“Good. Now, in the United States Navy, enlisted people are not authorized to engage in official contact with senior officers of foreign powers. In fact, they are specifically forbidden to do so. Were you aware of that, Petty Officer Peters?”
“Yes, Master Chief.”
Joshua nodded. “Glad to hear it,” he said sarcastically. “To continue,” he leaned forward again, “In the United States Navy, and to my knowledge in all the armed forces of the United States of America, enlisted people, especially junior enlisted people, are not authorized to engage in substantive negotiations, for trade or otherwise, with officials of foreign powers. I will admit that it isn’t specifically forbidden by the regulations, but I’d say the first rule I mentioned would just about cover it, now wouldn’t you, Petty Officer Peters?”
“Yes, Master Chief.”
“Good, I’m glad we agree.” Joshua leaned back and folded his arms. “Now, with those two rules as background, I am gonna ask my first question again: Just what the Hell did you think you were doing running around with the CO of the opposing force like long lost buddies, accepting invitations, and making suggestions about trade matters, Peters?”
Peters stared straight ahead and thought furiously. “Beggin’ the Master Chief’s pardon,” he said again, “I’m afraid the Master Chief’s understandin’ of the sequence of events is mistaken.”
“Hmph.” Joshua leaned forward again. “All right, Peters, I’ll bite. Just what was the sequence of events from your point of view?”
Peters took a deep breath. “I believe the Master Chief is aware that I’ve learned a little of the language they use on this here ship.” When Joshua nodded sharply he continued, “The enkheil come over to the retarder consoles while we was strikin’ from flight ops, and tried to enquire of my section leader. Petty Officer Howell don’t speak no Grallt, Master Chief, and I offered my services as translator.”
“I see,” said Joshua. “What did they want?”
“They wanted to see the retarder consoles, Master Chief, and set up the procedures for how we was to alternate between our guys and the enkheil crews.” He thought a moment. “Is the Master Chief aware that Ghnal Dhango, the one with the red fur, is the head of retarder crews for the enkheil?”
“No, Peters, I wasn’t aware of that.” By the tone, Joshua didn’t care, either. He gestured, a little wave. “Continue, please.”
“Aye, Master Chief. Anyways, we got the business about the retarders settled to Howell’s and Khrog Dhakgo’s satisfaction—”
“Just a minute,” Joshua interrupted. “Krog Thak Go is the name of the CO, right?” And he’s the one you introduced me to when you called me?”
“That’s correct, Master Chief.” Well, close enough, anyway.
“Continue, please.”
“Aye, Master Chief. As I was sayin’, we got the business with the retarders concluded, and Khrog Dhakgo asked where away was the chow hall. We was done strikin’ the evolution, and I had no specific duties at that point, so I offered to show ‘em where to get some chow, Master Chief.”
“I see,” said Joshua again. He clasped his hands, fingers intertwined. “And you took chow with them, as I understand it.”
“Yes, Master Chief.”
“What did you talk about over chow?”
Peters thought back. “Just general stuff, Master Chief, like people from different places talk about. Stories, mostly.”
“Stories,” Joshua said with a caustic edge. “You gave them a pretty detailed look at the Tomcat, or so I hear.”
Ridley was the source of that, no doubt. Peters nodded. “Yes, Master Chief. To my understandin’ the reason the Tomcat was parked where it was, with a sentry, was to provide the new folks with somethin’ to look at, and to serve as an example of our stuff. The enkheil expressed an interest, and at the time I didn’t see nothin’ wrong with the idea, Master Chief.”
“You ‘didn’t see nothin’ wrong with the idea’,” Joshua mocked.
Peters flushed a little. “No, Master Chief.”
“And all this time you thought you were talking to a couple of ordinary folks, I take it.”
“Yes, Master Chief, to the extent that folks with wings from another planet can be considered ordinary folks, that is.”
“Yeah, right.” Joshua laid his hands on the desk, asked tiredly, “At what point did you become aware that this Krog whatever was the skipper of that bunch, Peters?”
“Only at the very end, Master Chief, and I immediately got in contact with the proper person in my chain of command, as I am instructed to do, Master Chief.”
“Which is me.”
“Yes, Master Chief.”
“All right, Peters, now we get to the point. I’m gonna ask this one time: Did you, at any time in that conversation, suggest to those people that any of our stuff might be for sale, or offer any kind of trade suggestions?”
“I might’ve, Master Chief.” Joshua glared, and Peters went on hurriedly, “We was just talkin’, Master Chief, about the stuff we make, on both sides. We was bound to make suggestions.” He spread his hands in frustration, hurriedly returned them to their clasp in front when the Master Chief’s glare intensified. “I know I ain’t got the horsepower to make any kind of agreement, Master Chief. I didn’t make no proposals or suggest prices or like that. We was just talkin’ about what was around.” He shook his head. “I can’t say any better’n that, Master Chief.”
“No, I don’t suppose you can, Peters.” Joshua’s tone was tired; he brought his hands together and rested his chin on them again. After a long pause he said, “I don’t want to go through this again, Peters.”
“No, Master Chief.”
“I think you’ve been getting the idea that you’re something special because you know the language. Well, that’s so to a certain extent, but what you are is a Second Class Petty Officer, and from where I sit you’re bucking for Third, do you understand what I mean, Peters?”
“Yes, Master Chief.”
“In the future I expect you to keep a low profile, do you understand me?” Joshua forestalled Peters’ acknowledgement with a handwave. “You’re expected to provide your knowledge of the language to those who need it, to help in relations with other people, but you are not to go haring off on your own, making agreements and setting up trade, because you are not some kind of half-assed ambassador, you understand?”
“Yes, Master Chief.”
“I sincerely hope so, because if we have to have a little talk like this again, you are going to be in deep shit, do you understand that, Petty Officer Peters?”
“Yes, Master Chief.”
“All right, you’re dismissed, Peters.” Joshua gave him the once-over. “I see you dressed for the occasion, and I do appreciate the thought, but you skin back into your deck gear and shag ass down to your station. Flight ops’ll be starting soon.”
“Aye, Master Chief.”
“Get your ass out of here.”
Peters nodded and got. Back in his room, he shook for a few moments with reaction, then got out of his undress blues and into green jumper, dungaree trousers, and the rest of it. He shook his head, left his blues in a heap on his bunk, and headed below. He’d have time to think about this later.
The operations bay had been rearranged, with tubby enkheil ships in nose-out echelon along the outboard wall and human planes arranged the same way inboard. Human pilots filed out of their quarters hatch, formed their column of twos, and marched in step across the bay, taking up stations at the nose of each aircraft. The arrangement put the boarding ladders out of sight; at a barked signal the crews saluted, doubled around the noses, and began saddling up. Enkheil Combat Dancers stood against the wall forward of their ships, black alternating with white, wings partially extended, watching with interest.