The clerk bot spoke into a headset that had materialized out of his head.
"Yes, Ma'am. The Blonde Plutoz. Music artists from the Grand Galactica. They claim that Mister Hoot Gaas is with you and you will shortly be having lunch together, like regular sweethearts, though the meaning of that eludes me. They wish to address a matter concerning a fat load of money. Very good, Ma'am."
Rivqua and Zana looked at each other. "Ma'am?" they both mouthed in curious disbelief.
No sooner had the bot hung up and his headset slotted back into his head, than an office door burst open behind him. From it emerged a largely built owl creature with round eyes and lots of feathers.
"The Blown Kudos! Hoot told me about you. I was about to call the Galactica, give that Fadda Bing fellow a piece of my mind. But now you're here. Good! Finally someone who can tell me where that scoundrel Hoot is today." The matronly alien stared at the girls. "You can tell me that, can't you? You do know, don't you?"
"No, Ma'am, I'm sorry to say we can't, and don't," Rivqua said. "We were hoping you could, and would."
The owl shoved her arms into her waist and shook her head vigorously. Her long ear tufts fluttered. "That over-worked cousin of mine is hopeless! I have to tell you, he doesn't usually do this. He is very punctual. Together we oversee the preliminary placement of the casino's takings, on a daily basis. The Grand Galactica turns over significant funds and not a day is to be wasted on poor investing. Then we lunch, if there's time. Today there's time, but where is the silly fellow!"
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