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Journal #695
My employer's single stroke of genius was his perception that ru
I am quite certain that my employer would have been unable to parse the admonition "Thou shalt not muzzle the ox when he treadeth out the corn," let alone identify its source; but he showed a keen understanding of it in practice. This understanding was particularly evident in his handling of the Supply sergeant, one Chocolate Harry.
Chocolate Harry yawned and looked around his office. Somewhere or another he'd put a catalog of custom hovercycle parts, little things that might add the perfect finishing touch to his beloved Hawg. Where had he put it? He riffled through a the top couple of inches of a stack of magazines and catalogues on his desk, then stood and went to one of the file cabinets. But the thought of dealing with the chaos he knew he'd find inside was almost enough to chill his enthusiasm. He kept meaning to set up his database engines to co
"Sure 'nuff, C. H.," came the raspy voice of Harry's Supply assistant. "Got it covered. Have a good ride!..-see you in a couple."
Harry nodded He knew he could trust Double- X not to mess up too seriously if something complicated came up in his absence. He pushed the starter button on the hover unit and listened critically as the antigrav units warmed up. Satisfied at the low purr, he mounted the bike and put on his helmet, then keyed the remote to open the Supply dump's delivery bay door. It slid noiselessly open. Harry edged the throttle up a notch, put the propulsion module into slow forward setting~ and edged the Hawg out the doorway into the late-morning sunlight.
A few legio
At first Harry took a familiar path-a broad, level swath where he could push the hovercycle close to its top speed without worrying about obstacles. He leaned forward, lowering his profile as the Hawg cut into the dry wind, enjoying the speed for its own sake. Out of the comer of his eye he could spot small desert animals belatedly scurrying out of the way of this noisy intruder. He'd never seen any living thing much bigger than the palm of his hand-there was nothing larger than that in this part of the planet, according to the Zenobians.
He came to a halt on a low rise, where he wheeled the bike around to get a look back toward the camp. The landscape around the Legion base was flat enough that even a slight hillock gave a long view in all directions. Harry normally didn't spend a great deal of time admiring the view, however. In his opinion, the desert landscape was just so much worthless real estate. Not even the locals had much use for it-as evidenced by the fact that they'd given it to the Legion for a base.
This time, though, there was something new in the picture. In the middle distance, just south of the Legion base, there was a green canopy-a tent of some sort, Harry realized. It only took a moment for him to remember the scuttlebutt he'd heard from the command office. Captain Jester had finally found out that all the support he'd gotten from his buddies in the State Department came with a hefty price tag: namely, giving a party of big-time politicos the run of the planet for hunting. Harry could have told him it was going to cost-in fact, he'd be surprised if this was the only payback in the deal.
Of course, that was only part of the story. Visitors from off-planet wouldn't have all the stuff they needed to handle local conditions. Chocolate Harry was just sure they'd have to have all sorts of supplemental provisions and supplies.
The right color camouflage to match the local landscape, for example. Harry had plenty of it. They'd probably want extra liquor, and ammo, and bait... Harry was sure he could get hold of all that, too. Harry smiled. This could be the best opportunity to come his way since he'd cornered the market on purple antirobot cammy.
He revved his engine and started off toward the distant tent.
Sushi found Flight Leftenant Qual with a crew of his fellow Zenobians, working with the large device that had been the focus of their attention for the last several days. Exactly what its purpose was, Sushi had never learned; he assumed the captain had some general notion what the thing did and why the Zenobians were setting it up in the middle of a Legion camp.
"How's everything going, Qual?" said Sushi, walking up to the group. "Good to see you today."
"Ah, Rawfish," said Qual, flashing the disconcerting smile that reminded everyone of his race's carnivorous proclivities. "The Sklern is obstinate today, but a tightening of the Zorn Modulator should resolve that issue. Or so one hopes. Mechanical onerosities can be recalcitrant, even with a good crew."
"I know what you mean," said Sushi, surprised even as he said it that he did follow the Zenobian's general drift. "In fact, that's sort of what I came to see you about"
"Ah, does your species have its own Sklerns?" The tip of Qual's tail began twitching. "We were not aware of it"
"Nope, we're Sklernless, far as I know," said Sushi. "It's one of our own machines I want to check out. Your autotranslator has been giving us some flaky output lately, and I wanted to see if we could recalibrate it"
"Flaking outpost?" Qual's eyes opened wider, and he stared at the miniature device hanging from a strap around his shoulder. "I have not seen any signs of it."
"Well, there you go," said Sushi, gri