“Sir?”
“Starting with the first ande of the next llor, no human will be outside these quarters, except under escort, without wearing the kathir suit. I believe your term is ‘standing order’.” He gestured at Peters. “I see Peters has not worn his. I believe this is because he was concerned about this interview, and the kathir suit is not part of the uniform. Is that correct, Peters?”
“Yes, sir, it is,” Peters responded.
“From this moment, while you are aboard this ship, the kathir suit is a part of the uniform. What you wear over it is up to you, but if I discover that any man of this detachment has been disciplined in the smallest way for wearing the kathir suit under any circumstances whatever, the consequences to you personally will be the gravest I can devise. Is that clear, Master Chief Joshua?”
“Yes sir!”
“Chief Spearman?”
“Aye, aye, sir!”
“Very good. You men, come with me. Peters, first we will go to your quarters for your safety equipment. Return to your normal activities, Master Chief.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” said Joshua with a decisive nod. He stayed erect, even stiff, as Dreelig shepherded Peters and Todd out the door. Todd, last one out, reached around and pulled it shut.
There was an audience of four or five sailors in the corridor. Dreelig led, at a gait somewhat stiffer than his usual shamble. They stopped at Peters’s room, Dreelig and Todd waiting outside while Peters hurriedly shucked into his kathir suit and pulled his undress blues over it. They stayed stiff and formal down the stairs and as Peters signed out for himself and Todd, and almost marched across the ops bay. It was only when they entered the elevator and the door closed behind them that Dreelig collapsed against the wall and let go a forceful series of the staccato barks he used for laughter. The two sailors followed suit in human fashion; Todd, a little the less incapacitated, pushed the button, and the elevator started up with its usual clanks and groans.
“That was fun,” said Dreelig.
“You—hunh!—you might have warned us,” said Peters, feigned offense spoiled by chuckles.
“I could not warn you. I was, as you might say, making it up as I found necessary,” Dreelig told him. “Kh kh! I begin to understand why your people use strict hierarchies so much. It is so much fun for the superiors in them.”
“We’ve often suspected so,” said Todd.
“Yes, it wouldn’t be nearly so enjoyable for the juniors, would it?” Dreelig had calmed and regained self-control. “I told them, or I believe I implied, that I have duties for you. How long must you delay your sleep time to satisfy them that they were real and have been performed?”
“A couple utle should be enough,” Peters advised.
“In that case, come with me. I will buy you a drink, and you can explain some of the rules Chief Spearman mentioned. They may be useful when Dee and I go to Washington again tomorrow.”
“Actually, that’s a perfectly valid duty,” Todd informed him solemnly. “It’s an unusually enjoyable way of carrying it out, of course.” It set Dreelig to laughing again.
Chief Joshua had evidently decided to take a liberal interpretation of ‘under escort,’ because sailors were being escorted only by other sailors who were conspicuously wearing their kathir suits; conspicuously, because they had on dungaree trousers but no shirts. That failed to meet what Peters thought was the spirit of the regulation, and looked like Hell to boot, but Dreelig was off to Washington again with Dee and Donollo, and Peters wasn’t ready to make an issue of it without backup.
Tee was back, but she did nothing but occupy her desk, depriving Peters of his command post. The others were less enthusiastic than before, probably more from fatigue than anything else, but worked well enough that that there were only seven and one eight of sailors not yet measured, including all the Chiefs, when quitting time rolled around.
A few beers, six hours of sleep, and twenty hours of duty that involved a lot of walking around, disinclined the sailors to anything but fifth meal and bunk time. The waiter brought the ‘human standard meal’ for this llor, and Peters realized dully that his stroke of genius was going to cause him more work. If he ever wanted to order another meal, he’d have to see to it that the rest of the sailors could, too. Give that the Scarlett O’Hara treatment; that’s what Granpap called it, although the reference escaped Peters.
The sailors loafing in the corridor wanted to chat. That was all he needed, and what the Hell was Joshua about, anyway? Sitting in his quarters brooding? This crowd needed something to do. Letting them hang around playing grabass was going to snowball into something nobody wanted, but neither Peters nor Todd had enough chevrons on his crow to hand out assignments. They pled exhaustion, and were finally allowed to escape to their rooms.
The next morning—the Grallt word was thullor; he decided that morning would do, being tired of circumlocutions without knowing the word existed—Peters jerked a thumb toward the stern. “Well, lookee there,” he remarked sardonically, and Todd just grinned.
A start had been made on the idle-hands problem. Sailors in dungarees formed a line all the way across the bay; they were working their way slowly forward, picking up junk and passing it to the guys on the ends, who had plastic bags. Much of the junk was metal, so the bags already lined along the side weren’t very full. Peters snorted. Another prediction fulfilled. Brooms and dustpans next, no doubt.
It didn’t take long to get the last few people measured. Chief Joshua and Chief Spearman gave Peters and Todd black looks but cooperated without verbal protest, and the others went along. They’d made Chief Gill’s suit Navy blue, rather than the khaki Chiefs normally wore for “undress”; the natural tan color was pretty close to khaki, but was also pretty close to skin color for five of the six, and Peters didn’t think that would work for a skintight garment. Finally he decided to not mention the option, and ‘suggested’ to the Chiefs that they wear their dress blues to fitting. Keer was amused at the gaudy arrays of stripes, but generated the designs anyway.
The fabricator was again running full blast, and sailors were coming in for test-fitting of suits made during the off-ande. They sent the Chiefs off, suggesting that they return after third meal, and got the juniors all suited up and checked out on a more leisurely schedule. Something occurred to Peters, and he put it to Veedal as Todd was trying to convince a First Class ET that skivvies weren’t necessary. “We have been moving quickly,” he said to the tech. “Is possible that wrong suit give—was given—to two persons. What happens?”
“That is bad,” said Veedal with a worried expression. “The suits are babble.” When Peters looked blank, he tried again: “One suit, one person, OK? No correct function.” Like most people who associate much with English speakers, after three llor Veedal was using “OK” as if it were part of his native tongue.
“Dangerous?” Peters asked in English. Of course that didn’t get through, so he illustrated the concept by grabbing his own throat with both hands and simulating choking, eyes rolled up.
“No, not babble,” Veedal said. “Very babble.” He pulled his blue jumper tight around his chest and moved around, twisting as if constricted and making faces. “Uncomfortable” would do for that until a better definition came along. Further contortions and mime established that a kathir suit on the wrong person would make air, but the movement controls wouldn’t work, and it would be extremely unpleasant to wear.