"The kind of hardware you're talking about is bulky, and it is a red flag if the wrong people know you have it," said Sushi, leaning back in his chair. "Everyone's eyes are on the man with a sword, while the unarmed man draws no notice. The fools forget that bare hands are deadly, too."
"Spoken like a ninja," said Nakadate. Then his brows creased. "But why have you put yourself in my hands? Knowing that you can do this, and that you are willing to betray your own captain, why should I not kill you before you turn this skill against me and my family?"
"A wise man does not break his sword because a fool has cut himself with his own blade," said Sushi calmly. "I will assume that you-and whoever may have sent you-are wise enough to see my value. If you do not, I am in no more danger than before, when you were ready to treat me as an impostor."
"I was surprised that you knew the passwords," admitted Nakadate. "No impostor could have known the signal you gave. On the other hand, we have not been able to verify your claim to be one of us. I am still not certain what to do with you."
Sushi spread his hands and gave a shrug. "Is it necessary to do anything at all with me? And even if it is, why are you the one who must decide?"
"I am sent by the family on Burning Tree, which has jurisdiction over this sector. For my misdeeds, they have given me the burden of solving the enigma your existence poses. It is tempting to take the easy road-but as you note, you may be an asset not easily replaced."
"And what if I can lift this burden from your back?" said Sushi. A hint of a smile played around the corners of his eyes, but it did not extend so far as his mouth.
If Nakadate noticed it, he gave no sign. "My back is strong," he said. "Therein lies much of my usefulness to the families."
"It is good to inure yourself to difficult work," observed Sushi. "It is not so good to make your work more difficult than it needs to be."
"That is often true," said Nakadate. "But to put it directly, I see no way to solve this problem without causing other, perhaps worse, problems. Perhaps it is best for me to watch and wait for a while."
"Perhaps," agreed Sushi. "But what I have in mind would make even that unnecessary."
"Perhaps," said the Yakuza man. "I will tell you, though, I am nicknamed `The Mule'. My brothers chose that name with excellent reason."
"You are justly proud of it," said Sushi, not smiling at all. "But let me tell you what I propose, and then you will be in a position to make up your own mind. First, I think you need to know that..."
Sushi talked for quite some time, and by the time he was done, Nakadate, who had begun listening with a very skeptical expression, was wide-eyed.
"Excuse me, son, do you have a minute to talk?"
The young Legionnaire looked up to see a man in a black jumpsuit and dark sunglasses his hair combed back in a thick pompadour with long sideburns. Spotting the Legion insignia at the collar, he relaxed. "Sure, I guess so," he said. "I go on casino duty in half an hour, but until then I'm free. What can I do for you?"
"Well, I reckon the shoe's on the other foot, young fella," said the newcomer. "I'm assigned to this here outfit, and I need to find out just where and how I can be of most use. The name's Rev." He extended a hand and the young Legionnaire shook it. "What's your handle, son?"
"You can call me Gears," said the young Legionnaire. "Mechanic's mate first class is my rating, and I'm pretty good at it, if I have to say so myself."
"Good, good, a fella should take pride in his work," said Rev, rubbing his hands together. "I take a lot of pride in my work, too. That's why I was so pleased to be assigned to this company-your captain's gettin' quite a reputation for findin' fresh answers to old problems, and I'm the same sort of guy."
"That's good to hear," said Gears. His eyes fell on the other insignia on Rev's collar, indicating the wearer's specialty-astylized musical instrument of antique design. He seemed to remember it was called an "eclectic gutter," or something of the sort. "What's your line, Rev? I don't recall what that particular insignia means. You aren't a musician, are you?"
Rev responded with a low chuckle. "In a sense I am, son-I play sweet music for the soul. But that's just the insignia for my particular denomination. I'm your new chaplain. Now, you know that means I serve the whole company-Christian, Jew, Greater Holistic, Pagan, Muslim, Anti-Norfian-all can come to me for advice or consolation. Back home, my denomination is Church of the New Revelation, which some call Church of the King."
"I guess that makes sense," said Gears politely. "Now, what was it you said you wanted to talk about?"
"Why, I need to know what your troubles are," said Rev. He squatted down next to Gears, bringing his face level with his listener's. "Your troubles in particular, and the troubles other folks are having. 'Cause that's my mission here-to help you all with your troubles."
Gears smiled wearily. "Well, I guess I know what my biggest trouble is, but I doubt there's much you can do to help with it."
"You'd be surprised, son," said Rev. "The King saw more trouble than you and I will ever know, and yet he rose above it and raised his voice for the world to hear-until he had to Leave the Building. Tell me what bothers you, and if there's a way to fix it, we can find that way-you, me, and especially Him."
"Well, I guess you could say I'm unlucky, Rev. That about sums it up."
"Well, we're all a bit unlucky sometimes, aren't we? But anybody's luck can change. We can all make a comeback and be bigger than ever, the way the King himself did."
"Well, I'd sure like that," said Gears. "But I'm afraid it'll take a big comeback to get me out of the hole I'm in."
Gears paused and looked Rev up and down; evidently satisfied with what he saw, he continued, "When we came to Lorelei, all the guys were excited-not just me. We'd been stuck on a backwater world where there wasn't any real action, and now we figured we could build up a bit of a nest egg for after the service, y'know? And when the captain brought in all those professional gamblers to show us their tricks, we figured we couldn't be beat. So naturally, when we're off duty, a lot of us wander over to one of the casinos and give it a whirl-at blackjack, or craps, or poker, or magic-any game that gives a guy a chance. We know enough to lay off the slots, or superstring roulette."
Rev nodded solemnly. "I know what you mean, son. The King Himself spent many years in the casinos, and was faced with great temptation every day."
The young legionnaire nodded, not really listening. "Anyhow, it isn't as easy as it looks. It all seems pretty clear when you've got a pro there, showing you how to spot tricks and how to figure odds, but when the chips start piling up on the table, it's not easy to think straight. We've been here seven Standard months, and I've probably lost four months' pay. Some guys are willing to front a few bucks, so I'm not hurting too bad. Besides, the Legion covers food and housing and all the stuff you need to get along. But I sure could use a change of luck to get my head back above water."
"Well, that's something to think about," said Rev, standing up straight again. "I reckon the King would understand that kind of thing from his days as a common soldier, like any other boy called to service. I can see there's plenty of good work I can do here, and now I've got an idea where it might start. Thank you, son-we'll be talking again."
"Thanks, uh-Rev," said the Legionnaire. "If your King can do anything to change somebody's luck, there'll be a lot of fellows mighty obliged to him."
"I'll take it up with Him," said Rev with a deep chuckle. "I sure will, son."
Journal #298
One of my employer's primary qualifications for a position of command was his ability to project absolute confidence when it was time for an important decision. He did not always possess this confidence in private. Waiting with me for a court-martial to decide on his punishment for ordering a strafing run on a peace conference, he had been as nervous as a new recruit who feared that an inspector would deny him leave because his bed-making skills were deficient.