouldn’t hurt.» Peters grinned. «You make a very good impression in it.»

«You’re as crude as the
officers
are.»

«Oh, I’m much worse. I’m
enlisted
, after all. Now let’s go. Mealtime is almost over, and I need to get something to eat before I go on duty.»

Howell was explaining the retarders for the
n
th time, and had reached the point of using little words. "No, sir, so far as any of us are aware the system has no effect whatever on motion from side to side, sir."

"‘So far as any of you are aware’," the officer mimicked. "All you’re telling me is that none of you really know how it works. It’s amazing nobody’s been killed."

"Shit, all the asshole needs is one of those little whip things," Peters observed aside to Kraewitz.

"Riding crop," the other supplied, smiling thinly.

"Yeah, that’s it."

Carson was wearing aviators’ greens, complete with brown shoes and a cap with a polished brown visor, with two full rings on the sleeves instead of the ring-and-a-half they’d thought he was entitled to. He walked up and down with long strides, flicking his hand against his hip in a nervous gesture. It was already clear that he was not, repeat not, going to accept the word of anybody present that the retarder crews couldn’t have prevented the crash. He kept coming back to the idea that the machines were capable of restraining the path of entering ships, and the sailors simply didn’t know how the system worked.

"What’s this?" Kraewitz asked, looking over his shoulder, and Peters turned to find Dhuvenig strolling up.

"Everybody salute!" Peters hissed, and snapped into a brace himself, forefinger at eyebrow. The other enlisted in the vicinity followed suit without much delay, and the Grallt stopped, raised his eyebrows, and lifted his left arm in the "greeting" gesture. Peters brought his hand down at that, and the others did, too, a little raggedly.

«Hello, Peters,» Dhuvenig said calmly. «I take it that was your respect gesture. Did I respond correctly?»

«Yes, you did,» Peters assured.

«So all of you are retarder operators? We don’t use such a large group for the function.»

«Yes, I know, but we are new and were not sure of the requirements,» Peters told him. «It seemed better to have too many than too few.»

«A sensible precaution.» Dhuvenig looked around. «You asked for an instructor. No one suitable was immediately available, so I decided to come myself.»

«Yes …»

"Sailor! You there! Front and center!" The lieutenant wasn’t pleased. "Bring your friend."

"Aye, aye, sir." «Please come with me. This man is my superior.»

«Certainly.»

Peters didn’t quite double-time over to Lieutenant Carson, with Dhuvenig following more calmly. "You called for me, sir?" he asked. He’d already saluted the son-of-a-bitch once today and wasn’t about to repeat it. Two could play at "strict rules".

"What’s your name, sailor?"

"Peters, sir." For about the fourth time.

"Peters, were you aware that this was an official exercise?"

"Yes, sir."

"Were you aware that during official exercises you are not permitted to go skylarking off with your buddies?"

"Yes, sir."

"You were." That was stretched out in laconic superciliousness.

The pause extended itself. "Yes, sir," Peters added.

"Very well … who’s the cuntface?"

"Engineering Officer, sir."

Carson stopped for a moment, then bulled ahead: "And what rank does he hold?"

"Approximately Commander, sir."

"Commander," Carson repeated.

"Yes, sir."

"Which conveniently outranks me by two grades, right, sailor?"

"Yes, sir."

"Speak the language, do you, sailor?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very well. You tell your friend the
commander
to go back to the EM quarters and tell them your little joke didn’t work. Then get back to your post, and we will continue the exercise … Howell!"

"Yes, sir?"

"This man’s on report." Carson looked back at Peters. "Move it, sailor!"

"Aye, sir." Peters bobbed his head and took a step back. Carson flicked his hand against his hip and turned away, and that gave Peters a chance to turn and walk off.

Dhuvenig followed. «I take it from the tones of voice used that that didn’t go well,» he observed.

«Yes, that’s true,» Peters replied. «My superior didn’t believe me when I told him what post you hold.»

«What did you tell him?»

«I told him you were First for machinery and equipment.»

«That’s correct, of course. Where would that stand in your own social structure?»

«Such a person would occupy a position more or less equal to that of the Second, but would take slightly less precedence.»

«That’s very much the same way we see it. You say he didn’t believe you?»

«No, he did not. He imagines that you are one of my social acquaintances.»

Dhuvenig looked amused. «Let’s see if we can change his mind. Do the respect gesture, please.»

Peters saluted. Dhuvenig raised his arm, nodded, and took himself off. Peters shook his head and turned back, to discover every eye on him, including the choleric regard of Lieutenant Carson. "
If
we may continue," the lieutenant drawled sarcastically.

Peters flushed. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

The next half-hour was long. Lieutenant Carson returned to his original theme, alternating between demanding further information about the retarders–none of which was available, even if it existed–and propounding his theory that the retarder crews could have redirected the Tomcat if they’d known what they were doing. Now that Peters had come to his attention he paid especial attention to him, despite having forgotten his name again, addressing him only with a sharp sarcastic bark of "sailor!". "This is the control for the mass of the incoming ship, is that right, sailor?"

"Yes, sir, it is."

"And this one is for the velocity."

"Yes, sir." They’d only covered this ground about ten times so far.

"And you’re telling me there are no vector direction controls."

"No, sir, I mean yes, sir, that’s what I’m saying."

Carson started to speak again, but interrupted himself, looking off across the bay. "Well, sailor, your friends have shown up again. Tell ‘em to sheer off smartly, or I’ll see you get some brig time."

Peters grinned; he couldn’t help himself. "Aye, sir," he managed, and Carson glared at him. The approaching party was led by Znereda, and consisted of Dhuvenig, Heelinig, a pair of large
zerkre
with four-way designs on their suits and the air of bouncers, and a portly, white-haired individual in a dark gray suit similar to what Donollo had worn. Peters came to attention and ripped off the snappiest salute he was capable of, and the other sailors took a brace, leaving Carson with his hands hanging loose and a deep flush discoloring his face and neck.

Znereda marched up and inquired with mild good humor, "May we know your name, please?"

"I’m Lieutenant Samuel Carson, United States Navy. And who might you be?"

"Oh, I’m only a translator, lieutenant. My name is Znereda." The little Grallt looked Carson up and down. "If you and your people could have been troubled to learn the language, I would have been your instructor. Apparently I lost nothing by the decision." Carson flushed more deeply but didn’t respond, and Znereda went on, "I should introduce the people whose speech I will be translating. First are these gentlemen." The two bruisers took station, one each side of the lieutenant and a little behind, arms folded. "They are from the shipboard police department, what my friend Peters would probably describe as the ‘Master at Arms’." Znereda grinned. "Their names are not important, and if they need to communicate I’m sure they can make their meaning clear without my assistance.