"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.
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