Free Temporary Duty by Ric Locke Page A

on a bomb cart. It took several seconds for Peters to figure out what was odd about it.
    The figure had a nose.
    A waiter bustled up and was setting out dishes before he could say anything, and Peters shook his head and addressed himself to his plate. "This is good," he said at one point. "What is it?" Dreelig replied with something that sounded like slobbering, and they got through the meal trading inconsequentialities.
    "What’s on the agenda for the rest of the day, Dreelig?" Peters asked.
    "
Ssth
. Please do not say ‘agenda’ to me, Peters. It reminds me of Secretary Averill."
    "Dee said something like that," Todd mentioned. "I believe her phrase was ‘up to the ears with diplomats.’"
    "That is a good way to put it." Dreelig sat back in his chair, visibly forcing himself to relax. "For two
zul
I have been dealing with your people, and have only recently begun to understand your cultural assumptions." He took a deep breath and expelled it through pursed lips, a low hissing whistle. "But none of that is your concern. After this meal we will go to the practice place for further instruction in suit operation. Will that be satisfactory?"
    Peters shrugged. "If we don’t feel like goin’ along, we’ll say so real polite like. We’re new here, if you remember."
    "Yeah," Todd agreed. "And don’t worry about not getting along with Secretary Averill and the rest of his group. We don’t do very well at it either." He grinned and looked at Peters, who nodded and smiled slightly. "We have a word for them," Todd continued. "We say ‘suits’ because of the clothes they wear, but it really means an attitude."
    "But suit–" Dreelig made it sound more like
zoot
"–just means a complete set of clothing, yes? Like the
kathir
suit."
    "Yeah, but if you just say ‘suit’ it means a certain kind of clothing," said Todd.
    "You seen the type," Peters put in. "Trousers and a coat, all the same color, usually somethin’ dark and dull. White shirt under the coat, with a tie." He pantomimed pulling a necktie tight.
    "And the shoes are usually shiny," Todd added.
    Dreelig nodded. "Yes, like the clothes your officers wear, but without all the bright decorations. I had not realized it had a particular name, or that it was a status badge."
    "Oh, yeah," said Peters sardonically. "People who dress like that are special. If you don’t believe it, just ask ‘em." He snorted. "Most of ‘em couldn’t set up a dog fight with only two dogs, but they’re in charge, an’ the rest of us get to gofer."
    Dreelig nodded. "Status identification." He leaned back and stared at the overhead for a moment, arms folded. "Perhaps I should get myself a suit," he suggested.
    "Nah, too late," said Todd.
    "Yeah, you blew it," Peters agreed. "Once they think they got you figured out, you can’t change their minds with anything that don’t do permanent damage."
    "
Ssth
." Dreelig paused in thought. "We know how to deal with status societies, we do it often. But your society seemed remarkably free of such wasteful nonsense. Everyone we spoke to seemed very, ah, informal."
    "Suits are informal among themselves," Todd pointed out. "It’s a small group–"
    "But if you aren’t part of the group, formality applies," Dreelig finished for him. "
Ssth
. We know how to do this. How did we miss it?"
    "You spent too much time listenin’ to the words," said Peters. "My Granpap explained it to me. Used to be, maybe seventy-five or a hundred years ago, the words meant something. They still use the words, but they don’t mean nothin’–"
    "Outside the group," Dreelig completed the thought again. "Yes, that is clear.
Ssth
." When Todd started to speak he waved him down, then leaned back in his chair. "Would you be willing to make suggestions?" he asked.
    "I don’t understand the question," Todd said.
    "These are your people," Dreelig pointed out. "If we learn to deal with them effectively, it may work to their disadvantage."
    Peters snorted. "Our people, Hell. They