The right color camouflage to match the local landscape, for example. Harry had plenty of it. They'd probably want extra liquor, and ammo, and bait... Harry was sure he could get hold of all that, too. Harry smiled. This could be the best opportunity to come his way since he'd cornered the market on purple antirobot cammy.
He revved his engine and started off toward the distant tent.
Sushi found Flight Leftenant Qual with a crew of his fellow Zenobians, working with the large device that had been the focus of their attention for the last several days. Exactly what its purpose was, Sushi had never learned; he assumed the captain had some general notion what the thing did and why the Zenobians were setting it up in the middle of a Legion camp.
"How's everything going, Qual?" said Sushi, walking up to the group. "Good to see you today."
"Ah, Rawfish," said Qual, flashing the disconcerting smile that reminded everyone of his race's carnivorous proclivities. "The Sklern is obstinate today, but a tightening of the Zorn Modulator should resolve that issue. Or so one hopes. Mechanical onerosities can be recalcitrant, even with a good crew."
"I know what you mean," said Sushi, surprised even as he said it that he did follow the Zenobian's general drift. "In fact, that's sort of what I came to see you about"
"Ah, does your species have its own Sklerns?" The tip of Qual's tail began twitching. "We were not aware of it"
"Nope, we're Sklernless, far as I know," said Sushi. "It's one of our own machines I want to check out. Your autotranslator has been giving us some flaky output lately, and I wanted to see if we could recalibrate it"
"Flaking outpost?" Qual's eyes opened wider, and he stared at the miniature device hanging from a strap around his shoulder. "I have not seen any signs of it."
"Well, there you go," said Sushi, grinning. "That's just the kind of thing I was talking about The translator usually adjusts itself automatically, but it's not necessarily perfect In your case, you were the first of your species to get one, and there must have been some glitches because we didn't have any previous samples of your language. Anyway, it's been doing subtle mistranslations, probably in both directions, for quite a while now. That could be dangerous in an emergency. Best to catch it before anybody's life depends on it"
"Oh ho, I comprehend," said Qual. "To state the facts, I thought some of you humans were saying very strange things, but I attributed it to your extremely bizarre cultural attitudes. But if it is merely a mechanical delusion, correction would be a boon to both species. How do you intend to adjust the device?"
"Well, to do it right, I need some information on your language," said Sushi.
"Ah, I am but a simple air warrior," said Flight Leftenant Qual. "The subtleties of semantics are beyond me. Perhaps you need a certified scholar of language."
"Don't sell yourself short," said Sushi, breezily. "You've been speaking your native language since you were a kid..."
"Not so," said Flight Leftenant Qual. "Our people do not acquire language until they are nearly grown, and each finds his own way. And some ways are very strange indeed. But the better a Zenobian speaks, the greater rights and duties that one can achieve. Chief Potentary Korg is the great power that he is because he is the most admired speaker on all the planet Sushi stared at Qual for a long moment, then shook his head.
"If I didn't know you better, I'd think you were giving me the business. In fact, I'm still not sure you're not trying to pull the insulated fabric over my eyes." It is a verity," said Qual, and the other Zenobians working with him, who had followed the conversation with apparent interest, flipped their tails from side to side-a gesture that the legionnaires had learned meant the same to the Zenobians as a nod to humans. "Perhaps your translator problems arise from this feature of our language."
"It sounds like a good recipe for problems," said Sushi.
"Do you mean that everyone speaks completely differently?"
"Oh, not completely so," said Qual. "Careful guardians will expose the adolescents in their charge to the most admired speakers, hoping to influence their mode of speech. It works, to some degree. I myself was made to listen to the speeches of Korg's Predecesor. Grand Potentary Zarf. I believe that was a large factor in my rising to officer rank so quickly."
"Amazing," said Sushi, shaking his head. "So how do messages that have to reach a lot of people get sent? Do you have some kind of common language that everybody understands?"
"Oh, yes," said Qual. "But it is curious that you ask, Rawfish. That is a language that everyone knows, but no one speaks."
"What the...?" Sushi frowned. "If nobody speaks it, how can you communicate in it?"
"Very easy," said Qual, and the other Zenobians again flipped their tails. "It is a language for the eyes only, which we use to record knowledge that everyone must know. However a Zenobian speaks, he will have learned the written language first."
"Wow," said Sushi. "That's exactly the reverse of how humans do it-and, as far as I know, all the other species in the Alliance, too. Let me get this straight-you're telling me that the written language has no spoken equivalent?"
"Oh, no, that is the beauty of it," said Qual. "It has as many equivalents as there are different ways of speaking. Every Zenobian knows the meaning of a written message, but the way of rendering it into sound is left to the speaker's own choice. A matter of taste, I think you humans call it."
"Uh-huh," said Sushi. "Excuse me, Qual, but this has just boggled my mind. I'm going to go think about it over a drink or two, and see whether I can make any sense of it. Do you mind if I come back later and ask you some more questions?"
"Oh, no," said Qual. "It is invariably an amusement to talk to you, Rawfish."
"Thanks, I think," said Sushi, and he wandered off in search of his coworkers on the Zenobian language project. He already had a good idea where to find them.
"All right, how does it look now?" said Ernie. He stepped out into the center of the little hotel room so Lola could inspect him. She stood with her hands on her hips, inspecting the dress suit he wore. "You still look more like an. out-of shape bouncer than a high-stakes player," she muttered.
"To tell the truth, I don't think it's the suit that's the problem-it's you."
"Hey, I am an out-of-shape bouncer," Ernie said brightly. "It's been a few years since I worked the door anywhere, but don't go taking me for granted-I'm in better shape than it looks like, baby. You oughta know that..."
"It's not what I know that matters, it's what Victor Phule and his bodyguards think," said Lola, frowning. "If they knew what I know, they wouldn't even let you in the casino-forget about striking up a casual conversation - with a gazillionaire. We're stuck with trying to make you look like somebody respectable. Are you sure you can't shave any closer?"
"Not unless you want my face to look like the insides of a watermelon," said Ernie. "Hey, why don't you just put a dress on me and try to pass me off for a cocktail waitress? Maybe he'll go for that one..."
"Yeah, you're right. I'm stuck with the raw material I've got," said Lola. "Besides, this is Lorelei. He can't expect all the people he meets-even the rich ones-to be from his own social class. I wonder if he'd believe you as a construction magnate, self-made from the ground up?"
"Forget it," said Ernie, impatiently. "You wanted, an actor, you should've hired somebody off a tri-vee; stage. Now, do you have any other improvements on the scam, or are we goin' to get any real work done today?" Lola threw up her hands. "Oh, the hell with it," she said.