didn’t at all enjoy dustbunny hunts under the bunks. Finally they seemed to grudgingly accept the requirements, and among them they got one floor of sleeping area pretty well squared away.
One of the workers asked Dee something, sounding aggrieved. Dee gabbled in Grallt, then translated, "Peer asks, will this be the same all the time? He wants to know if they will need to keep it this clean constantly."
"This here’s just barely acceptable," Peters told her bluntly. "Stewards’d be on report if they let it get like this back home." When Dee translated that, the worker–Peer?–hunched his narrow shoulders and said something plaintive, and Peters shook his head in disgust. He was starting to hear words in the language they used, even when he didn’t know what they meant, and he didn’t need Dee’s translation to know Peer thought they didn’t have a big enough crew. If they were all this sloppy, he was undoubtedly right.
"That is all we can do for now," Dee said firmly. "It is almost the end of the
ande
, and we are all tired. We will meet here again after the meal and continue."
* * *
"This is what apprentices are for," Todd grumbled as he piloted a swab down the passageway.
"Yeah. I been an apprentice," said Peters. He was pushing and flicking a dust mop with the sure hand of long practice. "If that po-face Bolton was to see this place lookin’ like it did, I might get the chance to be doin’ that again. Do good, boy."
Todd scowled. "You’re right, dammit. I don’t have to like it, though."
Dee had made herself scarce again, so they got by with handwaving, grunts, and the few words they knew. The Grallt did well enough, if grudgingly, and it was amazing how far "please" and "thank you" went. They all had simple names, Zif and Peer and Dree, Don (no shit), Yod (Peters figured out it was really Llod after he’d heard it once or twice) and Se’er, and one individual, harder-working and more cooperative than the others, who rejoiced in the moniker of Pis. "Shit," said Peters when he heard that, and Pis pointed solemnly at another who hadn’t been introduced yet. Peters didn’t respond except to wince.
The place was starting to shape up, at least as regarded general cleanliness in the living quarters, but the decks were a problem. Peters wasn’t ready to try to get "wax," "stripper," and "buffer" across in dumbshow. It was hard enough to manage "no, goddammit, you have to get rid of the dirt, not just move it around," although that got easier with enough repetitions. On the other hand, "Down tools and go home" was understood immediately when he called it, an
utle
or so before the end of the watch.
Dee met them at the hatch. "Did it go well?"
"Well enough," Peters said, "but I’m beat."
"Yeah," said Todd. "Peters, you want to tell me the time?"
Peters fumbled the handheld out and pressed buttons. "0110 on a fine Wednesday morning."
Todd winced. "Ouch. Dee, I’m not sure we’ll be able to keep this up. Your day is lots longer than we’re used to."
"That may be true," Dee agreed calmly. "Perhaps you will adjust. If not, we can modify the watch schedule."
"Right." Peters sighed. "Me for a shower and hit the mess hall again. I wouldn’t even eat if it wouldn’t be ten hours ’til we’ll get back, but we gotta, right, Todd?"
"Yeah." Todd sighed heavily. "Except I’d rather let ‘em smell me in the mess hall and shower afterwards. If I get within falling distance of my bunk, that’ll probably be the end of my day, food or no food."
"I feel the same way," said Peters. He rubbed his face, "liberty beard" rasping. "Dee, do we stink too bad to go to chow?"
"Stink? Ah, intense smell, yes?" Dee furrowed her eyebrows together in the middle. "You asked about that before. Your scent is strong, but not terribly unpleasant. There will be no trouble at the eating place."
"Good," said Peters. "That’s the way we’ll do it. Lead on."
They were too tired to pay attention to what they were eating, just
One of the workers asked Dee something, sounding aggrieved. Dee gabbled in Grallt, then translated, "Peer asks, will this be the same all the time? He wants to know if they will need to keep it this clean constantly."
"This here’s just barely acceptable," Peters told her bluntly. "Stewards’d be on report if they let it get like this back home." When Dee translated that, the worker–Peer?–hunched his narrow shoulders and said something plaintive, and Peters shook his head in disgust. He was starting to hear words in the language they used, even when he didn’t know what they meant, and he didn’t need Dee’s translation to know Peer thought they didn’t have a big enough crew. If they were all this sloppy, he was undoubtedly right.
"That is all we can do for now," Dee said firmly. "It is almost the end of the
ande
, and we are all tired. We will meet here again after the meal and continue."
* * *
"This is what apprentices are for," Todd grumbled as he piloted a swab down the passageway.
"Yeah. I been an apprentice," said Peters. He was pushing and flicking a dust mop with the sure hand of long practice. "If that po-face Bolton was to see this place lookin’ like it did, I might get the chance to be doin’ that again. Do good, boy."
Todd scowled. "You’re right, dammit. I don’t have to like it, though."
Dee had made herself scarce again, so they got by with handwaving, grunts, and the few words they knew. The Grallt did well enough, if grudgingly, and it was amazing how far "please" and "thank you" went. They all had simple names, Zif and Peer and Dree, Don (no shit), Yod (Peters figured out it was really Llod after he’d heard it once or twice) and Se’er, and one individual, harder-working and more cooperative than the others, who rejoiced in the moniker of Pis. "Shit," said Peters when he heard that, and Pis pointed solemnly at another who hadn’t been introduced yet. Peters didn’t respond except to wince.
The place was starting to shape up, at least as regarded general cleanliness in the living quarters, but the decks were a problem. Peters wasn’t ready to try to get "wax," "stripper," and "buffer" across in dumbshow. It was hard enough to manage "no, goddammit, you have to get rid of the dirt, not just move it around," although that got easier with enough repetitions. On the other hand, "Down tools and go home" was understood immediately when he called it, an
utle
or so before the end of the watch.
Dee met them at the hatch. "Did it go well?"
"Well enough," Peters said, "but I’m beat."
"Yeah," said Todd. "Peters, you want to tell me the time?"
Peters fumbled the handheld out and pressed buttons. "0110 on a fine Wednesday morning."
Todd winced. "Ouch. Dee, I’m not sure we’ll be able to keep this up. Your day is lots longer than we’re used to."
"That may be true," Dee agreed calmly. "Perhaps you will adjust. If not, we can modify the watch schedule."
"Right." Peters sighed. "Me for a shower and hit the mess hall again. I wouldn’t even eat if it wouldn’t be ten hours ’til we’ll get back, but we gotta, right, Todd?"
"Yeah." Todd sighed heavily. "Except I’d rather let ‘em smell me in the mess hall and shower afterwards. If I get within falling distance of my bunk, that’ll probably be the end of my day, food or no food."
"I feel the same way," said Peters. He rubbed his face, "liberty beard" rasping. "Dee, do we stink too bad to go to chow?"
"Stink? Ah, intense smell, yes?" Dee furrowed her eyebrows together in the middle. "You asked about that before. Your scent is strong, but not terribly unpleasant. There will be no trouble at the eating place."
"Good," said Peters. "That’s the way we’ll do it. Lead on."
They were too tired to pay attention to what they were eating, just
Similar Books
