"Yeah, yeah," said Sushi. "And if I don't do this job, I'll have to go back to work on something a lot less interesting. The problem we have right now is to find out how the Zenobians' written language works, which means doing some fieldwork with the only Zenobians we have handy. Who's gonna go talk to Qual?"
"He's bound to get suspicious if I ask him anything about their writing," said Rev. "And when that happens, he starts messin' with my head-at least, I think that's what he's doin'. Anyways, his answers don't hardly make sense.
One of you boys is gonna have to go ask him for me."
"Well, I'm out," said Do-Wop. "I can't understand half of what you guys are talkin' about, let alone Qual. I think his translator's buggy, the way it screws up words."
"Buggy translator..." mused Sushi. "You know, that gives me an idea. I think I know just the trick to get Qual started talking about spoken and written Zenobian, without him suspecting what Rev's up to."
"And what's that, son?" asked Rev.
Sushi grinned. "I'll tell you after I've found out whether it works. Which I'm going to go find out right now. See you later!" And out the door he went, leaving Rev and DoWop staring at each other.
After a moment, Do-Wop shrugged. "Guess this is as good a time as we're gonna get for some cold 'ones. Gotta stop them headaches before they start. Catch you later, Rev." And he went out the door as well, leaving Rev alone.
Rev turned and looked at the shifting characters on Sushi's computer monitor, squinting as if it might help him discern a pattern in the rapid flow. After a while, he shook his head and blinked. Everything was tantalizingly close to making sense... And yet none of it did. He put his hands in the pockets of his not-quite Legion-issue jumpsuit, turned to the door, and sauntered out. For now, he would have to leave it up to Sushi. If Sushi couldn't solve the problem, he'd decide what to do then. Until "to' that point, Do-Wop's advice actually sounded good. He stopped and looked in a mirror, taking a moment to touch up his hairdo. The King had always made it a point to keep up his appearance. Finally satisfied, he turned and headed down the corridor towards the Officer's club, whistling softly to himself.
Thumper's departure for the Legion base was delayed while Lieutenant Armstrong persuaded the hunters to stay and set up their camp instead of coming immediately to see the captain.
"We'll take you there this evening," Armstrong told the hunters, smiling. "Captain Jester just sent me to make sure you had everything you needed, and it looks as if you do. Since that's straightened out, I'll head back to the camp, and you'll be seeing the captain as soon as he's free."
"I can't imagine what your captain's got to do on this here planet that's so important he can't talk to some of his constituents," said Austen Tay-Shun, who seemed to be the leader of the hunting party. "We've contributed..."
"Excuse me, sir:" said the lieutenant, whose smile had abruptly vanished. "The captain isn't an elected official, so of course he doesn't have any constituents. And I don't recall hearing that the Legion ran on political contributions."
"Well, sonny, we've contributed a whole shitload to the folks that give the Legion its orders," said Tay-Shun. "I reckon they'd be right concerned to find out that the Legion don't pay no never mind to their constituents' needs. Why, I'm surprised the captain didn't come out himself instead of sending his messenger boy."
"Mr. Tayi Shun, I will attribute your remarks to ignorance, and overlook them on that account," said Armstrong, frostily. "I have given you my word as an officer that Captain Jester will receive you as soon as he has completed certain urgent business, and I should think that would suffice. Now, Mr. Tay-Shun, if there is nothing else...?" The hunters took the hint at last, and the hoverjeep headed back to the Legion base, with Thumper riding on the back seat.
Thumper wasn't sure just what to expect from Omega Company. Probably because he'd spent much of his time in basic training under the illusion that the Legion actually worked the way the recruiting brochures had told him, his fund of Legion rumor and gossip was possibly even smaller than that of the average recruit. Belatedly, he'd realized he needed to catch up. But by then he was leaving Legion boot camp, a passenger in a civilian ship that just happened to beheaded his way; Somebody had called in a favor, and Thumper was the beneficiary or so he hoped. The civilians on board were all humans, like most of those he'd met since leaving his home world. None of them seemed to know very much about Omega Company, or its commanding officer-and in any case, they had very little to say to Thumper. They were much more interested in telling improbable stories about their hunting exploits. This struck Thumper as an incredible waste of time, since none of them seemed to believe any of the others' stories or even to listen to them, very much. And since he showed almost no interest in the subject that dominated their conversation, they quickly stopped trying to impress him.
That was all right with Thumper. He needed time to reassess the lessons of basic training, which evidently went well beyond such superficial matters as marching, saluting, and running the obstacle course. All that he'd managed as well as anyone in his squad-in fact, according to Sergeant Pitbull, he'd completed the obstacle course in record time. But by showing how fast he could run the course, he'd made enemies, which made no sense to him-even after his buddies sat him down and tried to explain it to him. One thing he did understand: making enemies had gotten him in trouble with General Blitzkrieg, which in turn had gotten him sent to Omega Company. That at least made sense, once he learned of the general's long-standing grudge against Captain Jester and-Omega Company. That story was apparently known throughout the Legion, although Thumper hadn't heard as much as a peeop about it until his assignment to Omega-came through. Only then had the other recruits taken him aside and told him what they'd heard. And Thumper's ears had stood on end, and his eyes grew wider and wider.
The only problem was, the stories contradicted each other on almost every point. Some said that Omega was a dumping ground for the dregs of the Legion, and its CO a certified madman who turned every Legion rule on its head. Others said it was the softest duty a legionnaire could get, with routine assignments to fancy resort worlds and officers who let all discipline go by the boards. And others said it was the one unit in the Legion where a legionnaire wasn't strapped in with archaic rules and mindlessly enforced regulations; where a sophont with some imagination and ambition might find a niche for himself.
Thumper had taken advantage of his copious spare time on the voyage to research Omega Company and Captain Jester on the Web, and what he found there was every bit as contradictory as the rumors he'd heard. A long string of news reports from Jennie Higgins made Captain Jester look like the kind of hero Thumper had always thought of as the essence of the Legion-the active, resourceful leader of an intrepid band. But other reports portrayed the captain as a laughingstock, and his company-to quote the governor of one planet where they'd been stationed-as "the idiot bastard offspring of a travesty and a calamity." Thumper had to look up a couple of those words in the human dictionary. He still wasn't sure what to make of it when he found out what they meant-or whether he liked what it meant for him. But like it or not, here he was, riding the last couple of kilometers to his destination on the back seat of a Legion hoverjeep. Gears chattered the whole way back to the camp, pointing out various features of the desert and asking Thumper how he'd come to be assigned to the company.