The last stage was a true ladder, narrow and vertical, ending at a round hatch with a wheel to close it. Peet worked the wheel and lowered the hatch, then beckoned Peters on. He followed her into a small cylindrical space, barely large enough for the two of them, and she took the time to tease a bit more before kneeling to pull the hatch shut. He wasn’t quite ready to watch her stretch to reach the matching wheel overhead—by this time he was sure Bolton was right—so grasped it himself while she was working a smaller one. She grinned and nodded, and he waited until the whistle of escaping air had died out, then turned the wheel to the right. Peet stood with arms akimbo, still grinning, as he yanked on it before finding out that this hatch popped up instead of dropping down.
He climbed up far enough to raise his head above the hatch coaming. The white-painted upper surface of the ship seemed to stretch on forever in all directions, a flat plain for a bug to crawl on. Bubbles and blisters sat here and there, none with ports or windows; one nearby blister, a meter high and three across, had sloping sides and a hatch on the visible side. Three-pointed padeyes were recessed into the metal every five meters. He started to climb further up, and felt a hand on his leg, restraining him.
Peet tugged again, realized that he’d gotten the message, and swarmed up the ladder alongside him until their head bubbles merged. “Don’t go out,” she warned. “There’s no gravity outside, and the ship might move.” The ladder was narrow, and their position pressed their bodies together over almost their full length. She looked him directly eye to eye, grinning slightly, then shook her head, muttered something Peters understood as “imperative try this…”, and kissed him.
Grallt kissed with faces parallel, instead of at right angles like humans; physiologically it made sense, but it was an odd sensation. Not disagreeable, but odd. After a moment Peet backed away and ran her hand over her facial cleft. “Hm,” she said. “Very strange. Not bad, I think, but very strange.” Then she grinned again. “That thing in the middle of your face may be useful. Would you like to go down to my room and try a few things?”
Peters was tempted—ah, yes!—but: “No, thank you, Peet, it is a little, ah, before the right time for me.” He couldn’t help grinning. “Thank you for the invitation.”
“You’re welcome.” She grinned back. “And any time you think might be right for trying new things, come and find me.” She kissed him again, just a quick peck, and looked up. “Close the hatch, please. Do you think you can come back here without a guide?”
Peters swung the hatch back down, noting the counterweight, and began dogging it. “Yes, I think I can return without help.”
She pouted ostentatiously, then smiled again. “That’s not what I wanted to hear. I need to find a way to earn an earbug.” The whistle of returning air started dying off, so she clambered down the ladder, with maximum touching, then squatted and began undogging the lower hatch, and Peters followed with a little more decorum. When they were standing on the deck below, she asked: “Would you like to see more of the ship on the way down?”
“Like your quarters?” She grinned at that, and he returned it. “No, I am sorry, I have not had food this ande, and I have another class in a few tle. Perhaps another time.”
“Pah. You are babble.” When he looked blank, she clarified, “Your mind is set too strongly. Come on, then. This way.”
They retraced their steps, all but the last few decks, and Peet indicated an exit from the stairwell. “That leads to the food corridor. Remember to find me if you want to babble.” She waved, a wiggle of the fingers, and went on down the stairs, presumably back to duty. Peters fingered his nose, which he’d managed not to do up to now, and sighed. Damn if he didn’t wish he had a little more time.
The rest of the llor was anticlimax. He ate quickly and met his next class only a few tle late; instruction went smoothly; he ate fifth meal and went back to his quarters. It was only his imagination, he was sure, that made the tip of his nose feel warm.
Dreelig was at fifth meal, the first time he’d seen the “ambassador” in, what, three llor now? Peters greeted him in Grallt; Dreelig waved at a chair, looked up, and did a double take. “Peters,” he said in astonishment. “I didn’t realize it was you until I looked. You have made amazing progress in the language.”
“I was pushed into deep water.” The idiom translated smoothly, but didn’t mean anything to Dreelig; Peters explained, and the Grallt nodded.
“Sometimes that’s the best way. So. Have you made progress?”
“A great deal, I think.” He was explaining about the “blank” airsuit, and basic suit training for two hundred humans, when Dee came up and sat. “Hello, Dee, it is good to see you,” he said, and was rewarded when she raised her eyebrows, taken aback.
“Amazing,” Dee said to Dreelig, who nodded. “You really have a very good accent,” she told Peters.
“Thank you.” Peters grinned. “You may be interested to know that I had a chance to use a sack, but didn’t have one with me. Maybe next time.”
Dee grinned. “I told you.”
“What’s this?” Dreelig wanted to know.
Dee explained about sacks. “Maybe you should start carrying a sack on your belt,” she suggested to Peters.
“To be truthful, I’m finding it unnecessary. Perhaps for myself.”
She grinned. “And perhaps not. Oh, there’s Todde. Who’s that with him?”
“I don’t know,” said Peters. “Oh, yes, I do know. That is Goofig, the zerkre who has been directing the cleaning.” He stood and waved, and the two of them came over, Todd grabbing a chair from an adjacent table and everyone shuffling a bit to allow five to sit at a table intended for four. “Hello, Todd, introduce your friend to the others.”
“Hello,” Todd said with a grin. “Here Goofig. Goofig, these Dreelig and Dee. You remember Peters.”
“Hello,” said Goofig. “I’m pleased to know you. Peters, it’s good to see you again. Peet sends greetings.”
“Return her greeting for me,” said Peters cautiously.
“I’ll get you a sack,” Dee offered.
“Sack?” Goofig was confused. Everyone else laughed, and Dee explained the sack joke. “Yes,” said the engineer. “But I don’t think Peet needs a sack. In fact, I don’t think she wants any cloth at all.” That generated a biracial roar, leaving Peters flushing.
Tacit agreement changed the subject. Goofig hadn’t eaten in this food hall before, nor had he seen human foods; he was willing to experiment, and ate enchiladas, refried beans, and rice with apparent pleasure. He strongly approved the cleanup campaign. “The humans are very hard workers,” he told them. “They’ve already cleaned the bay better than I’ve ever seen it, and tomorrow they’ll begin painting. They’ve even asked if it’s possible to renew the coating on the floor. I don’t know the answer to that, but I’ll ask.”
“You think we allowed to repair doors?” Todd asked, understandably if not well.
“I don’t think so,” said Goofig. “The doors work well enough, and we’re a little afraid to let strangers work on important parts of the ship.”
The engineer was astounded at the tools and test instruments the humans had. “When Sshhot took the light switch apart I was afraid. But he did a good job. What was that amazing instrument he was using?”