More of the same, with one exception: a pattern of red-and-white rings around the forward fuselage like bumblebee stripes. Lou (!) hooked on and the others swarmed over to attack the engine mounts with crowbars and saws while Peters wormed his way into the operators’ cabin to look around. Three crew this time, not unusual, but the kathir suit on the one in the right seat had four cuts. Maybe the command ship?
Peters attacked the roof of the compartment with the tool he’d been issued, a thing like a pruning saw that went through the thin aluminum (?) structure of the ship with little effort if he could find a way to brace. The bodies were stiff with rigor, but he managed to work them out, bundling them together with light cord and pushing off to the freight hauler. Closer investigation could wait; he dumped them and swam back to check out the rest of the ship.
Jackpot, maybe; a folder of the plastic “papers” the Grallt used was stuck in a slot next to the command seat. He set it aside and searched as thoroughly as he could given the time constraints, finding nothing but the usual trash. The workers got the zifthkakik tied down and the bodies secured, and Ms. Briggs had another target for them. Peters wondered how long they’d keep it up. Eleven zifthkakik, twelve if the next one was recoverable, which they all had been so far.
“Sixteen zifthkakik,” said Preligotis with vast satisfaction. The First of Llapaaloapalla had come down himself to look over their haul, Heelinig and Deenerin in tow, with a couple of two-colored apprentices dancing attendance. Peters noted with interest that Prethuvenigis hadn’t shown up, nor had any of the rest of the trader group except Dreelig, who was trailing after Commander Bolton, seeming abashed. That suggested something that Preligotis confirmed: “Ours, too, not trade goods we have to pay for! This is wonderful.”
Dreelig translated. Bolton’s face was a study in conflicting emotions: cupidity, satisfaction, suspicion, and apprehension warring. “Wonderful,” he agreed, and looked up at the first, wanting to ask but unsure of how to go about it.
Peters could have told him—just ask, dammit!—but he knew better than to speak up. He faded a little further into the crowd kibitzing the action as Dreelig translated the words, then asked something on his own, too soft for Peters to make it out.
Preligotis nodded, still smiling. “Yes, we must apportion them fairly. I suggest this: We divide them into three parts, with the odd one in the last set. The first group becomes the property of the zerkre of Llapaaloapalla. The second part goes to the humans, for effective defense of the ship.”
Bolton smiled tentatively when he got that. “And the others?”
“You were able to find them, we were able to bring them in. The last six should be divided three each to us and to humans, as an equitable division of the effort of salvaging them.”
“Even split, eh? Yes, that seems fair.” Bolton’s eyes were shining with triumph. “These look the same as the ones mounted in the planes.”
“Yes, they are the standard size for small ships.” Deenerin smiled. “My personal suggestion is that you exchange them to the traders for the ones you have. It would reduce your debt.”
“These are the same as the ones mounted in the planes, yes,” Dreelig made that. He seemed to be about to stop there, but his eyes wandered over the crowd of onlookers, finally stopping at Peters, then looking quickly away before rendering the rest of it: “The ones in the planes are only on loan,” he said reluctantly. “These are yours to keep.”
Bolton was staring suspiciously at Dreelig; at the final admission he nodded shortly, keeping the eye contact until the Grallt looked away.
Preligotis hadn’t missed the byplay, but he just smiled and shook his head. “Would you like us to store them for you?” he asked. “If they are not properly stowed they can interfere with the working of the ship. We have a safe place.”
“If you’ll let us know how it’s done so as to be safe, we’d prefer to keep them in our area,” Bolton suggested.
“Yes, that’s natural,” Preligotis ruled. “I’ll send Dhuvenig down to explain.”
“Then we’ll do it that way,” Bolton decided. “Is there any restriction on where in the ship they go?”
“They should be kept close to the centerline,” Deenerin put in.
“You see any problems, Master Chief?” Bolton asked Joshua.
“No, sir. If they need to be kept close to centerline, I suggest one of the shops in hangar bay four, sir.”
Bolton regarded the objects. “I’d really prefer to keep ‘em in the storerooms under our quarters, but if they need to be close to centerline that’s probably a good place.” He looked up at the Master Chief. “They will be guarded,” he decreed.
Joshua ducked his head. “Yes, sir.” He had probably already thought of that; his mind seemed to work that way. White web belts and pistols, no doubt. “I’ll get a working party on it right away, sir.”
“Very well, Master Chief.” Bolton looked Preligotis over. “Dreelig, does the captain understand a handshake?”
“I can explain it.” When Bolton nodded, Dreelig told the first: “The humans signify sealing a bargain by clasping right hands. Commander Bolton would like to perform this ritual.”
Preligotis smiled. “I’ve seen stranger customs. Certainly.” He held out his right hand; Bolton clasped it, a little awkwardly because the captain didn’t really understand, and they held on for a few moments before breaking contact. “I believe we’re done here,” the first remarked.
“Yes. A good day’s work, and well worth the delay,” Deenerin remarked. The Grallt party nodded at the humans, turned, and left in their usual style.
“I’m not sure the traders will agree that the delay was worthwhile,” Heelinig remarked as they walked away.
They were too far away for Peters to hear Preligotis’s response to that, but the rest of the Grallt all laughed, and it didn’t sound like deference to the CO’s humor. Bolton and the other officers were still standing there, looking nonplussed and a bit irritated, not accustomed to people simply walking off when the conversation was over. Peters shook his head and turned to walk away himself. The watch bill had been posted, and he had forward bay door lookout for—surprise surprise—fifth ande of their five-ande day. He’d need a nap first.
Todd met him with a broad smile. “Messages for you,” he said, and indicated two sheets of paper and an envelope lying on the study desk. “Everybody got a copy of the top one, they’re waiting for you to translate. I got part of it.” The half-smile became a frank grin. “The other one’s just for you.”
The top one was only a couple of sentences; Peters translated it aloud:
“‘The council of zerkre of Llapaaloapalla extends its thanks to the humans. The expenses of your upcoming holiday will be met by the council.’ Well, that’s mighty nice of them,” he remarked. “We can both pass the word.”
“Yeah.” Todd’s grin had become sly. “Now the other.”
Peters picked it up, with a doubtful glance at the grinning sailor. It had a salutation:
“Peters,
Thank you for your assistance in the recent salvage operation. Your efficiency and prompt and effective attention to detail were greatly appreciated by all participants.
By this evidence you are recognized as a zerkre of Llapaaloapalla of the third precedence. I have been informed that your airsuit pattern is as required by your position within the human precedence structure. When you are acting as a zerkre, alter your suit pattern to reflect your precedence among the crew. If your superiors permit, on other occasions you may display your precedence among the zerkre as a small square of four divisions on some portion of the suit.