"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...
"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.
"What do you think they're up to?" asked Lola. She and Tullie Bascomb were nursing twin glasses of synthascotch 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."
"That's what I was afraid of," said Tullie, grimly. "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 payoff in less than a week?"
"Well, I'm just as glad it was my guy who hit the winner," said Lola. "Remember, though-I'm here to make sure the casino honors its promise. You offered a share of the casino, and that's what you're going to deliver. Or I'm going to yell so loud they hear it on Altair N."
"Yeah, yeah, I hear you," said Tollie. "We'll play it as honest as we can afford to, don't you worry. What worries me is whether those two gentlemen are going to cook up something neither one of us can live with."
"A gentlemen's agreement between those two is the last thing we need," agreed Lola. "But if Victor Phule doesn't have the authority to cut a deal for the casino, why are you worried about him running off to talk with Ernie? If he can't bind you to anything, you've got nothing to lose...Right?"
Bascomb leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms above his head. "One thing you learn in this business," he said. "You've always got something to lose. And there's always somebody standing there ready to pick it up and run away, the minute you drop it. So you cover all your exits, is the only way to play the game. Which is why I'm worried about the old man-and about your guy, too."
"They're-wild cards," said Lola, nodding.
"Worse than that," said Bascomb. "I can figure the odds on a wild card, and make allowances for it. Your guy-I thought I had some idea what he was, but now I'm not 'so sure."
"I've known him longer than most people, and sometimes he scares even me," said Lola. "What about Victor Phule?"
"I don't even want to think about Victor Phule," said Tullie. He reached for the synthascotch. "Which is why I'm havin' another drink. How about you, sister?" Lola nodded again. "First good idea I've heard today," she said.
"Hey, Soosh, quittin' time," said Super-Gnat, sticking her hear through the door. Behind her was Tusk-anini, with a baleful stare that might have worried Sushi if he hadn't recognized it as the Volton's habitual expression.
"Sure," said Sushi, stretching his arms above his head. "It doesn't look as if anything's going to happen here, anyhow. Give me a minute to put it on auto for the night, and I'll be right with you."
"All right," said Super-Gnat. "Just don't make Tusk start counting, OK?"
Tusk-anini's scowl became even more menacing. "Why no counting? I count good as anybody," he said.
"Yeah," said Super-Gnat, grinning. "Now all we have to do is teach you when not to do it." She gave him a friendly elbow in the short ribs.
While the two legionnaires bantered, Sushi quickly ran through his routine to set up the listening apparatus for automatic recording of the Zenobians' conversation. He didn't expect to find any great amount of material when he came back. The natives tended to end their workday around the same time as the legionnaires. In fact, Flight Leftenant Qual was often seen in the lounge, having a drink with the captain and the other Legion officers before dinner.
Almost without thinking, he glanced at the translated text scrolling across his computer screen before turning off the display for the night. That was when the word" 'L'viz" jumped out at him. "Hold on a minute, guys," he said. "Something weird's happening here..."
"Sure, like that's anything new," said Super-Gnat "This whole outfit is about the weirdest experience I've ever had anything to do with."