“Now, as I said, you can check my story easily,” Peters went on. “What about yours? Three of what I suppose must be your people attacked me, with bad results, and now you have kidnapped me, tortured me, and behaved so stupidly I am surprised you don’t try to breathe vacuum. Can you satisfy me that you are not members of the group that attacked Llapaaloapalla and killed four and two eights of Grallt whose only offense was residing aft, and five of my fellow humans? Or shall I pop your neck, shoot your two henchmen, and go out and see how many I can kill before the rest of the idiots aboard stop me? If the way you’ve conducted yourself so far is a sample, I might even survive, who knows?”
“You have defeated a ship of the dar ptith?” The ferassi squirmed, trying to face Peters, who resisted the movement with a tightening of his forearm. “That’s impossible. If you tried to resist they would simply disable your breakbeams, destroy the installations, and board at their leisure.”
“Don’t make assumptions. Whatever disables the breakbeam generators has no effect on lasers.”
“I don’t know what—I don’t know that word.”
“That’s true, you don’t.” Peters tightened his grip. “The pirates were easy meat once we were sure of their intentions and got our weapons in action. My people prefer not to quarrel, but we have little patience with those who provoke us, as the Grallt who accosted me Down discovered.”
The ferassi officer had relaxed. “So, you are the one who killed my agents,” he said without animation. “How can I believe you?”
“Ssth! You can check my claims with less trouble than it took to kidnap me,” he pointed out. “And if those were in fact your agents, I lose even more respect for your intelligence and abilities. They accosted me in a remote place, addressed me in a language I don’t speak, and became violent when I didn’t respond, to the point of threatening at weaponpoint. Should I leave them behind to recover and try again?”
“You could have taken them to the authorities,” he suggested. “You seemed to have little trouble overcoming them.”
“And what would the result have been?” Peters sneered. “If I understand the implications of what you have said—Chuckles, tell your friend to stop trying to reach the door or I’ll shoot him—if I understand you, you are an investigator of some sort. Had I brought your agents to what you call the ‘authorities’, would events have proceeded much differently from my point of view? Don’t act more stupid than you are.”
“You’re probably right. Very well, we will check your story. In the meantime you can stay in a cabin.”
“Not so fast. What about your story? How can I check that? How can I be assured you are not the killers of my friends and associates?”
“The dar ptith are no friends of ours,” the ferassi said dully. “I don’t know what assurances you would accept.”
“Take me on a tour.”
“Eh?”
“Take me on a tour of your ship,” Peters said patiently. “I agree that the situation militates against absolute proof, but you can offer me further circumstantial evidence. Give me a tour of your ship. Omit nothing.”
“I suppose we can do that,” he admitted, “although I don’t know what you’d be looking for.”
“I’ll know it when I see it,” Peters told him. “Can I let you up now without your offering violence?”
“Yes. No more violence.”
“Good.” Peters let go and scooted away, keeping the weapon trained on the two Grallt.
“Chuckles, I’m afraid that weapon is too big to eat.” The Grallt glanced from it to the human and back, and Peters chuckled. “Kick it over here. No, don’t bend over, use your foot. That’s correct.” It slid to within reach; he picked it up and stood. “Now, who will go to Llapaaloapalla to make inquiries?”
“Horsig can go,” the ferassi suggested.
“First I will need medical attention, ipze Fers,” said the Grallt, still looking unnerved. “The object I swallowed is not digestible.”
“This too will pass,” Peters suggested, and the others looked at him. “Your digestive system can stand the strain for long enough to travel to Llapaaloapalla and back, Chuckles. Take your big friend with you. Your boss and I have a ship to inspect.”
“I suppose—”
“Go,” said the ferassi. “He’s right, you won’t suffer ill effects in so short a time. Go.”
Chuckles nodded hesitantly and said something to Goober, who responded with a headshake and a few words of his own. The two vanished into the corridor, and Peters lowered the weapon and managed a thin smile. “Well, I hope that’s all for a little while. As I said, my name is John Peters; you may address me as ‘John’ if you intend friendship, ‘Peters’ otherwise. How may I address you?”
“My name is Fredik Fers,” the ferassi said a little shakily. “’Fredik’ to friends, ‘ Fers’ to others. I’ll call you ‘Peters’, at least at first.” He eyed the human dubiously. “Why did you address Horsig as ‘Chuckles’?”
“Hah! It is a word in my language meaning ‘laughter’. He didn’t introduce himself, so I applied a label I found appropriate.”
“It doesn’t seem appropriate to me.”
“You almost had to have been there… I take it ‘ipze’ is a precedence label?”
“Yes. It is our word for what the Grallt call a ‘Third’. I am responsible for security on board the ship.”
“It would seem I am fated to deal with officers,” Peters remarked. “Lead on, ipze Fers. I am almost certain now of what I will find, but I need to see it with my own eyes.”
“Will you return my weapon?”
“Shortly, shortly… perhaps. Lead on.” He smiled. “Let’s inspect the food serving area first. My head seems to have cleared somewhat, but I need food badly.”
When Peters asked, ipze Fers—the rank seemed to be about lieutenant, j.g.—pronounced a phrase, then translated: “We call it ‘Trader Number’, hm.” He thought for a moment. “We say it in designation form: one three dash two.”
“Our numbers are in base two and eight. Let’s see—” Peters worked it out as they walked down the corridor. “A thousand and forty-nine, I make it. Trader Ten Forty-Nine is probably what we’d say. You don’t use names for ships?”
“No. The dar ptith do; we consider it anachronistic.”
“We use both systems for our military vessels, but the procedure for civilian ones varies… where are we going? Are we walking aft, forward, or what?”
“We are moving aft. You expressed a wish for food; the galley is this way.” He glanced at the human, just a flash laden with uncertainty, then looked back ahead. “I don’t know what you want to see. I thought to get you some food, then begin at the stern and work forward.”
Peters nodded. “Yes, that would be satisfactory. One of the more important things I wish to see will be all the way aft, if I understand it.”
Fers looked at him again, a longer inspection this time. “I believe I know what you mean. No, you won’t find thuthenkre quarters here.” He pursed his lips in a disgusted moue. “I’ve seen a few of them. It isn’t pleasant.”