Free Damage Control - ARC by Mary Jeddore Blakney Page B

her
way through the crowd and over the uneven floor to the nearest
one.
    One of the uniformed Chuzekks grabbed her
bicep. “Gashh,” he hissed, glared at her and then let go. Several
times she felt hands stroking her head or claws playing with her
curls, but she didn't object. She was, after all, apparently the
only one there with hair.
    When she got to the food dispenser, a
uniformed soldier was just leaving it with his tray of food. When
he saw her, he balanced his tray on one hand and grabbed his
Personal Device. He spoke to it and the Device responded, “Do you
know that it serves Earth food?”
    His companion, who was female and also wore a
uniform, spoke into her own Personal Device, and it said, “He's
talking to you, Human.” The Chuzekks themselves always sounded
congested when they spoke English, because they couldn't say their
Ms or their Ns. But the Personal Devices had no impediment: they
spoke with a perfect Cleveland accent.
    “Thank you,” Jade answered politely, and both
Personal Devices translated in unison.
    “I'm Leed and this is Vyke,” said the female
through her Personal Device, and extended her hand. Jade shook
it.
    “That's not how you should greet,” Leed
responded, and Vyke said, “We'll show you how to greet, at the
table, if you will eat with us. Will you eat with us?”
    “Thanks,” said Jade. “But how do I order
food? Do I just talk to the thing?”
    “Yes,” Vyke answered, then said to the
pillar, “Show me the Earth food selection.”
    The dispenser responded before the
translation came. On the side of the pillar appeared a series of
pictures of dishes, labeled in Chuzekk and in English.
    “New England clam chowder!” Jade exclaimed,
very surprised to see such a regional dish on the menu. The
Chuzekks didn't really have a presence in New England, as far as
she knew.
    The chowder came out of an opening that
looked something like a small oven. It was on a tray with coffee
and juice, a set of ordinary silverware and an ordinary napkin. It
smelled good.
    There were no chairs around the table, only
hard metal devices for kneeling in. She set her tray on the small
orange table and knelt, ready for her knees to hurt. But the
uniform-boots they'd made her wear were thickly padded in front,
and shaped just for this purpose, so she found the position very
comfortable. She adjusted the back of the contraption and settled
back on it.
    “How to greet,” said Leed through her
Personal Device. She and Vyke were both still standing, and after
checking to be sure Jade was looking, each grasped the other's
right upper arm with the right hand.
    So that was why people kept feeling her right
bicep: they were trying to shake hands. Jade stood and grasped
Leed's arm, and Leed grasped hers.
    She turned to Vyke to do the same with him,
but Leed gently took Jade's wrist and said, “First, tell us your
name.”
    “Oh, sorry,” she said. “It's Jade.”
    “Jade,” Leed repeated. “You have a Chuzekk
nickname, then.”
    “No, that's really my name.”
    “We're lucky, then,” said Vyke, kneeling.
“Most Human names are hard to say. Yours sounds just like a Chuzekk
name.”
    “When we greet,” said Leed, “we are not
silent. We say each other's names. Or if the person you are
greeting outranks you, you should say his or her rank.”
    “But only if you mean it,” said Vyke. “Never
say it if you don't mean it.”
    Jade settled onto her knees and realized
eating would be awkward, since the table was so high. “I don't
understand,” she said. “Only if I mean what?” She dipped the edge
of her spoon into the chowder, braced herself, and tried it. To her
relief, it tasted like it had come straight from a Boston
diner.
    “When you say a person's rank in this way,”
Vyke answered, “you recognize his or her authority over you.”
    “So it's a gesture of respect,” said Jade, to
confirm that she understood.
    “It's more than that,” Leed answered. “It's a
promise to