chow. What say we give this up for the time bein’?"
"Sounds good. My stomach’s been growling for a while now."
They had almost finished their meal when Dreelig came bustling up. He looked harried, moving jerkily as he had on board the
dli
. "Pleasant greetings," he said, his tone a little tense. "Have you been occupying your time usefully?"
"Depends on what you’d call useful," Peters said. "We been lookin’ around a bit."
"Good. You should become more familiar with the ship." Dreelig sat, or better collapsed. "When the rest of your people arrive you will be needed to help them orient themselves."
"So what’ve you been up to?"
"Consulting with my superiors about the change in negotiating technique you suggested. We find the idea very encouraging in some ways, but a great deal of discussion is required."
"Yeah." Peters looked away, then back at the Grallt. "From somethin’ Dee said we gather you ain’t got any easy way to talk with the other folks. Means a lot of comin’ and goin’, don’ it?"
"Yes. It’s quite tiring."
"So how come? Radios ain’t all that hard."
Dreelig’s expression was probably rueful. "Now that I have seen how your people operate I can understand why you might think so, but none of the other people we know have such a sophisticated communications technology. Our communicators are large, bulky, and not dependable."
"Don’t you have anything?" Todd sounded dubious.
"Some races have large stations that send to many receivers.
Llapaaloapalla
has receivers for those, and a staff who listen when such transmitters are nearby, but if we ever had transmitters I have never known it." Dreelig shrugged. "Perhaps they have failed, if they exist. I know little about it."
"Is that how you learned our language?" Todd asked.
Dreelig raised his eyebrows. "I suppose it must be. Znereda never mentioned it." He made a dismissive gesture. "It has been a long and difficult
llor
for me, and I wish to eat and go to bed. You should do the same. Next
llor
–tomorrow–will be equally difficult, I fear."
"What’ll we be doing?" Peters wanted to know.
"After first meal you should go to Znereda for another language lesson, and after that you should continue cleaning. We will want your comments on the new negotiating technique, probably after third meal." Dreelig gestured tiredly again. "We will go down to Washington during the third
ande
. It would be good if you went along. You have spoken of things your people should bring, and those arrangements should be made. Your officers will be bringing their machines aboard in a few
llor
, and we should have as much done as possible before then."
"Yeah, that sounds like the right way to do it. Need to get with whoever’s gonna be in command of the detachment."
"That sounded like agreement, but I’m too tired to parse the idiom." Dreelig waved off Peters’s attempt to explain. "Now if you’ll excuse me–"
* * *
"I ain’t never learned another language before," Peters grumped on the way to Znereda’s place. "I reckon you’ve got a leg up, knowin’ Spanish and all."
"It’s not real similar. You seem to be doing all right."
"Hearin’ words in the flow," the older sailor admitted.
"That’s half the battle right there," Todd noted.
The lesson went well, as did the cleaning session, which was makework, more brightwork polishing. "We’re gonna need some equipment soon," Peters remarked as he watched Zif rubbing out a stainless steel sink. "Handwork won’t cut it for the rest of this."
Todd shrugged. "Out of our hands if the Grallt don’t provide," he pointed out. "Let’s knock off and get chow."
"Yeah. Ain’t gettin’ much done anyways."
Chow had become routine as well, easier now that they knew more of the language. "What’s the uniform of the day for the trip down?" Todd asked over coffee.
Peters considered. "Dress blues, I reckon," he said finally.
"Not
kathir
suits?"
"I’m purely tempted, but no, I reckon not," Peters said with a
"Sounds good. My stomach’s been growling for a while now."
They had almost finished their meal when Dreelig came bustling up. He looked harried, moving jerkily as he had on board the
dli
. "Pleasant greetings," he said, his tone a little tense. "Have you been occupying your time usefully?"
"Depends on what you’d call useful," Peters said. "We been lookin’ around a bit."
"Good. You should become more familiar with the ship." Dreelig sat, or better collapsed. "When the rest of your people arrive you will be needed to help them orient themselves."
"So what’ve you been up to?"
"Consulting with my superiors about the change in negotiating technique you suggested. We find the idea very encouraging in some ways, but a great deal of discussion is required."
"Yeah." Peters looked away, then back at the Grallt. "From somethin’ Dee said we gather you ain’t got any easy way to talk with the other folks. Means a lot of comin’ and goin’, don’ it?"
"Yes. It’s quite tiring."
"So how come? Radios ain’t all that hard."
Dreelig’s expression was probably rueful. "Now that I have seen how your people operate I can understand why you might think so, but none of the other people we know have such a sophisticated communications technology. Our communicators are large, bulky, and not dependable."
"Don’t you have anything?" Todd sounded dubious.
"Some races have large stations that send to many receivers.
Llapaaloapalla
has receivers for those, and a staff who listen when such transmitters are nearby, but if we ever had transmitters I have never known it." Dreelig shrugged. "Perhaps they have failed, if they exist. I know little about it."
"Is that how you learned our language?" Todd asked.
Dreelig raised his eyebrows. "I suppose it must be. Znereda never mentioned it." He made a dismissive gesture. "It has been a long and difficult
llor
for me, and I wish to eat and go to bed. You should do the same. Next
llor
–tomorrow–will be equally difficult, I fear."
"What’ll we be doing?" Peters wanted to know.
"After first meal you should go to Znereda for another language lesson, and after that you should continue cleaning. We will want your comments on the new negotiating technique, probably after third meal." Dreelig gestured tiredly again. "We will go down to Washington during the third
ande
. It would be good if you went along. You have spoken of things your people should bring, and those arrangements should be made. Your officers will be bringing their machines aboard in a few
llor
, and we should have as much done as possible before then."
"Yeah, that sounds like the right way to do it. Need to get with whoever’s gonna be in command of the detachment."
"That sounded like agreement, but I’m too tired to parse the idiom." Dreelig waved off Peters’s attempt to explain. "Now if you’ll excuse me–"
* * *
"I ain’t never learned another language before," Peters grumped on the way to Znereda’s place. "I reckon you’ve got a leg up, knowin’ Spanish and all."
"It’s not real similar. You seem to be doing all right."
"Hearin’ words in the flow," the older sailor admitted.
"That’s half the battle right there," Todd noted.
The lesson went well, as did the cleaning session, which was makework, more brightwork polishing. "We’re gonna need some equipment soon," Peters remarked as he watched Zif rubbing out a stainless steel sink. "Handwork won’t cut it for the rest of this."
Todd shrugged. "Out of our hands if the Grallt don’t provide," he pointed out. "Let’s knock off and get chow."
"Yeah. Ain’t gettin’ much done anyways."
Chow had become routine as well, easier now that they knew more of the language. "What’s the uniform of the day for the trip down?" Todd asked over coffee.
Peters considered. "Dress blues, I reckon," he said finally.
"Not
kathir
suits?"
"I’m purely tempted, but no, I reckon not," Peters said with a
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