"Yes, I've been wondering that myself," said Beeker.
"They certainly aren't here for the cultural experience."
"Nor for the waters," said Sushi. "In fact, as best I can tell, they're here to spy on us."
"Spy?" said Beeker. "To steal military secrets? If young Mr. Phule will pardon my saying so, I find it difficult to believe that the commanders of the Legion would entrust this company with any highly sensitive information. For that matter, even if there were such secrets to be found, to whom would they be sold? The Alliance has no enemies that I know of."
"Well, Beeks, that may be," said Phule. "On the other hand, I'm inclined to give a certain amount of weight to Sushi's suspicions-at least until I find some reason to doubt them. What makes you think they're spying, Sushi?"
Sushi cleared his throat. "Captain, I happened to be present at a highly unofficial gathering where the hunters and some of our personnel were present..."
"Chocolate Harry's poker game?" said Phule, raising an eyebrow. "I knew they showed up there, and I heard that Harry took a good bit of their money, which is fine with me. If they don't know any better than to gamble with a veteran Legion sergeant, that's their bad judgment. But what secrets could they be looking for there?"
"Weapons, Captain," said Sushi. "You may forget Omega Company has become the de facto testing unit for your father's munitions line. Every experimental weapon in the Legion comes to us first, and Harry's got samples of everything sitting right there in his Supply depot. It seems to me that every time one of the hunters dropped out of a hand, he'd go over and ogle the hardware. My best guess is that these guys are from a rival weapons manufacturer, trying to grab samples of Phule-Proof's latest products to knock off. Or maybe they're trying to supply a revolution somewhere, maybe on their home world."
Phule leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, that's certainly possible. I've pretty much given Harry blanket permission to turn a buck any way he sees fit, as long as the company doesn't run out of anything it needs. So if he's sold them a few spare weapons, I don't see how it hurts us. He's probably hit them with an outrageous markup-I wouldn't be at all surprised if they paid more than if they'd gone directly to the factory. At Harry's prices, it's going to be one very expensive revolution, if that's what they have in mind."
Sushi considered a moment before responding. "I didn't see them trying to talk Harry into selling them anything, though it could have happened after I left. I think maybe they just plan to come back and help themselves some time when nobody's looking. It's not as if Harry guards the place all that carefully."
"Hmm... that's a different story, Sushi," said Phule. "I'll certainly have to look into it. Stealing from the depot? I don't see how they expect to get away with something mat blatant. If there's enough reason to think they're going to try that, I'll just order them off the planet."
"1 would advise caution, sir," said Beeker. "Remember who sent them here, your friend in high places, Ambassador Gottesman. I don't know whether-the ambassador is their accomplice or their dupe, but I do recall that he appeared quite anxious to ensure that you would extend the company's hospitality to them. One ought to be very certain of their criminal intentions before expelling them summarily. You do not have so many influential friends that you can afford to alienate one of them without excellent reasons."
"I see," said Phule. He mused for a while, then asked, "What if I get the Zenobians to demand that we kick them out? Chief Potentary Korg didn't particularly want them here to begin with. I suspect he'd welcome a good pretext to send them packing. If Sushi's right, I wouldn't mind it myself."
"That is quite understandable, sir," said Beeker. "However, you are in a somewhat difficult position. Ambassador Gottesman may take it amiss if you appear to take the natives' side against your own species. Even if we can find solid evidence of intended malfeasance, these rascals may be sufficiently well connected to defy us. Better if we could resolve the matter without their becoming aware of our part in foiling their intentions."
"Which brings me to the second half of my plan," said Sushi. "Have you noticed the machine that Flight Leftenant Qual and his team are working on-the Sklem?"
"One could hardly help noticing it," said Beeker. "It seems quite an eccentric device, although I've yet to fathom its purpose. Ah... but perhaps you were going to inform us on that point, young man?"
Sushi smiled. "Why, yes, Beeker. Not only that, but unless I've completely misunderstood everything so far, I think it's the whole answer to your problem."
"Now you've got me really interested," said Phule. "I tried to get Qual to explain it, but I couldn't understand the first thing he was saying. Either he was giving me doubletalk, or that stupid translator was acting up again."
"Funny you should mention that," said Sushi. "As it happens, that's exactly the problem that led to my finding out what the Sklem really does. It started when Rev got an idea about trying to get the Zenobians to listen to his spiel about the King..."
"What we really need is to find out what those people want," said Tullie Bascomb. "They were all ready to accept a buyout at something like eight cents on the dollar, and they walked on it when we told them their pictures had
gone out as part of the casino's standard publicity package.
"That doesn't make sense."
"Well, it looks very much as if they don't want publicity." said Rex, who was in charge of the Fat Chance's lavish entertainment program. "That doesn't make a lot of sense to me; but then again, I've never-been one to pass up a chance to get my face in front of a holo camera. You never know when somebody'll come along with a job ... you can't refuse."
"Funny you should use that phrase," said Bascomb, drumming his fingers on the desk. "I wonder..."
"Wonder what?" barked Victor Phule, who'd been sitting with growing discontent during the casino managers' meeting. "I negotiated the deal, good old Ernie accepted, and it was your harebrained publicity department that queered it by forwarding his picture to the media without asking anybody whether it had been cleared. Send me to talk to him and that woman, and I can have them both eating out of our hand in no time fiat."
Bascomb grunted. "Hell, if you hadn't stuck your nose in and left deal-making to somebody who knew the rules everybody else was playing by, we'd have had the whole thing settled two days ago," he said. "Now, if you'd let me finish what I was about to say..."
"Gentlemen, this is getting no place," said Doc, the former character actor now playing the role of commanding officer of the Fat Chance Casino's security force-a picked band of actors in black uniforms, backed up by a few Legion veterans to supply real muscle on the off chance they had to deal with anything worse than an unruly drunk. "Why don't you both back off instead of butting heads every thirty seconds? We might get even figure out something to do, if the rest of us could get a word out of our mouths." Victor Phule and Tullie Bascomb glared at one another for a moment, but by their silence they appeared to accept Doc's reprimand. Doc nodded. "Now, Tullie, what was the point you were about to make?"
Bascomb laid his hands on the table, palms up. "I've got an idea why Erkeep doesn't want his name in the media, and maybe- an idea what we can do about it," he said. "I think he's on a hit list somewhere, and he's afraid the publicity's going to give away his location."
"There ought to be ways to deal" with that," said Rex. "Our makeup people can fix the winner so his own mother wouldn't recognize him. And 1 suspect, with Mr. Phule's help, we can find ways to get him and the young lady to almost any destination in the Alliance without attracting undue attention."
"That's fine, if the people looking for them aren't too mad at them," said Tullie. "But from the way they reacted, 1 suspect it won't be enough."
"I don't get it," said Victor Phule. "I mean, Ernie is a fine fellow-salt of the earth, if you know what I mean but 1 don't see us as having an infinite obligation to him. Pay the fellow off, whatever it costs, and give him and his lady first-class tick
ets to wherever they want to go, and that's all. Story over."
"It'd be nice if that was the whole story," said Doc. "But I'm afraid the ending wouldn't be anything we'd want to take credit for. Maybe I'm getting softheaded in my old age, but I'd like to think we'd take better care of somebody we promised we'd make a part owner of the casino. And I think Captain Jester would agree with me."
"Perhaps he would," said Victor Phule. "That doesn't mean it's a sound business decision."
"Well, when you get right down to it, the captain put his own shares up for grabs at our urging, and lost them despite some pretty long odds," said Rex. "And good business decision or not, maybe just out of basic consideration, he ought to get some say in how we treat the fellow that won them. Even if it wasn't the fellow we originally meant to win." He glanced significantly in Victor Phule's direction. Phule snorted, but said nothing.
"That makes sense to me," said Tullie. "Why don't we give the captain a call and see what he suggests? It's midevening, his time-so unless that planet's got a lot of nightlife than it looks like on tri-vee, he ought to be in hailing range of his desk."
"You're bound and determined to involve him, so I see no point in wasting my breath," said Victor Phule. "Go but don't expect the boy to have anything sensible to say. I'd lay odds we'll be no better off when you've talked to him than we are now."
"I'd take that bet," said Tullie Bascomb, reaching for the phone.
"That's the sticking point," said Tullie Bascomb to Phule. "I thought your father had talked them into accepting a buyout for a fraction of actual value-I have to give the old rascal credit, for once. I figured they'd hold out for at least ten million, more likely twenty, but he had them ready to bite on five! I was having a hard time keeping a straight face. But once they learned the casino had taken Erkeep's picture, they hollered bloody murder and walked out."
Phule sighed. The problem with the casino shares was not solving itself as smoothly as he'd expected. He didn't particularly mind having lost them; he'd never have put them up as a prize if he'd cared that much. Besides, it was -probably a good idea to hand his father some of the responsibility for keeping the business profitable for the members of Omega Company, who were the real majority stockholders. The old fellow's business experience was nothing to sneeze at, even if it was in a different industry. Meanwhile, Phule could keep his attention focused on managing Omega Company-and his own portfolio.
But who'd have thought the jackpot winner would turn down a quick and easy payment of several million dollars just because the casino had taken his photo?
"There has to be an explanation," said Phule. "Have they made any kind of counteroffer?"
"No, that's what has me puzzled," said Bascomb. "They just walked out and left us trying to figure out where we'd gone wrong. At first we thought they'd figured out how low our offer really was. It was only when the stenobot played back their conversation that we even got a clue what the problem was."
"Have they stayed in touch?" asked Phule. "I can't imagine they'd give up that easily, when everything else seemed to be in place."
"My guess is they'll be back within a couple of days at the outside," said Bascomb. "I called to run a few scenarios past you, to see how you want to handle them."
"Tullie, you don't need to ask me about every detail of the business," said Phule. "You're where you are because I trust your experience and your common sense. Use them, and don't worry about me second-guessing you."
"It's not you I'm worried about, Captain," said Bascomb.
There was a long pause.
Phule finally said, "Is it Dad you're worried about? I don't think you need to. He's run a business for most of his life, and made it one of the most profitable in the galaxy..."
Bascomb cut him off. "And because of that, he thinks he knows everything there is to know about the business I've been running most of my life, and making a damned good profit at. It's because of him that we're in this mess, Captain. That's why I want you signing off on our plans to handle the most likely reactions from Mr. Erkeep."
Phule sighed. "All right, I understand," he said. "If I know Dad, it's not going to make much difference. I'm the one he thinks is incompetent, Tullie, not you. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he'd gained a degree of respect for you by now. But I'll give you what you need to cover your-ass, If you think it'll help. Tell me what you're looking at."
They spent the next half hour going over different scenarios Bascomb had sketched out, with Phule making occasional comments, but for the most part simply approving Bascomb's plans without modification. On one occasion, Beeker broke in with a suggestion that both Phule and Bascomb immediately recognized as better than anything they'd thought of. Finally, Bascomb said, "All right, I .. think that covers everything I can foresee. Any other suggestions, Captain?"
"No." said Phule. "If they manage to pull any more surprises out of their hats, you'll just have to deaf with them according to your best judgment. Don't feel you have to call me-I trust you, Tullie. And if Dad has any problems with that, tell him to call me. All right?"
"I'll tell him, Captain," said Bascomb. He chuckled, then said, "And I wish I could listen in on that conversation," before he broke the connection.
Phule turned to Beeker with, a wry grin. "Well, I hope that's the worst problem we have to deal with today," he said.
The butler raised one brow. "I still find it anomalous that you would so easily part with your stock in what must be one of the more profitable of your investments, sir. Are you really so certain your father can handle it as well as you can?"
"He can if he keeps his hands off, which is all I've really done." said Phule. "Besides, Beeks, 1 intend to write off the shares as a promotional expense, which in my tax bracket will be almost more valuable than the shares themselves.
And there's no shortage of profitable investments. Speaking of which-what do you think of Sushi's description of the Zenobian Sklern? I'd bet we could get the off-planet marketing rights to it for a song..."
The nighttime desert air was still bone-dry, but on the cool side, as Thumper made his way along a well-trodden path out of Zenobia Base toward his destination. Brandy had shown him where the electronic sensors of the perimeter defenses were, and with that knowledge in his head, it wasn't -too hard to dodge around them. He'd know soon enough if he didn't dodge around one; the perimeter alarm would alert Mother, who'd signal him to go investigate the disturbance-and send backup just in case it wasn't something he couldn't handle by himself. That would pretty much put an end to this little unauthorized excursion. If he didn't run into anything unexpected, he'd be back in camp well before his relief guard showed up. And he was confident he could convince Mother he was still at his post, if she decided to call him on the wrist comm to chat, or (just as likely) to check up on how well he was managing to stay awake. His new friend Mahatma had told him Mother was often like that, going out of her way to make sure the newer legionnaires didn't get into trouble when they weren't actively looking for it. That was good to know-but just now, he didn't need anybody to hold his forepaw.
A dim light in the middle distance pointed out the way to his goal. He struck off in that direction, and shortly found a smoother path going his way-the clean-swept ground mark of a recent hoverjeep passage. He considered for a moment whether he needed to worry about leaving footprints, then shrugged and stepped onto the path. If he succeeded, nobody would pay any attention to a stray set of Legion-issue boot marks. And if his plan fell through, they'd have a lot more to worry about than figuring out who'd been along this trail-and when.
He was almost to his destination. He slowed down, making sure he could see everything in his pathway. (The night-vision goggles Brandy had given him for sentry duty brought out the landscape almost as clearly as in bright daylight, although there were funny color substitutions, especially where a large rock or other object glowed warmer than its surroundings.) There, a short distance ahead, was what he'd been expecting: a low-lying shape to
one side of the trail, glowing brightly with the warmth of a living body. He came to a halt, not wanting to intrude on the other's territory. "Hello," Thumper said softly. "You can probably see me as well as I can you. Can we go somewhere to talk where we won't wake everybody else up?"
"Why should I trust you?" the other said, in a strangely familiar guttural voice. "Why are you here, anyway?"
"To talk to you," said Thumper. "I'm by myself, incase you hadn't noticed."
"You have weapons."
"sure do," said Thumper. "It's part of my job to carry them. If I wanted to use them, I would have sneaked up on you from downwind and got you before you knew where I was. You know I could do it."
There was a pause, as if the other were thinking things over then the voice said, "Follow me." The bright shape got to its feet and began to walk quietly away from the camp it had been guarding. Thumper followed, at a distance.
Perhaps a hundred meters from the camp, the figure turned and faced Thumper. "All right, this should be safe," it said. "What does a legionnaire want with me?"
"1 told you, I want to talk," said Thumper. "What do you have against the Legion?"
"Stinking humans," growled Barky, the Environmental dog. "Make other sophonts do all the work, take all the credit."
"Not everybody in the Legion's human," said Thumper. "There's me, for one. And the Gambolts, and the Volton, and the Synthians."
"All the leaders are human," said Barky.
"That's true," said Thumper. "Especially the commanding general. I got in trouble with him back in basic training. But that's a long story, and it's not what I came here to talk about." Barky said nothing, waiting.
"All right," said Thumper, shrugging. "All I really need to say is that you and your humans are doing your jobs, and we're doing ours, and there's no reason we need to be enemies. Have you 'caught us polluting or destroying the environment?"
"Not yet," said Barky, reluctantly. "But if you do your job, sooner or later it will hurt the environment. War is not healthy..."
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