"Easy for you to say," said Bascomb. "You think you're going to have any influence on what Captain Jester decides to do? Your guy may think he's won a partner's share, but control of the casino still rests with the majority of the stockholders. And I wouldn't bet on them listening to anybody but the captain."

"Hey, I don't want to see you in the ejection pod," said Lola, reaching over and putting her hand on his forearm. "We just have to find something the two of us can agree on, and when Phule and Ernie come back, we convince them it's what they really wanted all along. If you can get Mr. Phule on board, I'm sure his son will listen to what he says."

"If he does, it'll be the first time in years," said Bascomb. "But I agree, we've got to be ready with something sensible before our principals come back with their proposition. What do you think of this idea..." The discussion went on into late hours.

15

Journal #732

The rationalist is convinced that every sophont is at bottom predictable, acting according to consistent (if not necessarily already well-known) rules. The mystic, for his part, believes that every creature conceals within its breast some element of the wild and unpredictable. Of the legionnaires who play parts in this ongoing chronicle perhaps young Sushi best characterizes the former point of view, with Rev perhaps the most obvious advocate of the latter.

The realist (a label I believe I may fairly apply to myself) is aware that both of these philosophies have merit. Most of us are predominantly creatures of habit and pattern; but even. the quietest of us has depths, from which the most unexpected actions can sometimes emerge...

Tonight, Thumper was standing perimeter guard duty for the first time. Brandy led him out to the position he'd be occupying, to show him the ropes and give a word or two of advice.

"The biggest thing to remember is that you've got instant comm contact with Mother, if anything weird happens," said Omega Company's Top Sergeant. "Don't worry about bothering her-first of all, she loves to talk, and second, whatever's going on, she's probably talked to a lot of legionnaires in exactly the same spot you're in-so she may have a pretty good idea what's happening. And third, if you really do need help, she can get it to you faster than anybody else. Got the picture?"

"Yes, Sergeant," said Thumper, peering out into the formless surrounding the base. He felt small and alone, even with the Zenobian stun ray he cradled in his arms.

Brandy nodded. "And the second thing to remember is, even though we're on a strange planet light-years away from your home or mine, there's not really much that can go wrong. The only other humans on the planet are the AEIOU team, over there, and the hunters who brought you. And none of them are going to invade the camp-though if those hunters get boozed up, they might do something stupid. The Zenobians are our allies-in fact, they're the ones who- invited us here. And the Nanoids, the microscopic colony intelligence that the captain and Beeker found out in the desert-nobody's seen them since the captain sent his robot double to deal with them. Not much chance they'll decide to come back on your watch.

As for the local animals, they pretty much keep their distance. If in doubt, buzz Mother, then shoot to stun if you think you're being threatened."

"Right, Sergeant," said Thumper. He was doing his best to sound confident and competent.

"OK, then, you're on your own," said Brandy. She gave the new legionnaire a friendly soft punch in the shoulder.

Moarbo will be here to relieve you in four hours. Do your rest to stay awake until then."

"Yes, Sergeant!" said Thumper, grinning a little bit now as Brandy headed back in toward the modular base building. His Lepoid eyes were already adapting well to the darkness, and he could see the vague outlines of some of the larger specimens of the local vegetation out against the starry horizon. After a couple of minutes, he heard the faint sound of the door to the base building opening and closing.

Now he really was alone.

Thumper looked around in all directions, taking his time to make sure he didn't overlook anything. Finally, satisfied that he wasn't under observation, he took a deep breath, and, as quietly as possible, slipped out across the perimeter of Omega Base into the cool desert night.

"Hey, kid, wake up," said a loud voice in Lola's ear. "We're back!"

"Ernie!" Lola sat bolt upright, her eyes suddenly focused. "You idiot! Where've you been all this time?"

"Hey, take it easy," said Ernie, backing away a pace. "Mr. Phule and I just went someplace quiet to talk things over without any audience or interference, OK?"

"No, it's not OK!" said Lola. She suddenly became aware of Victor Phule standing slightly behind Ernie, and Tullie Bascomb in his chair behind his big desk. Bascomb was rubbing his eyes; so at least she hadn't been the only one to fall asleep. "What time is it?" she asked, lamely trying for a graceful change of subject.

"Three in the morning," said Victor Phule. "Reminds me of old times, staying up to the wee hours to hammer out details of a deal. Exhausting, but there's nothing more rewarding. Why, I remember the foundry strikes of '58 we negotiated around the clock and finally convinced the union scum they'd lose thirty-five hundred jobs if they didn't settle! The rascals tried to put the best face on it for their followers, but it was all on our terms in the end, of course."

"Wonderful," said Lola, with a frozen smile. "And did you two uh, hammer out a deal this time?"

"Sure did," said Ernie. "Here's what's going down..."

"Wait a moment," said Tullie Bascomb, sitting up straighter. "We can't just wing it on something this important. Have you got anything written down, or shall I call in a stenobot?"

"Ahh, we don't need no stenobot," said Ernie. "Mr. Phule and me have got a gen'lman's agreement..."

"Send for the stenobot," said Lola, cutting him off. "I don't want anything these two gentlemen have agreed on slipping between the cracks while everybody's getting a good night's sleep and sobering up."

"And just maybe we will have a few little suggestions on how to make the language more precise," said Tullie Bascomb, with a smile that would do a piranha proud. He pushed a button on the desk and winked at Lola, who gave him a slight nod in return. She wasn't anywhere near as confident as Bascomb seemed to be. They'd come up with a more or less workable understanding, but there was still the chance that Victor Phule and Ernie would dig in their heels, either together or separately. Especially after Phule's bragging about the good old days of union-busting...

A side door slid open and a small officebot glided through, with an almost inaudible whirring sound. It rolled over and stopped next to the desk, waiting. Bascomb said, "Record," and a light began winking off and on. "All right, Mr. Phule, Mr. Erkeep, tell us what you've arrived at. Once it's in memory, we can look at it and see what needs to be twiddled."

"Very well," said Victor Phule, sitting up and clearing his throat. He looked at Ernie. "I'll explain this, and Mr. EJkeep can confirm it." He waited for Ernie to nod, then continued. "What we've agreed on, in principle, is a, buyout. Mr. Erkeep agrees to assign his share of the casino stock to me, and renounces the right to any input into the day-to-day operation of the business."

"I don't wanna go to an office every day and sit through all those business meetings," said Ernie, spreading his hands apart. "Suits make me look fat, anyway."

"Your lip's going to look fat if you didn't get something worthwhile in return," said Lola, staring hard. She turned to Victor Phule. "Just how large is the share of stock you want him to assign you?"