Temporary Duty (70 page)

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Authors: Ric Locke

BOOK: Temporary Duty
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He stood and took Alper Gor’s hand, then took the single step down from the pilot’s station to the main deck. «Come here,» he said gently. Ander rose, and he took both of them in the best hug he could manage. They came without resistance, molding their bodies to his, and he said softly, «It’s never good to see relatives die, even if you didn’t like them very much. I would have avoided that if possible, but there didn’t seem to be a way. You should mourn them. Even if you didn’t like them, they were still family.» Neither responded verbally, but Ander burrowed under his arm, and Alper pressed her face against his right shoulder. They stood that way for a long moment, and Peters felt a drop of warm moisture touch his right ear.

 

Chapter Forty-One

Peters sat in the control chair, mind in the condition he privately thought of as ‘neutral mode’. The spark ahead was almost big enough to resolve into the bulk of
Llapaaloapalla
. Ander Korwits and Alper Gor were aft, in one of the two cabins the smallship offered, crying, sleeping, waiting apprehensively, or some combination.

An object crossed his field of view, right to left, at a tremendous rate, leaving a subliminal impression of something dart-shaped. That generated a line of thought, his first in several
utle
, and he dug out the earbug and inserted it. "Green Three Seven," he said, the only call sign he’d ever been assigned. "Is anybody on th’ frequency?"

"Green Three Seven, Hornet Two Oh Two."
There was a pause.
"Petty Officer Peters, is that you?"
The woman sounded as if she were speaking conversationally from a few feet away, which meant the earbug’s batteries were still good. She must have been close by, because the earbugs had very limited range. That agreed with what he knew of fighter pilot training: get on the tail and close. If he could look back he could probably read the numbers on the bird.

"Yes, ma’am, it’s me. Uh, Two Oh Two, Green Three Seven, that’s affirmative, ma’am."

"Ha,"
she said, a short bark of amusement.
"Green Three Seven, I take it that you’re aboard the brick I just intercepted."

"That’s affirmative, Two Oh Two. Request permission to come aboard."

"Wait one, Green Three Seven."

"Roger, Two Oh Two, Green Three Seven is standin’ by."

There was a pause while the pilot–Travers, it was, if the first-line crews were flying CAP; Roper otherwise–checked over the UHF. At length she said,
"Permission not granted, Green Three Seven, repeat, permission
not
granted until you answer a few questions."

"Understood, Two Oh Two. Ask away."

"Is there anybody in earshot of you who speaks English?"

"No, ma’am, there ain’t. There ain’t nobody but me and two others aboard, and neither one of them speaks English. They ain’t here with me right now anyway."

"Then who’s flying that thing, Three Seven?"

"I am, ma’am. Uh, Two Oh Two, Green Three Seven is in control."

"He says he’s flying it."
The voice was incredulous, and Peters started to respond, then realized that the earbug had made an error. She’d been speaking into the UHF, and the processor hadn’t caught the redirection of her remarks. There was a pause, then,
"Green Three Seven, the last information we had was that you were missing from groundside. Commander Bolton wants to know what the–what happened."

"Well, ma’am, I reckon you could say I got abducted by space pirates," Peters said wryly. "I just now escaped and want to come home."

"Are the rest of the space pirates on your tail, Three Seven?"
The question wasn’t as sardonic as it might have been if the events of the last couple of months hadn’t happened.

"I reckon it’s possible, ma’am," Peters conceded. "I done shot one of ‘em down in the process of makin’ my escape, and I reckon the rest ain’t likely to be too happy about it."

"Understood, Three Seven."
Pause.
"They’re scrambling the ready CAP. Help is on the way."

"Yes, ma’am, and I’m grateful." He thought for a moment. "Anybody been keepin’ an eye on the ferassi trade ship that’s on orbit a hundred and twenty, maybe a hundred and fifty degrees ahead of us?"

"We’ve been watching, Three Seven. They had some activity a few hours ago, but nothing since."

"I reckon that ‘activity’ was me, then, Two Oh Two. If they ain’t done nothin’ since, probably there ain’t no reason to send out the birds ’til they do."

"Never hurts to be sure, Three Seven."

"There is that, ma’am."

"Sure is… That ship appears to be of the same pattern as the one that shot us up, and its weapons bays seem to be open. Care to comment, Three Seven?"

Oops. "Uh, Two Oh Two, that’s affirmative on the ship type." He scrambled out of the chair and down to the weapons control station. "Sorry about the weapons bays, we was doin’ somethin’ else and just forgot." He scanned the panel, trying to remember where the switches were, and spotted a set that looked right. "Two Oh Two, if I’ve done the right things the weapons bays ought to be closin’ up right now."

"That’s affirmative, Three Seven."
The yellow lights below the windshield went out, and Peters climbed back into the control chair.
"Check your velocity,"
the Hornet pilot said as he was doing so.
"Don’t get too close to the ship until we’ve resolved this."

"Aye aye, ma’am." He took the control and complied, thinking as he did so,
Shit. Navy-ass rigamarole when all I wanted was to get aboard and get some shut-eye.

The Hornet came into view from overhead, matching velocities and taking up station a few hundred meters ahead and a little to port and up. It rotated so that the canopy faced him and the figure inside raised its arm in greeting. Peters returned the gesture, realizing as he completed it that he had done so left-handed, like a Grallt, and the earbug said,
"I only see one person on the control deck, Three Seven. Is that you?"

"Two Oh Two, that’s affirmative." He raised an arm again, being careful to do so right-handed.

"Three Seven, you said there were two other persons aboard. I’d like to see them."

"Aye, ma’am, but I reckon they’re asleep right now," he told her. "It’ll take a couple minutes."

"Understood, Three Seven. Hornet Two Oh Two is standing by."

Peters sighed, headed aft, and knocked on the cabin door. «May I enter?» he called.

Ander Korwits had been crying; her face was still flushed, and her eyes were wet. «What do you need, John?» she asked. «We had a nap, but we were about to get up anyway.»

«The people from my ship are suspicious,» he said. «They want to see you before we can come aboard. I need for you to come forward to the control cabin and show yourselves.»

«Both of us?»

«Yes. I’m sorry. I didn’t expect there to be formalities.»

«That’s all right. Alper’s still asleep; I’ll get her.» She turned back into the cabin, returning in a few moments with Alper Gor, who had also been crying, the effects more prominent on her pale features.

Peters gathered them into another hug. «I hope this won’t take too long,» he said. «We all need sleep. Just come forward and show yourselves.» They took the few steps forward into the control cabin, and he said into the earbug, "Here are my passengers, Two Oh Two."

«What did you say?» Ander asked, and Peters had to wave her to silence as the earbug said,
"Spaaaaaace Pirates,"
with an extended sardonic lilt. He glanced to his right. Alper Gor had taken the instruction to "show herself" literally, and was disrobing, her
kathir
suit already down to her waist.
"I see you acquired some pirate treasure in the process of escaping,"
the Hornet pilot said, her tone laden with skeptical disapproval.

"Sorry ’bout that, ma’am, I told the ladies to show themselves to you, and Ms. Gor done mistaken my meanin’. Wait one, please, ma’am."

"Standing by,"
said the pilot.

«Put your suit back on,» he told Alper, who had peeled down as far as the knees. She looked up, surprise on her face, and Peters gestured out the viewport. «Dress yourself,» he repeated. «The person making inquries wishes only to know who is present. She doesn’t need or want that level of detail.»

Alper lifted her eyebrows questioningly but began pulling her suit up, and Ander grasped his elbow. «You’re speaking to the person operating that ship?» she asked, indicating the Hornet.

«Yes. The operator is a human female, one of my superiors in our precedence structure.»

«An
osfer
, if I remember.»

«
Officer
. Yes, that’s correct.»

«We wondered what that thing was,» she said, indicating his head and by implication the earbug. «So it’s a communication device. It’s hard to believe that anything so small could do that.»

«Yes,» Peters agreed. «It’s part of what we had hoped to sell, to earn ornh for spacecraft of our own.» He touched her shoulder. «Patience. I need to speak with my officer again.» She stood, doubt and a trace of fear on her features, and Peters touched her cheek with his forefinger and said into the earbug, "I been talkin’ to my passengers, Two Oh Two, and I reckon we got it straight now."

"Understood, Three Seven. Are these individuals in any way related to the unfortunates we found aboard the pirate ship?"

"That ain’t got a straight answer, ma’am." He thought for a split second. "I reckon you might call ‘em graduates of a similar program, ma’am, but they’re free individuals and are here of their own will."

"I’ll be checking on that, Three Seven. You might say I’ve got a personal interest."

"Any time, ma’am."

"I’ll hold you to that. You’re cleared to land, Three Seven. Don’t break anything."

"Understand that Green Three Seven is cleared to land, Hornet Two Oh Two. I’ll be careful."

The Hornet pilot returned the two tongue-clucks that substituted for clicking the mike button, and Peters looked first at Ander Korwits, then at Alper Gor. Alper had dressed herself, and Peters sighed. «Please be seated,» he said. «I’ve done this before, but this is a strange ship, and I’m not an expert. Be on your guard.»

They acknowledged with murmurs. A pair of Tomcats came into view, their velocity low relative to his own, drifting from overhead to stations ahead and to right and up. He viewed them with a combination of appreciation and disfavor. The help would certainly be both effective and welcome if needed, but he couldn’t help feeling a bit like an athletic performer with expert judges waiting on the sidelines to offer their evaluation of his performance. Wiping out against the aft face of the ship would surely be a one-oh or worse… he set himself.

Llapaaloapalla
was a distinct rectangle, and Peters began adjusting his vectors. He’d done this before, all right, and in the freight hauler, which was a good bit bigger than the ferassi auxiliary, but the controls were strange and the situation stranger, and he wanted to do it right. It took longer than it should have, and he had a couple of nervous moments when the landing-director lights broke into bars to indicate that he needed to make a course correction, but finally the boat flashed across the threshold into the retarder fields. He cut power and lowered to the deck, hitting with a crunch of abused sheet metal because the control position was higher than he was used to.

«It’s very different,» Ander whispered.

«It’s just a ship,» Alper contradicted, her nervous expression belying her bravado. «Will we have comfortable quarters, John?»

«I thought you could stay with me, at least for a while. My quarters are fairly comfortable, but you won’t have servants in the way you’re accustomed to.»

Ander looked alarmed. «Only for a while? What happens afterward?»

«Calm yourself,» Peters told her. «You can stay with me as long as you wish; that’s a personal promise from me to both of you. Never doubt that for a moment, but if I understand the usage correctly you have now joined the
human ptith
. We do things differently, and you have the power to decide for yourself where you sleep, not to mention who you sleep with.» He grinned. «You may very well find someone you like better.»

«I don’t think that’s very likely.»

«You haven’t met anyone else from our group yet… come. They’re waiting for us to come out, and they’ll get suspicious if we delay too long.»

* * *

«I like this one,» Ander said, fingering a bit of fabric, and Peters looked up to see what it was she thought well of.

«No, no,» Dee reproved. «It’s much too bright and garish.» There had been a little trouble when the Grallt girl was pressed into service as advisor in aesthetics. Ander and Alper had tended to treat her as a servant or worse, issuing brusque commands and being oblivious to her preferences.

That had lasted a
tle
or less. With two hundred sailors who regarded her as something between a trusted shipmate and a baby sister backing her up, Dee was a person of consequence and knew it. She’d handled the situation with grace and aplomb.

«But I like bright colors,» Alper objected. «Everything back home was so bland and dull.»

«Yes, so do I, but bright colors should be used as accents,» Dee explained reasonably. «You’ll be living here. If you make it garish with colors and designs you won’t be able to sleep or rest.»

Alper said something else, but Peters had gone back to his list-making. Their new apartment, in the luxury section at the bow, had four bedrooms and a central salon. The salon and two of the bedrooms had windows, with shutters that would be closed at High Phase. There were many things he might have imagined himself doing in outer space, but picking out window curtains hadn’t been on that list until very recently.

«There’s someone at the door,» Ander Korwits said. «Shall I respond?»

«Yes, if you don’t mind,» Peters told her absently, entering another item on the list: pillows.

«Alper, get out of sight,» Ander instructed sternly, and Dee covered her mouth with her hand, eyes dancing. The blonde woman giggled and sauntered toward the bedchambers, and Peters almost involuntarily followed her with his eyes. After much negotiation Alper Gor had consented to cover herself in public, but refused to do so within their living quarters. «You say I am a free person, able to make my own choices,» she’d pointed out with mischievous logic. «I choose to go bare. I find it comfortable, and besides, it’s an advantage to you. It unsettles your visitors and puts them at a disadvantage in discussions.» The "unsettles" part was certainly true. He thought, ultra-privately, that Ander was prettier, but a meter eighty of streamlined blonde in the altogether tended to have an effect on guests, especially male guests, more commonly associated with blunt instruments.

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