A Phule and His Money

16

Journal #426

One who had never embarked on the construction of an amusement park would undoubtedly consider it a simple proposition. One needs to erect a few rides, set up areas where customers may purchase food and souvenirs, and then open the gates and watch the money roll in. Even I, who tend to see shoals of difficulties where others see only smooth sailing, had no idea how complex the undertaking would become. Fortunately, neither did my employer, or he might never have embarked on the project.

As always, he made it a point to obtain expert advice from all over the galaxy. His connections, augmented by those of his family, gave him access to a range of talent few others could call on. It was therefore no surprise to anyone who had seen him in action that within days of signing the agreement with the rebels, several leading lights in the world of entertainment and of amusement park design in particular had joined our camp. Of course, Maestro Zipiti was on hand to supply his expertise in thrill rides. Lex came in from Lorelei to oversee the plans for a series of indoor and outdoor stages for live entertainment.

From within the ranks of Omega Company, Phule detailed Escrima to draw up plans for the food service areas, with an eye to providing gourmet treats in mass quantities. And the rebel camp had its own array of talent-Buster turned out to be a top-class engineer, with an uncanny ability to turn almost any blue-sky idea into functioning hardware. And Okidata had a surprising fund of useful knowledge.

And, of course, the government insisted on sticking its own oar in, whether or not anyone wanted it...

It was somewhere near midafternoon on the second day of construction work on the Zipper that the Landooran government appeared on the scene. A small fleet of black hovercars delivered Boris Eastman, Deputy Minister of Development, to the park entrance. Eastman had a team of inspectors in tow. Phule was there to meet him at the gate.

"What a pleasure to see you, Deputy," said Phule, grinning as if he meant every syllable of it. "We aren't set up to entertain visitors yet, but of course you're always welcome."

"This is no social visit, Captain," said Eastman, turning a stony glare on the beehive of activity going on all around him. "It has come to my attention that you have begun this project without obtaining the necessary permits."

"Oh, quite to the contrary, Deputy," said Phule, holding up a hand. "I made sure we had all the relevant permits before we turned the first shovelful of earth-the military has given me plenty of experience dealing with regulations, and so I make it a point to fulfill all the requirements before I find out I can't do something I want. If you'll step over to my office, I'll be happy to let you inspect them."

"I would be very interested to inspect these permits," said Eastman, his eyes narrowing. "As of this morning, my department had no record of their being issued."

"Undoubtedly the normal bureaucratic backlog," said Phule. He made a gesture as if to usher the deputy toward the temporary building housing his office. "If you'll follow me..."

"Very well," said Eastman, sniffing. "We shall soon see what is in proper order and what is not." He and his flunkies fell in line behind Phule.

Chocolate Harry, who had paused from setting up the ground-clearing machines to watch the conversation between Phule and the ministers, broke into a grin at the sight. "Check it out, man-this is the first time I ever seen the chickens line up to follow the fox into his own hole."

"I wouldn't be so sure," said Buster, scratching his bearded chin. "Them government fellers got the look of career criminals to 'em. If that deputy don't at least triple his salary in bribes, I'd be disappointed in him."

"Don't you be worried," said Chocolate Harry. "By the time the Cap'n's done with these dudes, they'll swear he's got every permit they ever thought of, and a few spare, blank ones. He's even figured out how to bribe somebody so they stay bribed, and I thought that was against the laws of economics."

"Economics, hell-that's against the laws of physics," said Buster, picking up the wrench he'd set down when the inspectors arrived. "But if he's as good as you say, I guess we might as well go right on ahead with the job."

"Might as well," said Harry, and they went back to their task. After a while, Eastman and his inspectors emerged from the office building. They marched straight back to their hovercars and departed for the city. If there had been any deficiency in the permits, it certainly was not serious enough to cause any delay in the project-at least for the moment.

"Zere design-eet ees garbage," said Maestro Zipiti. He put a strong accent on the second syllable of the last word, as if it rhymed with garage. "Here"-he pointed to the diagram showing the first, long climb-"zey make ze quick drop, go to ze left instead of straight, zo as to zeem more the dangerous. But Pah! Eet ees a trick even a child could zee t'rough. Gar-bage!"

"Sure, Maestro," said Buster, very patiently. It was the fourth or fifth time he had heard Maestro Z criticize the shortcomings of the rival park's showpiece roller coaster. "We don't want no garbage in our park. That's why we brought you in to design this here ride for us." He shifted another blueprint to the top of the stack and pointed. "Now, remin' me again, what's the load on these-here crossbraces?"

"Zat ees all written out!" said the Maestro, flinging his long locks of hair back over one shoulder. "'Ave you no read ze plan?"

"Over an' over," said Buster. "By now, I may understand it better than the feller what drew it up. What I want to know..."

"Merde! Un'erstan' eet better zan Maestro Zipiti! Per'aps you 'ave ze eye of ze mechanic, but zat is nozzing, nozzing! Ze soul of a genius..."

Buster's voice didn't change. "Yeah, I know you's a genius 'cause you done told us so. Now, maybe you can tell me what's gonna be holdin' up this here stretch of track when a car full o' people's settin' on top of it. It looks real pretty the way you draw it, but I gotta build the damn thing. Figure we got twenty-four people in a car, average weight of a hundred ten kilos apiece..."

Zipiti was outraged. "Zat is too high! I design eet for ninety-five!"

"An' what happens if you get a fat people's convention?" drawled Buster. "We gonna shut down all the rides? I figure we gotta have at least...What the hell?"

The latter exclamation was prompted by a loud explosion, followed by frantic shouts. A cloud of smoke was rising from near the park gates. "'Scuse me, Maestro," said Buster. "I reckon I gotta go see what's up." He turned and sprinted off toward the growing commotion.

Maestro Zipiti peered off into the distance, his face turning red. "Cretins!" he shouted. "Salauds! You sabotage my beautiful rides, I keel you! I keel you all!" The smoke kept rising, and somewhere in the distance a klaxon began to sound. It was the start of another typical day.

The holovision picture showed men and women in hard hats in the background, running heavy machinery. A framework of girders, bent into intriguing curves and dips, loomed against the skyline. Up front stood Jennie Higgins, interviewing Le Duc Taep.

"New Atlantis Park will be the vindication of our free way of life," Taep was saying. "It will embody the traditional Atlantean values of self-determination, free enterprise, and hard work. And it will be a wonderful vacation experience for the whole family."

"How would you compare it to the new park the government is building, Landoor Park?" said Jennie.

"The government has a false vision of what the people want," said Taep, puffing himself up as if the additional air would add conviction to his words. "They follow the old formula of bread and circuses, empty entertainment. But they care nothing for the soul of the Atlantean people. We will present the heritage of our nation, something to inspire the people and to show the galaxy our rich indigenous culture."

"We understand that your two parks are engaged in quite a competition to build the most exciting thrill ride," said Jennie. "What can you tell us about that?"

"Thrill rides are the finest expression of the art of New Atlantis," said Taep. "Our rides will draw on the knowledge and skills of our native craftsmen as well as the vision of experts from all over the galaxy."

Phule's communicator buzzed. He turned down the sound on the holoset and said, "What is it, Mother?"

"Sorry to bother you, sweetie, but that Deputy Eastman and Colonel Mays are here again. Want to see them?"

"I suppose there's no point in postponing it," said Phule, sighing. "Send 'em on in."

Moments later the door to Phule's office opened and the two government officials barged through. "There," said Eastman, pointing to the image of Jennie, still visible in the holo-viewing area. "What do you say about that?"

"I say it's great publicity for the park," said Phule. "It's been running every half hour, in every major market in this sector. If it brings visitors from off-planet, your park will benefit, as well."

"I expected some such impertinence," said Eastman. He pointed his finger at Phule. "What do you have to say about publishing state secrets? That's espionage, no matter how you slice it."

Phule raised his brows. "State secrets? I can't imagine what you mean."

Mays leaned forward over Phule's desk. "Do you deny tipping your journalist friend about Landoor Park?"

"Of course I deny it," said Phule, leaning back in his desk chair. "Jennie is a good reporter-she can find things by herself, and I suspect that's all she did here. I won't deny telling her about New Atlantis Park. Publicity is a big part of the game plan, Colonel. If Taep's going to repay my loans, his park's got to get off-planet customers. We've got to let the people on other planets know it's here. What better way than talking to a reporter?"

"And in the process, you force our hand," said Mays. "If we copy your tactics, we undergo a radical increase in expenses. If we ignore them, you gain the edge in publicity."

"It doesn't cost anything to talk to Jennie," said Phule. "If you hadn't turned down her interview requests..."

"We are bound by government regulations," said Eastman. "I would risk a jail sentence for disclosing state secrets. At the very least, I could lose my position."

"If I were you, I'd get the regulations changed," said Phule. "The planet's future depends on it."

"It is you who have put us in this dilemma," said Eastman. His face was red, and his voice had risen in pitch. "You will force us to take extreme measures, if you are not careful."

"Do what you have to," said Phule. "I'll do what I believe is best for the entire planet, not just one faction. Now, gentlemen, is there anything else?"

"Not for the moment," said Colonel Mays, taking Eastman by the elbow and steering him toward the door. "But I can promise you there will be."

There are any number of phrases no executive wants to hear, but most of them boil down to "Boss, we got trouble." Which is what Okidata said as he burst into the Landoor Plaza's dining room. Phule was halfway through a delicious plate of oysters Landoor-a dish Escrima had happily adopted from the local cooks. Bluepoint oysters had been one of Earth's most popular exports to developing worlds. They had done especially well on Landoor.

Phule wiped the spicy sauce from his lips and said, "We've had surprise inspections and smoke bombs and wildcat picket lines and power outages, and we've survived them all. So unless this new problem is incoming missiles, I suspect it can wait while I finish these oysters. Sit down and have a drink. What kind of trouble are we talking about?"

"The government's starting a new ride," said Okidata, sliding into the seat opposite Phule. "And from the look of it, they're aiming to top the Zipper."

"Well, you predicted as much," said Phule, sighing. "We'll have to see what else the Maestro has in his portfolio."

"He'd better have something pretty triff," said Okidata. He was interrupted by the waiter's arrival. After ordering an iced coffee, he turned back to Phule. "We can't tell much about the design yet, but the main drop is five meters higher than the Zipper, and they've got what might be a double loop, the second one an inverse-that's gonna be a serious ride."

"We'll have to do better," said Phule. "Learn as much about the new ride as you can. We'll call in Buster and the Maestro and see what we can come up with. We're not going to let them have the last word."

"Yes, sir!" said Okidata, his enthusiasm returning. "This is going to be fun!"

"I suppose it is," said Phule. "I can tell it's also going to be very expensive."

"Why, sure," said Okidata, beaming. "Isn't that what fun's all about?"

Phule shrugged. Whatever it cost, his Dilithium Express card would cover it.

The new government ride was dubbed the "Beast." After studying spy-camera holos of its emerging superstructure (partly concealed behind a security screen), Phule's advisory team began to design a ride to eclipse it: code name "Topper," developed from one of Maestro Zipiti's designs. The ride featured an initial drop ten meters higher than the new government ride-insuring an even higher speed and a longer duration than the Beast. With Okidata suggesting enhancements and Buster troubleshooting potential problems, construction began even before the final touches were put on the Zipper. And in accordance with Phule's conviction that publicity was imperative, press releases went out even before the ground was broken:

Shortly after the framework was begun, a government delegation arrived at the park gate, headed by none other than Boris Eastman, with a team of safety inspectors in tow. "Now, Deputy Eastman, we've already obtained permits from the Department of Parks," said Phule, greeting them at the gate. "There's really nothing to be discussed."

"I'm afraid there is, Captain," said Eastman, smirking. "It has come to our attention that you are building a ride that violates safety regulations."

"Safety regulations?" Buster was livid. "I'm compliant with every damn safety regulation you can think up, and then some. Tarnation, we doubled the load-bearing specs on every single stress point of this bugger. You show me in the books where I'm violatin' your regulations."

"You may not have kept up with current legislation while you were out in the jungle, playing revolutionary," said Eastman, smirking even more nastily. He handed Buster a thick sheaf of printout. "But now that you are back in civilization, you will have to conform to our laws. The relevant passage is on page fourteen, I believe."

Buster quickly flipped to the page in question and read it. He looked up and passed the sheets to Phule. "You bastards! You've set the maximum legal height for a ride right at the height of your new coaster. And you did this just last week!"

Phule quickly scanned the printout, which verified Buster's statement. "This is obviously aimed at preventing us from competing with you," he said, frowning at Eastman. "This is nothing short of restraint of free competition."

"Call it what you will," said Eastman, looking down his nose at Phule. "The law is the law. If your ride's in violation, we intend to shut down your whole park. Now, are you going to comply with the regulations, or shall I send my inspectors to start measuring?"

"I reckon we could beat this in court," muttered Buster, balling his fists. "Problem is, it'll take months, and the ride'll sit there unfinished while we fight the case."

"We'll beat it without breaking the regulations," said Phule. "Deputy Eastman, I thank you for your advisory. But if you think we're going to let this stop us, you're dead wrong."

"Perhaps so, Captain," said Eastman, grinning. "But remember, we'll be watching you. Build one centimeter over the legal height, and we'll padlock the place. Good day, sir!"

"A bad day to you," growled Buster, but Eastman had already turned on his heel and left.

Phule slapped Buster on the shoulder. "Don't worry, we knew what we were up against when we started this game. We can still top them-and they'll find out that all they've done is make it harder for themselves to come back and top us!"

"I sure hope you're right," said Buster. But when Phule explained what he had in mind, a grin spread across his face. "Yeah, that ought to do the trick," he said at last.

"Good," said Phule. "Now, all we have to do is turn it into hardware. Come on, we've got work to do!"

Two weeks later, Colonel Mays was at the gate. He brandished a copy of Phule's latest publicity release. "We've got you now, Captain! This park's being shut down today!"

"Colonel, I suggest you have your inspectors measure the height of the new ride," said Phule. "You will find that it's entirely within legal specification."

"Then you're guilty of false advertising," said Mays, He dropped his cheroot on the ground and crushed it under his heel. "Your brochure says the drop on this ride is fifteen meters higher than the law allows! If you can't deliver on that, we'll expose you for the fraud you are-and believe me, Landoorans take these things very seriously. The entire management of Dunes Park had to resign several years ago when one of their rides turned out to be ten seconds shorter than advertised."

"I've heard that story," said Phule. "But take a look-you'll see that we've cut the top ten meters off the framework, to comply with the new laws. But that's not all." He beckoned the colonel, and led him over to the work area.

"I' m afraid you'll have to put on a helmet to come any closer," he said, pointing to a rack of hard hats hanging outside the plywood curtain wall surrounding the lower stretches of the Topper's superstructure. He plopped a helmet on his own head, and waited while the colonel found one that fit. Then he led Mays through a door in the curtain, nodding to the uniformed legionnaire standing guard outside.

Inside, the colonel blinked for a moment as his eyes got used to the dimmer illumination. Then his jaw fell. "This is a travesty! You can't get around the law this easily!"

"On the contrary, Colonel, we studied the law very carefully before adopting this design," said Phule. He pointed to the enormous pit into which the tracks descended, adding at least twenty meters to the initial plunge. "The law explicitly limits the height above ground level, but it says nothing about the total height of the drop. This ride is legal, Colonel."

"You scoundrel. We'll find some way to stop you," sputtered the colonel, but Phule continued to smile.

"We want to thank you for making this necessary," said Phule. "We'll have a plunge into pitch darkness at the very end of the ride-so they can't see how far they're going to fall. We'd never have thought of that without your regulations. Maestro Zipiti considers it his greatest inspiration, all thanks to your government."

"You've won this round, damn you, Captain," said Mays, snatching off his helmet. "But you haven't seen the end of us. Good day!" He stomped out of the enclosure, slamming the door behind him.

"Well, wasn't that special?" said Buster, who'd been watching the tour from a distance. "We'll see what new wrinkles they come up with now. I reckon we've got even more fun in store for us."

"Buster, you may not believe this," said Phule, "But there is such a thing as too much fun."

"I'll believe it when I see it," said Buster, and he went back to work. Phule sighed, but he knew he'd pay the bills when they came.

A new ride was rising inside security screens at Landoor Park, and the spy cameras had soon reported on its salient features. It copied the Topper's underground plunge, increasing the initial drop by another three meters. At that point, the excavation hit bedrock-locally, an extremely tough basalt. Phule's engineers had already determined that going deeper would be prohibitively expensive. The new ride was given the code name, "Monster". And unless the government decided to rescind its new regulations, it seemed to establish an untoppable record (at least in this district) for the height of the initial plunge.

Maestro Zipiti was livid. "Zey are creeminals, nozzing hot creeminals!" he roared. "Zey zink zey can fix ze law zo zey have ze field to zeirselfs! Pah! Zipiti showing zem!"

"Well, Maestro, you better pull somethin' pretty triff out'n yer pockets," said Buster. "They got us beat up and down, and now all we gots to work with is sideways. Got'ny hot ideas?"

"Just you vait!" howled the Maestro. "Ve vill show zem!" But he didn't offer any triff ideas, and it began to appear that he was not about to.

Okidata cleared his throat. "Well, there is one idea we haven't used yet," he said. "I suppose a real ride purist would call it cheating, though, so maybe we shouldn't..."

"I'm no purist," said Phule. "Right about now, the only thing I care about is beating those bureaucratic rulemongers. If we can get a better ride than they're offering, I say we do it whatever it takes. What do you think, Maestro?"

"Vot ess zis idea?" Zipiti said, scowling.

"Antigrav," said Okidata.

"Oh, zat has been done," said Zipiti, with a flip of his hand. "Eet vas ze grand sensation, until everybody go on ze ride and discover ees boring. Ze riders, zey vant to feel as if zey are falling, not floating."

"Right," said Okidata. "We had a ride here that tried it, back when I was a kid. Flopperoonie. Nobody went on it twice. But they did it like you said-floating instead of falling. There's another way to use it."

"Eempossible!" said the Maestro, but nobody was listening to him.

"Go ahead, kid," said Buster, propping his feet up on the empty chair opposite him. "We gotta top the gov'ment's ride, and they done rigged the game agin' us. You got a better idea, I'm itchin' to hear it."

"OK, here's the deal," said Okidata. "The old way was to use antigrav at the top of a hill, to make the riders feel as if the car was flying off the track. Except it didn't really work-it was too smooth. The way I think we can use it is subtler. We put it on as the car's going uphill, just enough so the car doesn't lose all its speed, That way, we can make the later hills just as high as the first, and we get a lot more really steep drops. And we can keep the ride going longer, 'cause it doesn't slow down as much. You're using the antigrav not as an effect, but as an enhancement."

"It oughta work," said Buster. " 'Course, the proof of the puddin' is in the tastin'..."

"That's what our ride-testers are for," said Phule. "Draw up the design and let's see it. We've got nothing to lose, so let's give it our best shot." Privately, he was beginning to wish that the rides could be opened, to help defray the growing cost of construction. But until all the park's facilities were finished, the gates would have to remain closed-and the bills would continue to mount.

As with any work of art, a ride was nothing without an audience. Until it had rattled down the track (and it had better rattle-too quiet was no good) with riders aboard, it was still an unproven entity. The ride-testers were there to prove that pudding.

The team included Omega Mob's two hardcore thrill ride addicts, Do-Wop and Mahatma, as well as Tusk-anini, who had an uncanny ability to spot minor imperfections in the trackwork just by riding over it. The Gambolts, especially Rube, also proved to be good testers; if Rube made it to the end without howling, the ride was far too tame. And to lead the group, Phule chose Brandy, who kept the group focused on analyzing the ride, rather than simply enjoying it.

It was shortly after ride-testing the Topper that Mahatma raised his hand and said, "Sarge, may I ask a question?"

"I doubt I'll get any peace until I let you," said Brandy. "What is it this time, Mahatma?"

"The reason we're testing out rides is to find out whether they're better than the government's rides, isn't it?"

"Got it in one," said Brandy.

"But Sarge, how can you compare two things when you only know one?"

"Say what?" Brandy's face took on a particular puzzled expression that Mahatma's questions often seemed to elicit.

"Listen, Sarge," said Mahatma. "If you want to compare apples and oranges, you have to taste an apple, and then an orange, not so?"

"Nobody can compare apples and oranges," said Brandy, furrowing her brow. "You can't do it..."

Mahatma interrupted her. "Then why does everyone say to me always, You're comparing apples and oranges, if I don't do it? If I do it, you can't say nobody does it."

"Brandy, Mahatma making sense this time," said Tusk-anini.

"I'm supposed to take your word for that?" scoffed Brandy. Tusk-anini's intellect was highly respected by the Omega Mob, but his approach to logic didn't always match the human model.

"Listen, Brandy," said Tusk-anini. "We only test our rides. How we know if they better than other rides unless we go on other rides?"

"Oh, I get it," said Brandy. "Well, I guess the question does make sense, after all. Except we can't go on the government's rides until they open the park. Which is a shame, come to think of it..."

"Yo, Sarge, I got a great idea," said Do-Wop.

"Now we're really in trouble," said Brandy, covering her eyes in mock horror. "There's probably no way I can stop you from telling me this brilliant idea, so maybe you better tell me now. But don't expect me to do anything about it, OK?"

"Ahhh, Sarge, you ain't gonna hafts do anything about it," said Do-Wop, grinning. "Leave it to me and the guys..."

"Right," said Brandy. "I'm not leaving anything up to you until I know the whole story. Spill it, Do-Wop. I expect I'm gonna regret this..."

The idea was exactly what she would have expected. The only problem was, the more Do-Wop explained it, the better it sounded. Almost against her will, she found herself nodding in agreement...

The fencing around New Atlantis Park was designed to let. the public follow the progress of construction, while maintaining a reasonable degree of security. The idea was to whet the public's appetite, without giving the competition anything useful. This went against local custom, which treated every detail of a new ride, from its overall height to the color of the seats, as a trade secret. So when Okidata and Do-Wop pulled their hovercar up to a side entrance for Landoor Park, they were met by a pair of government security guards. The park's fence was ten feet high, topped with razor wire to prevent anyone stealing a peek inside. Harsh floodlights illuminated the area in front.

"Let me do the talking," Okidata whispered as the guard approached. "I know most of these guys, and I have the right accent."

Do-Wop seemed dubious. "OK, man, but if it gets rough, let me take over. I can talk my way out of anything."

"Yeah, and where's that gonna leave me?" said Okidata. He elbowed the legionnaire playfully and turned to meet the guards. "Hey, it's Footsy and Annie! Long time no see."

"Long time is right, Okie," said the woman, a tough-looking brunette in a dark green uniform. "Sorry we can't talk, but this is a restricted zone. You gotta move along."

"That's too bad, Annie, because I need to talk to you guys," said Okidata in a conspiratorial voice. "I got a proposition for you."

"Okie, you better move along," said the other guard, presumably Footsy, but he said it with a deep chuckle. "Last time you came to me with a proposition, it nearly got us both thrown out of school."

"Yeah, but it was fun while it lasted," said Okidata, and Do-Wop could hear the grin in his voice. "Here's the deal, guys-how'd you like a free preview of the triffest ride on the planet?"

"We've got the triffest ride on the planet right inside," said Annie, her eyes narrowing.

"Sure you do," said Okidata. "But you know what's goin' on down the street, don't you?"

"Rebel park," said Footsy. "You workin' for them?"

"Yeah, their money's as good as the government's," said Okidata. "And their rides might be even better than the government's, but of course, I only know one side of the story. Same as you, I guess."

"Let me guess," said Annie, leaning on the hovercar's window frame. "You can sneak us onto the rebel rides. Same as you used to sneak us onto the Weasel when you worked at Dunes Park."

"I can," said Okidata. "It won't even get me in trouble with the boss, this time. He wants people to know how good his rides are, and the best way is to give out a few free samples, just to get talk started."

"And how do we earn this so-called free ride?" said Annie, her eyes narrowing even more.

Okidata belatedly remembered the repayment he'd gotten from her for the free ride on the Weasel, but it was too late to back out. "Well, maybe me and my friend could watch the gate here while you were getting your free rides..."

"Su-u-ure," said Annie. "And you're gonna pay our salary after we get bounced, too, huh? No deal, Okie. Jobs are still scarce."

"We could sweeten it a little bit," said Do-Wop, leaning across to smile at Annie.

"Who's this?" she asked, drawing back.

"That's my friend Do-Wop," said Okidata, inwardly cringing.

"That's right, and baby, have we got a deal for you," said Do-Wop. "For you and any of your friends who'd like a look at New Atlantis Park before it opens."

"Don't get me wrong, I'd love to check out them rides," said Footsy. "But this is the government we're workin' for. And it ain't only us involved-there's other guards, and supervisors, and all kinds of electronics..."

"No prob, we can take care of everybody," said DoWop.

Footsy was dubious. "We'd get a look at a jail cell if we mess up, and I sure ain't interested in that."

"Not to sweat," said Do-Wop. "We got all the angles covered. But we oughta park this hover so it don't attract attention, and then talk somewhere out of sight. Any ideas?"

"You go ahead two blocks, turn right, and park there," said Annie with a decisive tone. "Come back to the guard shack-and make sure nobody follows you."

"Don't worry, nobody's gonna follow us. We'll be right back," said Okidata. He put the hovercar in gear, and pulled away, smiling. Like any good fisherman, he knew when he'd got his quarry hooked.

"What this ride called?" asked Tusk-anini, looking up at the towering framework. Here inside the government park's security screens, they could see that it was a stand-up ride, with padded shoulder harnesses that came down automatically to hold the riders securely in place.

"This is the one we code-named the Beast," said Okidata. "I don't know what they're calling it. Suppose it doesn't matter."

"We will ride them all," said Mahatma, jotting something on a notepad. "But we need to distinguish one from another for the debriefing. It is too bad you don't know their name for it."

"That's the one thing I couldn't get my friends to tell me," said Okidata. Everything else had gone well so far. Annie and Footsy had let the crew through the gates, and given them "borrowed" plans showing the various controls they'd need to run the rides. And, unless the schedule had been changed, the inside guards weren't due to visit this area until the legionnaires were gone. They hoped the security screens would keep the light and noise from being noticed at any distance.

"Well, let's crank her up, then," said Do-Wop. "Are you sure you know how the controls work on this thingie?"

"I've been running rides since I was a snot-nosed kid," said Okidata, who was possibly twenty standard years old. "They all work the same way. Don't worry-not even the government could build something I can't run."

"Think you could run the welfare department?" said Do-Wop, but Okidata had turned away and gone into the nearby cabin housing the controls. Do-Wop shrugged and followed his fellow ride-testers into the lead car.

After a minute or so, Okidata's voice came over the speaker mounted near the load-on area, "Everybody in position?"

Do-Wop looked back at the other testers: Tusk-anini, Mahatma, the Gambolts Duke and Garbo, and half a dozen others standing there. "All on board," he said, with a thumbs-up gesture.

There was a soft mechanical noise, and the shoulder harnesses descended to secure the passengers. "Everybody comfortable?" asked Do-Wop. It wasn't just a courtesy; if the harnesses didn't fit right, a rider could be thrown loose on a curve or inversion. Everyone answered affirmatively. This was expected; even on a mostly human world, the rides had to be able to accommodate a wide range of sizes and shapes. If a Volton and two Gambolts didn't fit properly, there would be other customers who wouldn't be able to ride, as well. That would mean lost fares, something that horrified park operators even more than accidents. They made sure the restraints fit.

"OK, here we go," said Okidata. He threw the start switch. The cars began their long climb up the first steep slope. When they rose above the security screens the riders got a glimpse of the still-unfinished park below them. Off to one side were two other roller coasters, one of which the legionnaires planned to test tonight. The other was still under construction, but if all went smoothly, they'd ride that one, too, before the park opened. In the distance were the buildings that would house restaurants, shops, and other attractions, built to resemble a mining camp from Landoor's early days.

The cars reached the top of the climb, and paused a moment to heighten the tension. Then they dropped into a nearly vertical dive, and the ride was on. With the part of his consciousness that wasn't wrapped up in a sheer adrenaline rush, Do-Wop heard Mahatma inhale sharply. One of the Gambolts let out a shriek. Yeah, this ride was gonna be a good one...

The drop seemed to last far longer than the laws of physics allowed. Abruptly the car leveled off, and the change of vector hit the passengers with crushing g-force. A series of quick S-turns rattled them, and the next thing they knew they were into the first loop. Standing upright while travelling upside down was strangely exhilarating. As they came out of the loop, Do-Wop could see a second loop straight ahead.

He also saw, out of the corner of his eye, that two security guards were standing by the let-off area. They had pulled Okidata out of the cabin and were holding him by the arms. Suddenly the end of the ride looked a lot different than it had when they'd gotten on. Were we double-crossed, or just unlucky? he wondered.

Then the car swept into the second loop, and Do-Wop forgot all about the guards for another couple of minutes.

The guards were standing by the track as the car slowly came to a smooth stop, and the padded restraints automatically lifted off the passengers' shoulders. One of the guards, a big man with biceps the size of Do-Wop's waist, strode forward and said, "All right, you guys have had your fun. Now you're gonna come with us, and this part ain't gonna be fun at all." His frown made his brow look even lower than it was.

"But this is not the plan," said Mahatma, brightly. "We still need to go on the other rides."

"I'll give you a ride," snarled the big guard, stepping forward.

Tusk-anini put out a hand. "You talk nice to Mahatma," he said, glowering down at the guard. The two Gambolts sidled up to flank him. The sight of an angry-looking seven-foot warthog and two six-foot felines was sufficient to stop the guard in his tracks. That gave Do-Wop time to maneuver around to the front of the group.

"Yo, man, let's not jump to conclusions," he said, trying his best not to look as if he'd been doing anything the guards might object to. "We can explain everything, OK?"

"You're trespassin' on gov'ment property, which you better start explainin'," said the guard. His swagger had returned, now that he was confronting somebody he thought he could intimidate by sheer size.

"Well, we weren't exactly trespassing..." Do-Wop began.

"Don't give me no mouth," said the guard. He raised a ham-like hand and stepped forward to slap Do-Wop.

The slap never landed. There was a brief electronic sound, and the huge man slumped to the ground. Anyone paying attention might have noticed Mahatma pointing a small device toward the guard, but nobody except the legionnaires would have recognized the device as a model SR-1 Zenobian stun ray.

Do-Wop looked down at the guard and shrugged. "I was gonna tell him, but he didn't wait," he said. He turned to the other guard, who stood staring at his fallen comrade. "He'll be OK in a little while, but we gotta talk fast. You guys can still get in on the deal. Here it is..."

A short while later, the legionnaires were stepping onto the Monster, ready for another roller-coaster ride. This time nobody interrupted them.

Journal #435

As my employer discovered, the construction of thrill rides was only one aspect of helping the rebels build their park. A variety of other amusements needed to be provided: strolling musicians, pageants, parades, concerts, various credit-operated games-all at least nominally related to the park's broader theme, a fantastic re-creation of the rebels' jungle encampment. Computer simulations of native wildlife had to be created, artificial bayous dug and flooded for boat trips to "trading posts" offering a variety of merchandise, from camouflage garments to red bandannas to toy guns.

Food service and sanitary facilities were also necessary, as was quick transportation from one part of the park to another for those customers disinclined to walk. And of course personnel to sell and take tickets, oversee the shops and restaurants, operate and maintain all these various facilities, and clean up after the park had closed. In the end, the park's payroll numbered into the thousands. And while by now there were several affluent local backers providing capital, the bulk of it came out of my employer's pockets.

"I think it would have been easier to invade the planet and overthrow the government," said Phule, looking up from his computer screen, currently displaying a spreadsheet detailing his Dilithium Express card balance. "It certainly would have been cheaper."

"No doubt you should have considered that some time ago, sir," said Beeker, who was standing looking over Phule's shoulder. "Besides, you already had a hand in bringing down one government on this planet. Or have you forgotten the strafing incident again?"

"How could I?" said Phule. "Le Duc Taep drops it into his conversation every now and then, just to remind me that I owe him, I think. I'm hocked up to my eyeballs, Beeker. If this amusement park doesn't make money, I'm going to spend the rest of my life paying it off."

"Well, sir, there are a few positive signs," said Beeker. "The local hotels are booked solid for the opening dates, mostly by off-planet visitors. Your reporter friend, Miss Jennie's publicity stories seem to have been effective."

"Don't ever tell Jennie she's been giving us publicity," said Phule. "Those are hard news stories, as far as she's concerned. But you're right-they've been invaluable. Let's hope it translates into customers."

"Any influx of money would be a very good thing, sir," said Beeker. "If the rebels had the wherewithal to repay your loans themselves, they wouldn't have needed the loans to begin with."

"I'm all too aware of that," said Phule, staring at the numbers on the screen. He punched a series of commands into the computer, then said, "At a rough calculation, the park needs to average four thousand visitors a day-roughly one and a half million visitors annually just to pay the basic running expenses."

"The entire population would have to visit the park at least once a year," said Beeker, nodding. "Actually, sir, given the local popularity of such attractions, that would seem to be within reach."

"I suppose so," said Phule. "But I'm not going to see any money unless they do better than that-at least double it, I'd think. Otherwise, my cash flow is going to do a fair imitation of a waterfall."

"I'd expect Dilithium Express will stand by you, sir," said Beeker. "After all, you have an excellent record..."

Phule's communicator buzzed. "Yes, Mother, what is it now?"

"It's Le Duc Taep now, sweetie," said Mother. "He's got a sheaf of blueprints and that gleam in his eye that says you'd better get ready to spend some more money. Makes me think I should've started building my own park instead of joining the Legion. Or maybe you'd like to give me the money directly?"

Phule groaned. "I guess you'd better send him in," he said. The totals on the spreadsheet were about to change again. He wondered if they'd ever get back in the black.