It was a lot of space, and was going to take a while, even with the lick-and-promise approach the Grallt seemed happy with. “No white gloves here,” Todd remarked somewhere on the second level. Peters just grunted and shoved dirt around. About the time they were finishing up the second level Dee reappeared, which the other Grallt took as a signal to down tools and vanish, and the sailors followed suit with relief.
“More next ande, I reckon,” Peters said as he stowed his broom in a closet on the second level, between the kitchen and the heads.
“Yes, none of these areas have been used in a long time, and they are very dirty,” Dee told them. “We should finish this part by the end of the llor. After that, we will clean the area where you are.”
“Oh, no,” said Peters, an admonition rather than a groan. “We ain’t cleanin’ no enlisted quarters. That’s what seamen are for.”
“I don’t understand,” Dee admitted. “Should the quarters not be clean?”
“Yeah, sure, but not by us,” Peters told her. “When the detachment gets aboard everybody’ll clean his own quarters, then turn to and get the rest of the space shipshape. You’ll see. Officers gonna have to clean their own space? Durin’ the trip, I mean?”
“No, of course not,” Dee told him. “The three who helped you will be assigned to that area. They will clean, and make the beds, and so on.”
“Stewards,” Todd said with a grin. “All the comforts of home. The jaygees and ensigns’ll be pleased as Hell.”
“Not if they don’t do better’n they did this time,” Peters warned. “Enlisted can clean their own space, but we better go over this place again, and this time, you stick around, Dee. What we did ain’t good enough, and I need to be able to explain that to them yahoos.”
“If you say it is necessary, then that is what we will do,” Dee said resignedly.
“What next?” Todd wanted to know.
“Next is another meal,” Dee told them. “Would you like to clean up before eating?”
“Oh, Hell, yes,” said Peters. “You can probably smell me ten meters off.”
“Not quite that far,” Dee said, suddenly looking very, very alien. He missed being able to read her facial expression; was that an impish joke or not? Her tone said it was. “How long do you need to clean yourselves?”
“Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes,” Peters told her.
She looked at her watch. “A little less than one utle. I will meet you at the, ah, mess hall you say? At the mess hall when you have finished. Can you find your way?”
“Not a problem,” said Todd, and Peters nodded.
“Good. You might bring a sack,” she suggested.
“A sack? What for?” Peters asked suspiciously.
She mimed pulling something over her head. “Several of my friends have been asking about you,” she said. “You might need a sack.” And with that she took herself off.
“Well, now we know what a grin looks like on a Grallt,” Todd observed when she was out of earshot.
“Yeah. Funny lady. Come on, me for a shower.”
When they arrived at the mess deck, bathed, shaved, and combed, Dee was sitting at a table near the entrance arch, already tucked in to her meal. She waved them over. “No sacks,” she observed.
Todd and Peters exchanged looks. “It’s a little early for us,” Todd explained.
“If that is what you choose. What would you like to eat?” Now they were sure what amusement looked like on a Grallt.
The waiter was hovering. “We still don’t know what’s good,” Peters reminded her. “You’ll have to choose for us.”
She gabbled at the waiter, gesturing at the two sailors, then addressed herself to her food, not speaking. Peters and Todd sat quietly, looking around. Several of the Grallt returned their looks, and one or two nodded heads in greeting. Silence continued after they got their food, Dee toying with the remnants on her plate and the two sailors eating steadily.
Finally the last blue leaf was gone. “Back to work, I guess,” Peters said resignedly.
It was a long five hours. The workers were incredulous and resentful at the level of cleanliness the sailors insisted on. Dusting the top edges of hatch coamings seemed ridiculous to them, clearing out the grime under the sinks had them gabbling at one another at top speed, and they didn’t at all enjoy dustbunny hunts under the bunks. Finally they seemed to grudgingly accept the requirements, and among them they got one floor of sleeping area pretty well squared away.
One of the workers asked Dee something, sounding aggrieved. Dee gabbled in Grallt, then translated, “Peer asks, will this be the same all the time? He wants to know if they will need to keep it this clean constantly.”
“This here’s just barely acceptable,” Peters told her bluntly. “Stewards’d be on report if they let it get like this back home.” When Dee translated that, the worker—Peer?—hunched his narrow shoulders and said something plaintive, and Peters shook his head in disgust. He was starting to hear words in the language they used, even when he didn’t know what they meant, and he didn’t need Dee’s translation to know Peer thought they didn’t have a big enough crew. If they were all this sloppy, he was undoubtedly right.
“That is all we can do for now,” Dee said firmly. “It is almost the end of the ande, and we are all tired. We will meet here again after the meal and continue.”
“This is what apprentices are for,” Todd grumbled as he piloted a swab down the passageway.
“Yeah. I been an apprentice,” said Peters. He was pushing and flicking a dust mop with the sure hand of long practice. “If that po-face Bolton was to see this place lookin’ like it did, I might get the chance to be doin’ that again. Do good, boy.”
Todd scowled. “You’re right, dammit. I don’t have to like it, though.”
Dee had made herself scarce again, so they got by with handwaving, grunts, and the few words they knew. The Grallt did well enough, if grudgingly, and it was amazing how far “please” and “thank you” went. They all had simple names, Zif and Peer and Dree, Don (no shit), Yod (Peters figured out it was really Llod after he’d heard it once or twice) and Se’er, and one individual, harder-working and more cooperative than the others, who rejoiced in the moniker of Pis. “Shit,” said Peters when he heard that, and Pis pointed solemnly at another who hadn’t been introduced yet. Peters didn’t respond except to wince.
The place was starting to shape up, at least as regarded general cleanliness in the living quarters, but the decks were a problem. Peters wasn’t ready to try to get “wax,” “stripper,” and “buffer” across in dumbshow. It was hard enough to manage “no, goddammit, you have to get rid of the dirt, not just move it around,” although that got easier with enough repetitions. On the other hand, “Down tools and go home” was understood immediately when he called it, an utle or so before the end of the watch.
Dee met them at the hatch. “Did it go well?”
“Well enough,” Peters said, “but I’m beat.”
“Yeah,” said Todd. “Peters, you want to tell me the time?”
Peters fumbled the handheld out and pressed buttons. “0110 on a fine Wednesday morning.”
Todd winced. “Ouch. Dee, I’m not sure we’ll be able to keep this up. Your day is lots longer than we’re used to.”