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 our 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.
“OK, then, here’s the drill,” said Brandy. “Thumper, you and the three Gambolts are the fastest here. So your job is to get out ahead of the rest, identify all obstacles, and decide how to get them out of the way for the rest of the guys. If you can’t do it by yourselves, come back to the group and get help.”
“Yes, Sergeant,” said one of the Gambolts—his Legion name was Rube, Thumper remembered. “How about the machine guns? You want us to take them out, or do you have another team for that?”
“Mahatma and Brick will do that,” said Brandy. “All right, the course runs directly west two hundred meters, then takes a turn to the northwest for another two hundred. You’ll start at my signal—ready: go!”
The Gambolts looked at Thumper, then all four of them slapped paws together. “All right, let’s roll!” growled Dukes, and together they dashed off into the desert. Behind them there was a roar as the remainder of the squad—and most of the spectators—fell in behind them.
At last Thumper began to understand—this was what Omega Company was about! He grinned and began moving forward, proud to be part of the team.
Chapter Fourteen
Journal #727
In a truly orderly universe, a once-in-a-trillion-chances event ought to have the common courtesy to wait for someone to make a few million attempts to bring it about before manifesting itself. It says something very unpleasant about the universe we live in that such an event can just as easily occur the very first time someone tries to bring it about.
* * *
Two men were waiting for Ernie and Lola in the Fat Chance Casino offices. One of them introduced himself to Lola as Tullie Bascomb, chief of gambling operations. The other she already knew: Victor Phule, who wore an uncharacteristically pained expression. He looked Lola in the eye, and said, “I remember you! What are you doing mixed up with this fellow—or have you been all along?”
“That’s really not germane to our business today, Mr. Phule,” said Lola. “In fact, I might ask you what you’re doing here today—I didn’t know you had a direct interest in your son’s holdings here on Lorelei.”
Bascomb answered before Victor Phule could speak. “Mr. Phule is here as a witness to the events that were responsible for the situation we’re in today. But you should know that I’m fully empowered to act for the Fat Chance Casino Corporation—in fact, this is pretty much a formality. I’m pleased to say that we’re ready to give you two million dollars free and clear—cash, check, gold, or Fat Chance Casino chips. We’ll hand it over just as soon as you sign a few papers.” He gestured toward a sheaf of documents lying on his desk.
“Two million?” said Lola, raising an eyebrow, while frantically signaling to Ernie to keep his mouth shut. “That isn’t quite what we came here expecting, Mr. Bascomb. The terms of your prize offer were very explicit. A partner’s share …”
“Do you really think so?” said Bascomb, with a predatory grin. “As it happens, two million is a very generous payout. To tell you the truth, I’m not even quite sure what you think you’ve won. The terms of the jackpot on the thousand-dollar slots were never precisely spelled out …”
“That doesn’t matter,” said Lola, crisply. “I hate to correct you, Mr. Bascomb, but I have done some research into the Interplanetary Commercial Code as it applies to Lorelei Station. Your local government has managed to get in a number of provisions I’d have to describe as highly unfriendly to consumers, but I can assure you there are still some very explicit penalties for deceptive advertising, especially as applying to prizes offered in the casinos.”
“That may well be, young lady,” said Bascomb, shaking a finger. “I won’t argue the ins and outs of the law with you here. The bottom line is, we’ve got some damn fine lawyers—damn expensive ones, too—to argue our position. How are you fixed in that department? We can afford to tie you up in court for an awful long time.”
Lola stared him down. “And what do you want to bet the other casinos won’t be licking their lips when they find out that Fat Chance is trying to renege on your super jackpot? Especially after you’ve been stealing half their business by offering the best payouts on the station. The publicity value ought to be worth jillions to them. Come to think of it, they might even be willing to contribute to our legal fees …”
Tullie Bascomb frowned. “Are you threatening us?”
Lola laughed, lightly. “Oh, no, Mr. Bascomb. Just reminding you that your casino isn’t the only game in town. I think Captain Jester knows that, even if you don’t. It’s too bad he isn’t here to talk to me. I bet he’d be a lot more reasonable …”
Victor Phule gritted his teeth. “If the boy were reasonable, we wouldn’t be in this mess at all,” he growled. “I swear, the brat hasn’t done a sensible thing in years, starting with joining the Space Legion and abandoning the name his
parents gave him. You’d think he’d have more respect for his own family …”
“Now, Mr. Phule,” said Bascomb softly. “Let’s try to keep our focus on the issue at hand …”
“Hey, I don’t think he’s that far out of line,” said Ernie, speaking for the first time since the meeting had begun. “I know what it’s like when you don’t get any respect from people. Believe me, I know.”
Victor Phule looked at Ernie and nodded. “Yes, I expect you do,” he said. “It’s ironic—a fellow builds up something by his own efforts, and all of a sudden everybody around him thinks they know more about it than he does. I’ve seen it all too often …”
“Hell, that’s what happens when you let somebody else try to run your life,” said Ernie, sympathetically. “I bet if you and I just sat down together, without any middlemen, we could get this whole problem straightened out in jig time. Come to think of it, why don’t we go have a drink and do just that? We’ll probably be back with a done deal before these two are finished calling each other names.”
“You’ve got the right idea, old boy,” said Victor Phule, standing up. He put a hand on Ernie’s shoulder. “Come on—I’m buying. We’ll have things sorted out in no time at all.”
Tullie Bascomb looked up in alarm as Ernie stood up, grinning. “Hold on, Mr. Phule. The captain hasn’t authorized you to strike any agreements with these people …”
Lola was already on her feet, hands on her hips. “Ernie, I can’t let you make any deals without my advice.”
“Oh, encapsulate it,” said Victor Phule, waving a hand. “You two buzzards want to dictate every pixel of this agreement, but that’s the stupidest possible way to go about things. I’ll tell you what’s going to happen. This gentleman and I will sit down together and find a solution we can both agree on. Then we’ll bring it back to you two to fiddle with the details. I’m sure there’ll be plenty of detail work left for you. But for now, you’re going to leave it up to the principals. And Bascomb, if you don’t like it, you can call up my son. I suspect he’ll tell you to step aside and let two gentlemen arrive at something we can all live with. Come on, Ernie. Let’s go get a drink.”
He walked out the door arm in arm with Ernie, leaving Bascomb and Lola staring after them, openmouthed.
* * *
Sushi was wearing a set of headphones and carefully adjusting dials on his device when Do-Wop walked in. “Hey, man, what’s up?” said Do-Wop. “We figured out what Qual and his homeboys are talking about yet?”
“Shh,” said Sushi, pointing to the device. “I’ve finally got them pretty well tuned in. And I’ve learned one thing already. Qual was right—they all speak slightly different versions of their language.”
“Huh. Who’d’ve thunk it?” said Do-Wop, pulling up a chair. “What are they jabberin’ about?”
“Mostly technical stuff so far,” said Sushi. “Adjusting that machine—the sklern, Qual called it. And in between, joking about something—here, you give a listen.” He took off the headphones and reached up to turn on a speaker.
“Ve ought to rotate it two grimbugs upward,” said one Zenobian voice.
“Two and a fifth,” came another—this one recognizably Flight Leftenant Qual. “That’ll just clear the faffleweed cluster.”
“Vorking on two and a fift,” answered the first voice. Then, in a different tone, “Hey, Flort, didja view the Tail-vippers last sundown?”
“Sssst, dey raise a stench in my nostrils,” said a third voice—apparently Flort. “Dey haven’t had an efficient leaper since Blurg retreated to his domicile.”
“Watch it, Zoot,” said Qual. “Don’t overcrank …”
“Tightly vocussed at two and a fift,” said the first voice again. Then Zoot added, “Don’t underrate Kloog. Ven he’s in the league a little longer been, an exemplary leaper he’ll be.”
“Kloog is widout grace,” growled Flort. “He could take lessons from a gryff.”
“This shit don’t make no sense,” said Do-Wop, drumming his fingers on the table next to the equipment.
“I think they’re talking about some kind of sports team from their home city,” said Sushi. “Hard to tell exactly, because the words don’t all translate into anything we have an exact equivalent for.”
“That’s for damn sure,” said Do-Wop. “I think Rev’s lookin’ for a weefle in a viddleworf. If it wasn’t such a sweet deal workin’ for him instead of pulling regular Legion duty, I’d tell him so myself.”
Sushi looked at him with raised eyebrows, then said, “Well, I don’t see any percentage in ruining a good scam, either. But you know, even if Rev’s ideas never pan out, this whole Zenobian language thing is fascinating. If I could figure out a way to rig translators to deal with it, I bet there’s a lot of money to be made. So I’m not just in this to get out of other work. And if you’re not just looking for a new way to goof off, it could work out to benefit you, too.”
Do-Wop looked doubtful. “I dunno, man. You listen to a bunch of crazy stuff long enough, you could maybe end up crazy yourself.”
Over the speaker, Flight Leftenant Qual’s voice said, “Now doxen up the regulator for a test projection.”
“Gott it, Leftenant,” said Zoot. Then, after a pause, “Regulator energetically doxened; ready to project, sir.”
Do-Wop waved a hand. “See what I mean? Nothin’ but crazy stuff. Maybe it’s worth a million, I dunno.”
“Kloog seems graceful enough for me,” said Zoot over the speaker. “The purpose is not the senses to bedazzle, but to advance the pellet.”
“Kloog cannot retain da pellet in his claws long enough to advance it,” said Flort. “He raises a continual stench in my nostrils.”
“Maintain the doxenization or we will be forced to recommence,” said Qual, sternly. “Your sporting chatter can be retained for a more propitious occasion.”
“Double vision, Flight Leftenant,” said the other two Zenobians, almost in unison.
“Double vision?” said Do-Wop. “I told ya, this is crazy stuff. You keep listenin’ to these lizards, you’re gonna end up with scales on your ass.”
“So should I tell Rev you’re tired of working on this project?” said Sushi, with a mischievous expression. “I hear tell Remmie’s asking for volunteers for a heavy construction squad …”
“Uh, hey, Soosh, just kiddin’,” said Do-Wop. “Lizard talk is the real deal for me. What did you say you wanted me to do?”
“Well, for starters, you could run down to supply and get about a dozen blank recording cartridges,” said Sushi. “We don’t want any of this immortal Zenobian conversation to get lost just because we ran out of cartridges, do we now?”
“Cartridges comin’ up,” said Do-Wop, and headed out the door.
Sushi watched him leave, chuckling, then put the headphones on again. Maybe there was a way to broaden the standard semantic filtering circuits …
* * *
“What do you think they’re up to?” asked Lola. She and Tullie Bascomb were nursing twin glasses of syntha-scotch on the rocks in his office, waiting for Victor Phule and Ernie to return.
“Hell, I’d just like to know where they are,” said Tullie. “No sign of ’em in the casino lounge, and the security system says that nobody’s entered Mr. Phule’s room in the last three hours. They must be outside the Fat Chance, and I don’t like that one damn bit.”
“Neither do I,” said Lola. “I hope they at least took Mr. Phule’s bodyguard along with them.”
“Well, there’s no sign of him, either, so that’s the way to bet,” said Tullie. He took a long sip of his drink, then glanced at the computer monitor on his desk. “Just how far do you trust your guy, by the way? Is he going to listen to sense once they come back to us?”
“I trust him just about as far as you trust your guy,” said Lola, staring at him over the rim of her own glass. “Which, from the way you’ve been talking, is about as far as you can throw a small asteroid two-handed.”
“Th
at’s what I was afraid of,” said Tullie, glumly. “I’ve got one advantage over you, though.”
“What’s that?”
“My guy is my boss’s father,” said the casino manager. “He can get me in a bunch of trouble, and he’s as stubborn as any man I’ve ever seen. But I don’t think Captain Jester is gonna fire me just on the old man’s say-so. Not unless he’s got some reason to believe I’ve really screwed up. Your guy, on the other hand …”
Lola grimaced. “Yeah, does the phrase ‘loose cannon’ mean anything to you? And since he’s the one who pulled the handle on that machine of yours, Lorelei law says he’s the one who gets the last word. Well, I’ve talked him out of stupid things before, and I can do it again.”
“Lorelei law is an extremely flexible instrument,” said Tullie Bascomb, grinning. “Considering who made it, that shouldn’t surprise anyone. I think we can work with that.”
“As long as you don’t work with it to cheat my client out of what he’s got coming to him,” said Lola, firmly. She stared at her empty glass, then looked up, and said, “What exactly are the terms you were offering on that jackpot?”
“If you want to know the real truth, we didn’t expect anybody but Victor Phule to win it,” said Bascomb. “We set up that whole bank of slots with odds that ought to have dissuaded anybody with brains from playing it, and a price that should’ve clinched the deal.”
“What were you doing that for?” asked Lola, setting down the glass.
“The old skinflint got the idea that our payouts were too generous,” said Tullie. He’d emptied his glass quite some time before. “Victor Phule thought he could prove it by playing a system, and we decided to let him—teach him a lesson the hard way. Captain Jester approved it, too. But who the hell expected a billion-to-one shot to pay off in less than a week?”
The Complete Phule’s Company Boxed Set Page 134
