A Phule and His Money

10

Journal #341

Once a timetable had been set for the company's departure from Lorelei, the actual preparations went ahead smoothly. The main complication was keeping the withdrawal a secret from the public particularly from the local criminal elements that might try to seize the opportunity to press their own interest in the lucrative casino.

I myself thought the elaborate efforts to deceive the mob leaders, especially Maxine Pruett, were perhaps more complex than necessary. That was before I found an incentive to take a personal role in the subterfuge...

Lieutenant Rembrandt checked her communicator. Its readout showed Galactic Standard Time as 21:29-half an hour until the shuttle carrying the last of Phule's legionnaires was scheduled to leave. So far, everything had gone as well as anyone could have expected-she was almost tempted to describe it as having been done with military precision, except she knew the military far too well. The company's heavy equipment was already in transit, and would be waiting in orbit when they arrived at Landoor. And almost all the Legion personnel were already on the transport ship.

It was the "almost" that had her worried.

She had a very good idea which members of the company would show up at the last minute. The captain was one of them-no surprise there at all. He was still at the casino, settling the last details of the withdrawal. Nor was she particularly disturbed to see that the captain's butler had not checked in. As a civilian, Beeker was of course not subject to Legion discipline or rules. Most likely, the butler was with his employer-or on an errand for him. Still, he was normally punctuality itself; it would be a real surprise if he missed the shuttle.

On the other hand, the absence of Sushi and Do-Wop was some cause for concern, predictable though it was. Whenever there was trouble, one or the other was likely to be in it up to his ears. This time it looked as if both were involved. They'd never missed a ship, to her knowledge-not yet, at least. But they were an excellent bet to come racing up at the last possible second, with someone or another in hot pursuit. She hoped she wouldn't have to slam the shuttle door in a security officer's face. She'd spent so much time building a positive image for the company, it'd be a shame to leave the station on that sort of note.

But with half an hour to go, she might as well spend the time doing something other than worrying. She pulled out the art history book she'd been reading. She'd never had much interest in the old twentieth-century "moderns"-it seemed curious to call them that, so long after they were all dead and gone-but the author was making a good case that Picasso was, after all, a very talented draughtsman. She turned to where she'd left off and began reading...

Maxine Pruett didn't usually answer the communicator herself. In fact, it was fairly unusual that she even heard its summons. People didn't call her-she called them. If they needed to get in touch, there was an office number, with a secretary during the day and an answering service at night. Only very close personal friends (and there weren't many of them, nowadays) ever called her at home. And when they did, Laverna answered it.

So it took her some time to notice the persistent buzz. She had the sound on the holovision turned up loud, as always, and the comm unit was in another of the suite's eight rooms. Maxie didn't have a nagging fear of missing an important call. That was for other people to worry about. She was perfectly capable of letting the communicator buzz until she felt like picking it up, or turning off the buzzer if she wasn't in the mood. It wasn't her that was going to be in trouble if an important message didn't get through...

But the damned thing had been buzzing for at least five minutes, and Laverna still hadn't answered. Where the hell was Laverna? Finally, Maxine stomped out to her office-really Laverna's office, since Laverna was the one who used it ninety-five percent of the time-and picked up the handset-a basic, voice-only unit. Nobody in her business wanted a videophone in her private home. "Who's there?" she growled.

"Ah, Mrs. Pruett, I was beginning to wonder if you were there," said a familiar voice.

"Captain Jester," she said, although she knew perfectly well his real name was Phule. Now this was a surprise. "What can I do for you, Captain?" she added. She wasn't inclined to do anything for him, but it was good policy to be minimally polite to somebody who had an armed Legion company on call.

"You can tell me where my butler is," snarled the captain. "Better yet, you can send him back-all in one piece, if you don't mind."

"Your butler?" Maxine's brow furrowed. "I don't know anything about your butler."

"Don't play games with me, Mrs. Pruett," said the captain. "Beeker was near your headquarters when he disappeared, and I have reason to believe he had gone there to see one of your subordinates. Now, are you going to send him back or not?"

"I don't know what you're talking abou...Wait a minute," said Maxine, suddenly making a mental connection.

"Which of my subordinates was he coming to see?"

"I don't know her full name," said Phule stiffly. "Livorno, Laverne-something like that."

Maxine's teeth clenched. "Laverna? Damn! Captain, can I call you right back? I need to check on something."

"I'll be waiting," said Phule, and gave her the comm code. "Don't take too long, though-I can promise you, you don't want me to send my people over to find out what's causing the delay."

"I don't need your promises to know that," Maxine snapped at the captain. "Cool your jets-I'll get right back to you." She slammed down the receiver and went looking for her assistant.

It didn't take long to determine that Laverna wasn't anywhere in the suite. A quick phone call established that she wasn't in the bar downstairs-her usual watering hole. The last person who'd seen her was the guard at the door. That had been in midafternoon-as she was leaving the building with a conservatively dressed middle-aged man. The butler!

"That bitch!" Maxine slammed down the phone. Then she began to figure out what she was going to tell the captain.

"You sure we got time for this?" said Do-Wop.

"All the time in the world," said Sushi, bending over an open panel behind which could be seen complex circuitry. "Quiet, now, I need to concentrate. And make sure nobody's watching."

"Yeah, right," said Do-Wop. He scratched himself and pretended to goof off, gazing back down the little alley next to the casino offices. Night never fell on Lorelei, but it was early evening by Galactic Standard Time, which was the system observed on the space station. There were a few people on the streets-those finishing an early dinner, or casino workers coming off shift-but nobody seemed to pay much attention to a couple of men in maintenance uniforms crouching by an open panel with tools spread around. Just act like we belong there, Sushi had told him, and it was apparently working.

"Nobody payin' attention," he reported. He peered back to see how Sushi was doing. The job involved removing a particular chip and replacing it with a slightly more complex one designed to fit in the same slot. That sounded easy, but sometimes the installation didn't resemble the pictures in the manuals. An easy job could become impossible if you only had limited time. There was a wire from some previous repair that was going to have to be disconnected, moved aside, and reconnected when the job was done. A few minutes longer. Well, that's why they always told you to allow more time than you thought you needed to pull off a job.

And now there was somebody looking at them. "Soosh!" he hissed, and tried to act as if he wasn't nervous. "Casino guard."

"Act calm," said Sushi, snapping the new chip into place, and pocketing the old one. "Now all I gotta do is reconnect the repair wire."

"So hurry up and do it. He's comin'!"

"Oh, in that case..." Sushi took his soldering laser and quickly played it over the base of the chip they'd removed. He stood up and said loudly, "Look at this piece of crap."

"What the hell?" said Do-Wop, and then the security guard was looking over his shoulder.

"They had the wrong value in. No wonder the bastard burned out so soon. Some guy was too lazy to go back to the shop for the right one." Sushi took up the obligatory repairman's critique of his predecessor's shoddy work.

"You guys workin' late," said the guard.

"Yeah, Liverakos told us finish up this last job," said Sushi. Of course he'd found out the casino maintenance chief's name. "They got a new kid on next shift, and he's late already."

"Yeah, I seen him around," said the guard. There were always new kids around. "Guess he won't be here long."

"Unless he's related to somebody," griped Do-Wop.

He and the guard went on about the ills of nepotism and favoritism on the job for a couple of minutes while Sushi quietly knelt down and finished reconnecting the wire.

"OK, we can close her up," he said. "And then I can find out if my wife's gonna kill me for getting home late."

"Lucky guy, you got a wife," said Do-Wop.

"You call that lucky?" said Sushi, and the guard laughed. They wrestled the panel back in place while the guard kibitzed, and Do-Wop tightened the fasteners. Sushi started packing the tools.

"OK, see you boys around," said the guard, wandering back down the alleyway.

"See you," said Sushi. It probably wouldn't be too soon, though. Unless something suddenly went very wrong, they'd be in deep space less than an hour from now. They finished packing up their tools, cleaned up the small amount of debris the "repair" had generated, and walked casually out of the alley.

Across the street, the security guard was standing, looking completely uninterested in them. They walked away quickly.

Maxine was still trying to decide on her story when the communicator buzzed again. She strode over and picked it up. "Yeah?"

It was the guard downstairs. "Boss, that Legion captain's here, with a bunch of soldiers, and they're loaded for bear. The customers are buggin'. How you want me to play it?"

Maxine's reply was instantaneous. "Stall 'em-and keep your own guns out of sight. I'll be straight down." She disconnected, and headed for the door. Halfway there, she stopped and checked her gun; it was ready and loaded. For a moment, she considered leaving it behind-it would be next to useless against the legionnaires' weaponry, and more likely to get her into trouble than to get her out of it-but long years of habit overrode the prudent impulse. She returned it to its concealed holster and stomped out the door.

Down in the lobby, Phule was there with half a dozen legionnaires. From behind the nearby row of quantum slot machines, tourists stared at Phule and his men (although they kept pumping in coins). A few nervous gamblers waited at the window, cashing their chips while they still had the chance. And several bulky gentlemen-plainclothes casino security-occupied seats in the lobby area, studiously ignoring the armed invasion.

Phule turned when he saw her and said, "About time, Mrs. Pruett. I have a confirmed report that my butler was in this building. Where are you keeping him?"

"Keeping him? Are you crazy?" Maxine said, taken aback. "What the hell do I want your butler for?"

"I don't know, but I want him back," said Phule. "And I'm not going to wait very long."

"Look, I don't know where he is and I don't care. Feel free to search the place," said Maxine. She was confident that anything she didn't want him to see was well hidden; the place had been built on the assumption that search parties might occasionally come through. A few had, over the years, though none had penetrated beyond the nominally secret areas where teams of casino employees conducted surveillance and security operations, all perfectly legal and innocuous. Maxine's real secrets were much better hidden.

"You don't care?" said Phule. "Not even if he's run off with your assistant?"

Maxine stared him down. "What if he has? She's of legal age, after all."

"If she knows half as much about your business as he knows about mine, we're both in trouble," the captain hissed. Then he looked around and said, "Is there someplace we can talk? Someplace secure? There are too many people here for my nerves."

"Too many for my nerves, too," she said, seizing the moment. "Most of 'em are your troops, if you want to know the truth. Get 'em the hell out of here, so my customers can go back to playing instead of gawking at all that hardware, and I'm sure we can find a place to talk."

"We can arrange that," said Phule. He turned to his troops. "I'll be talking to Mrs. Pruett. You take up positions outside-with your eyes open. I'll be half an hour-if I need more time, I'll call you." He tapped his wrist communicator. "If you don't hear from me by then, you call me. If I don't answer, you know what to do. Understood? Do whatever you need to do."

"Yes, sir!" said the squad leader, a huge man with sergeant's stripes. He signalled the troops and they began to file out the door.

Maxine nodded. "This way," she said, and Phule followed her to her office. He took the chair she offered, and they sat facing each other across a large desk. "Now," said Maxine, "what makes you think I know anything about your butler?"

"You as much as said so," said Phule. "'She's of legal age'-you know they're together, or you wouldn't have been talking that way. We'll both save time if we cooperate on this. I want my butler back, you want your assistant...maybe for different reasons, but we both want the same thing. We both gain by working together on this."

Maxine didn't blink. "Working together how?"

"Ah, I knew you'd get down to business when you saw the advantages," said Phule. "Here's the way I see it. We can't equal your intelligence sources on-station-we aren't bad, mind you, just not your equal. Yet. We do pick up items you wouldn't, and as far as our off-station sources-well, you're not in that league."

"You'd be surprised," said the mob boss. "But let's say it's so-you're saying we share whatever tips we get? What's to stop somebody from keeping secrets?"

"Really, Mrs. Pruett," said Phule. "We aren't going to pass along sensitive information, and neither are you. But we have to trust each other to pass along anything relevant to our mutual business. Just as we have to trust whoever finds the fugitives to return them in good condition-my butler is of no use to me dead."

"No accidentally shot resisting arrest, in other words," said Maxine. "Well, I hate to tie my people's hands that way. It's going to make things more expensive."

"I don't know about your assistant, but I can assure you that losing my butler will make things extremely expensive for me," said Phule. "There won't be any accidents, will there?"

"No accidents," said Maxine. "I don't see how I've got anything to lose passing along a tip that might help me as much as it does you, if you'll do the same for us. And we'll pass along your butler if we catch him. My guarantee on it.

"And we'll send your assistant back," said Phule. "Here's what we know: My butler didn't come back from a visit to this hotel, for a lunch date. We searched his room a while ago; there wasn't much missing, just everything he'd take if he weren't planning to come back. And he took a few pieces of, uh, company property that I had issued to him for use in his work. That's when I called you."

"Right, one of our guys saw him leaving here," said Maxine, deciding she could confirm Phule's deduction. "Right about lunchtime, in fact-with my assistant. Ten-to-one those two have gone freelance. They're old enough to know better."

"That's for sure," said Phule. "I thought Beeker was..." His communicator buzzed. "Jester here," he answered. He put it to his ear for privacy, but Maxine could hear the buzz of an excited voice-a woman's voice from the pitch. "When?...I see. They're certain?...Well, we'd never get the authority to run them down in space, but we can grab them at the other end. Who do we know there? OK, stay in touch. Jester out."

"They've left the station," said Maxine.

"Right. Two-nineteen shuttle to the Patriot liner, which went translight three hours ago. Next stop is Trannae. We'll have somebody looking for them when they land. Do you have anybody there?"

"Maybe," said Maxine, trying to remember which family was in charge at Trannae. It was about ninety days' journey to Trannae, if she remembered correctly-which translated to what? Three weeks shiptime, she thought. Laverna would know...

Phule broke into her thoughts. "I'll get the arrival info sent to you as soon as I get back to my office, but it looks as if we've got them," he said. "They aren't going to get off a liner in hyperspace."

"Good," she said. "I think we've got a deal-and now, would you and your soldiers get off my property? You're frightening the marks."

21:48-a little more than ten minutes left before departure time. If the captain hadn't appeared by then, Lieutenant Rembrandt was going to have to delay the shuttle. Her orders said to leave precisely on schedule, no matter what. But she also had her own judgment, and she meant to use it. Abandoning the captain wasn't an option.

A quiet tone notified Rembrandt that someone had entered the corridor she was guarding. She put down her book and stood up to see who was coming. She didn't expect trouble, but she pulled her weapon out of its holster just in case. If trouble did come calling, she was armed with the Phule-proof adaptation of Qual's stun ray.

The broad corridor was well-lit, and so she easily made out the two figures approaching her. They wore regulation Legion black, with unit patches for the Omega Mob. But despite the familiar uniforms, she didn't recognize the faces. One, a lean, black woman, was a complete stranger to her. The other, a heavy-built man, had sergeant's stripes on his sleeve and an ill-fitting full beard...there was something about him, but...

The eyes gave him away. "Beeker!" she whispered, recognizing him through the disguise. "What's with the chin shrubbery? And who's your friend?"

"The new recruit, Lieutenant," said the butler, his voice a low-pitched growl. "Permission to board?"

"Permission granted, Sergeant," she said, doing her best not to let her amusement show. Beeker was the last person she'd ever expected to see in uniform. As for his companion, she was obviously a good bit past the usual age for recruits-even in the Legion, notoriously lax in its entrance requirements. The "sergeant" and "recruit" saluted-superfluous, since she herself was in mufti-and went through the shuttle entryway.

Rembrandt peered along the corridor, but there was no one else. She checked her watch. She had time to finish a chapter, so she sat back down with her book.

She'd read half a page when the alarm sounded again. She looked up to see a single figure approaching: the captain. She put down her book and rose to her feet. "Good to see you, sir," she said. "How'd it go?"

"Smooth as butter, I think," said Phule. "Lex's actors were very convincing as legionnaires, and Maxine bought my line of goods about Beeker and Laverna running off. Did they get here all right?"

"Yes, they were right ahead of you. Very well-disguised, too. I didn't recognize Beeker right away, and if I didn't, his own mother couldn't."

"Good. Then if everyone's here, let's go on board and get started. No need to wait to the last minute."

"I'm afraid there is, Captain," said Rembrandt. "Sushi and Do-Wop haven't reported in."

"That pair!" said Phule. "I should have known they'd find some kind of trouble to get into at the last minute."

"They aren't out on business?" said Rembrandt, frowning. "What if they miss the ship-out?"

Phule shook his head disapprovingly. "They might be able to get on something fast enough to catch up with us at the transfer station at Bellevue, but it'll cost them a bundle."

"And even then they might get caught in a hyperspace loop and get to the transfer point a year late-or early," said Rembrandt. "Serve them right to pay a years' room and board while they wait for us to show up."

Phule chuckled. "Well, if they do miss the shuttle, whatever it costs to get them back to the company is coming out of their pockets. Sushi's dangerously bright, but I don't think he's figured out all the ramifications of `time is money' yet."

"This may teach him," said Rembrandt, laughing. Then her face turned serious. "What if they're in real trouble?"

"Anything those two can't talk their way out of isn't going to get fixed in a few minutes. I can spare a little more than that, but not much. We'll lift at..."-he looked at his watch-"22:15, whether they're aboard or not. I'm going to go give the orders. And Rembrandt...?"

"Sir?"

Phule looked her in the eye. "Don't you get caught behind, waiting till the last second for them to show up."

"I won't, sir," she said, and turned back to her seat by the door. She might as well finish reading that chapter.

"Are you being followed?" said Sushi. He spoke without turning his head, and he'd turned up the volume so the microphone would pick up normal-volume speech at full arm's length. No sense in letting any watchers realize he was using the communicator. He'd have to abandon that trick if he got close enough for anyone to overhear him speaking, but that wasn't a problem yet.

"Can't tell," came Do-Wop's muffled voice through the speaker. "People around-can't talk much."

"OK, hurry-and keep your eyes open," said Sushi. Several blocks back, he and his partner had thought they spotted someone tailing them. It could have been a coincidence, or the security guard back at the casino might have gotten suspicious. They split up-as two legitimate workers would have done. Neither Sushi nor Do-Wop was a novice at eluding pursuit. And if one of them were caught-well, that was better than both.

At the next street corner was an open convenience store. A pair of shabbily dressed men stood on the corner outside the store. Casino strandees, thought Sushi-Lorelei had a "proof of work" requirement for residence, which meant that fired casino workers either got another job right away, or were shipped out. Strandees were more common. Usually they were luckless gamblers who'd hocked the ticket home to finance one more try to beat the house. They could survive for a while by scrounging and hitting an occasional small payoff. Sooner or later security caught up to them, and they were on their way anyhow-with a heavy lien against their credit to cover their passage and the fines for whatever offenses Lorelei security decided to charge them with. They weren't normally dangerous, but there was always a chance these two were different. Sushi couldn't spare the time to find out. He crossed the street. Almost at once he became aware that the two were looking at him.

Act like it's all normal, he thought to himself. Keep alert plan what you'll do if they come after you. The store was on the corner of a broad secondary street. A couple of blocks to his left, a hard right, and he'd be at the shuttle departure bay.

He tried to hurry his footsteps without seeming to be in a hurry. The two men were still looking at him...

"Hey, you!" one of them barked.

Sushi broke into a run. There was an incoherent shout behind him, then pursuing footsteps. He glanced back to see how the pursuit was coming, then expertly flung his repairman's toolbox into the nearest pursuer's legs. The man went down in a tumble of knees and elbows, and his partner stumbled trying to avoid him. That gave Sushi a few extra steps lead, and he intended to make use of every centimeter of it.

Sushi put a little bob-and-weave into his run. He didn't know who he was running from, but the likely candidates wouldn't blink at shooting him in the back. Behind him, the pursuers were on their feet again and coming after him. Well, that ended any chance they were ordinary thieves. They could've hocked the repairman's tools for more money than a worker was likely to be carrying.

Another glance back showed him he was gaining on his pursuers. Ahead, there were only a couple of people on the street between him and the corner. Maybe they were tourists. So far neither had reacted to him. He decided to give both as wide a berth as possible.

The first man he passed flattened himself against the building to one side, clearly unwilling to get involved. Sushi swung wide of him anyhow, in case he was shamming. But the other man stood stock-still, not blocking the way, but not getting out of the way, either. Sushi had a split second to decide which way to dodge when he heard a crash behind him and voices raised in anger. The man ahead of him fell back, astonished. When Sushi saw that, he actually turned and looked back-just in time to see both his pursuers down on the street. Do-Wop was picking himself up and sprinting after Sushi.

Sushi dodged past the astonished man, and a moment later he and Do-Wop turned, side by side, into the alleyway that led to the shuttle entrance. Ahead of them, Lieutenant Rembrandt was rising to her feet, a book in her hand. They were home free. It was a moment's work to duck through the hatchway, dog it shut behind them, and take their seats. Phule gave Do-Wop and Sushi a stare, but said nothing. Minutes later, the shuttle was leaving Lorelei.

Journal #350

Departure from Lorelei did not by any means end my employer's concerns with events on that station. In fact, several of them needed resolution even before our transport ship reached its first stop...

Phule looked across his desk at the woman sitting next to Beeker. He wasn't quite sure how to handle this. It had never occurred to him that Beeker's personal life might thrust itself into his awareness. It was hard enough accepting that Beeker had a personal life. Well, no sense dithering; he was going to have to deal with it.

"So, Laverna, do I understand correctly that you're considering joining the Space Legion?" he began.

"I was told that it was the only condition under which the Legion would give me passage off Lorelei," said Laverna, looking at Beeker.

"Well, that's not strictly true," said Phule. "The Legion routinely gives passage to several categories of civilians. Essential staff, immediate families of senior officers...Um...those don't actually apply, do they?"

"You'd know that better than I do," said Laverna. "I can pay for my fare, if you're worried about that. I assume you can scramble the credit transaction so Maxine can't trace it?"

"Certainly," said Phule. "But I don't think we need you to pay. As company commander, I have a certain discretionary budget, and of course what I spend my own money for isn't the Legion's business, with one or two fairly obvious exceptions."

"If it comes to that, I can pay for Miss Laverna's passage," said Beeker.

"I can pay my own way," Laverna repeated. "Let's forget about that for now, all right? What I need to know is, if I do decide to join the Legion-which I haven't done yet-what kind of choice do I have as far as my assignment?"

"Quite frankly, I don't know all the regulations," said Phule. "I do know you have less choice than a recruiting officer would try to make you think. You can request anything you want, but the Legion makes assignments based on its own needs."

"I suspected as much," said Laverna, with a thin smile. She glanced sideways at Beeker. "But tell me this: If I do qualify for a particular specialty, does the Legion guarantee to train me in it?"

"Yes," said Phule. "There's no guarantee what'll happen once your training's done. Suppose you put in for training as a quantum mechanic and assignment to Altair IV. They'd give you the training-assuming you'd qualify-but you might still end up digging ditches halfway across the galaxy."

"Understood," said Laverna. "Question two: If I do decide to join, my previous identity is kept secret?"

"Yes again," said Phule. "That doesn't mean it can't get out. As you probably know, Chocolate Harry kept his gang nickname when he joined, and was a little too free with details of his past-which let some of his old enemies track him down. And of course, my own family name is an open secret. But I don't think your situation is comparable, especially if you take a few steps to cover your trail."

"You can do all that without joining the Legion, you know," said Beeker. He said it in a level tone, but Phule thought he detected a note of urgency in the butler's voice.

"I realize that," said Laverna, looking Beeker in the eye. "But what I know about Maxine Pruett's business is enough to make me a target-even if Maxine isn't in charge on Lorelei. And it's going to make anybody associated with me a target, including a certain butler."

"I am willing to accept that risk," said Beeker.

"And I'm not willing to subject you to it," said Laverna fiercely. "The only way either of us is safe is if we're apart. Then you can rely on your cover story: I tricked you into helping me escape, then robbed you and abandoned you. They'll believe that of me, so they'll leave you alone. And you won't know where I am, so you won't be able to give me away."

"Perhaps I would wish to know where you are," said Beeker. This time the emotion in his voice was unmistakable, Phule thought, though he still kept a straight face.

"There'll be time for that," said Laverna. "Neither of us is a child. We know how to take the long view. I'll finish my Legion hitch in a few years, and you'll retire from your job at some point in the future. And then we can see what there is to see. I think that is wisest."

"So you are going to enlist, after all?" asked Phule. "If you'd like, we can cut you temporary orders attaching you to this company for your basic training, while your application for advanced training is being processed. When we know where you're going, we can send you there."

"I appreciate the offer, Captain," said Laverna. "But if I am on the same world as you and Beeker for any length of time, someone is bound to come looking for me. Better if, at the next reasonable transfer point, you send me to another Legion base for basic training. That way, the risks for all of us will be minimized."

"Very well," said Phule. "That's a sensible precaution, and I'll make the arrangements for it. Meanwhile, I can put in your application for advanced training, if you know what you'd like."

"Yes, I think so," said Laverna. "I've always thought I'd be a good emergency paramedic. Do you think the Legion needs any of those?"

"I believe so," said Phule, surprised. "I'll put you in for it. Now, unless you can think of anything else we need to settle, I'll get to work on this, and you two can have a little more time together before we change ships. Good luck, Miss Laverna."

"Thank you, Captain," she said, with one of her rare smiles. "To tell the truth, I hope I won't need it."

"I want straight answers from you two," said Phule. He glared at the two legionnaires in his office, trying his best to look intimidating. He wasn't quite sure it was working.

"Straight answers about what, Captain?" said Sushi. His quizzical expression made him look fifteen years old.

"Yeah, we ain't done nothin'," said Do-Wop, considerably less innocent-looking.

Phule sighed. He should have known he wouldn't get anything out of this pair without arm-twisting. "All right, I guess I'll have to spell it out," he said. "You two made it to the shuttle by the skin of your teeth, under hot pursuit. It's a good thing nobody with an arrest warrant walked up to the hatchway before we got it dogged, or you two might still be there."

"But we weren't late, sir," said Sushi, mildly. "I don't see how it makes any difference whether we're on the shuttle an hour before it leaves or thirty seconds before, as long as we're there and buckled in when it's ready."

"Normally, neither would I," said Phule. "You know I run a loose ship, and that's not about to change. I wouldn't have said a word about it except for the latest reports from the team we left on Lorelei."

"Whatever it is, we didn't have nothin' to do with it," said Do-Wop. He had the outraged look of a Federation Senator accused of taking bribes from someone he hadn't thought to solicit.

"I suppose I should consider it a compliment that you think we can manipulate events at that distance," added Sushi, "but we really can't take credit for everything. There are a number of operatives from various criminal organizations on Lorelei, you know."

"Interesting that you automatically assume I'm referring to criminal activities," said Phule, glowering. He paced a few steps, then turned suddenly to face the two legionnaires. "What were you doing that made you so late? And why were you wearing repairmen's uniforms? What were you pretending to repair?"

"Pretending?" the two legionnaires asked almost in unison. Then Do-Wop went on alone, "Jeez, Captain, if we was gonna repair somethin', it'd be fixed when we finished with it."

"Fixed is probably the right word," said Phule. He looked Sushi directly in the eye and said, "There's been a very small but steady drain on receipts at the Fat Chance-a fraction of a cent from each credit card transaction-ever since shortly before we lifted off. Not enough for any one individual to notice, but quite a bit if you spread it out over the entire station for the week since we left. Now, I wonder where those odd fractions of a cent are going?"

"Gee, Captain, that's an interesting question," said Sushi. "I guess you think we had something to do with it."

"I'd think that somebody who knows how to gimmick a Dilithium Express card might be able to figure out how to do something like this, yes," said Phule. "You realize, of course, that you're skimming from your own profits here-you two being part-owners of the Fat Chance. Not to mention skimming from all your buddies in the company."

"Hey, Captain, you still ain't proved we're the ones who did it," said Do-Wop. "Just because somebody knows how to do somethin', that don't mean he did it. Lorelei station's full of crooks, y'know."

"Yes, it's been full of them practically since it opened up," said Phule. He turned his penetrating stare toward Do-Wop, who suddenly found something to look at on the floor. "But nobody figured out how to pull this stunt until you two left the station-disguised as repairmen, and running as if you had a pack of rippers after you. I'll ask you again-what were you two `fixing' back there?"

Sushi and Do-Wop glanced at each other, while Phule allowed the silence to stretch out. It stretched further, and Phule was beginning to wonder if it was time to abandon the tactic when Sushi shrugged and said, "All right, Captain, if you've already figured it out, there's not much point in trying to hide it anymore. We were opening up one of the hatchways that access the station's climate control system. What most people don't realize is that the same central computer controls all the credit card transactions, as well as some other stuff we weren't interested in. But it shouldn't have tapped into the Fat Chance. It was just supposed to take from the other casinos. You know I wouldn't rob the other guys in the company."

"Why not?" demanded Phule. "You can't expect me to believe that one without corroboration."

"Well, before that, I'd planted a chip in the Fat Chance's central computer. That was how I cut off your card when I fooled the Yakuza. Lucky for me, he didn't ask me to use your card at one of the other casinos-it would've blown the whole caper. But that chip was also a one-way filter between the Fat Chance and the rest of the system. You see, I was already planning this little prank back then. I can't understand why it didn't work."

Phule walked up to within inches of Sushi's face and snarled, "Probably because Beeker and I figured out how you had to have broken into my account, and counteracted it. We couldn't inspect the entire system, but we could insert our own override into the software. So when you pulled your little prank, the Fat Chance was back in touch with the rest of the system, and your chip stole from us as well as all the rest."

"I told you it wouldn't work," said Do-Wop, glumly. "The captain's too smart for us, Soosh."

"I guess he is," said Sushi. "OK, Captain, I'll tell you where the substitute chip is so you can undo the swindle, and we'll refund all the money it's taken from the Fat Chance. Will that make everything all right?"

"It'll do for a start," said Phule. "Unfortunately, you're going to have to go a step beyond that. I want you to refund all the money it's taken from all the casinos. If I let you keep any profits from this, you're likely to learn the wrong lesson."

"Yes, sir," said Sushi unhappily. "To tell the truth, that'll actually be easier than separating out the Fat Chance's share."

"Good. Then I want it done as soon as possible," said Phule. "Can you do it from the ship or do you have to wait till we're out of hyperdrive?"

"I can do it from your desk phone," said Sushi, pointing.

"You'll do it as soon as we're finished talking," said Phule. "One more thing. You two are going to be on a shorter leash once we get to the new assignment. Landoor is a military operation, and we're going to run it by military rules. That means no more freelancing by you two. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," said Sushi, and Do-Wop echoed his partner in an even more plaintive tone. Neither one looked particularly happy, but Phule didn't think he could demand that of them.

"Good," he said, looking them both in the eye. "Now, Sushi, you're going to make that comm call, and then we're going to see if you two hoodlums can learn how to work as part of the team. For your sake-for the whole company's sake-I hope you can."

Sushi and Do-Wop both nodded. Phule pointed to the phone, and sat down to watch. There might be something more he could learn from this...