His anxiety about a cavity search was misplaced—they never so much as touched him either. Granted, they were a little more intrusive in terms of how close they brought the scanners, and they didn't give him even one " Sumimasen ," but there was nothing invasive or proctological about the procedure. One of the sammies, an older slag, with strategically silvering hair and hollow cheeks, showed specific interest in a stickpin Scott wore in his lapel. To me it looked like some kind of Hawai'ian idol, a pot-bellied little guy with big wide eyes, made out of sterling silver. The old slag didn't scan it with his detectors, but just stared at it for a while, a slightly puzzled frown on his face. Then he shrugged and moved on. I shot Scott a questioning look. The big ork just shrugged.