GALAXY TOUR ADVENTURES - "The Grand Residency" - 39

   "First, set list has been distributed to all relevant parties. Second, Hoot Gaas is not here. He is to be found absolutely nowhere. I reason therefore that his current location is too far removed to be of practical use to us here tonight."
   "Okay Keebo, thanks," Zana said and gave Rivqua a hopeless shrug. "I guess we'll just introduce ourselves then. It's not like we haven't done that before."
   Rivqua nodded. She was on the phone to the control deck. "It'll be fine, sir. Truck will bring the house lights down and we'll go in cold. With a hot number. And do an introduction after that. In the meanwhile we'll just hope Mister Gaas shows up, with his phenomenal eyesight and all. Not for the show so much. More for your peace of mind. Quite right, sir. I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for all this. Tell Truck four minutes from now. Exactly."
   She hung up. Keebo and his three bandmates stood in the doorway. They were fully charged up, warmed up and ready to go. Zana coughed from inside a cloud of hairspray and stood up, fanning her hair, blinking some sting out. "Let's do it."
   A stage hand popped her head in from the corridor. "Nice turn-out tonight. You guys ready? Follow me. I know you know the way. I'm strictly an insurance requirement. I swear, sometimes I feel like a lifeboat on a dry lakebed."
   "Has Hoot Gaas ever disappeared like this before?" Zana asked, tuning her guitar as they walked.
   "No."
   "So we're witnessing a Grand Galactica anomaly tonight," Rivqua said.
   "Yes."
   Rivqua and Zana exchanged a glance. Zana asked, "Happen often?"
   "Anomalies? Anomaly is Toss Vague-Ass's second name."
   "Copy that."

GALAXY TOUR ADVENTURES - "The Grand Residency" - 38

   "Set list's on its way," said Rivqua and held the door for Zana. Truck gestured familiar disbelief and the Blonde Plutoz headed down the control deck stairs.
   "So what about Hoot Gass, eh?" Zana said.
   "Delegating duties clearly isn't his strong suit."
   "He goes off schedule for a bit and everybody panics. At least fish guy has."
   "The poor fellow can't delegate, that's the problem. He has to pass on some of the workload and trust to his staff. Like to that fish guy. What's needed is a management course. I'll slip that into the suggestion box."
   "Good idea. Ah, Keebo my lad. Come with us."
   The girls picked up their keyboard player on the way. They all popped into the dressing room. As the girls changed and got going with hair and faces they dictated a set list to the android. Keebo stood by the door, eyes to the ceiling, going, "Mhm. Mhm. Right. Good choice. Mhm. What? Haven't done that one in ages. Very well. Mhm." And so on.
   Finally Zana said, "Got that? Happy with that? Good, make sure Truck gets it asap and don't forget Metro, Basix and Fuzz. Where are they, by the way?"
   "They're working on their own set list."
   "You don't say. Well, this one supersedes theirs and you be sure to tell them."
   "With pleasure. Their set lists suck as a matter of routine."
   "And see if you can't find that Hoot Gaas guy," Rivqua told him." He's got to be somewhere nearby. He's introducing us. Fadda Bing may have died but the show must go on. Mister Gaas would stand by that sentiment, I'm pretty sure."
   "I'll ask him when I see him. Which I haven't. Okay, I'll go take a look around."
   Keebo left the girls to finish dolling up.

GALAXY TOUR ADVENTURES - "The Grand Residency" - 37

   "About the high stakes losers," Rivqua said. "The ones who might have left here with rear ends exposed on some occasion. Have any ever returned to demand a refund?"
   "Certainly! It happens all the time!" returned Fishhead, the fin on the top of his head rising like a fan. "Some even have the audacity to demand interest!"
   "Is that so?"
   "You wouldn't believe some of these low-life alien life forms. That's why we have guard bots all over the place, hidden behind wall panels and whatnot. The trouble is, whenever they activate and pull off a major intercept, with all the public raucus that goes with it, invariably it spooks the rest of the clientele. People leave and our earnings go down. Intercepts are bad for business!"
   "As are involuntary refunds," Rivqua mumbled.
   "Hoot Gaas would have none of it, I tell you!"
   Truck turned again in her chair. "Hate to break up the meetin' of minds, but you guys have a gig comin' up in the near future, like in fifteen minutes. Any thoughts on visitin' your dressin' room before goin' up? It's my understandin' you got one. Vocal warmups, maybe? I have a suggestion, a set list! Let's see, do I remember what a set list is...? Yes, it's comin' back to me." She gestured with a telling expression. "If it's not too much trouble."
   Their sound tech's ramble brought the girls over to the ballroom side of the control deck. Zana looked out the window.
   "Wow, it's filling up quick down there."
   "Aren't we lucky."
   "It's just that our audiences usually don't wear tuxes and evening dresses and sit at tables."
   "Do a royal wave between songs and they'll be eatin' our of your hand."

GALAXY TOUR ADVENTURES - "The Grand Residency" - 36

   "Precisely, owl indeed!" agreed Fishhead and slapped the desk.
   "O-w-l," Rivqua spelled, lost in momentary thought.
   The guy covered in silvery scales stood up and trotted across on small powerful fins, keeping astonishing balance.
   "Come over here," he said. "Take a look at this. See down there?" He pointed through the angled glass wall on the other side of the control room. The girls took in the high view of the entire casino floor. "Anyone tries something anywhere on the floor, like switch dice, marks cards, any attempt at sleight of hand, by anyone other than the staff- that is, what I mean is, any attempt at taking a gamble while gambling so to speak - Mister Gaas would see it!"
   "But if he's absent, speaking hypothetically now," Rivqua said, "you've got all this doing most of the work for you. To make sure gambling stays all pure and wholesome." She swept her hand over the bank of screens above a mighty control desk. The high-tech surveillance system seemed to cover every table, from all angles. Streams of data flowed.
   "And if you don't mind my saying," Rivqua went on, "it seems to do a fair job of it."
   "Look, there's the gyrolette," Zana threw in.
   "Bah! This only goes so far," said Fishhead, slumping into the chair. "Even if it did it still doesn't account for the chief controller missing from his post! There is no excuse!"
   Zana looked at him. "Do you keep a record of every single play down there?"
   "From opening night," nodded Fishhead. Zana entertained a stray thought.
   He gasped. "What if something's happened to him! There have been many an upset guest over the years, let me tell you. And let me tell you this, high stakes losers forget slowly! More slowly yet when they leave here with their asses literally bare!" He slapped a fin over his mouth, mortified. "Oh my language!"
   Zana shrugged. "The trick is to know when to stop."
   "Too true, too true!" came his muffled response.