Temporary Duty (36 page)

"Yes, Master Chief."

"I sincerely hope so, because if we have to have a little talk like this again, you are going to be in deep shit, do you understand that, Petty Officer Peters?"

"Yes, Master Chief."

"All right, you’re dismissed, Peters." Joshua gave him the once-over. "I see you dressed for the occasion, and I do appreciate the thought, but you skin back into your deck gear and shag ass down to your station. Flight ops’ll be starting soon."

"Aye, Master Chief."

"Get your ass out of here."

Peters nodded and got. Back in his room, he shook for a few moments with reaction, then got out of his undress blues and into green jumper, dungaree trousers, and the rest of it. He shook his head, left his blues in a heap on his bunk, and headed below. He’d have time to think about this later.

* * *

The operations bay had been rearranged, with tubby enkheil ships in nose-out echelon along the outboard wall and human planes arranged the same way inboard. Human pilots filed out of their quarters hatch, formed their column of twos, and marched in step across the bay, taking up stations at the nose of each aircraft. The arrangement put the boarding ladders out of sight; at a barked signal the crews saluted, doubled around the noses, and began saddling up. Enkheil Combat Dancers stood against the wall forward of their ships, black alternating with white, wings partially extended, watching with interest.

They knew more, now, about the enkheil. The batlike people had a long history of bloody war, and had eventually solved the problem by turning the whole concept into an art form. Few enkheil were ever killed in their performances, but it did happen, and apparently they didn’t worry too much about it, regarding an occasional casualty as an inevitable byproduct, regrettable but not tragic. Khrog Dhakgo’s company was considered (by themselves, at least) to be at the top of the list of performers in the dance of war, specializing in the airborne version.

When all the aircrews were strapped in, the planes began moving slowly, canopies open, directed by enlisted in yellow shirts with light wands. Chief Warnocki stood well forward, wearing the yellow jumper of a catapult officer; they didn’t have, or need, catapults, but as each plane reached a point even with the officers’ quarters hatch the canopies closed, the pilot saluted, Chief Warnocki returned the salute, and the plane accelerated down the bay, turning into a point of light in space.

When all the planes were clear the Combat Dancers began boarding their tubby ships, moving in a simplified version of the ruffles and flourishes they’d used when disembarking. Khrog Dhakgo stood across the bay from Warnocki, wings half extended, his head turning from side to side as he supervised the action. Ghnal Dhango was aft, standing by Howell. Each retarder console had its human crew and a pair of enkheil, ready to trade off according to which type of ship was to be recovered. The two at Retard Three had no Trade beyond "hello," "goodbye," and "please;" they communicated by hand signals, demonstrated by Ghnal with translation by Peters, sour looks contributed by Howell. The enkheil flourish meaning "it’s all yours" was similar to the one humans used, but more spectacular with its accompanying flirt of a wing.

When all the enkheil ships had launched, moving gracefully but without the extraneous business of ground-guides and salutes, Chief Joshua announced a two-
utle
standdown over the deck push. "Stay near your stations in case of emergency, but take it easy," he advised. Ghnal Dhango made a short speech in the staccato enkheil language, probably amounting to the same thing since the other enkheil seemed to relax, some leaning against the open bay door, others gathering in small groups to chat, just like the sailors.

«That was impresssive,» said Ghnal. Peters hadn’t noticed her approach and started a bit, and she grinned and continued, «The business with the wands, and the little ceremony with each ship, make a different dance, and a very nice one. I’m sure Khrog will want to copy it. Dhnangkhi’s Company will be envious when next we meet.»

Peters had to admit that the enkheil had something of a point. The care necessary to move multiton vehicles around in a restricted area did result in something that looked very much like a performance. Flight ops on the carrier are dirty, noisy, and dangerous; without engine noise, intakes to suck you in, or jet blast to knock you ass over teakettle, this was pretty. «It is our normal procedure,» he said with a little shrug. «The men with wands guide the ships, because the operators cannot see well enough to do it safely.» He paused, looked around. Several sailors were eyeing the two, among them Howell, who was scowling. «Ghnal, I have been instructed by my superiors to avoid contact with you. They don’t think it’s appropriate for a junior like myself to associate with those of high status.»

«Yes, that Grallt–Dreelig?–said something like that. Foolishness,» Ghnal declared. «But I understand that you must follow their directives, so I won’t cause you any trouble.» She grinned, shrugged, and flirted a wing. «Remember our invitation.»

«I’m afraid I won’t be able to visit,» Peters said. «Partly because of my superiors’ directives, but mostly because the ship will be leaving immediately after the ship-dance is concluded.»

«That’s a pity.» She touched him on the shoulder. «But I predict a great future for your people. Perhaps you will visit Keelisika again, and then you can visit.»

«I suppose that isn’t impossible,» Peters admitted.

Ghnal laughed. «Very few things are actually impossible,» she said. «Some of them are improbable. But if you are ever able to accept the invitation, be confident that it will still be extended.» She nodded and popped her wings, like the salute Khrog Dhakgo had given the Chief. «Now I will take myself off, so as not to get you in trouble.»

Peters watched her go with mixed emotions. The invitation seemed sincere, and absent the Master Chief’s specific injunction he would have taken it with pleasure. On the other hand, he wasn’t sure he was ready to be by himself on a world full of aliens, even if he could have stretched the invitation to include Todd.

Howell gave him another scowl, and Jacks and Rupert were eyeing him speculatively. He gave the latter two a shrug and grimace, and they turned and shrugged at one another. Ghnal Dhango went to the aft end of the row of retarders, conspicuously avoiding Howell, and took up a closed stance, wings furled around her torso. Peters snorted and pretended to check the retarder console.

The aft lookout reported ships approaching right on time. Master Chief Joshua confirmed it over the deck push, and Peters and the other humans took their stations; human ships would trap first. They busied themselves with crosschecks as the sparks grew aft. With little to actually do, they were easily ready before the first Tomcat flashed into the bay with only a subsonic whisper from the retarder fields. The rest followed with the usual precision; once the 210 bird was taxiing into position against the inboard wall they moved away from the consoles. Furred, winged aliens took over their posts, and the enkheil ships trapped in turn, with almost equal flair.

Humans emerged from the planes and took up position at the noses, as they had when launching. Enkheil extruded their ladders, and the Combat Dancers emerged, to perform a routine similar in principle but different in detail from the one they’d done when they boarded, ending with all of them in deep bows, with wings furled like cloaks. Human officers saluted sharply, and Commander Bolton stepped forward to make a half-bow; the Dancers took that as a signal to rise, and both groups formed their columns and proceeded toward their quarters.

"Well, that’s that," said Jacks with a satisfied air. "Our guys won."

"How do you figure that?" Peters asked. "We ain’t heard nothin’ about it yet."

Jacks shrugged. "Why do we need to? What with the wings and all, what they did at the end had to be admitting they lost. Pretty damn elegant, I thought."

"You’re probably right," Peters admitted, eyeing the other sailor sidelong as the Master Chief announced the end of the evolution. "Time for chow," he told his crew when the announcement was done. "Me for a shower first, though."

Rupert plucked at his jumper. "Sheeit," he said. "The rubber long johns take care of that well enough for me. I’m gonna get out of this deck gear, though."

"Right," said Peters. "See you in the chow hall." Rupert nodded, and he and Jacks headed off, Jacks swiveling his head around, probably looking for Se’en. Peters lingered for a few moments; that gave him a chance to nod at Ghnal as she passed. She returned the nod and added a wing flip, but didn’t say anything. "And that’s that," Peters said to himself, and followed the others toward the enlisted quarters.

Todd was in the shower when he got there, so Peters stripped off his deck gear, pulled his
kathir
suit down around his waist, and sat on his bunk to wait. It didn’t take long to shower when his turn came, because Rupert was right; the suit took care of things like perspiration. Todd waited and went with him to chow, wanting to know what had gone on that had the brass excited. Peters explained the best he could. "They’re nice folks," he concluded. "Wasn’t for the Master Chief gettin’ his balls in a uproar, we coulda had a nice forty-eight."

Todd snorted. "Fat chance," he opined. "I suppose the officers’ll get to go."

"You know, I don’t think so," Peters said. "Just a feelin’."

That got a grin, shrug, and grimace from Todd. "You say it."

This was first
ande
for the Grallt, second for the humans. The schedule was for an
ande
of off-time, then a second mock-combat session; the second session came off on schedule and without a hitch, with the same conclusion as the first. Ghnal Dhango stayed by the Number One console during the entire evolution, conspicuously ignoring Howell to the extent possible and paying little visible attention to anything except the business at hand. At the end she was escorted away by Chief Spearman, to join Khrog Dhakgo and disappear into the officers’ quarters hatch.

Very shortly after that the enkheil boarded their ships for the last time, the Combat Dancers doing another skit as the support crews climbed into their transports, fatter versions of the combat ships with windows–or rather, round portholes–down the side. Neither Ghnal Dhango nor Khrog Dhakgo tried to speak to Peters, or even acknowledge him beyond Ghnal’s parting nod as she joined her mate aboad the lead transport. Peters was relieved, but had to admit a little disappointment.

And, well, a little resentment, too, he was forced to admit, at least to himself. He thought about that as he helped boom Tomcats down; scuttlebutt had it that they’d be leaving soon, and Chief Warnocki didn’t know if that was right or not but didn’t want to leave anything to chance. Maybe even a lot of resentment. He thought about it some more as he showered and dressed for chow. Oh, well, the Navy was the Navy; you could do a lot of things, but bucking the system wasn’t one of them.

About the time he’d reached that conclusion Cleeves was banging on his door with a summons to attend the Master Chief. The runner had arrived with news from the bridge: High Phase would begin at the next
ande
, only a few minutes away. Their next destination was called Zenth, whatever and wherever that was. He thanked the runner, who took herself off, and shared a shrug with the Master Chief. There was nothing strange here but the funny-looking people. When you’re in the Navy, you go where the boat goes.

When he got back to his room there was a surprise waiting; a package wrapped in brown cloth and tied with soft string. Todd professed ignorance. "One of the Grallt, the regular ones, not the
zerkre
, brought it by and said it was for you."

"So what is it?"

Todd shrugged. "Damifino. Open it up, then we’ll both know."

The contents of the package was a statuette about thirty centimeters high, depicting a male-female pair of Combat Dancers in the pose they’d used at the end of their routine when they first came aboard: male crouching, female erect, both with wings spread. The material was some kind of wood, dark brown with a green tinge, and the artist had used the grain of the wood to emphasize the lines of the dancers’ wings. "Damn, that’s pretty," Todd observed. "What’s the note say?"

Peters hadn’t noticed the note, a slip of folded paper, creamy white with some kind of design or logo embossed on the front.
Keep us in mind
, it said in Grallt, and there was a squiggle below that, probably somebody’s signature. He read it to Todd. "As if I could forget any of this shit," he said softly.

"Look at it this way," Todd suggested. "You’ve made at least one friend."

Peters snorted. "Yeah, and a whole bunch of enemies, I reckon, and the enemies are a lot closer. Whoa, here we go."

Llapaaloapalla
had been maneuvering as they spoke, stars flitting across the window in jumps and skips; there came the odd decelerating sensation of entry to High Phase, with the same special effects they’d seen before. Peters looked at the statuette in his hand for a long moment, then carefully set it in one of his locker cabinets, slipping the note under the base.

"You ought to keep it out to look at," Todd objected. "It’s pretty."

"Nah," Peters said, and latched the cabinet. "It’d just collect dust. I’ll take it out from time to time, but there ain’t no need to be too obvious about it."

Todd shrugged. "It’s your statue."

Kennard and Tollison started the exercise sessions back up as soon as possible. Peters joined in as something to do more than anything else; most of the others seemed to feel the same way. The Grallt, not given to mincing words, called it "dance class". Peters forebore to explain that to anybody. Tollison would have laughed; he didn’t know Kennard much.

Their diet started changing. The first new item to appear was a cloudy pink beverage; Zeep brought them each a glass without being asked and bustled off. Todd tasted it cautiously. "Milk," he diagnosed. "Kind of a funny flavor, but not bad." Peters tasted and agreed.