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.
And of course Kennard set up the impie and resumed the dance-exercise sessions. Alper joined in immediately, and contributed a few moves from ferassi practice. Sailors grinned and made sly remarks, but by now the majority participating were Grallt, who took the situation for granted after the first startled assessment.
Ander was more reluctant. “Alper has an advantage here,” she said, looking down at herself ruefully. “I’m too large and loose; the sensations are unpleasant, and I’m afraid of damaging myself.”
“Don’t speak disparagingly of your own anatomy,” Peters chided. “There are ways to relieve your discomfort. Let’s consult Deela.”
Deela brought the necessary support garment. Ander looked at it critically. “It looks confining.”
Deela laughed out loud. “That’s the whole point! I have the same problem, as you may have noted; this is one solution.”
“If you say so, I’ll try it.” She struggled a bit with it, and Peters discovered the pleasures of helping a pretty woman with brassiere fastenings, but before long she was jumping and twirling with enthusiasm alongside Alper.
The blonde watched Ander don the garment and wrinkled her nose. “The implied comment on my own endowment is not complimentary,” she noted.
Peters grinned. “You’re different from Ander, that’s all. Each of you is perfectly herself; no alteration is desirable in either case.”
“Hmph,” Alper said, and looked at herself, then up with a twisted grin. “In any case, if things go as usual I’ll soon need a similar garment. Smaller, of course.” She looked into his face. “You react. Surely you knew.”
“I had not allowed it to enter my consciousness… how many?”
“Two.” She stared into space. “The first was lost at first culling. The second was male, and went to Trader 821.” Her face broke, and she came to his arms. “If this one must be culled I believe I will cull myself,” she said into his shoulder.
“Hush. The possibility does not exist.” He looked up. “Ander, I suppose your experience must have been much the same.”
She joined to form their triple embrace, and said against his chest. “Yes… I have borne three. Two were culled; one joined the tuwe two uzul ago.”
Peters’s jaw worked. “Listen to me, both of you,” he said, in a voice of suppessed savagery. “I make a declaration, as inalterable as the glowing of stars: none of our children will be culled, none will be traded away to strangers, and none will be impressed into service for the pleasure of whoever may ask for them! Our children will be treasured and cared for, and will grow up healthy and loved.”
“But what if they are imperfect?” Alper wailed.
“Then we will treasure their imperfections. The matter is fixed and beyond argument. No trading, no impression into a tuwe, and certainly no culling! Do you understand?”
Ander shook her head. “Like Alper I had been dreading the inspection. If any doubt of my allegiance existed, it has now vanished. You are my depa’olze; more important, you are John Peters, and I will go where you go forever… I cannot speak further.”
“Hush, hush. You needn’t speak.” Both women were crying, great gulping sobs. “Let’s go lie down. We can ignore any duties for something of this importance.”