No Phule Like an Old Phule

14

Journal #727

In a truly orderly universe, a once-in-a-trillion-chances event ought to have the common courtesy to wait for someone to make a few million attempts to bring it about before manifesting itself. It says something very unpleasant about the universe we live in that such an event can just as easily occur the very first time someone tries to bring it about.

Two men were waiting for Ernie and Lola in the Fat Chance Casino offices. One of them introduced himself to Lola as Tullie Bascomb, chief of gambling operations. The other she already knew: Victor Phule, who wore an uncharacteristically pained expression. He looked Lola in the eye, and said, "I remember you! What are you doing mixed up with this fellow-or have you been all along?"

"That's really not germane to our business today, Mr. Phule," said Lola. "In fact, I might ask you what you're doing here today-I didn't know you had a direct interest in your son's holdings here on Lorelei."

Bascomb answered before Victor Phule could speak.

"Mr. Phule is here as a witness to the events that were responsible for the situation we're in today. But you should know that I'm fully empowered to act for the Fat Chance Casino Corporation-in fact, this is pretty much a formality. I'm pleased to say that we're ready to give you two million dollars free and clear-cash, check, gold, or Fat Chance Casino chips. We'll hand it over just as soon as you sign a few papers." He gestured toward a sheaf of documents lying on his desk.

"Two million?" said Lola. raising an eyebrow, while frantically signaling to Ernie to keep his mouth shut. "That isn't quite what we came here expecting, Mr. Bascomb. The terms of your prize offer were very explicit. A partner's share..."

"Do you really think so?" said Bascomb, with a predatory grin. "As it happens, two million is a very generous payout. To tell you the truth, I'm not even quite sure what you think you've won. The terms of the jackpot on the thousand-dollar slots were never precisely spelled out..."

"That doesn't matter," said Lola, crisply. "I hate to correct you, Mr. Bascomb, but I have done some research into the Interplanetary Commercial Code as it applies to Lorelei Station. Your local government has managed to get in a number of provisions I'd have to describe as highly unfriendly to consumers, but I can assure you there are still some very explicit penalties for deceptive advertising, especially as applying to prizes offered in the casinos."

"That may well be, young lady," said Bascomb, shaking a finger. "I won't argue the ins and outs of the law with you here. The bottom line is, we've got some damn fine lawyers-damn expensive ones, too-to argue our position. How are you fixed in that department? We can afford to tie you up in court for an awful long time."

Lola stared him down. "And what do you want to bet the other casinos won't be licking their lips when they find out that Fat Chance is trying to renege on your super jackpot? Especially after you've been stealing half their business by offering the best payouts on the station. The publicity value ought to be worth jillions to them. Come to think of it, they might even be willing to contribute to our legal fees..."

Tullie Bascomb frowned. "Are you threatening us?"

Lola laughed, lightly. "Oh, no, Mr. Bascomb. Just reminding you that your casino isn't the only game in town. I think Captain Jester knows that, even if you don't. It's too bad he isn't here to talk to me. I bet he'd be a lot more reasonable..."

Victor Phule gritted his teeth. "If the boy were reasonable, we wouldn't be in this mess at all," he growled. "I swear, the brat hasn't done a sensible thing in years, starting with joining the Space Legion and abandoning the name his parents gave him. You'd think he'd have more respect for his own family..."

"Now, Mr. Phule," said Bascomb softly. "Let's try to keep our focus on the issue at hand..."

"Hey, I don't think he's that far out of line." said Ernie, speaking for the first time since the meeting had begun. "I know what it's like when you don't get any respect from people. Believe me, I know." Victor Phule looked at Ernie and nodded. "Yes, I expect you do," he said. "It's ironic-a fellow builds up something by his own efforts, and all of a sudden everybody around him thinks they know more about it than he does. I've seen it all too often..."

"Hell, that's what happens when you let somebody else try to run your life" said Ernie, sympathetically. "I bet if you and I just sat down together, without any middlemen, we could get this whole problem straightened out in jig time. Come to think of it, why don't we go have a drink and do just that? We'll probably be back with a done deal before these two are finished calling each other names."

Sushi was wearing a set of headphones and carefully adjusting dials on his device when Do-Wop walked in.

"Hey, man, what's up?" said Do-Wop. "We figured out what Qual and his homeboys are talking about yet?"

"Shh," said Sushi, pointing to the device. "I've finally got them pretty well tuned in. And I've learned one thing already. Qual was right-they all speak slightly different versions of their language."

"Huh. Who'd've thunk it?" said Do-Wop, pulling up a chair. "What are they jabberin' about?"

"Mostly technical stuff so far," said Sushi. "Adjusting that machine-the sklern, Qual called it. And in between, joking about something-here, you give a listen." He took off the headphones and reached up to turn on a speaker.

"Ve ought to rotate it two grimbugs upward," said. one Zenobian voice.

"Two and a fifth," came another-this one recognizably Flight Leftenant Qual. "That'll just clear the faffie weed duster."

"Vorking on two and a fifth," answered the first voice.

Then, in a different tone, "Hey, Flort, didja view the Tail-vippers last sundown?"

"Sssst, dey raise a stench in my nostrils," said a third voice-apparently Flort. "Dey haven't had an efficient leaper since Blurg retreated to his domicile."

"Watch it, Zoot," said Qual. "Don't overcrank..."

"Tightly vocussed at two and a fift," said the first voice again. Then Zoot added, "Don't underrate Kloog. Yen he's in the league a little longer been, an exemplary leaper he'll be."

"Kloog is widout grace," growled Flort. "He could take lessons from a gryff."

"This shit don't make no sense," said Do- Wop, drumming his fingers on the table next to the equipment.

"1 think they're talking about some kind of sports team from their home city," said Sushi. "Hard to tell exactly, because the words don't all translate into anything we have an exact equivalent for."

"That's for damn sure," said Do-Wop. "I think Rev's lookin' for a weefle in a viddleworf. If it wasn't such a sweet deal workin' for him instead of pulling regular Legion duty, I'd tell him so myself."

Sushi looked at him with raised eyebrows, then said, "Well, I don't see any percentage in ruining a good scam, either. But you know, even if Rev's ideas never pan out, this whole Zenobian language thing is fascinating. If I could figure out a way to rig translators to deal with it, I bet there's a lot of money to be made. So I'm not just in this to get out of other work. And if you're not just looking for a new way to goof off, it could work out to benefit you, too."

Do-Wop looked doubtful. "I dunno, man. You listen to a bunch of crazy stuff long enough, you could maybe end up crazy yourself."

Over the speaker, Flight Leftenant Qual's voice said, "Now doxen up the regulator for a test projection."

"Gott it, Leftenant," said Zoot. Then, after a pause, "Regulator energetically doxened; ready to project, sir."

Do-Wop waved a hand. "See what I mean? Nothin' but crazy stuff. Maybe it's worth a million, I dunno."

"Kloog seems graceful enough for me," said Zoot over the speaker. "The purpose is not the senses to bedazzle, but to advance the pellet."

"Kloog cannot retain da pellet in his claws long enough to advance it," said Flort. "He raises a continual stench in my nostrils."

"Maintain the doxenization or we will be forced to recommence," said Qual, sternly. "Your sporting chatter can be retained for a more propitious occasion."

"Double vision, Flight Leftenant," said the other two Zenobians, almost in unison.

"Double vision?" said Do-Wop. "I told ya, this is crazy stuff. You keep listenin' to these lizards, you're gonna end up with scales on your ass."

"So should I tell Rev you're tired of working on this project?" said Sushi, with a mischievous expression. "I hear tell Remmie' s asking for volunteers for a heavy construction squad..."

"Uh, hey, Soosh, just kiddin'," said Do-Wop. "Lizard talk is the real deal for me. What did you say you wanted me to do?"

"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."

"Uh-huh," said Sushi, peering intently at the screen. He spoke a soft command, and the text scrolled backwards. He leaned closer, muttering softly.

"Uh-oh," said Super-Gnat "This looks like one of those minutes that turns out to be all night long. Hey, Soosh, are you comin' or not?"

"He standing still, looks like to me," said Tusk-anini.

"Yeah," said Sushi, turning around to meet their gazes. "Look, guys, something really interesting just came up. It'll take me a little while to figure out. Why don't you go ahead and I'll catch up with you."

"Sure," said Super-Gnat, shrugging. "We'll save you a seat Just don't expect us to save you any beer."

"Yeah, OK," said Sushi, obviously only half-listening. Then he said, more to himself than to any listener, "Why didn't I think of this before?"

But Super-Gnat and Tusk-anini were already gone.

"Where in Ghu's name are they?" Tullie Bascomb stared through bloodshot eyes out the window of his office at the neon-lit landscape of Lorelei. He and Lola had been waiting for Victor Phule and Ernie to come back for over, six hours. Several discreet (but increasingly urgent) searches of the hotel and surrounding area had produced no sign of the two delinquents.

"Yow guess is as good as mine," said Lola. "I'd have bet on the nearest bar, but we've tried that-the nearest dozen bars, I think. And you say they're not in Mr. Phule's room."

"Security says so, and I trust my security people," said Bascomb. "More than I trust Victor Phule-let alone your guy."

Lola set down her drink-she really didn't need any more, not if she wanted to have some semblance of her wits about her when Ernie and Phule Sr. returned with whatever crazy deal they'd agreed on-assuming they did agree on something. She looked Bascomb directly in the eye and said, "Look, my guy just wants you to deliver what you said you were gonna pay to the jackpot winner-a partner's share of the casino stock." She paused. "I don't see how it's our problem if you didn't intend for him to win. Not if you're running an honest business, the way you claim you are."

Bascomb drew himself up straight, and said, with as much dignity as he could muster after four stiff drinks, "I wish I had any reason to believe you two are as honest as 2 Fat Chance Casino. We're as honest as anybody in this business-a lot more honest than most-and if you've done your homework, you ought to know that"

"All right, I'll give you that much," said Lola. "The point is, my client Mr. Erkeep is entitled to the jackpot for the machine he played. The casino has no rules posted concerning any eligibility for prizes or jackpots other than having to be of legal gambling age-which on Lorelei means tall enough to reach the handles of the slots. My client qualifies."

"What if he obtained the winning chip fraudulently?" said Bascomb. "We've got precedents covering that."

Lola shook her head emphatically. "Fraudulent? How do you get fraudulent? Vic Phule gave Mr. Erkeep a chip to gamble with, he played and won, and gave Mr. Phule back half his winnings-as agreed up front. The remaining chips were his to do with as he wanted. He could've thrown them into a trash disintegrator if he'd wanted--in fact I bet you'd like that."

"Nab, not really," said Bascomb. "There's always a small percentage of chips that never get cashed in. The customers take 'em home for souvenirs, or lose 'em down a drain or someplace else where they never get found. Sure, it's money we don't have to payout, but the legal beagles and the bean counters get headaches about it. They always worry that somebody's gonna show up one day with a huge spacechest full of chips and clean out the bank. Outstanding liabilities, they call it. And when they worry, that gives me headaches."

Lola stared hard at him for a long moment, then nodded. "OK, I guess I do believe you," she said. "But if you're so worried about what the bean counters and the shysters think, why'd you even offer a deal like the one Ernie won? Didn't they scream bloody murder?"

"We never asked 'em," said Bascomb. "I thought it up, and Captain Jester approved it himself, and that was good enough. We didn't expect anybody but the captain's father to play at such lousy odds. And if by some quirk of the odds, the damn machines did payoff, the captain didn't see anything wrong with passing a share of the casino to his old man. As long as it stayed in the family, he figured he wouldn't have to worry about how it was being run."

"What, he thinks his whole family has the golden touch ?"

"No, he just thinks they're smart enough to leave something to the professionals when they can't do it themselves," said Bascomb. He shook his head, and continued, "Now that I've put him in the hole this way, I wouldn't blame him if he decided to get in some new professionals to run the joint." He sighed and took another sip of his drink.

"Well, you're not fired yet," said Lola. "Look, as long as my guy gets a fair shake out of this, he's not going to let them cut you loose."

"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.