“No.” She chuckled. “How about tractors? We’ve got a couple that aren’t running right. I know it’s Earth tech, but give ‘em a look for me? If you can fix them, I know Dad would be elated to have them working again. Having only one working tractor for hauling the manure and hay bales is a pain in the ass.”
I wanted to point out that discomfort in the gluteal area from strenuous activity could be a sign of a herniation, but then I remembered that humans are not as literal as Xalanites. Perhaps his buttocks did not truly feel pain with these activities.
“All right. I will look at the tractors. Anything but the milking machines.”
The smile Leigh gave me was reward enough for any work I might do, but she offered payment regardless. I respectfully declined.
“Earth money does not spend on Xalan, and I have no expenses here. Perhaps a trade? I have consumed your food and am residing on your property. In exchange for that, I will do whatever work you need of me.” I paused. “Except milking.”
“Careful what you offer. Dad might take ‘whatever work you need’ to mean shoveling all the shit on the farm.”
I contemplated her words. “I would accept that. It is still preferable to milking.”
Since Leigh could not leave her task to watch me, I worked on the tractors alone. The Earth technology was surprisingly simple, and I found the malfunction in both vehicles rather quickly. One had a large, deceased rodent in the machinery that was jamming things, and the other had a rotted fuel pump. I could not find a spare fuel pump among Harrison’s supplies, so I manufactured one from spare parts on my ship.
Harrison arrived just as I was finishing the modifications on the second tractor. I stood back with anticipation as he inspectedmy work. The tractor started smoothly, and I heaved a sigh of relief.
“Not too shabby, T’raat. I didn’t realize that pump had a hole in it. Nice catch there.”
I beamed with pride. “I am glad. And it did not explode!”
Harrison paused, his pale human skin blanching an even paler tone. “What do you mean by that?”
“Well, I used Xalanite parts. I was unsure if they would properly adapt to use in your Earth machine.” I smiled and gave Harrison a pat on the back, which I had learned was a sign of affection and encouragement in human society. “But they did work, and we are both still alive! Reason enough to celebrate, yes?”
A fit of coughing took Harrison, and I worried that perhaps I had patted his back too strongly.
"Are you all right, Harrison?”
He nodded between coughs. “Yeah, ahem! Yeah. I’m fine. You just scared me for a minute there. I didn’t realize you were joking about the tractor blowing up.”
My brows knit in confusion. “I was not joking. It was a very real possibility. But I am glad it did not happen.”
He cleared his throat again. “Erm, T’raat, next time you think something you’re working on might explode, keep it to yourself. I think you took about ten years off my life with that. Us humans don’t like to know we were about to be blown to smithereens.”
“What is a smithereen? My nanites do not know this word.”
Leigh arrived at that moment with a metal pail and some cloths. I noted that she had changed her garments to an outfit that was more revealing than her usual long pants and shirt. The pants, especially, were quite short and seemed … unfinished.
“It means bits and pieces. Blown to smithereens is an expression.”
“Ah! Then I will remember not to mention the possibility of becoming smithereens in the future.”
Leigh sighed and handed me the pail. “Here. Now that the tractors are fixed, I figured we could wash them. I brought towels and stuff for it. I just need your help dragging the hose over here. It’s a bit heavy for me.”
“That sounds like an excellent idea, Leigh.” Harrison patted her on the back, confirming that it was a positive act. “You two can’t get into too much trouble with that. I’ll leave you to wash this one here while I take the other to distribute the hay and feed to the right pastures. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”
Harrison mounted the second tractor and left us with the first. Leigh giggled at his parting words, but I did not understand the humor she found in them.
With my help, Leigh started filling the pail—bucket—and poured some liquid into it that began to form curious bubbles as it combined with the running water. A strong chemical scent accompanied the bubbles, and I asked Leigh what the substance was.
“Oh, it’s just detergent. The foam helps loosen up the dirt and grime that’s on the tractor. Makes scrubbing easier.”
“And we must scrub the tractor to clean it?”
“Yep. We’ll wet it down first with the hose, then scrub with some of the rags here that I’ll soak in the detergent, then once we’ve gotten the worst of the dirt off, we’ll rinse again and wipe it down with the towels.” She smiled up at me. “Be grateful Dad doesn’t want us to wax the thing. That’s a pain in the ass.”
“Metaphorically?”
