Temporary Duty (66 page)

«Did you speak to any of the
khuma
?» Troy asked the Grallt.

«No, ul’ptarze Troy, I did not. I attempted to do so, of course, but the most coherent reply I received was a fair rendition of ‘I don’t speak the Trade’. The
khuma
seemed to communicate by signs and a few words, but most of their needs were met by the few Grallt among them. I spoke with one such, a very attractive young woman called Se’en, who was keeping close company with a
khuma
whose name I believe was ‘Jacks’. If both had been either
khuma
or Grallt, I would have assumed them a mated pair–»

«Disgusting notion,» Jons growled, then subsided again at a peremptory wave from his CO.

Kheer nodded again. «Se’en confirmed that there were, or had been, two, eight, and three squares of
khuma
in the second group, and that one of those was called ‘Peters’ or sometimes ‘Peteris’ by the Grallt. She had a high opinion of ‘Peteris’. According to her, this individual learned the Trade in an incredibly short period of time, and had rendered assistance to the zerkre of
Llapaaloapalla
to the point of being granted precedence higher than her own, which she considered well deserved.» Kheer spread his hands, somehow submissively. «There is more, ul’ptarze Troy, but all confirmative or corroborative of the main points. Do you care to hear it?»

«No, that’s enough.» The Grallt nodded again, and this time Troy returned it with a short decisive jerk. «Good report, Kheer.»

«Ul’ptarze Troy,» Kheer murmured, and stepped back to his former stance.

«Horsig, your turn,» Troy commanded.

The senior Grallt stepped forward and nodded. «Yes, ul’ptarze Troy. The information I received expands upon and corroborates that obtained by Kheer, except for two points, one of which the
human
may not have wished to advertise, and one which Kheer might not have heard. What is your pleasure, ul’ptarze Troy?»

«Details of the two points, Horsig.»

«At your pleasure, ul’ptarze Troy… First,
Llapaaloapalla
experienced an attack by the
dar ptith
a half-zul ago. The attack was beaten off by the courage, abilities, and equipment of the
human
, with casualties.»

«Aha… and the second point?»

Horsig glanced at Peters. «The individual called ‘Peteris’ was attacked by a gang of hoodlums. He and his companion dispatched their attackers rather handily, by the account I was given, but Peteris disappeared shortly thereafter, and is still missing.»

Ul’ptarze
Troy focused on Peters for a moment, then glanced at Fredik Fers. «It would appear that ipze Fers has made a series of mistakes,» he remarked.

Peters smiled. «Juniors make mistakes; it is inherent in the concept.»

«You may be well respected among the Grallt,» Troy observed with one of his wintry smiles, «but I don’t need your advice regarding supervision.» He spoke with enough wryness to take most of the sting out of the rebuke.

«Just so, ul’ptarze Troy.»

«The assessment is accurate none the less.» Troy glanced at Ander Korwits. «Ipze Peters, I am now confident that your story is in the main true, although I’m uncomfortably aware that several important details remain to be elucidated. Are you satisfied that we are not of the
dar ptith
, who attacked your ship and killed your fellows?»

«Yes, I am, ul’ptarze Troy, although like you I am aware that not everything has been explained.» He considered the officer with a level gaze. «When may I expect to be returned to
Llapaaloapalla
?»

«Not for some time, I’m afraid.» Elisin Troy tented his hands before his face again, looking over the structure at Peters, and smiled, the expression failing to reach his eyes. «You claim to be of a race unknown to us, but externally you are identical to one of the two most common bloodlines of the
dar ptith
.» He waved down the sailor’s objection before it got underway. «You have unexpected skills, and things in your possession that we don’t know the provenance or use of. Further clarification is required.»

«I wish to register a protest, ul’ptarze Troy,» Peters said without heat. «You have attacked and abducted me without provocation, and offered minimal reparations if any. Return me to my previous environment, please.»

«That may well be possible in the future.» Elisin Troy glanced at Ander Korwits, received the most minimal of nods. «This meeting is at an end. Ipze Peters, please go with de’ze Korwits; she and her staff have questions for you, of a nature not suitable for open discussion.»

«What sort of questions?»

«I believe you might consider them philosophical.»

Peters thought back to the book he had been reading. «I may not be able to properly elucidate any really complex philosophy,» he warned.

«The level at which you are able to answer will be highly indicative… Fers, you will go along to interpret.»

«That won’t be necessary,» said Ander Korwits in a musical voice, with a hint of amusement. The others were clearly amazed; Peters caught a glimpse of Jons, his jaw practically touching his chest, as the woman went on, «For a matter of this importance, direct communication is necessary.» She smiled and touched Peters on the chest. «Come along, ipze Peters, or Peteris, or whatever your name is. We will have tea, and discuss philosophy.»

* * *

«I have been behaving like an adolescent,» Ander said when they were seated in bowl-like chairs on thin stems. The chairs were grouped around a circular table with a white top; the table held a tea service, pot and cups made of glass so thin Peters was apprehensive handling them. The compartment sported a window, the first he’d seen outside the control deck, currently displaying Jivver in half phase.

«Why do you say that, de’ze Korwits?» Peters asked.

She laughed. Her voice was a clear alto, and her laugh was refreshing; the Grallt version seemed even more like choking or something mechanical in retrospect. «Don’t call me by my title,» she admonished. «Say ‘Ander’ or ‘Andy.’ What is your name among friends?»

«My friends call me ‘John’.» Peters smiled, a little apprehensively. «It remains to be seen whether or not I am among friends.»

She laughed again. «Never doubt it! And surely you noticed my behavior. Really, it’s disgraceful.» When he didn’t respond she–well, she giggled, and took a sip of tea, regarding him over the rim of the cup with a half-smile. «I believe you have indeed taken notice, and are too polite to be specific,» she observed.

Peters nodded. «I am among strangers, and wouldn’t care to be incited to inappropriate behavior.» The trip from
ul’ptarze
Troy’s office to here amounted to a hundred meters of corridor and two decks, and all during the walk she’d been touching him at any excuse, walking with a little too much hip-swing, glancing at him with averted sparkling eyes. He’d been on his guard. From the behavior of Troy and the others at the conference, this was a very important person, not someone to swing immediately into the sack… the prospect appealed anyway.

«Very wise, if not the best compliment you could have offered. I wonder what is affecting me? I assure you that I don’t flirt with every man who steps aboard.»

«I can well believe that.» Peters thought as he took a sip of tea. Late nights over pinochle came to mind… «I can offer a possible explanation, from the lore of my people.» Well, the lore of sailors’ bullshit sessions, anyway. They’d been talking about why it was that "pretty" didn’t matter much on liberty after a long cruise. He thought he remembered most of it.

«Say on,» she said with a smile. «Perhaps if I know what is happening I can counteract it.»

«Very likely, though as you mentioned the notion isn’t the best possible compliment.» She giggled again and gave a little wave, and Peters went on: «The highest imperative of an organism is to reproduce. That process is mediated by–» he searched for the word, finally used the English «–
genes
, small components of our bodies which direct its development. Are you familiar with this theory?»

She frowned. «I have read something similar, but only as speculation.»

«Hm… Our–» again he was forced into English «–
scientists
have established that this is in fact the case. Our bodies give off secretions, byproducts of the
genes
, which are specific to the individual, but also carry general information about the sex and health of the person.»

When he paused she waved him on. «Continue, please. This is interesting.»

Peters shrugged. «Next to the eyes, the nose is the organ most closely connected to the brain,» he pointed out. «Our nasal organs detect these substances, and the information carried by them is delivered to the brain, where they induce many reactions, including desire.»

She frowned. «If I follow you, I should react the same to any healthy male. I don’t; your theory is faulty.»

«Not necessarily. All the males you meet are from the same population; their
pheromones
–the word in our language for the substances–are strongly similar. You have become acclimatized to them, and don’t react.» He smiled. «Our two populations have clearly been separated for a long time; my
pheromones
are not at all similar to the ones you are accustomed to. Therefore you react.»

«Plausible… do you find me attractive on the same basis?»

Peters laughed. «Ander, I would find you attractive if you were sealed in a gas-tight bubble.»

«That is good to hear.» She took another sip of tea, grimaced, and set the cup on the table. «The tea set is beautiful, but it doesn’t keep the heat properly,» she complained. «The cup I use normally is much less elegant, but my tea doesn’t get cold so quickly. I’ll fetch it.»

She stood and walked out, and Peters took the opportunity to take a deep breath–still laden with pheromones, unfortunately, as well as the perceptible odor of human female–and look around. Thank God for the table between them. The room was paneled in pale tan material with no surface features but the seams between sections, and was lit by the ubiquitous fluorescent tubes, here diffused by gridworks of mirrored bars. In addition to the table and chairs, the room was furnished with a settee and an overstuffed chair, both white, with smooth surfaces. Two doors led back to the corridor and to wherever Ander Korwits had gone, probably her quarters… no, better not to follow that line of thought.

She was gone longer than necessary to fetch cups, and when she returned she walked with her back straight and fluid minimal movements; her face had reassumed the neutral immobility it had displayed during the conference with the
ul’ptarze
. With her came another female ferassi, young, a short blonde with undistinguished features and a masculine-like haircut parted on the left. The blonde carried a tray upon which were a ceramic teapot and four thick ceramic mugs like the ones many sailors used. She distributed the set, collected the beautiful thin glass ones, and left with economical motions, her entire interaction with Peters being confined to a single flashing glance laden with suspicion.

De’ze
Korwits seated herself and sat erect. «Further refreshment will be coming soon,» she said in a neutral tone. «This is likely to be an extended discussion. If your body functions require relief, make the necessity known and we will suffer a brief interruption. Serve yourself, if you would.»

Peters nodded and did so, reflecting that he was in no condition to suffer an extended interrogation. His headache had subsided, but he was conscious of an overall debility that would yield only to food and rest. Maybe the "further refreshment" would provide the first… he poured for himself and the
de’ze
. She acknowledged the courtesy with a bare nod, her expression not varying. Dolls were positively exuberant by comparison.

Two others entered the room: a blonde woman, tall, about the same age as Ander Korwits, with blue eyes so pale they were nearly white and hair cropped close to her head, and a shorter female with the same coloring as Korwits’s. The dark newcomer was older, mid-forties at a guess that was likely to be unreliable, but suffered not at all by comparison with her companions. The least that could be said of either of them was "beautiful", barring their expressions and manner, which were as neutral and dispassionate as the
de’ze
‘s.

They seated themselves as Ander Korwits made introductions: «Here are Alper Gor–» the blonde nodded perhaps a millimeter in acknowledgement «–and Luter Ander.» The older woman unbent to the extent of a twitch of the mouth that might have been a smile if completed. «Together we constitute the Council of Ulze of this pa’ol. They have been warned of the existence of
peromon
, and in addition the tea contains substances which enhance alertness and diminish the libido. We should be able to confer without extraneous interruptions.»

«Pleasant greetings,» Peters offered, receiving micrometric nods in return. Luter Ander poured tea and sipped; Alper Gor addressed a remark to Ander Korwits, and the two held a colloquy. At length the blonde woman faced him and said, «Disrobe,» in a voice totally devoid of emotional content. «I wish to make an inspection.»

Peters sat back in his chair. «I’m reluctant to do that,» he admitted.

«Do you have secrets to conceal?»

«Not that I know of, but the situation seems, ah, asymmetrical.» He looked from one woman to another. «Will you allow me a similar privilege? I believe I am owed equivalent assurances.»

There was a long pause. «Considered as a matter of equity, there is no reason to demur,» Alper Gor stated. «Will one be sufficient?» Was that a glint of humor on Ander Korwits’s face?

If so, it was fleeting. «I believe one will be enough, if I am assured of equivalence.»

«We have individual differences, of course, but the significant features should be identical,» Alper Gor declared. «You may inspect, with myself as the subject. Disrobe.»

Peters stood and complied. Alper Gor did the inspecting, as cooly and impersonally as a doctor’s examination and almost as detailed. She ignored his natural reaction, seeming to take it as a matter of course, and he made no attempt to suppress it. At length she straightened. «Enough,» she said. «You may clothe yourself.»