"No, not really. What do you need?"
"I don't know exactly. Something to keep me awake."
"Oh, I have plenty of high-altitude stuff." She went to another part of the store and brought back two big glass jars filled with pills of different colors and sizes. She popped the lid of one jar and began fingering through it. "Let's see… I think these little green ones are pretty good. You say you want to stay awake?"
"Yeah, very awake."
"Well, maybe these pink numbers." She bit her lip. "No, those are broad-spectrum antineoplasmics. I think." She looked at me. "Very awake… or extremely awake?"
"Like this," I said, making my eyes round and crazed.
She snickered. "That much? Wait, I might have something." She opened the other jar and dug her hand into the contents like a kid searching for just the right shade of jelly bean.
"Do you know what's in any of these?"
"Most of them," she said. "I used to keep a list, but I lost it. Here they are." She pulled out one big choker of a horsepill, bright purple in color. "Now, I don't know what's in this one, but it's some kind of antidepressant."
"You don't know the chemistry?"
"No, but it'll cure the blues, that I can tell you. They're a popular item."
"I'll take one. Can you get me a glass of water?"
"Sure, honey."
She brought the water, and I managed to' gulp down the pill. Then I got out of there.
I was late for dinner.
19
The steward announced me. "Mr. McGraw, sir." I was admitted into the Captain's private dining room. It made the rest of the ship look like a tramp steamer by comparison. The walls were swaddled in gold fabric with red and white trim, hung with tasteful seascapes. The carpet was red and knee-high to a dwarf. Hanging above the broad expanse of table was an ornate crystal chandelier, throwing lambent light to glint off the silver service and the gold sconces. The china was pale chalk, probably porcelain, the tablecloth satin white and immaculate. I was impressed and stood at the door for a moment.
"Come in, Mr. McGraw." Captain Pendergast wiped his mouth delicately with a gold-colored napkin. "Please," he said, smiling warmly and gesturing to a chair. The other guests looked up at me. Darla, John, and company were there, but I recognized no one else except the redoubtable Mr. Krause. Darla and Susan were the only women.
"Sorry I'm late. Captain." I nodded to the other guests. Krause didn't look up.
"Not at all, Mr. McGraw. Please sit down."
Pendergast's dark blue eyes followed me until I was seated a few places down from him. I unfolded my napkin and laid it on my lap like a proper gentleman, then remembered that I don't like sitting at a table with a cloth draped over my knees, and put it back on the table.
"I suggest you try the seafood dish, Mr. McGraw. I do hope you like seafood."
"I wish you would call me Jake, Captain. Is it local?"
"As you like, Jake." His Intersystem was clipped and Teutonic, but with a Low Dutch broadness around the edges. "Yes, it's local catch. Some people consider it quite a delicacy, although its nutritional value is limited." The comers of his thin-lipped mouth curled upwards. "But we don't always eat to live. Do we?"
"I always enjoy eating," I answered, "and I always hope to live to eat again."
"Yes, it's a perilous universe," he said. 'To the natives this particular fish is pure poison. Strange, isn't it? If you don't care for it, we have a choice of entrees."
"I would like the fish," I told the steward standing patiently at my side. He left the room quietly. I turned to Pendergast. "You mentioned the natives. You can communicate with them?"
"With some difficulty, yes."
"What do you call them?"
"The name for their tribe… we like to call it a crew… is―" He barked twice, then smiled. "As you can see, the language barrier is formidable. Most English speakers call them Arfbarfs."
"Arfbarfs?"
At the other end of the table, Susan giggled into her wine.
"Yes, or Arfies, if you like. Properly speaking, they are Akwaterran Aboriginals, or simply Akwaterrans."
"Are they sentient?"
Pendergast stroked his dark beard. "I'll leave that judgment to the exopologists. Do have some wine, Jake."
A young officer to my left filled a long-stemmed glass. 'Tell me. Captain," I said. "What is the proper term for the…?" My Intersystem failed me, and I stumbled about for words.
"Would it be better for you if we spoke your native language, Jake?" Pendergast's English came out even better than his 'System. As usual, other people's language-hopping abilities made me feel sublingual.
"It'd be great," I said. 'Thanks, and I'm sorry for the trouble."
"It's nothing. I assume Intersystem isn't spoken on your home planet. Which was…?"
"Vishnu. No, it's either English or Hindustani."
"I see." He gave me a disapproving look. "But Intersystem is so easy to leam." He left it at that, and began eating again.
It made me feel wonderful. I took a long drink of the wine. It was flat and slightly sour.
"This is apropos of nothing," said a portly bald man in a pink formal suit across from me, "but did you know that the 'system' in Intersystem doesn't refer to solar systems?"
Eyes drifted toward him. "Really, Dr. Gutman?" said another young officer.
"Yes. Common misconception." Gutman cut with surgical precision into a breast of something vaguely avian. "It really refers to linguistic systems." He slipped a sliver of meat into his mouth and chewed slowly. "Everybody thinks planets," he said, more to himself than to anyone. Slowly, his gaze came around to me. "Don't you find that fascinating?"
"Enthralling," I said, and drained my wine glass.
"Jake, you wanted to know the proper term for something," the Captain said to crank the conversation back up again.
"Yes, the name for what your ship is riding on. The island-animal."
Pendergast had his fork poised above his plate, looking with some concern at his food. "We like to think of both metal and flesh as 'the ship.' STEWARD!"
The steward came through the hatch like a shot. Pendergast held up the plate as if it bore something putrid. "Tell Cookie that if I wanted my fish this well-done, I would have had the gunnery detail use it for target practice. Bring something edible."
"Yes, sir!"
"The Captain was telling us a few things about the ship when you-came in, Jake," John said to me. To Pendergast he said, "We were all wondering how the ship is.. uh, steered. Is that the right word?"
"It's so primitive," the Captain answered, "I'm almost embarrassed to tell you. We have a taut steel cable strung between the bridge and the bow, with the bow end implanted into the megaleviathan's skull. The helmsmen are Arfies who send signals along the cable by beating on it. They are under my direction, of course. However, for maneuvers like docking, we must rely completely on the pilot crew."
"Remarkable," John said. "Megaleviathan? Is that what you call the island-creature?"
"Like everything on Akwaterra," Dr. Gutman said, "or Splash, as most everyone calls it, there is no official name. Scientifically speaking, that is. We don't have the resources to fund science here."
"But we will one day," one of the fresh young officers said enthusiastically. "Right, Captain?"
"Let us hope, Mr. Ponsonby," the Captain said, buttering a roll. He looked in Krause's direction and did a take. "Mr. Krause! What's wrong with your lip? Run into a hatch?"
Everyone looked at Krause's fat purple lip. Krause wanted to run and hide, but mumbled something about an accident.
I thought it behooved me to do the charitable thing and rescue him. "Who's idea was it," I asked the Captain, "to use the beast as a ferryboat?"
"Mine," Pendergast said flatly. "There was a conventional vessel on this run before, and it was lost. Dr. Gutman said we can't underwrite scientific inquiry here. He's wrong in that: