"Right," said Sushi, little wiser than before. He thought he grasped at least one point, though. "So this is basically the latest milspec version of one of your standard bits of hardware."
"Outstanding, Rawfish!" said Qual, slapping Sushi on the lower back. "Your intellectual capacity is, as usual, of the highest grade."
"Er,.thanks, Qual," said Sushi. He didn't think he knew much more than before he'd asked, but maybe if he mulled over Qual's answer he'd come up with something. Meanwhile. .. "I've got a favor to ask you guys;" he said.
"We're still trying to figure out how to adjust these translators to give the best results so you guys can understand us and vice versa."
"That is hardly mandatory," said Qual. "Misunderstanding is a fact of life. If you were a Zenobian, you would accept it as it is."
"Maybe," said Sushi. "But as it happens, I'm a human, and an inquisitive one at that. So I can't help tinkering with stuff that doesn't work quite the way it ought to. Here's what I'd like to do." He pulled a small rectangular black object out of his pocket. "This is a minirecorder I'd like you guys to turn on while you're talking about things. It'll give us a good sample of your normal conversation, with three or four of you talking at once, and then we can analyze it for common patterns. Is that OK?" Qual looked at the minirecorder with lidded eyes, then turned to his crew and spoke a few sentences. They replied, and a brief conversation ensued.
"We will do it," said Qual. "But only if you show me how to turn it off. I hope you understand me, Rawfish, my friend-sometimes we need to talk about things we do not want others to hear." Sushi nodded. "Sure, I know what you mean. Even friends need privacy once in a while. See this red switch? Slide it to the left-toward this red LED-and it's off, back to the right, and it's on." Qual took the device and slid the switch back and forth, then asked, "There should also. be some way we can resolve what it has recorded, and remove it if by mischance we have forgotten it was working while we talked."
"Yeah," said Sushi. "This is the playback switch, and this is the erase button. Let me show you..." A few minutes later, with Qual and his crew satisfied they knew the workings of the recorder, Sushi said his good-byes to the Zenobians and walked back to report to Rev. Rev and Do- Wop looked up at him as he entered the room. "They took it," he said.
"Good," said Rev. "Were them boys suspicious?"
"Maybe a little, but I showed them how it worked," said Sushi. "That seemed to satisfy them."
"Good," said Rev again. "I hope you didn't show them how everything worked."
"No way," said Sushi. "Unless they're experts in Terran milspec hardware, they'll never figure out that it's a transmitter as well as a recorder-and that you can't turn the transmitter off. You should be getting their signals now." Sushi and Rev smiled at each other. They turned to the receiver Sushi had rigged up on a bench in Rev's office.
Sure enough, a little light was blinking, showing that the unit was receiving. Attached to it was another small box, automatically recording every word the Zenobians said within range of the recorder Sushi had given to Qual. Now all they had to do was wait...
"You won what?" For once, Lola's openmouthed surprise at Ernie was not for his having done something stupid. Just the fact that he hadn't done anything stupid-at least, not anything she knew about yet-was sufficient cause for surprise, as far as she was concerned.
"I won the casino," Ernie repeated, smirking. "Er-at least, a big share of the stock. The old man told me my share is worth maybe fifty million smeltonians."
"I still don't believe it," said Lola. "They wouldn't offer that big a prize. Even if the odds are close to impossible, the risk of losing is too big..."
"Hey, you come down to the office with me and talk to the casino guys," said Ernie. "That's what I came to get you for, anyway. They' want me to sign papers, do all sorts of other stuff. I may be dumb, but I ain't dumb enough to sign somethin' I don't understand. That's what you're for."
"To sign something you don't understand?" Lola raised an eyebrow. "That applies to just about anything more complicated than a bar chit, and I'm sure not signing any of those for you. Well, if Phule's lawyers are as good as the rest of his staff, I doubt anybody could understand the papers they're going to want us to sign. We'll probably have to find a lawyer of our own to tell us what we're getting into--and I don't know who the legal heavies are on Lorelei. But give me a couple of minutes to fix my face, and we'll go see what they're trying to put over on us." It took Lola more like half an hour. She changed into a dark designer suit that stamped her as a no-nonsense professional who insisted on getting the absolutely best quality without worrying about her purchases going out of fashion within three weeks. Lola had picked it up last year from an acquaintance who fenced for a haute couture shoplifting ring, and considered it worth every penny it had cost-a serious outlay of money even after the five-finger discount. Her makeup took longer-she wiped it off and started over twice before she nodded and turned away from the mirror. In the end, she looked about five years older than her usual style-and ten times more formidable.
Nobody was likely to underestimate her, not now.
It took her another fifteen minutes of browbeating to get Ernie to change into something that might induce the Fat Chance Casino's legal staff to take him seriously. Then they boarded the local hoverbus and headed back to the casino. The Lorelei buses catered mainly to casino workers, and the vehicle was nearly empty, this being the middle of a shift.
"What's our plan?" asked Ernie, keeping his voice low just in case the driver was spying for the Fat Chance.
"I don't really have one yet," said Lola, shrugging.
"Find out what they're offering, and figure out how much more we can get by being a pain in their butts. That's what negotiating's all about."
"Well, they gotta make good on their promise, right?" said Ernie. "They say I own a hunk of the casino..."
"And if you believe that, I've got a couple of nice planets for sale, cheap," said Lola. "The best thing we can do is go in there expecting the worst, and let them surprise us by doing better. And if we can keep them from figuring out where we're coming from, maybe we can even fool them into offering us something they didn't plan on."
Ernie nodded. "I got it," he said. "We play the dumbs, and wait for them to screw up."
"Uh... not quite," said Lola. "Your job is to sit there looking as if you're in charge, but let me do all the real talking. Just pretend I'm your lawyer, and you don't make my move involving money or your rights without my sayso. And I don't commit you to anything until I think we've got the best deal they're going to give us. Got it?"
"Sure," said Ernie. "Just what I said before:-we play the dumbs and wait for them to screw up."
Lola sighed. "OK, have it your way," she said. "Just let me do all the talking." The hoverbus changed lanes and came to a stop. Across the street was the Fat Chance. Smiling bravely, Lola took Ernie's arm and steered him out to the sidewalk. This isn't going to be easy, she thought to herself. Then again, the alternatives all looked a lot worse...
"if you don't mind my saying so, sir, I find it difficult to understand your father's involvement in this scheme," said Beeker, over a hot cuppa tea. "It is hardly in character."
"Oh, I'd have to disagree, Beeks," said Phule, looking ::p from his Port-a-Brain computer. "Dad's always had a inborn streak-when he's got a point to make, he insists on ramming it down the throat of anyone who doesn't instantly agree. I didn't even mind giving him a chance to win my share of the casino, even though it was a long shot.
He could run the place as well as I ever did, and the troops will still get the dividends from their shares."
"And now you've delivered a controlling share to some unknown gambler, like a handout to some beggar on the street," sniffed Beeker. "What if he tries to run the casino himself? He's likely to run it into bankruptcy in no time at all." Phule scoffed. "Oh, he can't do anything significant without winning a stockholder's vote. The fellows in Omega Company would nev
er back him--they know Tullie and Lex and the others too well to, turn them loose just because the new fellow wants to make a change."
"Do they?" asked Beeker, sharply. "What if this new fellow claims a new management team could increase profits? Or what if he offers a price for their shares that's too good to resist? It wouldn't be the first time stockholders have gotten greedy when somebody dangled cash in front of their noses."
"Oh, it's not impossible," said Phule, leaning back in his chair and looking at his butler. "We still don't know very much about this fellow-but I doubt he's got the capital to pull off that kind of trick. If he did, I think we'd have heard about him before he showed up at the Fat Chance."
"A very dubious assumption, sir," said Beeker. "The fellow could come from almost anywhere. If I were in charge of the casino, I'd be checking the databases to see if he has a criminal record anywhere in the Alliance."
"I think we can trust Tullie Bascomb to find that out for us," said Phule. "In fact, I think that's one of the things we'd know by now, if there were anything to concern us. My suspicion is that the big winner's just a regular fellow maybe a salesman, or a small businessman-who wanted to play with the high rollers and ended up getting luckier than he had any right to. When he realizes he's in deep water with all the big fish, he'll listen to reason and let the professionals handle things."
"It would be pleasant to think there was such an elegant solution," said Beeker. "Unfortunately, sir, in my experience the ability to recognize that one is out of one's depth is a rare commodity--especially among those most in need of such insight. Far more common is an indomitable thickness of skull bordering on complete absence of gray matter." Before Phule could answer, Mother's voice came over me intercom.
"Captain, we've got trouble," she said. At that very instant, Chief Inspector Snieff of the AEIOU burst through his office door. She was one step ahead of Lieutenant Rembrandt, this morning's OD.
"Captain, I demand an explanation of this outrage," Snieff barked;
"Do you, Chief Inspector?" Phule' s eyebrows rose ever so slightly. "And what outrage do you want me to explain? I haven't noticed any outrages in particular, unless maybe you're talking about your dog."
"Aha!" said Chief Inspector Snieff, pointing a finger at me captain. "And exactly why do you mention our beloved mascot, Barky, the Environmental Dog?"
"That ought to be pretty obvious," said Phule, staring at her. "He's been attacking my people ever since he set foot an this planet."
Snieff pulled her self up into a fair semblance of wrongly accused innocence. "Barky never attacks unprovoked," she said. "He only responds to pollution, or: to direct harassment. He would not attack your people unless they were causing some kind of ecological problem. And he is 'trained not to injure the suspects he apprehends, merely to hold anyone who has detectable levels of a carefully delimited list of pollutants on their person, or in their ongings, until one of the human members of our team arrives to take charge."
"I'm sorry, Inspector, but you'll have to find somebody else to swallow that line," said Phule. "Your dog was chasing one of my legionnaires all around the dining hall just last night. You saw him, too--you were there."
"I am surprised at you, Captain," said Snieff. "The incident was clearly provoked by your legionnaire."
Beeker, who had been sitting quietly until now, snorted and said, "Provoked? Good Lord, madam, provoked in what way? By walking to the salad bar to get his dinner?"
"I saw him taunting poor Barky," said Snieff, lifting her chin and looking down her nose at the butler.
Beeker looked up at her, and said quietly, "Madam, you might discover more insight into the unfortunate animal's lack of manners by looking to the character of his human guardians than by postulating any provocative acts by his unlucky victims. If your dog is so poorly trained that he responds to this supposed taunting, then an objective observer would have no choice but to interpret that as proof of malfeasance on the part of his handlers."
Acting quickly, before Snieff could respond to Beeker's indictment, Phule smiled, and said, "Have a seat, Inspector. Tell me what the trouble is, and we'll try to sort it out." Snieff glared at Beeker, then settled into a chair next to Phule's desk.
"I'll get directly to the point, Captain. The last two days, I have heard your people firing weapons out in the desert-no doubt shooting at the local wildlife, possibly even harming it."
"I beg your pardon, ma' am," said Rembrandt. "If our people are shooting at something, you can be dead certain they're harming it. That's what weapons do, you know."
"Easy, Lieutenant," said Phule, raising a hand to quiet Rembrandt. He turned to Snieff. "Yes, Inspector, our people do shoot weapons out in the desert. Weapons training is an important part of the Legion's job, you know. But we aren't shooting at any local fauna--or the local flora, either, in case you're worried about that. We have a regulation practice range set up out beyond the perimeter. If you'd care to inspect it, I think we can even let you and your people fire a few test rounds..."
"I think not," said Snieff. She stood, abruptly. "However, I do intend to make certain your people aren't taking potshots at the local animals. Be very careful, Captain. You military types may not think much of the AEIOU, but we have considerable power of our own when we decide to put it to use. Good day." She turned and stalked out of the office, nearly knocking- down Rembrandt as she went past.
"Well, well," said Phule, after the door had closed behind her. "I think we're going to have to do something about those hunters sooner than I planned."
"I wouldn't delay, sir," said Rembrandt, shaking her head. "She may be annoying as all get-out, but she's right about the AEIOU's power. And we're already way over on the wrong side of her. If she ever gets wind of a real violation we could be in worse trouble than anything Headquarters has ever thought up for us."
"You're right, Remmie," said Phule. "We've got to get the hunters out of the vicinity. The only problem is where we're going to move them to..." He rubbed his head then raised his wrist comm to speaking range and said, "Mother, find Flight Leftenant Qual for me. I think it's time we made use of his local knowledge again."
"Your wish is my command, sweetie pants," came Mother's mockingly sultry voice. Phule sighed. At least one thing was still more or less normal around Omega Company.
Brandy and the training squad-plus a handful of other leqionnaires who seemed to have nothing better to do-hiked a couple of kilometers out into the desert. Thumper gazed curiously at the exotic landscape around him-this was only the third planet he had been to in person. And, of course, the incident with General Blitzkrieg had resulted in his entire basic training squad being confined to camp-so he'd seen very little of Mussina's World beyond the Legion boot camp and the spaceport.
Joe thing for sure-Zenobia was certainly different from the urban areas where he'd grown up, on his home world Teloon. He knew there were deserts and mountains and arctic tundra there, of course-he'd studied the geography of Teloon in school. But being there was a whole new experience. He'd joined the Legion to see the galaxy-and here it was, right under his long furry feet. If only his mama could see him now!
Finally, Brandy turned around and called out, "All right, squad, take five. We want everybody in shape for the obstacle course." The little group gratefully complied. The walk had been short enough, over mostly level terrain, but hauling along full combat gear-as per Brandy's orders-made it a bit of a chore nonetheless. Looking around, Thumper wondered what they had stopped for. The landscape here looked pretty much the same as every other chunk of desert they'd marched past: interesting in a wild and foreign way. But there was no sign of the kind of obstacle course Thumper had run in Legion basic.
More surprising, when Thumper turned around, was the sight of a large fraction of Omega Company standing behind the training squad. Had they all heard of his record setting obstacle course run back on Mussina's World?
Were they here to see if he was as good as he claimed, or had they come
hoping see him put in his place? Even the captain had come along. All the hints his fellow trainees had dropped about the obstacle course at Omega Company being different suddenly came back into his head. Just what was he going- to have to do to prove himself to his new company?
Thumper looked out into the desert again, wondering whether Omega Company might have created an obstacle course using only the natural terrain. Thinking about it, he realized it might be a logical response to the different environments the Legion must find on the different worlds it was sent to. If Omega Company was going to operate on Zenobia, it made plenty of sense to train in Zenobian conditions...
His thoughts were interrupted by Brandy calling the squad to attention. "All right, people, form up and listen up!" She paused a moment while the Thumper and his fellow trainees gathered in front of her, then went on, "We have a new member of the company, one that's never run the obstacle course with us before. Now all of you know that we in Omega Company have own way of running the course-and it's the best damn way in the Legion!" Thumper wasn't quite sure what she was talking about, but he joined in automatically with the rest of the squad in a general cheer. Legion Basic had taught him that was a good thing to do, even when he didn't understand what everybody else was so enthusiastic about. He seemed to attract enough unwelcome attention from the sergeants and officers without asking for more.
Brandy nodded. "Now, some of you may have heard that Thumper set a record on the obstacle course in Legion basic. That's good-Omega Company wants the best legionnaires we can get."
"How'd Do-Wop get in?" yelled someone from in back of the group, but Brandy ignored the voice, and went on.
"But now we're out in the field, and what matters is getting the job done," she said. "Everybody has to get through the course, not just the two or three fastest guys."
"Right on, Sarge," said another voice from the back of the group-or maybe it was the same one. This time, others rumbled their agreement. Thumper began to wonder whether he'd been quite so wise to own up to his record setting performance in basic. Not that these legionnaires seemed to hold it against him. But there was obviously a different standard in effect with Omega Company. He began to wonder just what was going to be demanded of him here.
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