Dhuvenig looked Dee over pretty comprehensively, seeming to like what he saw. “Further instruction?” he asked when their errand was explained. “I thought you were past that. You have been operating the retarders for some time now.”
“Did you know about the accident?” Peters asked.
“Yes, I went down to check if anything had happened to the ship’s structure, and I stopped to look at the wreckage. The air caught the wings on the ship and threw it against the overhead structure, as I understand it. The crew were very lucky. If they had hit only a few tell forward or aft they would almost certainly have been killed.”
“That’s how I understand it as well, but my superiors feel that it is possible faulty operation of the retarders contributed to the accident,” Peters explained. “They want us to have further instruction, to avoid such incidents in future.”
“I suppose I see their point, but it’s based on a misunderstanding of the retarder system,” Dhuvenig pointed out. “The retarders can only check motion in a line parallel to the ship’s long axis. If the approaching ship moves to one side or the other the retarders can’t stop it. You couldn’t have prevented the accident by changing the way you operate them.”
“That is how I understood the situation, and I attempted to explain it,” Peters agreed. “But because I was one of the operators at the time, they won’t necessarily take my word for it.”
“Again I can see their point.” Dhuvenig sighed. “The problem is that Keezer doesn’t like working with you humans. I will have to find someone else with both the knowledge and the free time.” He looked at Dee. “Why did you bring Dee along for this errand? Not that I have any objections, but you certainly know the language well enough.”
“It has to do with the politics in our group. It would be better if my superiors didn’t know I came here. They might be more suspicious, thinking that I might have made some special arrangement with you to avoid blame. But Dee was afraid to approach you by herself, so I agreed to come along.”
Dhuvenig nodded. “Oh? That sort of thing happens sometimes. I will instruct whoever I send not to mention it.” He looked Dee up and down. “Dee, if you need to contact us again, you should come by yourself. We aren’t ferassi here.”
“Dee doesn’t feel comfortable coming to the control room,” Peters told him. The unfamiliar word didn’t parse in the Grallt he knew. Probably it meant something like ‘monster’ or ‘ogre’.
“Yes, I know some of the traders feel that way,” Dhuvenig observed. “Come back any time, Dee. You can ask for me especially, and I’ll do what I can for you.” He smiled. “Come whenever you like, even if you don’t have business. Perhaps we could get to know one another better.”
“Thank you, Dhuvenig,” Dee said a little weakly.
“No thanks necessary. Is there more?”
“No, Dhuvenig, I think that’s all.” Peters told him when Dee didn’t respond.
“Yes,” the Grallt responded with a short nod, and Dee and Peters turned to leave.
Outside the bridge access Dee stopped and leaned against Peters. He put his arm around her shoulders, realizing with a start that it was the first time he’d touched her. “See, that wasn’t so bad,” he offered.
“No, not really. Dhuvenig was nice, I thought. I was frightened the whole time, though.”
“You should get over that. You will have to come back again, because I might not be able to take the risk. Don’t worry. Dhuvenig will be glad to see you.”
“You think so? Why would Dhuvenig be happy to see a Trader in his control room?”
“I don’t think his interest has anything to do with traders and zerkre,” Peters said with a smile.
She moved away and looked up at him. “What, then?” she asked suspiciously.
“It wouldn’t be a bad arrangement,” Peters suggested. “He’s a nice guy with lots of status, and he seems interested. You should pursue the matter.”
“Wearing my airsuit, I suppose,” Dee offered, with a hint of irony.
“You should do that anyway, but it wouldn’t hurt.” Peters grinned. “You make a very good impression in it.”
“You’re as crude as the officers are.”
“Oh, I’m much worse. I’m enlisted, after all. Now let’s go. Mealtime is almost over, and I need to get something to eat before I go on duty.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Howell was explaining the retarders for the nth time, and had reached the point of using little words. “No, sir, so far as any of us are aware the system has no effect whatever on motion from side to side, sir.”
“‘So far as any of you are aware’,” the officer mimicked. “All you’re telling me is that none of you really know how it works. It’s amazing nobody’s been killed.”
“Shit, all the asshole needs is one of those little whip things,” Peters observed aside to Kraewitz.
“Riding crop,” the other supplied, smiling thinly.
“Yeah, that’s it.”
Carson was wearing aviators’ greens, complete with brown shoes and a cap with a polished brown visor, with two full rings on the sleeves instead of the ring-and-a-half they’d thought he was entitled to. He walked up and down with long strides, flicking his hand against his hip in a nervous gesture. It was already clear that he was not, repeat not, going to accept the word of anybody present that the retarder crews couldn’t have prevented the crash. He kept coming back to the idea that the machines were capable of restraining the path of entering ships, and the sailors simply didn’t know how the system worked.
“What’s this?” Kraewitz asked, looking over his shoulder, and Peters turned to find Dhuvenig strolling up.
“Everybody salute!” Peters hissed, and snapped into a brace himself, forefinger at eyebrow. The other enlisted in the vicinity followed suit without much delay, and the Grallt stopped, raised his eyebrows, and lifted his left arm in the “greeting” gesture. Peters brought his hand down at that, and the others did, too, a little raggedly.
“Hello, Peters,” Dhuvenig said calmly. “I take it that was your respect gesture. Did I respond correctly?”
“Yes, you did,” Peters assured.
“So all of you are retarder operators? We don’t use such a large group for the function.”
“Yes, I know, but we are new and were not sure of the requirements,” Peters told him. “It seemed better to have too many than too few.”
“A sensible precaution.” Dhuvenig looked around. “You asked for an instructor. No one suitable was immediately available, so I decided to come myself.”
“Yes…”
“Sailor! You there! Front and center!” The lieutenant wasn’t pleased. “Bring your friend.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” “Please come with me. This man is my superior.”
“Certainly.”
Peters didn’t quite double-time over to Lieutenant Carson, with Dhuvenig following more calmly. “You called for me, sir?” he asked. He’d already saluted the son-of-a-bitch once today and wasn’t about to repeat it. Two could play at “strict rules”.
“What’s your name, sailor?”
“Peters, sir.” For about the fourth time.
“Peters, were you aware that this was an official exercise?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Were you aware that during official exercises you are not permitted to go skylarking off with your buddies?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You were.” That was stretched out in laconic superciliousness.
The pause extended itself. “Yes, sir,” Peters added.
“Very well… who’s the cuntface?”