RAEFF (Jim Able: Offworld Book 6) by Ed Charlton (great books to read .txt) 📕

opened the doors of one and made them climb in.

The vehicle had a space inside filled with bench-like seats. Each had hook and strap arrangements that Jim did not recognize at first. The captain and three others followed them in.

Two soldiers immediately went to the front benches. Jim watched them squat down and loop the strap around their waists as a seat belt.

The captain pointed to where they should sit.

“Who and what are you?” he asked.

Tamric spoke before Jim could reply.

“I am Brother Tamric. I represent the Praestans Rapax, and I expect to be treated with all appropriate courtesy.”

The captain sniffed the air between them and bared his teeth. “You’ll be treated as a spy until you can prove otherwise.”

“I am James Able, from Earth. We heard you had some problems with the Mello-haffen reserve?”

“Earth? What’s that?”

“A planet. My planet, Sol Earth.”

“Huh. Never heard of it! What about Mello-haffen? What do you know about it?”

Tamric answered, “We were supposed to be taking samples of the plants for stocking one of the arks. We heard that there was some kind of disaster there.”

“I wouldn’t know. How did you end up here? You’re in a restricted area.”

“Our craft was damaged in the storm yesterday. We meant no harm; our being here is just an accident.”

Again the captain sniffed, his eyes narrowing. “It strikes me as odd that you should appear just now. If it were up to me, I’d give you to Maglan. Lucky for you, I’ve been told not to.”

Jim asked, “Why ‘just now’?”

The Gul’s eyes sparkled but he said nothing. He turned to the two seated soldiers and barked a command. One of them slid open a hatch at the front of the vehicle. The driver stuck his snout through.

“Orders?”

“Detention Block.”

“Sir!”

To Jim and Tamric the captain said, “Try anything and I’ll kill you. You’re to be questioned at a secure facility.”

Jim sat on a bench up against the thick glass of a window. Tamric was on the other side, also against a window. The captain and the third soldier sat between them. Jim tried to attach the seat belt but gave up.

He was relieved that orders about them had already been received. He felt comfortable that they would not end up dead in a ditch—a dungeon, maybe, but not a ditch. He began to talk to the captain as they bumped their way across the plain toward the road.

“So, you ever been off-planet?

“Not yet, but I...soon, maybe.”

In a flash of insight, Jim noticed the strange way the canid shifted in his seat. If the Gul had a tail, he would be wagging it!

“I love traveling.” Jim continued idly, “I just love seeing the same things, you know—the parallels, the variations of it all.”

The Gul turned his snout away but kept a narrowed eye on Jim.

“No, really,” Jim continued as friendly he could manage. “Look at this. On Earth, if you make this gesture”—Jim held up his middle finger—”you’re being insulting. On one planet I visited, doing this”—Jim turned three fingers sideways—”means the same thing. Of course, they only have three fingers to start with.”

The canid laughed and shook his head. “You travel the galaxy to learn to insult people?”

“Sure. How can you communicate properly without the gestures? Standard doesn’t have nearly enough ways to swear. You need to back it up with the right signs.”

The soldier sitting next to Tamric was laughing. “Try this!” he called. He turned up a paw and, extending his claws, clicked them all together twice.

The captain laughed and said, “That’s what Maglan would do to tell you he was ready to screw you!”

“Ah,” said Jim with enthusiasm, “you see, I need to know that! I definitely don’t want to give him any ideas by making the wrong gestures.”

The soldiers in front were beginning to relax and turned to join in. One of them asked if the Jorrs had a gesture like that, but no one seemed to know. The other brought out what looked like cigarettes.

He looked back at his captain and nodded toward Jim.

“Gra, what do you think?”

The captain frowned and started to answer but laughed, unbuckled his seat belt, held out his paw, and took one. He offered it to Jim and said, “Ever had Lak-weed?”

“What sort of thing is it?”

“You smoke it—for fun!”

“No, I don’t think I have. But I wonder if it’s safe for me. Our body chemistries are different.”

“Yeah, you probably couldn’t handle it.” He put the cigarette into the corner of his long mouth, and his underling held out a lighter that burned with a green flame.

Sweet smoke filled the compartment. The other soldiers lit their own Lak-weed and said nothing.

“So,” said Jim, finally getting to his point, “if I really wanted to insult a Gul, you know, really upset him, what gesture would I use?”

The captain laughed, a little longer than before, and gave a little whoop. “Why?”

“So I know not to do it, of course! I’m a diplomat; I have to be careful.”

The Gul flicked ash onto the floor. “Okay. Okay. Watch this.”

He raised his paw and, arranging three of his claws opposite his thumb, curled the equivalent of his index finger and drew it repeatedly into the gap.

“Got it?”

Jim, with allowances for different bone structure, managed a fair imitation.

“Yeah, yeah, you got it!” He reached over his paw and held Jim’s wrist. “Enough. Don’t do it.”

“Okay,” said Jim, brightly. “What does it mean?”

The question brought long laughs and whoops from all four of the canids.

The captain barked lightly twice, elbowed the soldier next to him, and said, “You tell him!”

The soldier lolled his head from one shoulder to the other.

“Okay. Here’s what it is. In the old days, in our...like...old, old days...when our ancestors had boats with sticks—”

“You mean ‘oars’?” asked Jim, smiling.

“Yeah, yeah, oars.”

The others whooped and barked at this, but he continued. “Anyway, it was the mother’s job to row—always the mother. The father’s job...he provided the oars. So, this...,” he held up the three claws opposite his thumb, “is the place they put