Temporary Duty

by Ric Locke

  Alper nodded in agreement, and Peters said cautiously, “I’m pleased that you feel comforted, but I hope the condition isn’t temporary. I will say again: I do not keep slaves. When Khurs and Dzheenis find an accommodation that will support them they will be leaving us. If you find that distressing I am more sorry than you can imagine, but my decision is inalterable.”

  “Hmm… I’ve been talking to the Grallt of Llapaaloapalla,” Alper said speculatively. “I think I begin to understand how their lives go. Couldn’t you offer Khurs and Dzheenis employment? Your affairs are larger and more complex than I might have imagined, and both have skills that would aid in ordering them.”

  “Something of the sort had crossed my mind,” Peters admitted. “The subject requires more discussion. On a more immediate note, I was pleased to find you clothed, Alper. I had visualized a scramble, with Khurs and Dzheenis waiting in the corridor, their insecurity heightened by lack of knowledge of their welcome.”

  Ander giggled. “If you’d come only a few antle earlier you might’ve been less pleased. Both of us were padding around in the altogether, inspecting one another and hugging. We dressed because we expected the arrival of the food service.”

  “Yes,” Alper agreed with a giggle of her own. “We have news, and we hope it pleases you.”

  Dzheenis chose that moment to appear. He had washed his face and combed his hair, and stood erect, looking less tentative and apologetic. “Thank you,” he said, and his voice was steadier. “I take it Khurs has departed with similar goals in mind.”

  “Yes,” said Peters. “She should be out momentarily. Please seat yourself and take your ease. You will no doubt be pleased to discover that we are expecting food service at any moment.”

  The big man grinned as he sat down. “Yes. I’m a large person, as you will have noted, and require a great deal of nourishment to sustain me.”

  “So I noted… Ah. Perfect timing.”

  Ander responded to the knock on the door. “Hello, De’el,” she told the steward. “We need meals for five; we have visitors.”

  The steward’s eyebrows went up. “So I see,” he noted. “It’s no problem; we have ample supply.” Khurs came out of the bedroom, and De’el’s eyebrows sought his hairline. “Hmph! I see Peteris has been collecting more trophies. At this rate the ship will soon be overrun.”

  Peters laughed. “Khurs and Dzheenis are not ‘trophies’; they are guests. I believe and hope they are the last such for a time.”

  “Hah,” said De’el. He and his assistant began ferrying dinnerware and serving bowls, and he added: “’For a time’, certainly, as Llapaaloapalla is about to depart. Our destination is Kraatna, a long transit during which even Peteris is unlikely to have scope for bringing more waifs aboard. In a way it is a pity.” He glanced at Khurs, showing amusement. “We are a closed society, and know one another far too intimately. A few more good-looking women would make a pleasant change. Peteris is already somewhat renowned in that respect, and I see he has not lost his touch.” He waggled his expressive eyebrows. “Dzheenis and Khurs, I believe you said. Welcome aboard. You have been dependents of the ferassi, or so I assume.”

  “Yes, we have,” said Dzheenis. “Our status seems to have changed.”

  “Indeed it has,” the steward affirmed. “You are fortunate; you have fallen into the hands of Peteris, and could not have hoped for a more favorable eventuality. As for your former status, we know something of what is going through your minds; if you have doubts or concerns you have only to ask.” He grinned. “Khurs, you in particular will find no difficulty in obtaining comfort. My own door will always be open, at least until you choose to come inside. There.” He stepped back and regarded the set table with satisfaction. “Dzheenis, I suppose you are not unprepossessing in your own right, but I have no personal taste that direction. I’ll pass the word; no doubt you will soon find yourself with a plenitude of opportunity.”

  Dzheenis glanced at Khurs. “I will be somewhat tentative, at least at first.”

  “Khurs may wish a rest,” Peters put in. “She has been used extensively for the pleasure of the ferassi; cruelly used, to my mind.”

  “So I had assumed,” said De’el with a nod. “You have spoiled my dastardly plan before it was fully formed. I had hoped to take advantage before she was cognizant of her own worth.” He touched her shoulder, lightly, and said in a serious tone: “I hope you don’t take my jocularity seriously, Khurs. The custom aboard Llapaaloapalla is simple: If interested, ask. If not interested, say no. Modifications occur, but with courtesy and friendliness we all get by very well… you are remarkably attractive, and exotic as well due to your origins; when you go abroad you will receive many invitations. Refuse or assent as your tastes incline you, and if you feel pressured, express yourself. The affair will soon be ordered; we do not tolerate extortion.”

  Khurs looked up at him, smiling tentatively, and De’el grinned and waggled his eyebrows again. She smiled more broadly, and he nodded, came erect, and surveyed the group. “Please eat,” he urged. “We are scheduled to enter High Phase one tle past the turn of the ande, and the serving utensils must be secured before that time. Do you require anything more?”

  “Not at the moment,” Peters told the steward when no one else responded. “Thank you, De’el; we will take care that you have sufficient time to order your department.”

  “I thank you as well.” De’el nodded firmly and left, his assistant offering a nod of his own before closing the door.

  “He left with scant ceremony,” Dzheenis observed. “In addition I note that he did not offer you an honorific, depa’olze Peters. On Trader 1049 he would be chastised for such lack of courtesy.”

  “What you observed was the normal courtesy observed aboard Llapaaloapalla,” Peters told him. “As for honorifics, they are used only at the most grave or solemn moments; not at all, in my experience. De’el is a good person, as well as being highly skilled. He is well regarded; you could do much worse than to seek his advice as to conduct.” He surveyed the table. “As he says, please eat. We should finish in time to give him an opportunity to clear away the utensils, and I for one am tired. I want to bathe and go to bed.”

  * * *

  The shutters were closed for transition, making the room fully dark. Ander lay with her head against his chest, seemingly listening to his heartbeat, and Alper lay stretched at full length, pressed against his right side. “You said you had news for me,” Peters said. “In the confusion of dealing with Khurs and Dzheenis you never told me what it was.”

  “I’m not really all that sure we should tell you,” Ander remarked in a tone of impish teasing. “You might send us away.”

  “That’s not at all likely.” He gave them a gentle squeeze.

  “I don’t know about that,” she replied, still teasingly. “After all, the experiment is concluded. What use are we now?”

  “Oh?”

  “Oh, yes,” Alper said, and he felt her move against his shoulder. “We’ve been consulting with Dee, I mean Deela,” she said, and impishness was present in full force.

  “How so?”

  “It appears that operation of the fighting-ships is not indicated for women in a certain condition,” Ander said. “The doctor has a way to determine immediately if the condition exists.”

  “Yes,” said Alper, “and so simple, too! Deela brought us slips of paper and told us to urinate on them and wait a moment. Incredible. It used to take many llor, and even then was uncertain for a zul or so.”

  “You mean—”

  He felt her nod, and Ander stirred again. “Yes,” Alper said. “Both strips turned a bright blue. You’re an ordinary male in at least one way, John… you’re crying.”

  “They are tears of joy. I hope you are equally pleased.”

  “More so, if possible,” said Ander. “Among other things, it means that we won’t be totally among strangers. The connection between ferassi and human is now fully established.”

  “W
hich raises some important questions,” Alper pointed out.

  “Which we will not consider at the moment.” He paused, and the two women relaxed against him once more. “I find myself incredibly pleased and satisfied.”

  “So you should,” said Alper, and he felt her grin. “You are depa’olze in earnest, and your pa’ol is growing very satisfactorily.”

  * * *

  “I see no reason why this should not be suitable,” Peters said as he surveyed the apartment. “Dzheenis, do you observe a deficiency? Khurs?”

  “I see no deficiency in the space itself,” Dzheenis said, rubbing his chin. “The furnishings are deficient, of course.” In fact they were entirely lacking. The space had been intended as an apartment for a single person or mated pair, and comprised a large chamber directly off the corridor, an inner room which would normally be used as a bedroom, toilet facilities, and storage. “The inner chamber will be satisfactory as your office, I believe, and Khurs and I will have ample space for our activities in the front room,” the big Grallt went on. “I consider it nearly ideal for the purpose.”

  “I concur,” Khurs noted. “Dzheenis can have his desk here, facing right, which leaves ample space for passage and allows him to use the wall for the charts and records he will need. Mine can face the door, where I can greet visitors with my well-known blinding smile, and a pair of chairs can sit against there, one on either side of the entry. Unless your affairs require files and storage beyond the space available, we can arrange all needed with neatness and despatch.”

  “Yes,” said Tullin. The zerkre had charge of space allocation and rent collection in this zone of Llapaaloapalla. “I see you have experience in the ordering and operation of office space. The scheme requires three desks of the appropriate types, suitable seating, and a few cabinets for storage of files and correspondence. I’ll see to it at once.”

  “Hold a moment,” said Peters. “This is moving too quickly for my comfort. I never intended to take part of the space myself, certainly not to sit in solitary grandeur in a separate office.”

  All three Grallt grinned broadly. “You are too new to the affairs of the exalted to have a proper opinion, Peteris,” Tullin said with a sly sideways glance. “It is one of the few matters finding universal agreement among the kree: the one with ultimate authority sits in splendor behind a closed door, emerging from time to time to visit doom and destruction upon those who displease him. You may as well accede. Your underlings will be uncomfortable with any other arrangement, and their efficiency will thereby suffer.”

  Khurs laughed. “Kh kh! Your phraseology puts the worst possible face on it, Tullin, but the basis of your argument is sound. Depa’olze Peters, you must consider plans and strategems. The process requires ratiocination, which goes much better in quiet solitude with a modicum of comfort.”

  “Yes,” Dzheenis nodded. “If you attempt to perform this function in the midst of the hurly-burly of an open office, or worse, in your quarters, where a myriad of distractions are available at the whisper of a garment, your plans will be incomplete or faulty, and will not succeed.”

  Tullin nodded vigorously. “And if the plans fail, the employees must put themselves to the vexation of finding another way to support their vices. They therefore offer this rationalization of what is in reality simply the natural order of affairs, and I congratulate them on their contrivance. Next they will be striving to concoct closely-reasoned explanations for space being black or stars shining, and you will have your first opportunity to emerge in thunderous rage, demanding that they return to productive labor.” He set his hands on his hips and produced another sly grin. “It is cause for real optimism. If your own formidable powers are coupled to such devoted attention to effective procedure, it is difficult to see how the enterprise can fail to perform prodigies.”

  “I hope you are correct,” Peters said amid laughter. After a pause the Grallt began discussing styles of desk and types of filing cabinet, and he shook his head, walked to the door of the inner chamber, and peeked inside. Call it four meters by five… he had never imagined himself with an office. The farthest his ambition had extended was to a desk in a cubby, with himself as Chief directing sailors and signing reports. Almost against his will his imagination began supplying details of decor. Wood paneling, not too dark, and a sideboard with a glass top, upon which the statue of defiant enkheil would sit in splendor…

  The two ferassi-Grallt had leaped upon his proposals of employment with enthusiasm. “Ideal,” Khurs had said when the concept was made clear. “An intriguing blend of ferassi and Grallt practices, satisfying the norms of both at once.”

  Dzheenis had nodded. “And furthermore,” he had noted, “it precisely fulfills the spirit of Candor Zin’s intentions. With such an inventive and creative spirit at our head, we can fall short of greatness only by failing to contribute our own best efforts. Direct me, depa’olze; Peters pa’ol will shine like a star.” Peters’s jaw had dropped. The other four had been smiling like the sun coming up.

  To the proposal that they move to larger quarters and install Khurs and Dzheenis in their own establishment Peters had issued an unqualified No. All four of the ex-residents of Trader 1049 had voiced protest, but he had been firm, and supported his argument with calm reasoning and details of human and Grallt practice. In the end he had risen, assumed the mantle of depa’olze, and issued forceful instructions. The result had been broad smiles and the speedy implementation of his directives; Tullin’s remarks came to mind, and he recalled Dreelig’s comments upon leaving Chief Joshua’s room.

  Khurs and Dzheenis now occupied apartments not unlike this one, on the same deck as his own quarters and conveniently nearby. When the office was set up they would begin to order his affairs. Astonishing to have affairs that might require two assistants to order. Prethuvenigis had nodded benignly.

  Peters had had somewhat less success in the matter of insignia. “No, no!” Ander and Alper had chorused when he demurred. “Khurs and Dzheenis can’t go around blank forever, and we are no longer privileged to display the devices of Trader 1049.” His proposal that they adopt whatever design suited their fancy fell on deaf ears. They wanted, in effect, a uniform that would tell all who saw them that they were part of Peters pa’ol.

  Ander and Alper had inspected his wardrobe and produced the design. He was wearing the result, as were Khurs and Dzheenis: a blue so dark it was almost black, with white piping at wrists and ankles and a “V” of piping beginning at the center of the breastbone and continuing over the shoulders, to form a rectangle containing two five-pointed stars. “Simple, elegant, and effective,” Khurs had pronounced it. Peters had shaken his head and wondered how he was going to explain that it wasn’t really his fault.

  When it came to devices signifying rank and precedence he had been prepared to balk, but encountered no resistance. “We will wear none,” he’d said firmly. “We know who we are. Let strangers wonder.”

  Dzheenis had rubbed his jaw at that. “So a stranger meeting a Peters in a casual encounter,” he’d said slowly, “will be unable to determine if this is a filing clerk or the depa’olze, and must assume the worst… a stroke of genius. It’s a wonder some of the more arrogant epa’ol have not thought of it before.”

  “No,” Khurs had said, “They wouldn’t. It’s too simple and obvious, and not gaudy enough.” To himself Peters thought that he’d had enough of gauging behavior by nice judgement of stripes and glitters.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Llapaaloapalla‘s company soon resumed what had become their normal activities during the cruises between stars. Warnocki’s plans for painting the bay had long since been completed, but scars from the pirate attack had to be smoothed and freshly coated. The aircraft mechanics did necessary maintenance, and started on an ambitious project: to combine the rear section of the broken-backed 105 with the forepart of 108, in the hope of making a complete aircraft. A team of electricians and electronics techs, led by Schott and Mannix, worked on the
public-address system. It was working in the ops bay and a portion of the public corridors, and they hoped to extend that to the entire center-section living quarters.

  The electronics and data-processing types, along with a sizeable contingent of the officers, spent their time in the echoing empty space above the operations bay trying to make sense of the bits and pieces of the pirate ship. They didn’t talk a lot about what they found out, but word got around, and Peters paid close attention; he was in something of a privileged position, because he owned a working, if smaller, version of the same thing, which was useful when some point obscured by the hurried disassembly needed to be clarified. Fundamentally the dar ptith ship wasn’t too different from Llapaaloapalla, but there were details. Among other things, it had windows across the front, and had no shutters over them for use in high phase, which meant that its zifthkakik differed in some unknown way from the standard ones.

  One of the ferassi survivors of the pirate ship suicided; the Grallt who had been watching him wouldn’t say how, or even talk about it. The remaining one—they knew his name, Poal Preklit, from what the pirate-Grallt told them—was unresponsive to most stimuli, and spent his time staring at the wall of his cell. The Grallt survivors were in better condition; it looked as if most of them could be integrated into Llapaaloapalla‘s company after counseling. The young girls of the tuwe were more of a problem. Ander Korwits went to meet them, and reported that the ferassi girls had no better command of their own language than the Grallt did. After that, she and Alper spent what time they could spare with the girls, and began reporting good progress in teaching them the Trade and how to behave.

  A remarkable number of working parties included blue-and-white kathir suits. The sailors still weren’t fluent in the Trade, but most of them could manage a few words, and a number of the zerkre had picked up an equal amount of English. Between that and handwaving they got a lot done. The bay overhead was clean, the elevators ran smoothly and made no noise, all the lights worked, and every hatch and latch in the bay and hangar opened and closed with a solid satisfying thunk and gleamed with polish, fresh paint, and grease.