barking the look-at-me symbol, rolled over on her back to display her swollen milk glands.
I took a break, scratching the back of Josie's neck and smoking a cigarette. She said the low, half-voice whine for "Bad smell" once, but only as a comment, not a reproof, and she nudged my cigarette case indulgently with her nose.
I picked it up and opened it. Elsie's picture was inside the lid, taken two years before. I started to tell Josie that this was my wife, but somehow it didn't seem right, translated into Dog, and I contented myself with showing her the picture. She looked at it a little dubiously, tongue lolling out, one paw on my knee.
I didn't think how odd that might look to anyone else until I heard Lineback's voice, scratchy with astonishment and scorn, from behind me saying: "What are you trying to do, Miller, make her jealous?"
Lineback went through Weems like a homing torpedo through a tube, and in that one half-hour inspection there wasn't a thing that Semyon and I had been doing that he didn't touch on. He was wearing a sardonic expression when he began, but by the time he completed his tour and watched us put the animals through a couple of simple paces his face was serious and friendly. "Lieutenant Miller, Lieutenant Timiyazev," he said, "well done. Now I've got a hard question for you. Do you think you can make this thing work in combat?"
Semyon swallowed audibly. I said quickly: "Certainly, . sir."
Lineback looked at me thoughtfully. "You're pretty salty," he said, and I couldn't tell whether it was approbation or not. "Well, you may get the chance. You'll have orders tomorrow." He reached over to pat Sammy, our wirehair. Sammy glanced at Semyon, who told him:
"Boss. All right here."
Sammy whined. You could translate it as, "Well, if you say so"—and suffered Lineback to pat him. Lineback shook his head. "That business with your hands and the growl—you were talking to the pup?"
"That is correct, Commander," said Semyon proudly. "I translate it like so—"
"Never mind," said Lineback. "I don't know, it seems to me things were simpler before this thing got started." Sammy was acting ill at ease, so Lineback let him go. "Dogs usually like me," he said. "Been getting along with animals all my life. I suppose once they get in the habit of conversation with humans, it changes their attitudes a little."
"That is so," Semyon said eagerly. "One picks up a little of culture from the other; it is a phenomenon well known. You will find it in the papers of my mother, who worked with Pavlov."
"No doubt," said Lineback drily, and got up to look for his hat. I got up with him; he had left the hat at A-Hatch and—
"Sammy!" I yelled. The terrier, surprised in the act, looked around at me and whined, and reluctantly lowered his leg. I rescued the commander's hat, just in the nick of time.
Commander Lineback, I will say for him, rose to the occasion. He looked at me for a speculative moment, then smiled slightly. "I see," he said impassively. "Well, you won't have to translate that for me. Good day, gentlemen."
And he left, leaving Semyon and me staring at each other in horror and relief.
XI
SO WE FOUND ourselves on orders. It wasn't Lineback who handed us the orders. It was a special courier-officer from a higher command, and it wasn't even COMCARIB that wrote them, though it had COMCARIB's humble and instant endorsement. But the orders were signed "By command of COMINCH" himself, and the. courier was a full commander of the Line.
Semyon was awed. "It is big, Logan," he said portentously. "Did you observe? He shares your tastes in hats."
"I observed," I said. The commander had worn the aluminum skullcap under his regulation dress cap, a style which was becoming fashionable. We broke the seal on our orders, and read them hurriedly. They explained very little, only that we were detached from Project Mako as of 0800 the next morning, and were to proceed without delay to a port on the Florida Gulf
I took a break, scratching the back of Josie's neck and smoking a cigarette. She said the low, half-voice whine for "Bad smell" once, but only as a comment, not a reproof, and she nudged my cigarette case indulgently with her nose.
I picked it up and opened it. Elsie's picture was inside the lid, taken two years before. I started to tell Josie that this was my wife, but somehow it didn't seem right, translated into Dog, and I contented myself with showing her the picture. She looked at it a little dubiously, tongue lolling out, one paw on my knee.
I didn't think how odd that might look to anyone else until I heard Lineback's voice, scratchy with astonishment and scorn, from behind me saying: "What are you trying to do, Miller, make her jealous?"
Lineback went through Weems like a homing torpedo through a tube, and in that one half-hour inspection there wasn't a thing that Semyon and I had been doing that he didn't touch on. He was wearing a sardonic expression when he began, but by the time he completed his tour and watched us put the animals through a couple of simple paces his face was serious and friendly. "Lieutenant Miller, Lieutenant Timiyazev," he said, "well done. Now I've got a hard question for you. Do you think you can make this thing work in combat?"
Semyon swallowed audibly. I said quickly: "Certainly, . sir."
Lineback looked at me thoughtfully. "You're pretty salty," he said, and I couldn't tell whether it was approbation or not. "Well, you may get the chance. You'll have orders tomorrow." He reached over to pat Sammy, our wirehair. Sammy glanced at Semyon, who told him:
"Boss. All right here."
Sammy whined. You could translate it as, "Well, if you say so"—and suffered Lineback to pat him. Lineback shook his head. "That business with your hands and the growl—you were talking to the pup?"
"That is correct, Commander," said Semyon proudly. "I translate it like so—"
"Never mind," said Lineback. "I don't know, it seems to me things were simpler before this thing got started." Sammy was acting ill at ease, so Lineback let him go. "Dogs usually like me," he said. "Been getting along with animals all my life. I suppose once they get in the habit of conversation with humans, it changes their attitudes a little."
"That is so," Semyon said eagerly. "One picks up a little of culture from the other; it is a phenomenon well known. You will find it in the papers of my mother, who worked with Pavlov."
"No doubt," said Lineback drily, and got up to look for his hat. I got up with him; he had left the hat at A-Hatch and—
"Sammy!" I yelled. The terrier, surprised in the act, looked around at me and whined, and reluctantly lowered his leg. I rescued the commander's hat, just in the nick of time.
Commander Lineback, I will say for him, rose to the occasion. He looked at me for a speculative moment, then smiled slightly. "I see," he said impassively. "Well, you won't have to translate that for me. Good day, gentlemen."
And he left, leaving Semyon and me staring at each other in horror and relief.
XI
SO WE FOUND ourselves on orders. It wasn't Lineback who handed us the orders. It was a special courier-officer from a higher command, and it wasn't even COMCARIB that wrote them, though it had COMCARIB's humble and instant endorsement. But the orders were signed "By command of COMINCH" himself, and the. courier was a full commander of the Line.
Semyon was awed. "It is big, Logan," he said portentously. "Did you observe? He shares your tastes in hats."
"I observed," I said. The commander had worn the aluminum skullcap under his regulation dress cap, a style which was becoming fashionable. We broke the seal on our orders, and read them hurriedly. They explained very little, only that we were detached from Project Mako as of 0800 the next morning, and were to proceed without delay to a port on the Florida Gulf
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