“Are you happy with everyone’s abilities?”
“Yeah, Chief, I’m happy as I can be in the circumstances. You couldn’t call any of us skilled, includin’ me, but I don’t reckon they’re lookin’ for a place to have a disaster.”
“You relieve me,” said Joshua drily. “We’ll be wanting to do more drills, and the ones who haven’t had outside training will have to be brought up to speed when we get time, but it sounds like we’re about ready to get on with business. I’ll let Commander Bolton know we’re ready to go ahead.”
“Aye, Chief.”
“Has the ambassador assigned you to work with the rest of us yet?”
“No, he ain’t, Chief, but I reckon it’s time to do it anyway,” Peters said after a moment’s thought. “He might have a few more things for us to do later, but he’s pretty much taken up with the officers, and me’n Todd need to get up to speed with regular duties.”
The Chief nodded. “That sounds right to me. Pass the word to Todd, you two go ahead and pick up your assignments, and I’ll tell Warnocki and Kellman that you two are at least provisionally ours from now on.”
“Sounds good to me, Chief.”
Joshua frowned. “The officers are way out of sync with us, and I’m betting Commander Bolton’s going to want to start flight ops right away. I’ll try to talk him out of that, because it’d mean we have to start at fifth ande, but I don’t have much hope. Take a standdown, and pass the word. Anybody’s got questions, send ‘em to me.”
“Aye, Chief.” Peters shook his head. “I reckon we need to get rollin’.”
“We do that.” Joshua stopped at a landing, and looked seriously at Peters. “I want you to know, I’m putting a commendation in your file, and what you’re hearing from me right now is an apology. You’re sharp, and I didn’t pick up on it right away. Good job.”
“Thanks, Chief,” Peters said awkwardly. “I been tryin’ pretty hard.”
The Chief nodded. “I know you have, and I haven’t made it any easier, have I?” He waved a dismissive hand. “That doesn’t need an answer. Thanks. I’m sorry. You done good. I think that about covers it.”
“Suits me, Chief.”
“Then let’s get on with it.”
The word came down: flight ops were indeed to begin after fifth meal. For the officers it was “early morning.” For the enlisted, it meant bring the planes out and line them up in neat echelons along the sides of the ops bay, then break for fifth meal and back to work, probably for the whole two ande of sleeptime.
Peters hadn’t seen Todd to speak to for nearly a full llor. Dreelig and Dee were nursemaiding the officers, and were not only busy but working on a different schedule. He’d spoken briefly with Se’en, at second meal, but she was fully occupied with her work in the translation section. She’d complimented him on his accent in Grallt, but had little else to say.
He had fifth meal with Jacks, a BM/2 like himself, and Rupert, MM/3, his new subordinates. They did the entire meal in English. The waiters had picked up a few words, and most of the food items were from Earth, anyway. Peters began to wonder if he’d accomplished something difficult but essentially useless, like the world’s biggest collection of beer bottle caps.
Rupert was OK, a quiet kid from Oregon who hadn’t shared much of his story, but something about Jacks rubbed Peters the wrong way. He was cheerful, took orders without argument, and by any objective measure was a good sailor, but he was also a little old for his rate and a little too good to be true. It didn’t really matter—Jacks did his job, and they didn’t have to mingle when off-duty—but it worried Peters that he couldn’t pin down what he disliked about the man. Maybe it was just his face.
Jacks eyed the Grallt females with interest, and only shook his head at Peters’s account of how their sex worked; his eyes bugged out when Se’en undulated by. “Now that looks right tasty,” he remarked with a sideways grin. “You got any free time later, darlin’?”
Se’en eyed him with the lip-quirk that meant amusement. “That depends on what there is to fill my free time,” she said. “Do you have suggestions?”
Jacks hadn’t been expecting a response, of course, but he was adaptable. “I didn’t have anything particular in mind. You want to get together later and see what we can come up with?”
“I usually eat here,” she said with a shrug. “Ask around when you’re off duty.” She focused on Peters. “Dreelig orders that you begin work with the rest of the humans,” she told him in Grallt. “Here is a paper saying so.”
“Good. We have already begun to do so, but it is good to have it made plain. Thank you, Se’en.” Peters indicated the other two with a wave and shifted to English. “You hadn’t oughta be takin’ these apes at face value,” he warned. “Specially Jacks here, I reckon he ain’t necessarily got your best interests at heart.”
She laughed, a short machinegun burst, and eyed Jacks, who colored, looked away, then looked back with a grin. “Who said I have his best interests in mind? Your name is Jacks? I’m Se’en, everybody knows me. Look for me when you have some time.”
“I might do that,” Jacks said cautiously.
“Good.” She nodded and took herself off, to join a pair of Grallt females a few tables away. Jacks spent the rest of the meal giving them furtive glances, leaving Peters and Rupert to discuss the plans for the day between them. As far as Peters could tell, neither Se’en nor the other two girls at her table looked their way, but there did seem to be a little more staccato Grallt laughter among them than normal. He sighed. This could get interesting.
Or possibly disastrous, who knew? Peters sighed again, collected his helmet from the spare chair, and shepherded the other two out to the ops bay. It was time to get to work.
Chapter Eighteen
Todd was bustling around one of the Hornets in his deck gear: brown long-sleeve pullover, flak jacket, dungaree pants, steel-toed boondockers, and lightweight helmet. Only the mickey-mouse ears, necessary protection against jet roar on the carrier, were missing, useless here.
Peters was dressed much the same, green shirt instead of brown. The Grallt insisted that the feet of the kathir suit were enough, but Chief Warnocki hadn’t agreed, and after thought Peters had come around. Having a steel toe cap was comforting with crap that heavy rolling by. He’d reverted his suit to its Navy-blue pattern, invisible under the protective clothing, and presumed Todd had done the same. He, Rupert, and Jacks mooched on over to their console as the other retarder crews drifted in, mostly as individuals. Last to arrive was Howell, and Peters made no move to consult or inform, just began checking the setup.
First order of business was getting the alternate flight crews up to speed, and it was obvious after the first utle that it wouldn’t be done quickly. The retarder crews started ducking behind the consoles whenever a plane got close, because for some reason it seemed that if it was off center it would be coming their way, and there wasn’t any catwalk below deck level to retreat to. With no fuel in the planes there was little risk of fire, and the consoles seemed fairly sturdy; it failed to console when looking at the nose of a Tomcat coming straight at them at high speed. Commander Bolton watched from the balcony outside his quarters, and while his face wasn’t visible at this distance, his body language was murderous.
Three men per console was overmanning; one could handle it without strain. It meant they could take turns breaking for meals and head calls, and that Peters could let Rupert and Jacks go one at a time back to quarters for naps. Howell quirked an eyebrow at that but didn’t object verbally, and the rest of the retarder crews started to drift off by ones and twos, to return rested and allow others to take an hour or so off.