“Truly?” The bartender looked around the room, where the last few pitchers of beer were being delivered. “You look very much like—well, let’s just say that I’m more than a little surprised that you are so inexperienced.” He eyed the sailor for a moment, then selected a glass of roughly a pint capacity, filled it from a different tap, and passed it over. “Thank you for your assistance.”
And just what was that little pause about? Peters wondered. “You are quite welcome,” he said.
“Join us if you’d like,” said Mannix as Peters turned away from the bar, gesturing at an empty chair and eyeing the glass. “I see you got served from the special reserve, but this is quite adequate.”
“Real good, in fact,” said Tollison as he poured himself another glass. Peters took a sip of his own, and had to agree. It was beer, cool and bubbly, with a pleasant light smoky taste.
“You and the bartender had quite a discussion,” Mannix observed. “What was that all about?”
“We was talkin’ about beer,” Peters explained. “The bartender says everybody with any sense makes beer. In fact, he don’t think much of people who can’t order beer.”
“He’s got a point,” said Tollison with a grin.
“Indeed he does.” Mannix sipped contemplatively. “Very few of us have learned the language; Peters here is extraordinary in that respect. I believe it’s because we didn’t have an incentive.” He sipped again. “The waiters all learned English with remarkable speed, and none of us has much other dealing with the Grallt.”
“That’s true,” Tollison observed as he emptied the pitcher into his glass. “But now we have an incentive. I, for one, would like more beer.”
“Yes, indeed.” Mannix stood, produced a metallic object of some kind, and tapped it against the empty pitcher to produce a tinking sound. “Attention everyone,” he said. The room failed to quiet; Mannix tapped again, and said, “Listen up!” He had a remarkably carrying command voice for such a slight person.
The room settled down in a wave that went from Mannix to the farthest corner. When he had their attention, the First Class said in a ringing tone, “Fellow squids, our honor has been impugned, and more importantly our intelligence has been questioned. How is it that supposedly bright individuals such as ourselves—”
“Speak for yourself,” somebody interjected, and there was general laugh.
“Supposedly bright individuals,” Mannix emphasized, “cannot accomplish such a simple task as ordering beer? We should be ashamed of ourselves. More important, we should begin to repair our shocking lack as quickly as possible. Petty Officer Peters, please stand.” Peters stood, glass in hand, and Mannix went on, “Petty Officer Peters, please pronounce, as distinctly as you can, the word for ‘beer’ in the tongue understood locally.”
“Beer,” Peters said in the Trade, and held up the glass in demonstration. The bartender looked up, and Peters waved him back.
“Beer,” Mannix repeated. “Is that about correct?”
“Not too bad,” Peters judged. “But we’re all in the habit of makin’ our vowels into two sounds. The ‘ah’ part oughta be a simple ‘ah’, not ‘ah-ee’. Try it again.”
“Beer,” said Mannix. “How’s that?”
“Just about perfect,” Peters approved.
“All right, everybody,” Mannix addressed the group, “Repeat after me: beer.” He made a swooping gesture, like a conductor bringing up the brasses, and got back a ragged chorus: “beer.”
“Now, now, that’s not wonderful,” Mannix told the group. “Let’s try it again: beer.” This time the chorus was stronger, and the pronounciation better: “beer.”
“Better. Again: beer.”
“Beer.”
“And again: beer.”
“Beer.”
“Beer.”
“Beer.”
“Beer.”
Mannix held both hands out, palms toward the group to quiet them, and turned to Peters. “Do you consider that adequate?” he asked.
Peters nodded. “That’s all right as it stands. But this here’s a high class establishment, and you might want to be polite and add ‘please’ to that.”
“That’s certainly an option I’d like to have available,” Mannix judged. “Petty Officer Peters, please pronounce, loudly and distinctly, the word for ‘please’.”
“Please,” Peters said.
“Beer, please,” Mannix repeated. “How was that?”
“Like I said, you got to watch them vowels: ‘oh’, not ‘oh-ah’.”
“Beer, please,” Mannix repeated again.
“That’s got it.”
Mannix turned to the group, now waiting with expectant grins. “Beer, please,” he said, and gestured.
“Beer, please.”
“Beer, please.”
“Beer, please.”
“Beer, please.”
Mannix used another conductor-like gesture, this time moving his hands in little circles, ending palms down, to terminate a loud passage. “Do you suppose that’s adequate?” he asked.
“Sounds like it to me, but let’s ask the one whose opinion’s most important,” Peters said, and indicated the bartender. He shifted to Grallt: “My associates would like to know if they are making themselves understood.”
The tender smiled broadly. “The accent could use a little work, but who of us can’t say that? On the whole I would say they are clearly understandable.”
“Thank you.” Peters bowed slightly and turned to Mannix. “He says he don’t think the accent’s quite perfect, but it’s close enough.”
“Glad to hear it,” Tollison said. The full attention of the group was on him as he strode to the bar, set the empty pitcher on it, and pronounced distinctly, “Beer, please.” The bartender grinned and dipped his head, took the pitcher, filled it from the tap, and set it back on the bar; Tollison held it up like a trophy, and got a general happy cheer from the crowd, with some applause.
Mannix eyed the pitcher as Tollison set it back on the table. “That seems to have gone well,” he observed. “Peters, we are all in your debt. Your given name is John, isn’t it? Please call me Gerald. Not ‘Jerry’, please, I detest the diminutive.”
“Greg,” Tollison interjected with a nod.
“Thanks,” said Peters. He took the last sip from his glass; Mannix refilled it from the pitcher without comment, and they looked over the room. Sailors were intercepting waiters, pronouncing the magic formula, and being appropriately rewarded. Not all of them got it right the first time, but the subject was important, and they persevered until they obtained the desired response. “Pos’tive reinforcement,” Peters muttered.
“That’s exactly it,” Mannix observed. “John, we truly appreciate your help, don’t we, Greg?”
Tollison nodded, and Mannix went on, “If you’d care to absent yourself and repair to your quarters, perhaps to rest after your labors, be assured that we won’t take it amiss.” He sipped beer. “On the other hand, if you’d care to stay, I for one would like a few more pointers. Greg?”
“Absolutely,” said Tollison.
“I reckon I’ll hang here for a little while, Gerald,” Peters said. “Among other things, this here’s pretty good beer.”
Todd joined them a little later, and together they went on to advanced subjects, such as more beer, what kind of beer do you have, and I like/don’t like this beer. Not all of the sailors joined in, but enough did that Peters was finally moved to remark, “You know, this here’s a pretty bright group o’ in-di-vidjuls.”
“Yes, I suppose so.” Mannix beamed owlishly at the assembly. “Provided, that is, that they have incentive.”