"Of course it worked," said Phule. "As far as they're concerned, they've got their revenge. And they've got what they think is the single thing you valued most in life. Great acting job, by the way."

"Thanks, Cap'n. Once you called me up and told me what was comin' down, I saw it was the only way to play it. And I really did have a qualm or two seein' 'em take away my good of hawg. Even if I couldn't really use it here, that there cycle was my oldest friend. Had a lot of memories connected with it."

Phule clapped him on the back. "Well, I told you I'd replace it, and you know I'll stand by that. You pick the model, and it's yours-soon as those Renegades go back home."

"Sounds good, Cap'n," said Harry, smiling. Then his face turned wistful, and he said, "Maybe there ain't no real hurry, though. There wasn't a whole lot of chance to ride it here, and that ain't good for a hawg. We're gonna get planetside again before long, where I can really crank it up and run-I guess I can wait till then to get a new hawg."

"That makes sense," said Phule. "I'm sorry to see you lose that old one, though. Do you really think they'll destroy it?"

"They ain't that crazy," said C.H. "More likely, they'll take it back home as a trophy-maybe they'll do somethin' to mark it, but no real rider would ever really hurt that bike. I bet they keep it in good shape, break it out and ride it every now and then, to show off how they got their revenge on me."

"And do' you think they did?" asked Phule.

Harry thought for a moment. "Yeah, I guess they did-at least by their lights. And I got somethin' I wanted, too-somethin' I never thought I'd see again."

"What's that?" said Double-X, who'd started taking boards off the windows.

Harry's smile was beatific. "Peace of mind, dude, peace of mind. Ain't nothin' in the galaxy to match it."

From his seat at the head of the table, Phule looked around the conference room. For once, he was addressing a group of civilians: the managers and department heads of the Fat Chance Hotel and Casino. He reminded himself that he couldn't take their obedience for granted, as he would with his Legion subordinates. This time, he'd actually have to convince them he was right.

On the other hand, as majority owner of the Fat Chance, he carried considerable authority here. That had its downside, actually-it could mean that a major loophole in his plans might go undetected because nobody had the nerve to call the boss on it. Well, he'd had that trouble with his Legion command at first, too. The people he was leaving here were good enough that any miscalculations he made should be spotted and corrected before they got out of hand.

"Everyone's here, so let's begin," he said. The murmur died down. "You've all heard the news by now, that my Legion company has been transferred to another assignment. That means that we will no longer be available to guard the casino."

"I've heard it, and I think it's a disaster, plain and simple," said Gunther Rafael, the former owner of the Fat Chance. Phule had kept him on as a figurehead manager, and planned on putting him in charge of day-to-day operations once the company was gone. "Your people have been the only thing keeping the mobsters from walking into the casino and taking it over at gunpoint. Quite frankly, I expect them to try exactly that, the minute your ship leaves the station."

"The mobsters have had their wings clipped," said Phule, looking at Rafael. He hoped he hadn't overestimated the former owner. "I don't think you'll find them anywhere near as bold as that. We won't be leaving you without security, you know."

"You might as well," said Rafael. "Everybody knows it's the Legion that's protecting this place. That's kept us safe. When you go, it'll be like leaving babies to guard a bank vault."

"No it won't," said Phule. "As many of you know, most of the `legionnaires' in the casino are actually uniformed actors. The real Legion guards are out of uniform, undercover. So if a few uniformed personnel leave, it can be explained as normal turnover. As far as the public sees, the Legion will still be here. I'll be away, but that shouldn't affect security."

"It certainly shouldn't," said Doc. He'd been training the actors impersonating legionnaires for the last few months. He was in Legion uniform, with a set of sergeant's stripes-a "promotion" he'd been granted in anticipation of Moustache's leaving with the real Legion. Doc looked every bit the part, standing straight as an arrow at the foot of the table.

"The place was a target before," said Doc, "because the mob thought the new owners would be pushovers. The mob's been pretty quiet since they found out the Legion means business. And after the way the company tore up that obstacle course the other day, I'd guess that just having a few Legion uniforms visible will keep the hoodlums out from underfoot. I doubt we'll have to deal with anything much worse than the occasional rowdy drunk after word of that gets out."

"And we don't need a Legion company to handle that kind of problem," said Lex, who'd taken over managing the casino's entertainment program. "We can take care of that by giving some of our stagehands overtime as bouncers to back up Doc's team."

"You can go a long way in this business by putting up the right front," agreed Tullie Bascom. Phule had lured Tullie out of retirement to run the Fat Chance's gambling operations. "The Legion's rep is all the security we need."

"As far as the other operations, I'm satisfied they're in good hands," said Phule. "The entertainment is the best on the station, thanks to Lex..."

Lex gave his best professional smile. "Well, I have to give a lot of credit to Dee Dee Watkins," he said. "She may have the biggest case of artist's temperament I've seen since I first stepped on a holostage..."

"And that's longer ago than even I want to think about," said Doc in a stage whisper.

"...but she has the goods to back it up, too," said Lex, grinning wryly as everyone laughed. "And with her signed to a long-term contract, we're set for the foreseeable future."

"There's one more element we'll be putting in place shortly after I leave," said Phule. "Just so my prolonged absence doesn't start the mob thinking, we're going to implement a plan I've kept absolutely under wraps until now. I urge you all not to say a word about this outside this room-because it's the heart of the plan. Beeker?"

"Yes, sir," said the butler, who'd sat quietly in a chair behind his employer. He opened a door and in walked...Phule. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen," the new arrival said in a voice indistinguishable from the original.

"What the devil, have you cloned yourself?" said Tullie Bascomb over the babble of voices.

"Not quite," said Phule. "This is a custom model from Andromatic, set up to our specifications. It has a very limited set of functions, but they should be sufficient for the purpose. Most of the time, it'll sit behind a desk, looking busy. But it can also walk around the casino, even sit down for a drink. It can carry on a conversation, as long as it doesn't have to be too profound-and it's programmed to break it off the minute somebody strays beyond general topics."

"Good lord, Captain, you don't intend to leave this android to run the casino in your absence?" Rafael said.

"Oh, it won't be running anything," said Phule. "You and your staff will be doing that. All it has to do is show up often enough to convince people that I'm still on the job. If somebody really needs to talk to me-which shouldn't happen all that often-well, that's what communicators are for."

"But, Captain, you have a habit of getting yourself in the news," Lex pointed out. "Your company is bound to attract attention in its new assignment, and then your picture will be on screens all over the galaxy-showing you're obviously several light-years away from here."