The room he assigned them was on the second floor. “Definitely the high rent district,” Todd diagnosed. The whole wall opposite the door was windows, with a view out to sea at a slight angle. An inviting curve of sandy beach led to the right, ending at a rocky headland crowned with red and yellow vegetation.
Peters smiled. “I reckon we can get used to it.” The room cost twelve ornh, almost four times what they’d paid on previous liberties. Neither of them considered that relevant; their previous decision, to enjoy it while they had it, still stood.
They inspected the room, finding sundry accoutrements of the “high-rent district”. Neither of them had ever spent any time in such luxury, but in the end it was just a place to sleep, and the beach looked inviting. They dumped their bags, decided to stay in kathir suits for a little longer, and headed back for the elevator.
“Beer,” said Todd. “Two.”
The bartender was a bullet-headed individual of the same species as the desk clerk. He looked the two sailors over, seemed to approve what he saw, and drew two into short heavy glasses. The tap could have been from Pittsburgh, except for the design on the handle. “Require two ornh, please.” His diction and vocabulary weren’t as good as the desk clerk’s.
Todd handed over a bill. Change came, a four and a two; he tossed the two back, and the bartender took it and smiled, displaying a mouthful of strong, slightly yellow teeth.
“Big tipper,” said Peters. He took a sip of the beer, looked at the glass, took a long pull. “That’s better’n the last place.”
“So’s the whole place,” Todd observed, and took his first sip. “Shit, you’re right, this is good. It even looks all right.”
“Maybe we ought to see about importin’ it.”
Todd snorted. “En-tre-pree-noor-ship in action. How the Hell would we ship it home? Just drink it, and leave it here.”
The oblique reference to the old joke tickled Peters’s funnybone; he choked, leaving a trail down his shirt front. “Damn you,” he said when he recovered.
“Relax,” Todd advised. “Enjoy the scenery.”
The bar was open on all four sides, with a roof of thatched palm fronds held up by peeled poles. A squared-off ring of polished wood, with a flap for the bartender to enter and leave, supported a contraption that turned out to be the cash register. The stools were made of chrome tubing, with seats covered in red plastic. Around it on the sand were circular white tables, each with a brightly-colored umbrella sticking up through a hole in the middle and three or four chairs with chrome tubing frames and cloth seats. The two sailors sat and sipped. They had decisions to make, and soon, but this was liberty, not serious discussion time.
“Wonder why nobody’s swimming.”
“I reckon the locals know best. If there are any locals,” Peters observed. There didn’t seem to be much of a common denominator among the fifty or so individuals of perhaps ten or eleven different species strolling along the beach, sitting at the bar, or lounging in beach chairs. “Ask the beerkeep.”
The bartender didn’t know the word Todd was trying to use; they were reduced to sign language. He looked alarmed. “Ke, ke. Snikk.”
Ke was Trade: no. They shouldn’t swim. “What snikk?” Todd asked.
“Snikk,” said the bartender urgently. “Ke spiss. Snikk.” He waved one hand in a sinuous motion, fingers and thumb opening and closing, finally grabbing Todd’s bare arm with his fingernails. “Snikk.”
“Ouch.” Todd yanked his arm back. “I’ll snikk you.”
“Shark,” said Peters. “Somethin’ like a shark.”
“Yeah, must be.” He rubbed his arm. “And we learned a word in the local language. Spiss. Swim.”
“Wonder if it’s really the local language.” Trade seemed to be pretty universal, at least on the planets they’d visited.
“I wonder if they have a pool.” Todd was from the Texas Gulf Coast, and swam like a fish. “I haven’t been swimming since Zenth.”
“Maybe a pool at the main building.” Peters was from West Virginia. He knew how to swim because the Navy had taught him.
“Maybe. Hey, there’s Jacks and Se’en. Second dli must be down,” Todd observed. A mixed group, mostly humans with one or two Grallt mixed in, was fanning out across the beach from the hotel walkway. Most seemed to be off down the beach, but some of them spotted the bar and headed toward it.
“Hi guys,” said one of the newcomers.
“Well, hey yourself, Jacks.” Todd waved his glass. “Get yourself some of this, it’s good. Hello, Se’en, you’re looking good today.”
“Thanks,” she said. “Trust youse guys to find the bar, eh? Can you get me a beer, too?”
“Yeah, no problem.” Peters waved at the bartender. “Four of the same, please. We will move to that table over there,” pointing.
The bartender nodded. “I bring.”
“Thank you.”
Todd adjusted the umbrella for more effective shade before sitting down. “Good service,” he observed. “Now you know why I tip so big.”
“We can afford it,” Peters observed.
“Keep it down,” said Todd, glancing at the other two.
“Sorry, you’re right.” He changed the subject: “Se’en looks a little nervous.” Jacks and Se’en were settling themselves, Jacks being solicitous.
“Yeah. Wonder why.”
“Let’s ask.” Peters shifted to Grallt. “Se’en, you seem uncomfortable. Is something wrong? Can we help?”
She shook her head vigorously. “No, no, it’s good. It’s only that this is unusual for me.”
“What’s that about?” Jacks asked with a touch of belligerence.
Peters shook his head. Over a year now, and Jacks still couldn’t say “yes” or “no” in Grallt. “I asked why she looked a little peaked.”
“This is her first time off the ship,” said Jacks.
“First time? Ever?” Peters was surprised but not dumfounded. Very few of the Grallt seemed to visit the planets they traded with.
The bartender brought the drinks. Peters tipped him a two as Todd had; he took the money, smiled his somewhat alarming smile, and went back to the bar. “Yeah, dis is my foist planet surface,” said Se’en when he’d left. “It ain’t nohmal for us to leave de ship.”
“That’d be hard for us,” said Todd. “We feel trapped sometimes. Part of the contract was that we should be able to leave occasionally.”
“Yeah. Some of the others’ve been down, some of the other goils. Dey said it was real nice, so I thought I’d try it. It’s nice, but—” she waved an arm, indicating the sea and sky, “—so big.”
They discussed the subject for a while, learning the Grallt word for “agoraphobia” and finishing their beers in the process. Jacks and Se’en expressed an interest in looking around and took themselves off, and Todd and Peters ordered another and relaxed. The bartender didn’t look happy this time. “Much disu in, understand?” he said as he set the glasses on the table. “Sleep water.”
“Alcohol,” said Peters, holding his glass up to the light. “Come to think of it, I am gettin’ pretty relaxed.”
Todd grinned. “Yeah. I could do with some relaxation.” He looked up and said in Grallt, “Thank you for warning. Good beer. We be careful.”
“Yes, careful,” he said. His smile didn’t look so alarming this time for some reason. “I Denef. You got trouble, ask me.”
“We do that,” said Todd. “Us Todd—” indicating himself “—and Peters. You carry us back to room we drink too much.”