After a while, two civilians strolled up to the little group that hadn’t gone into the water. “You guys ain’t from around here,” one of them said to Flight Leftenant Qual, who was allowing Super-Gnat to bury him in the sand.
“You are observant,” said Qual, flashing his allosaurus grin.
The local drew back a pace, but then noticing the tiny woman fearlessly dumping handfuls of sand onto the toothy alien’s torso, tried another conversational gambit. “You talk pretty good for a foreigner.”
“Oh, I hasten to assure you, everyone on my world talks, some even better than I,” said Qual, with a jovial chuckle. “You should hear Chief Potentary Korg when he gets his jaw wagging.”
“Is that so? I reckon he’s something, then,” said the Landooran, a skinny youth with an asymmetrical haircut that needed retrimming. “I’m Okidata, by the way, and this is my girlfriend Wandalune. We’re from out South Worton, down by Dunes Park.”
“I do not know that district,” said Qual. “Perhaps I shall visit it now that I have met someone from there.”
“When somebody gives you their name, you’re supposed to introduce yourself in return,” said Super-Gnat, laughing. She turned to the two locals. “This is Qual-he doesn’t know human customs too well yet-and they call me Gnat. We’re staying in the Landoor Plaza, out west of town.”
“Wow, I hear that’s a fancy place,” said Wandalune, wide-eyed. “Are you rich tourists?”
“Nope,” said Gnat. “We’re here to do a job, is all. The boss gave us the day off, so a bunch of us decided to see what your beach was like. I’m glad we did.”
“That’s a triff boss,” said Okidata. “Last guy I worked for, he bounced me for going to my sister’s funeral without asking. He didn’t warn me fair, so I managed to get unemployment, but jobs are scarce. There’s a new government park hiring, but they had a waiting list longer than the Weasel. I’m still looking, but the unemployment may run out before I get anything.”
“That rots, for sure. What kind of work were you doing?” said Gnat.
“I was a mechanic at a ride park,” said Okidata. “An apprentice mechanic, really-lug the tools and clean up grease spills and do the dirty work. They think you don’t have anywhere else to go, the dirty work can get pretty dirty. You wanna eat, you do it, though.”
Then he grinned. “Besides, it’s what I wanted to do ever since I was a kid. My old man wanted me to be a printer, like him, but I always wanted to work in a park.” His voice changed, and he squinted at the legionnaires. “What about you guys? I didn’t know they were bringing in foreigners to work here. There’s not enough real jobs for us natives.”
“I know all about that,” said Gnat. She dumped a final load of sand on Qual and dusted off her hands. “Jobs were pretty scarce back on my home world, too-so I joined the Space Legion. Our job here is to keep you guys from shooting each other. Want to join up and help us?” She grinned.
“If that’s the whole job, you might get a lot of people to join up,” said Okidata. “Hasn’t been any shooting since the war ended, which is about the only good thing I can say about this place. I’d take that chance, for a regular paycheck.”
“So would I,” said Wandalune. “I got out of school a year ago, and I’ve been looking for work ever since. I’ve had a few fill-in jobs, but nothing longer than a couple weeks. Same with all my friends. Most of ’em have quit looking.”
“Uh-huh,” said Gnat. “Well, the Legion’s a steady paycheck and three squares a day, and a chance to get offworld, if you want to see something besides home. But there’s plenty of dirty work here, too. Maybe you should talk to our captain-find out whether it’s really your idea of what you want to do for the next few years.”
“Maybe I will,” said Okidata, though he looked doubtful.
“It is an honorable calling,” said Qual, from underneath the sand pile. “Captain Clown has given his troops opportunities of great rarity. Ambitious hatchlings could do far worse.”
“We’ll think about it,” said Wandalune. Then she reached out and took her boyfriend’s hand. “Come on, Okey, let’s go see if the rides are open yet.” And the two locals wandered up the beach toward a medium-sized amusement park visible beyond the boardwalk.
As they departed, Tusk-anini came out of the surf and trotted up to Super-Gnat. He was dripping wet, with a thick pair of dark goggles covering his light-sensitive eyes. “Who those people, Gnat?” he said, noting her frown. “They bothering you?”
“Not the way you mean,” said Super-Gnat, looking after the departing locals. “What bothers me, if they’re telling the truth, is that a lot of kids here can’t find jobs. That could make our job here tougher, if it’s true.”
“You mean they think we taking jobs from them?” said Tusk-anini. “Not true. We come here, bring in money from off-world. More money for everyone here.”
“They’re still likely to resent us if they see we’ve got money to spend when they don’t,” said Gnat, shaking her head.
“This may produce a problem,” said Qual. “Alas, our power to change that is circumscribed.”
“You said a mouthful,” said Gnat. “I hope this whole job isn’t more than we can swallow.”
“Do not fear, small strong one,” said Qual, chuckling. “My people have a saying: `Better the swamp than the desert, but the river is swifter than either one.’ ”
“Huh? What’s that mean?” Super-Gnat wasn’t always sure the Zenobian’s translator was correctly wired.
“Don’t care,” said Tusk-anini. “Right now we on the beach, so I not going to worry. Come on, you want to go in water?”
“Race you there,” said Super-Gnat, and they took off running. Qual lay back and closed his eyes, grinning.
Journal #387
My employer’s attitude toward the current government of Landoor had taken on a degree of skepticism. Despite his professed desire to help rebuild the planet, they were clearly reluctant to provide him with much useful information concerning their plans to develop a tourist industry-in which they claimed to put great stock. And they told him they did not want him investing his money in the Landoor Park project.
His suspicion of the government was only heightened by Boris Eastman’s clumsy attempt to portray the shots fired at him at the spaceport as grounds to undertake operations against the rebels. However, I suspect that being balked in his desire to invest in the project made him decide to find out exactly what was going on in Landoor Park. When the usual interplanetary databases turned up no useful information, he decided to do his own research-right on the ground.
“What are we looking for, anyway, Soosh?” Do-Wop asked. He and his partner were in a former industrial quarter of Landoor City, dressed in civilian clothes. Except for the two legionnaires, the trash-filled streets were almost deserted. The few pedestrians they did encounter crossed the street or ducked into alleyways, seeking to avoid notice. It seemed clear that few honest citizens had business here, nowadays.
“The captain isn’t sure,” said Sushi, peering through the links of a rusting fence that bore a sign reading, FUTURE SITE OF LANDOOR PARK. The factory wall inside bore enigmatic graffiti, above a small pile of broken liquor bottles. A tall plant bearing bright blue flowers sprang from a patch of weeds. Nothing of apparent value was visible.
“Oh, great,” said Do-Wop. “So he sends us out to the ugliest chunk of landscape I’ve seen since the swamps back on Haskin’s Planet, and tells us to look around for somethin’ he ain’t sure about. How do we know when we find it.
“Use your brains,” said Sushi. “I know you’ve got some. The captain says the government here has some sort of secret project going on-he isn’t sure what, but apparently they’ve put a lot of their resources into it. Something like that ought to be big enough to notice. Especially in this part of town-I don’t think anybody could build a hotdog stand here without it sticking out like a sore thumb.”
Do-Wop frowned. “If it’s that easy to spot, you’d think he could see it from the hotel roof as well as we can down here. Maybe better, with those high-powered glasses of his.”
Sushi shrugged. “I know for a fact he’s been up there looking, but it’s not really high enough. I’d be surprised if he hasn’t sent out a few spy-bots, as well. I guess he wants to get the grunt’s-eye view. If he thinks we can give him something useful, I say we do our best to come up with something.”
“OK, I guess you got a point, there,” said Do-Wop. He kicked a fragment of shattered brick that must have fallen from a nearby building. “All I know is, whatever the captain’s after, it ain’t out here.”