"Captain, this is my wife Dallas," said one of the other hunters, Austen Tay-Shun. "And don't you worry, honey we'll make sure Euston doesn't shoot you again."

"With that thing, once would be enough," said the woman. Then she turned to Phule, and a pleasant smile replaced her frown. "Hello, you must be Captain Jester. I'm Dallas Treat. And who's this handsome young man with you?" Phule introduced the blushing Lieutenant Armstrong, then turned back to the hunters. "Gentlemen, what just happened is a good example of why I came out here. It looks to me as if you need to pay a lot more attention to weapons safety generally. For example, not knowing whether a weapon is loaded before you pull the trigger..."

"Ahh, it's not such a big deal," said the third hunter, L. P. Asho. "It could've happened to anybody."

"It darn near happened to me," said Dallas Treat. "What do you need all those big guns for, anyway?"

"I tol' you, honey, we came to this planet to hunt the biggest game in the whole galaxy," said Tay-Shun.

"If you're fixin' to go toe to toe with the big 'uns, you better have your boots on."

"What's that have to do with guns?" said Dallas, pouting. "Sometimes I think you say things that don't make any sense just to make me feel stupid."

"Honey, you don't hardly need help with that," said Tay-Shun. "Now, if you'll pardon me, I need to talk with these here Legion officers that come to visit..."

"We're not really here for a social visit," said Phule, cutting him off. "I just have one point to make. You are not allowed to fire weapons indiscriminately as long as you're this close to our base. I'm going to insist that you stop shooting until you're someplace where you can't hurt one of my people by accident."

"I see," said L. P. Asho. "Tryin' to get rid of us, are you?"

"Mr. Asho, I want to get rid of anything that puts my people in danger," said Phule. "If you won't use weapons responsibly, that definitely includes you. I can't make you go home, but I can take your weapons away as long as you're in territory under my command. Or I can be a good deal of help."

"How's that?" asked O'Better.

Phule waved in the general direction of the Legion camp. "If you think you need weapons practice before you start hunting, I can give you guest privileges at our base firing range, with Legion instructors. Or if you'd prefer, I can help you move your camp out to a remote area with plenty of game, where you can fire away as you please. Your choice. But you just can't go popping off this close to my base; you don't even know where my people are, at any given time."

"All right, I take your point," said Tay-Shun, quieting Asho, who seemed ready to protest again. "I reckon we aren't quite ready to move out into the country just yet; we'd like to hire a native guide or two for when we do move. You think you can help us with that?"

"Our Zenobian liaison officer could probably help," said Phule. "But will you promise to put the guns away, or at least not to use them except at our range, until you're away from our base?"

"Fair enough, Captain," said Tay-Shun, and turned to look at the others. After a moment, they nodded reluctantly.

"Good, then," said Phule. "I'll talk to my local contact and see if he can connect you up with a guide or-two. And if you want to practice, just let me know, and I'll arrange for you' to use our facilities. Thank you for your understanding, gentlemen. And now, I'm afraid Lieutenant Armstrong and I need to get back to base."

"All right, then," said Tay-Shun. "Just get us that native guide, and we'll be out of your hair right quick."

"Can't be any too soon for me," muttered Armstrong, as the two officers turned. Phule shot him a warning glance, but he'd spoken too quietly for the hunters to hear. Together, they began jogging back to camp.

Willard Phule was back at his desk, eating a late breakfast and reading the daily performance summary of his investment portfolio, when his wrist communicator buzzed. That in itself was enough to alert him that something unusual was going on. The routine at Zenobia Base was sufficiently settled, by now, that Mother was unlikely to put a call through to him at mealtime for anything short of a genuine crisis.

On the other hand, the last few days had been characterized by a series of minicrises, involving Barky, the AEIOU team, the training exercise that had gone haywire, the "guests" that State had sent for him to entertain... Warily, Phule lifted his wrist close to his mouth, and said, "What is it, Mother?"

"I've got Tullie Bascomb on the line, sweetie," came the saucy voice. "I told the old goniff to call back when you're awake, but he just says it can't wait. Shall I tell him to go away?"

"Oh, Tullie's all right," said Phule, idly wondering where Mother had picked up Yiddish insults. "If he says it's important, I'm not going to make him wait."

"All right, but if he spoils your digestion, you know who to blame," said Mother. Phule nodded, silently, waiting. Something told him that Tullie's call arose from the fact that his father was on Lorelei Station, sticking his nose

into the casino business. He hoped Victor Phule wasn't being too tough on the staff...

Abruptly, Bascomb' s voice came through the speaker of the wrist communicator. "Captain, everything's hit the fan," he growled.

"Hit the fan?" Phule was nonplussed. "What's going on there, 'tullie?"

"I'll tell you what's going on," said Bascomb. "Between your know-it-all father and some third-rate con artist we never should have let into the joint..." Phule could hear shouting in the background, and Bascomb said, "Excuse me a second, Captain," and the line went quiet; evidently Tullie had pressed the mute button. Then, after a pause, Bascomb returned and began speaking again. "All right, Captain, this whole screw up was my idea, and I've got to take the heat for it. You've got my resignation as of right now, if you want it..."

"Wait a minute," said Phule. "Con artist? Screwup? Resignation? 'tullie, I don't have the faintest idea what you're talking about. Will you go back to the start and tell me the whole story?"

"All right," said Bascomb. "It all started with your father..."

"I'm not surprised," said Phule. "Go ahead, Tullie."

"You remember we set up the thousand-dollar slots to get him to play, and you authorized a really big prize to lead him on? We all figured the odds were so long there wouldn't be a bug's chance on a hot griddle of our actually having to give the prize..."

"Yes, 1 remember," said Phule. He suddenly sat bolt upright. "Don't tell me..."

"I am telling you, Captain," said Bascomb. "But that's not the worst of it. Your damn-fool father wasn't satisfied with playing the slots himself, he had to go and give his chips to other people to play for him. Now I've got some smirking greaseball sitting in my office..."

"Hey, buddy, show a li'l respect," Phule could hear a muffled voice say in the background.

"All right, all right," said Bascomb, resignedly. "Captain, the long and short of it is this: this guy sitting in my office is named Ernie Erkeep, and I'm sorry to tell you that, thanks to your old man, the bum now owns a controlling share-what used to be your share, in fact-in the Fat Chance Casino. Here, I'm tired of looking at the sleazy bastard. Why don't you talk to him while I go get myself a couple of stiff drinks?" And the speaker again went silent while Phule sat looking stupidly at his wrist, waiting for someone on the other end to say something.

Thumper and the group of legionnaires he'd eaten breakfast with arrived in the center of the parade ground just before Sergeant Brandy emerged from the modular structure that was the main building on Zenobia Base. The Top Sergeant of Omega Company was one of the largest humans Thumper had ever seen, although she was a good bit shorter than the Volton legionnaire named Tusk-anini.