by Ric Locke
“Look on the bright side,” Peters advised. “No skivvies to wash, anyways.”
“Hunh. You’re right, of course, but I’m not looking forward to trying to keep uniforms looking good for two years,” said Todd crossly. “Especially dungarees. And do we wear boondockers, or not?”
“Not,” Peters decided after a moment. “Dreelig, you can tell ‘em they mark up the deck or something.”
“I can do that.” Dreelig smiled. “We will meet another time, ke?”
“Yeah,” Peters agreed. “See you later.”
* * *
Showered, shaved, and spiffed, they were down in the bay in plenty of time. They set up their little group near the aft end of the midships hangar bay door and waited.
Dee led the officers out the forward door of their quarters, where they formed a double file and marched toward the planes. A pair split off to stand by each Hornet. “Oh, shit, we shoulda had a working party to take the ladders down,” Peters groaned, but that had been thought of. Pilots boarded, and the other officer in each pair took the ladder down and stowed it. They then doubled across to the Tomcats, where they did the same. Canopies sighed down and clamped, and one by one, the Tomcats backed up a few feet, then turned forward down the centerline of the bay.
That brought the first one abreast of Donollo, who was standing, smiling benignly, a little in front of the group. Commander Bolton presented a salute, the best possible in flight suit, helmet, and gloves; Donollo responded by raising his left arm, nodding, and lowering the arm like a waiter showing someone to a table. Bolton brought his hand back down, and the Tomcat shot off down the bay, catching the sunlight, turning into a spark, then gone.
The others repeated the ritual in turn, Donollo putting in a magnificent performance as a catapult officer, the pilots following along because it closely resembled what they were used to. When the last Hornet was away, Donollo said something in a soft voice, making Dreelig laugh.
“Thank God they’re gone,” said Dee, and both sailors looked at her. “We don’t believe in that way,” she said, smiling, “but the phrase seemed appropriate.”
“Real appropriate,” Peters assured her.
“Very well done, everyone,” said Dreelig. He was also smiling. “And now, rest if you can. The second group will arrive sometime after the middle of the next ande.”
* * *
Five utle later they were again standing in the ops bay, watching sparks assemble aft.
These weren’t nearly so spiffy. All of them hit the bay opening without breaking anything, but the sailors winced several times. Todd, who had watched a lot of flight ops, thought they might have been better off to pick up the tempo a bit. A slow approach gave lots of time for minor corrections, and the paths were crooked as a snake’s track because most of the corrections were from nerves. It took over an utle to complete the evolutions with the ladders, and one pilot almost fell when the ladder, not properly secured, slumped to rest against the aerodynamic strake below the cockpit.
Forming up and marching was within their capabilities. Donollo said something, Dreelig repeated what he’d said before, and the sailors stood at attention and saluted at the right places. They were wearing undress blues over the kathir suits, and nobody paid them much attention.
“I’m Lieutenant Commander Carlyle,” the leader told Dreelig. “As you can see, we need a lot more practice to be good enough.”
“Senior Donollo thought you did very well,” said Dreelig generously, after translating that for Donollo and getting a reply. “I introduce Dee. She will show you to your quarters.” Dee gave him a black look and stepped to the front, and the company marched off across the bay, keeping rather better intervals than the first-line crews had.
They had filled out the welcoming party with half of the stewards, the ones who had helped out with unloading personal gear before. “All right, you know what to do,” Peters told them, then in Grallt, “Work you know. Do.” Peer grinned and nodded, gabbled at the rest of the group, and headed for the first Hornet. Peters and Todd sighed and looked at one another.
“These will remain only long enough to be measured for kathir suits,” Dreelig commented. “They must return for their free day, if I understand correctly.”
“It’s a free day for everybody. Thanksgiving.” Peters looked sour. “Good and bad. We gotta work harder, but it’ll be over with sooner.”
“Yes, that is all true,” said Dreelig. “I must go.”
“Aye, aye,” said Peters loudly. Dreelig looked startled, then amused, and went to collect the first group to be measured. The two sailors bore a hand with the unloading, fetching, and carrying.
The alternates were less standoffish than the primaries had been, to the extent that they were willing to accept the two enlisted men as guides and for familiarization with the facilities. All of their guides and advisors, including the stewards, were grateful for that. It meant they could take turns for naps of a few utle without leaving the officers to their own devices, and the officers themselves went down during fourth ande to be fresh for the trip. It wasn’t enough, but it was something.
Only about two-thirds of the pilots saluted Donollo as they departed, but “the Senior” raised his arm and beamed at each and every one of them, exactly as he had done for the first group. When they were finally away Peters and Todd were at least as beat as they had ever been, and Dee and Dreelig were wilting too. “Thank God they”re gone,” Todd said to Dee, and she just smiled tiredly and flapped a hand at him.
Chapter Ten
“There is more that you need to know about the operation of the ship, so that you can instruct your associates when they arrive,” Dreelig told them over the second meal. They’d skipped the first, sleeping in; after all, it was Thanksgiving. “And we need to consult with Znereda about how you can best assist him with language instruction for the stewards.” He looked at his watch and frowned. “Znereda will not be available until the fourth ande. We should proceed with instruction. It should not take long.”
“Lead on,” said Peters.
Dreelig led them to the ops bay, then aft. The sailors got a bit apprehensive as they approached the open door, but the deck continued flat to the threshold, with no structure similar to the “round-down” of the aircraft carrier. Hefty pegs on top and bottom of the door held bearings that ran in slots that crossed the door opening, curving to continue parallel to the midships structure. Four low consoles stood next to the guide slot, spaced ten meters apart, in a row parallel to the ship’s centerline. “These are the retarder controls,” Dreelig explained.
“Retarder controls?” Peters said with a frown as he and Todd bent to examine one. Like the control panel of the dli, it was sparsely populated: a pair of large knobs, two backward-reading meters, and little else.
“The retarders are used to slow incoming ships,” Dreelig told them. “I don’t fully understand it myself. The controls must be set for the mass and speed of the incoming vessel.”
“Arrestin’ gear,” said Peters with a nod and a grin. “I been runnin’ arrestin’ gear damn near eight years now. I reckon I can learn a new type.”
“You may know more about it than I do,” Dreelig confessed.
“Probably,” said Todd in a matter-of-fact tone. “Why doesn’t one of the regular crew come and explain it while you translate? It’s not convenient for you to be running back and forth every time we have a question you can’t answer.”
Dreelig looked alarmed. “What do you mean, the regular crew?” he demanded. “We are all crew, yourselves included.”
“Look, Dreelig, no offense and all that, but you couldn’t run this ship with a gun at your head,” Todd told him calmly. “Just about anything we want to know, you’ve never troubled yourself to ask about. There have to be tech types who run the ship while you traders go along for the ride.” He shrugged. “You called them ‘the ship people’ a while ago. We saw some down tending the engines. They wear blue and white on their suits.”
/> “You have seen the engines?” Dreelig was thunderstruck. “I have lived on Llapaaloapalla for four eights of uzul, and I have never seen the engines. I do not know how to reach them anyway.”
“Yeah,” said Peters. “You stick to your own knittin’ while the others get on with gettin’ their jobs done. That’s a good way to work, but it’s got limits.” He glanced sidelong at Todd. “In this here case, we’re gonna need to know quite a bit about these controls. Todd’s right, we better have a tech type around to answer questions.”
“You make a good point.” Dreelig stood, frowning, right arm across his breast, chin supported by the knuckles of his left hand. “But this arrangement has not been made. It will be a little difficult.”
“Can’t see why,” Todd pointed out.
“Yes, there is no reason you should know or understand,” said the Grallt calmly. “Perhaps you should go back to your quarters. I will meet you there after I speak with the others.”
“You got it,” said Peters. “This is likely to take a while, I gather.”
“Yes. Several utle, at least.”
“Then we’ll probably fool around for a while,” Peters told him. “If you don’t find us in our quarters, just come on down, we’ll probably be here.”
“Yes, that is a satisfactory arrangement.” Dreelig nodded and hurried off,looking concerned.
When he was out of sight, Peters turned to Todd. “That was a Hell of a surprise to pull on your old buddy Peters.”
“Sorry.” Todd spread his hands. “I just now thought of it, actually. All the people in the engine room were dressed alike, and there have to be tech types around somewhere, but I just now made the final connection.” He looked at Peters. “Makes sense, though.”
“Damn right it makes sense. I’d've liked a little more warnin’, is all.”
“Yeah, like I said, it just now came to me.”
Peters looked at the controls for a moment, then turned away. “Ain’t no point in hangin’ around here. We don’t know what the adjustments are, and we ain’t gonna find out until somebody tells us.”
Todd sighed. “So we wait.”
Third meal came and went without Dreelig showing up, and they idled around their quarters until time for the next one rolled around. Fourth meal was a surprise: no choices today, everybody got turkey and dressing and all the usual trimmings. Highly appropriate down below, but the Grallt seemed a bit dubious. Todd saw one lift a sporkfull of cranberry sauce and look at it suspiciously; he pointed it out to Peters, and the two shared a chuckle.
After the meal they ambled back to quarters. The bay doors were open, fore and aft both, and the bow was pointed at the sun, making it hard to look in that direction and throwing long shadows from the rubble and clutter. That made it easy to find, and left them more dismayed than before at the sheer quantity of it.
It was about two utle, and seemed like a lot longer, before there was a knock on Peters’s door. He had been lounging on his bunk, bored and half asleep, and took his time answering.
“This is Engineer Keezer,” said Dreelig without preliminary, indicating his companion with a gesture. The new Grallt was female, a little shorter than Dreelig and about the same age; she wore a two-color suit like the ones in the engine room, blue and white in four parts. “Keezer will explain the retarder controls and answer your questions. She is not very patient, so we should, ah, I believe your phrase is ‘get on with it.’”
“Sure,” said Peters. “Lemme get Todd.” “Pleasant greetings, Keezer,” he said to the engineer in Grallt, and the other looked surprised. She was babbling at Dreelig, tone questioning, as Peters banged on Todd”s door. “Look alive in there,” he called.
Todd appeared, the puzzled look on his face disappearing when he saw Keezer. “Half a sec,” he apologized, and ducked back inside, reappearing with white hat firmly screwed to his head.
Peters wondered why Todd had thought the hat necessary. Then he took note of Keezer as they headed down the ladder and across the docking bay. She walked upright and kept her head up, contrasting sharply with Dreelig, who—there was no better word for it: Dreelig shambled. Todd was a lot sharper about such things than he was. He’d noticed right away that Keezer walked and acted more like…
More like themselves. The engineer even looked around, eyeing the clutter sidelong, obviously disapproving the mess. Interesting.
Keezer launched into a speech as soon as they arrived at the retarder controls, fingering a knob and going on at some length. Dreelig held up a hand to stop her, and translated for the sailors, “These consoles control the speed-retarding fields used in landing, as I told you.” The engineer babbled again, and Dreelig frowned. “Much of what she said I will not translate directly. She says that traders are sloppy and undisciplined, and most of our visitors are worse, so the retarding fields are necessary. They would not be needed if everyone were careful and observed correct procedures in approaching the ship.”
“I can relate to that,” said Peters with a grin as Todd nodded. “Tell her to go on.”
Keezer held forth, Dreelig again stopping her from going on too long. “She says that the controls are easy enough to use that even traders and aliens should be able to manage. All of the consoles are the same except Number One, which is the master. The switch here—” he paused, asked Keezer a question, then continued, “—is the master control for the system. Normal procedure is to leave the system activated at all times. This toggle controls the approach lights, right for off, center for normal operation, left for—” again clarification was necessary “—left to inform the approaching ship that it must not land.”
“Wave-off,” Peters remarked.
“The right-hand knob must be set to the mass of the approaching ship. The meter indicates the setting. The two-level knob is for the speed of the approaching vessel.” Dreelig paused, and the engineer spoke again. “She says that the controls should be set for mass and speed within one-eighth of the correct values. If they are too high, the ship may be damaged. If they are too low, the ship might pass all the way through without being halted.”
“What are the units?” Peters asked, touching a knob.
That took a while. Speed was in ultellzo, and mass was in gorz, neither of which meant anything. Keezer thought the confusion was funny; she recommended that they forget about conversions. “If you have the speed correct, the right-hand dial will show the correct mass when the ship enters. If you have the mass correct, the other dial shows speed. The combination is more important than either one, unless you have one or the other completely wrong.”
“I see,” said Peters dubiously, meaning that he didn’t. “The mass—I reckon you must mean the weight—is the important part, ain’t it?”
Keezer laughed when that was translated. “No, no, can you be that ignorant?” Dreelig was speaking in a singsong, trying to make it obvious that these weren’t his words. “Weight is what holds you down in gravity. Mass is always true, even when you are floating. You can go to the practice room and set your weight to anything you like, but you cannot change your mass.”
“Tell Keezer we’re sorry to be so ignorant,” said Peters, his tone saying he wasn’t sorry at all. “We’ve lived on Earth all our lives, and we don’t know all this space stuff.”
“In truth, I was not aware of the difference myself. Keezer thinks that is amusing.” Dreelig sighed. “I am afraid that the zerkre, the people like Keezer, they think we traders are foolish because we are ignorant of the ways the ship works. But I believe that if the zerkre tried to work as traders they would be badly cheated.” Keezer insisted on a translation of that, looked at Dreelig, and nodded. “She says that is probably true,” said Dreelig, sounding surprised. “That is the highest opinion of a trader I have ever heard from one of the zerkre.”
Keezer was amazed and angry that the airplanes had come aboard without anyone at the retard controls. “The settings are normally left on the correct ones for the small dli,” Dreelig translated. “
Your people might have been seriously hurt, or even killed. They must have been coming in at relatively low speed.”
“Is that why we got two noises when each one landed?” Peters asked.
“Noises?”
“Thum, thum,” said Peters. “Like pluckin’ a string, or lettin’ a spring go.”
The engineer responded with a couple of sentences when that had been passed along, and Dreelig reported, “Yes. When the retarders are set too low, they make a noise like that when the ship breaks through. She compliments you on your reasoning.”
“Tell her thanks.” Peters paused, running a hand along the console. “We gotta get the numbers straight before we go much further.”
Keezer thought that was amusing too. “She agrees,” Dreelig reported. He hesitated. “She also says numbers are very important.”
“She’s right. Tell her I said so, and thanks a lot, and ask her if she’d be willin’ to do it again after the others get here,” Peters said seriously. “We gotta figger out how much the birds weigh, uh, mass in your system, and I ain’t smart enough for that, but we got a guy can do it, he’s comin’ up with the others.”
“That will be acceptable,” Dreelig told them. “She says she would prefer to see the system used properly, even if it means she must go to extra trouble.”
“And ask if we can buy her a drink.”
“Keezer says you are welcome for the instruction, but she must decline your offer,” Dreelig reported. “She has duties to attend to.”
Peters shrugged. “Any time.” When that was translated, Keezer smiled, lifted her arm in salute, and took herself off without further ceremony. Dreelig looked at them when the engineer was gone. “Perhaps Keezer did not want a drink, but I do,” he said.
“That”s fine, Dreelig old buddy,” Peters said, and threw an arm around the Grallt’s shoulders, the first time he had touched one of the aliens. Dreelig didn’t feel all that different from a human. “The difference is, if Keezer ain’t comin’, you’re buyin’.”