Temporary Duty (76 page)

A few Grallt dropped by from time to time: Prethuvenigis, of course, and Deela, both of whom spoke English well, and Khurs and Dzheenis, who were learning in the same way Ander and Alper were. Heelinig and Dhuvenig came, by special invitation; they couldn’t follow the conversations, and Dhuvenig used the time to renew his acquaintance with Deela. The surprise was Peet, now called Peetir, which she thought was funny bordering on hilarious. She brought her new mate, a
zerkre
called Gerig, and showed surprising ability in English. "Been learning electricity from sailors," she said carefully. "I say ‘thank you’ for advice you gave. Worked OK." Her figure was swelling, so something was working.

Peters copied the sign by his door in the Trade, and added a line:

Tonight we will speak

with a movable strip underneath that could be changed to read either "English" or «Trade». He changed it in regular alternation, and the humans who came on Trade-speaking nights began gaining fluency by leaps and bounds.

At first all the humans who attended were enlisted, but at Warnocki’s suggestion he sent a written note via Deela inviting the officers as well, signing it "John Peters" with no indication of rank. Not many showed up, and it was a little surprising which ones did. Goetz and Williams came as a pair, and were cordial, friendly, and easy to get along with; the women of VFA-97 came in small groups, but neither of the commanders accepted the invitation, and of the men only Goetz, Dr. Steward, and a lieutenant called Jerry Wills, who was trying to learn Trade, stopped by.

Steward was a puzzle. He had introduced himself as "Jack," answered to that at table, and was an excellent dinner companion, cheerful and witty. He came regularly at Trade-speaking meals and was making excellent progress. Peters had first met him at airsuit fitting, and thought him a self-important ass; he had no idea what the doctor would have testified about the nekrit matter at a court. He’d never had occasion to visit the infirmary, but those who had thought it well run.

At one meal Peters, having drunk a little more than he should have, decided to recite a poem he’d enjoyed from one of the books he’d read. The Trade lended itself well to alliteration, and the poem was not only a tongue-twister, it was funny. It was a success: the ones who understood it laughed ’til tears came. Afterward Steward had come up to him and asked, "John, do you think the ladies would like for me to examine them? Pregnancies can have complications." He’d looked wistful. "You know, when I volunteered for this I imagined myself curing aliens and learning strange biochemistry. OB/GYN work at least has happier endings than autopsies and patching up broke sailors."

It reminded Peters of Todd. He suggested it to the girls, who could make their own arrangements; shortly Steward was around every few days, not just at meals. He reported all was well, and talked Khurs into a physical that puzzled the Hell out of her. Peters shook his head. He still had a funny feeling about this.

* * *

To Peters’s astonishment, bordering on shock, he found himself the fourth wealthiest individual aboard
Llapaaloapalla
, although the bulk of his assets were tied up in the ferassi smallship. If Todd’s estate–which was by no means contemptible: some cash, a block of shares, and a half-interest in a smallship
zifthkakik
–was considered, Peters was third by a whisker. Dzheenis spent three
llor
poking around in the Trade offices and came away indignant. «Do you have any idea what they’ve been charging you for management?» he demanded.

Peters was bemused. «No. I never thought to inquire.»

«Ssth. Let me put it this way: you can pay the rent on this space, give me and Khurs a nice raise, and still be under two-thirds of what they’ve been taking out. It’s disgraceful.» The big Grallt eyed his
de’pa’olze
sidelong.

«Ssth. Allowances must be paid in cash, and we don’t have much cash income. Instead of a raise I’ll grant you each a quarter square of trade shares.»

Dzheenis grinned. «I consider that a totally acceptable compromise.»

Further digging in the archives uncovered another surprise. Peters, it appeared, owned not one spacecraft but two. «Well, you have a half-interest,» Dzheenis explained. «The other half belongs to your deceased comrade.»

«You must mean the nekrit fighting-ship,» Peters observed. «I hadn’t thought about it in zul. You say it’s considered my property? Mine and Todd’s, that is?»

Dzheenis shrugged. «They’ve been charging you rent for storing it.»

«It was defective. That’s why it’s here, after all.»

«Perhaps so.» The ferassi-Grallt mused for a moment, pinching his lower lip in his characteristic gesture. «I believe I’ll have a chat with one of the Engineering zerkre. Surely someone can tell us if it’s repairable.»

The report, a
llor
later, was that the only thing wrong with the ugly little ship was total lack of maintenance. «It’s ugly, crude, and filthy, and stinks of uncleaned organics,» said Gerig, whom Dzheenis had hired for the survey. «I wouldn’t bother to repair it. Pull out the zifthkakik and weapons, yank the control system and navigation instruments, and toss the hulk out. A complete smallship set is worth many ornh almost everywhere.»

«Do that, then.» Peters smiled. «Do you mind working with
humans
?»

«I don’t know,» Gerig confessed. «I’ve never done it. Peetir is the cosmopolitan.»

«I’ll get a crew together. It’ll take longer, but they should leap at the chance to do a complete teardown and learn how the controls are connected.» Peters looked at the
zerkre
with a wry grin. «Best of all, I won’t have to pay them.»

Gerig laughed. «Kh kh! Spoken like a true Trader. No, I don’t mind, but we’ll need an interpreter.»

«I’ll get one of the stewards. I’ll have to pay him.»

The predicted leap to volunteer duly occurred. Both Grallt and humans complained about the stink, but the result was a complete smallship outfit and a set of instructions for how to connect it all up. Dhuvenig came down to observe, and made arrangements for a close pass on a star with no known planets so that the hulk could be disposed of as thoroughly as possible. Despite his joking declaration Peters did pay the enlisted men who’d worked on the project, but didn’t even mention the possibility to the officers who’d come to watch.

* * *

Kraatna was a trade stop only; the inhabitants had a few spacecraft, but were largely planetbound and relatively primitive, and didn’t maintain anything resembling a military. They wanted to sell foodstuffs, handicrafts, and precious metals; they wanted to buy medium-tech building fittings–electric lights, plumbing, and the like–and space hardware.
Llapaaloapalla
had plenty of both tucked away in what had originally been the port operations bay, and Peters got to see that area for the first time. He could have spent all his waking hours there, looking at goods mundane and exotic, familiar and strange, but Prethuvenigis insisted that he be in on the trade talks, and it was, after all, just a warehouse.

He participated fully in the negotiations, which made Prethuvenigis smile and earned him questioning looks from the other traders in the group. So far as he could tell he did a workmanlike job of it, staying quiet most of the time, commenting only when he found some item he thought would be marketable on Earth, or saw some aspect of the deal he wasn’t sure of.

The Kraatnans were a new part of the trade network; they looked like semi-erect alligators, but they were clearly of the kree. Their language translated as readily as kheis or n’saic, and their biochemistry was highly compatible. One of the items they offered was a coarse powder called
zishis
, used either as a condiment or as the main flavor ingredient in several dishes. Peters tasted it, and immediately made arrangements for one of the dishes, a sweet concoction of berries seasoned with
zishis
, to be served at dinner. "Oh!" said Vanessa Williams after a tentative taste, and devoured the spoonful. "Ohhhhmigod. Is there more?" Similar reactions went up and down among the humans, and Peters smiled to himself and ordered a ton of the stuff. It looked as if chocolate might have acquired a competitor.

«That seems to have gone well,» he remarked to Prethuvenigis on the way back up to
Llapaaloapalla
.

«Yes, I think so,» the Trader agreed with a nod. He shifted in his seat, and turned to face Peters. «John, there are a couple of things I’ve been wanting to talk to you about, and now seems a good time.»

Peters shrugged. «Certainly. What’s on your mind?»

«The financial affairs of the
human
detachment are becoming a problem for us, so I’m passing them along to you. It will mean you’ll have to hire more staff.»

«In what way does it constitute a burden? I’d have thought they were minor compared to your other activities.»

«They are, but we believe it would be better to separate your people’s affairs from ours well in advance of our arrival at Earth, and placing a
human
in charge will make it less likely that suspicion of mismanagement will arise.»

«Let me speak with Dzheenis before I make any commitments. It will be necessary to involve the officers, because from their point of view it is their charge to manage the affairs of the detachment.»

Prethuvenigis shrugged. «You know best what the requirements are, which is a large part of the reason you’re the best one to take the responsibility. You won’t lose by it, financially I mean. You can and should take a reasonable management fee.»

«Yes, Dzheenis has explained to me about management fees… you said there were two matters.»

«I’d like to lease your ship. It would be ideal for some errands I have in mind.»

Peters looked up, startled. The little ship sat in the number-two hangar, being swarmed over by human and
zerkre
technicians anxious to acquaint themselves with the secrets of ferassi technology. It had two "first class" cabins each of which could accommodate three in a pinch, bunks for a half-dozen working people, and a sizeable cargo hold; it was almost twice as fast as
Llapaaloapalla
, was armed to the teeth, and didn’t have to be buttoned up in front for high phase–altogether a nice little yacht. After seeing it Mannix, who was from Connecticut, had started calling Peters "John Jacob." «How long would you expect to need it?» he asked the Trader.

«Approximately two zul.» Prethuvenigis smiled slightly. «I had intended to wait until our next stop. Hegghi is a nexus, where I could charter one of the smaller Trade ships for the trip I have in mind. Deela suggested I talk to you, and she’s right. Not only is your ship faster, I wouldn’t have to deal with a strange crew.»

«I can see that… once again, I will need to speak to Dzheenis. Among other things, we’ll have to decide on what I should charge you.»

Prethuvenigis grinned. «You’re learning,» he observed, his tone a mixture of amusement and approval. «Consult, by all means, but if you could give me an answer before the end of the llor I would greatly appreciate it.»

«I’ll have an answer for you as soon as possible,» Peters replied, «but I can’t commit to a specific schedule. You do realize that I’ll want the ship back well before we arrive at Earth?»

«Oh, of course.» Prethuvenigis shook his head, still smiling. «As I had intended to do it, it would have been hard for me to complete my errands before
Llapaaloapalla
arrived at Earth. If I can use your ship I’m quite sure I can finish up in time to meet
Llapaaloapalla
at Keelisika.»

* * *

Prethuvenigis’s deputy, a woman called Henarigis, watched as Peters and Dzheenis supervised a freshly-recruited group of Grallt collecting the records for transport. «If you’re going to be managing the financing, you can do the coordination as well,» she said. «The records are over there. I’m sick of the whole project.» She didn’t even haggle when he proposed a management fee.

That made Deela, Dreelig, and the stewards his employees. Tullin found a new place for them, much larger and with two inner rooms. Dreelig stayed where he was, but Deela was soon installed in the other office. Khurs and Dzheenis held court for Peters in the main office, with Khurs acting as receptionist and Dzheenis as office manager; Se’en and a male Grallt called Pisig, once one of the stewards, performed the same functions for Deela, and twenty clerks occupied the remainder of the room. Peteris–he thought of himself that way, here–acquired a desk that seemed the size of an aircraft carrier at first, soon covered with paperwork, and a swivel chair with a high back and arms.

If he’d been home he’d have had to wear a tie. Fortunately the Grallt had never invented the things.

It meant that he had to deal with Commander Bolton on almost a daily basis. That wasn’t a pleasure for either of them, but Bolton seemed most affected. "I’m not taking orders from any jumped-up enlisted man," he declared.

"You ain’t takin’ orders from an enlisted man," Peters pointed out, keeping his temper reined in by main force. "You’re takin’ orders from the folks that hired you. It so happens that it’s my job to pass those orders on to you, and it ain’t no bigger pleasure for me than it is for you."

Bolton’s flush wasn’t evident, but his sour expression was. "Bullshit. I’ll hear that from Dreelig or Prethu- whatever, the bossman."

"Prethuvenigis ain’t here. Dreelig?"

The "ambassador" flushed in turn. "I’m afraid he’s right, Commander. Peters has been assigned as coordinator between the detachment and the Trade organization. He is my direct superior."

"Peters," Bolton growled, "is a U.S. Navy Petty Officer Second Class who has gotten very confused." He focused his gaze on the person in question. "You do know you’re going to wind up in front of a Court when we get home, don’t you?"

"No, Commander, I ain’t all that sure that’s so, though you say it. I ain’t been in the Navy for a matter of two months now; this here’s my civilian job." Peters held the officer’s eyes. "Worst comes to worst, all I have to do is not get off the ship when we get home."

"Planning to abandon your country and your people, are you?"