the captain knew they were here, he might come up with ideas of his own how to put them to work. And that might be a lot less fun than what they were doing.
Then their luck ran out. Just as the sound of the captain’s footsteps faded out into the lobby, a raspy female voice behind them growled, “If you two clowns are through goofing off, I’ve got some work for you. Or maybe you want to find jobs somewhere else?”
Half-recognizing the voice, they turned around slowly, and saw before them the scowling face of Maxine Pruett. “Well?” she said out of the corner of her mouth. “You working or not?”
Sushi and Do-Wop followed Maxine down a hallway and through a door marked danger-unpredictable quantum flux. As they entered, a light came on, and the two legionnaires could see a stack of packing crates. Sushi’s first thought was that he’d walked into a warehouse full of ultracomputers-but that made no sense. The amount of processing and storage capacity even one of these crates might hold would satisfy the needs of most planetary governments. So it must be something else.
Maxine interrupted his train of speculation. “You boys are gonna restack everything in this room so these crates are at the back, where nobody can see ‘em without moving a bunch of other stuff. And you’re gonna do it without taking anything out of the room and without making enough noise to attract attention. You got it?“
“Man, that’s gonna take all day,” said Do-Wop.
“So, you’re gettin‘ paid for all day,” said Maxine, frowning. “Or would you rather punch out and go find jobs that don’t hurt your pretty little hands?”
“We’ve got it covered, boss,” said Sushi, before Do-Wop could say anything else. “Shall we report to you when we’re finished?”
“No, just tell Robert you’re done, and then go finish your regular jobs. Oh, one more things-you don’t talk about what you’ve done here. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Sushi, and Do-Wop joined in a half beat behind him. Maxine nodded, then turned and left them to their devices.
“Man, this rots,” said Do-Wop. “By the time we’re finished with this, it’ll be way too late to get our message to the captain.”
“Never mind that,” said Sushi. “Did you see who that was? That’s Maxine Pruett, the mob boss from Lorelei. ”What’s she doing here?“
“Makin‘ us hump boxes, it looks like to me.” Do-Wop scowled at the pile of crates. He looked up and said, “It is pretty weird to find her here, though. What d’ya think we oughta do about it?”
“Fear not, I have a brilliant plan,” said Sushi, grinning. “Help me with this crate.”
“Some plan,” said Do-Wop. “I throw my back out, it’s your fault, y’know.”
“Don’t sweat it,” said Sushi. “You ought to know me better than to think any plan of mine involves real work. What we’re going to do is open this crate up and see what’s in it. Then we’re going to sneak out, put our message under the captain’s door, and get out of this dump before the boss lady or anybody else figures out what’s happened. You with me?”
“All except the part about opening the crate,” said Do-Wop. “Why we gonna waste time with that?”
Sushi grinned. “Because, anything Maxine Pruett wants to hide, I figure it’s to our advantage to know about. Come on, it can’t take more than a couple of minutes. You see anything we could use to pry one of these boards off?”
Do-Wop dug into his pockets and produced a laser cutter, and in a few more moments they had the crate open and the packing strewn around the floor. There in front of them sat a familiar item: a quantum slot machine, just like the ones they’d guarded in the Fat Chance Casino back on Lorelei. Do-Wop whistled. “I’m feeling lucky,” he said. “Got a quarter?”
“Never mind that,” said Sushi. “It doesn’t have a power module, for starters. But I just thought of something else- gambling is seriously illegal on this planet. This is some deep trouble. Let’s get out of here before the boss lady sends somebody to check up on whether we’re goofing off. Knowing Maxine, she’s got some muscle boys around to keep people like us from screwing up her operation.”
“Ahh, I ain’t afraid of no farkin‘ muscle boys,” said Do-Wop, brandishing the laser cutter.
Sushi rolled his eyes. “Come on, we’re out of here-or would you rather hump some more boxes for free?”
“You got a point there, Soosh,” said Do-Wop, pocketing the laser. “Let’s blow this joint!”
Sushi cracked the door and peered out; the coast seemed to be clear. The two legionnaires crept into the hallway. “Don’t forget, we’ve got to leave the note for the captain,” whispered Sushi.
“Right,” said Do-Wop. “Remind me-which way’s his room?”
“Down one flight and to the left,” said Sushi, starting off in the direction of the stairway.
The two legionnaires had just started down the stairs when a slim figure stepped onto the landing below them and started up. It took Sushi a second to recognize her, though he’d been looking for her ever since he’d left Omega Base. “Nightingale!” he said, stopping in his tracks.
Omega Company’s truant medic looked up at him, surprise written plainly on her face. “You!” she said. “What are you two doing here?”
But before Sushi could answer, another voice came from the landing above them. “Oh, shit, it’s Laverna. Security! Security!” shouted Maxine.
After that, Sushi and Do-Wop were far too busy making their getaway to notice which way Nightingale (aka Laverna) went, let alone say anything to her.
Phule sighed as he walked up through the gardens at La Retraite Rustique. The visit to the floral ballet had been a bust. Not only had he failed to spot Beeker, he’d been unable to leave the Pavilion until the end of the ballet’s first act-a spectacle that was probably just fine if you liked that kind of thing. He could now say with not doubt whatsoever that he didn’t like it. In fact, he
Phule realized that something was wrong as soon as he entered the lobby. For one thing, nobody was at the desk. For another, several guests were milling about, arguing with hotel employees, who seemed every bit as confused as the guests. And behind the desk, he could see through an open door to an office that appeared to have been thoroughly ransacked.
“What’s going on?” Phule asked the nearest person who seemed calm enough to have useful information, an elderly man with bristling white whiskers and a ghastly tweed jacket of a cut that only someone of long-established family could wear without being accused of trying out for a part in a bad period drama.
“Demmed ‘f I know,” said the bystander. “The management seem to have absconded without notice. Silly of them, what? Now we’re all looking at cold supper, to say the least. Not quite fair play, say I. Not fair at all.“
“When did this happen?” asked Phule. “Everything seemed fine just a little while ago, before I went into town.”
“It happened all of a sudden,” said another guest, a tall woman with startlingly red hair. “One moment, all was quiet-then, Madame came shrieking down the hall, saying that the Legion had come and all was lost. Her senior staff seemed to know what that meant, though I haven’t a notion, myself.”
“The Legion’s nothing to be afraid of,” said the be-whiskered man. “Stout fellows-they did my father a good turn, back on St. Elmo’s. Must have been in ‘44…”
“We haven’t time for that old story,” said the red-haired woman. “If these people can’t provide the dinner I’ve paid for in advance, I need to find someplace that will.”
“Unless things are corrected in short order, I shall have to write a letter to the
Phule had gone to inquire elsewhere. He pushed through the kitchen doors, looking for someone with more authority-and, he hoped, better information-than the busboys and dishwashers out front with the guests. Ahead of him, a group of cooks and waiters stood arguing with a woman dressed in a rumpled business suit-some sort of manager, Phule decided. She might actually know something.
“Excuse me, do you have a moment?” said Phule, stepping into the woman’s line of sight.
Her eyes turned cold, and she all but snapped, “I’m afraid I’m pretty well occupied at the…” Then the woman’s gaze fixed itself on the hundred-dollar bill Phule was rubbing between his fingers, and her mouth fell open. “Of course, sir. I’m Aster Igget, the personnel manager. What can I help you with?”
“If she can’t help, I’ll give it one helluva try,” said a man in a white apron and chef’s hat, ogling the hundred.
