"I was getting to that," said Victor Phule, smoothly. "The jackpot my friend here won was sixteen thousand shares of stock, from the portion that was held by my son, Willard-as Mr. Bascomb told us earlier today."

"And what's the current market value?" asked Lola, a suspicious expression on her face.

Phule tucked his thumbs into the lapels of his jacket. "Well, since this is a closely held stock that isn't normally traded on the open market, that's a bit of a tricky question," he began.

"Oh, su-ure," said Lola. "I think I'm going to insist on an independent confirmation of whatever value you claim."

"Hey, hey," said Ernie, making shushing motions. "Don't queer the deal, Lola. You haven't even heard what we're getting..."

"All right, I'll listen," she said. "But it better be mighty good."

Victor Phule raised his brows and said, "Our best estimate of current market value is 250 dollars a share. That would yield a gross value of four million dollars for the shares in question."

"Yess!" said Ernie, pumping a fist into the air.

Lola thought for a moment, then said, "Your previous valuation was a lot higher." She stared pointedly at Phule.

"Something like fifty million dollars, if my client quoted you correctly."

"Well, you can't really hold me to that," said Victor Phule. "That was an off-the-cuff estimate. These figures are much more scientific..."

Lola cut him off. "For a thousand-dollar bet, that makes it only a four-thousand-to-one jackpot. Not very impressive odds, if you ask me."

Victor Phule held up a hand. "You haven't heard the whole agreement," he said. "We are also prepared to pay an annual royalty of one percent of par value per share for twenty-five years, for a total of another one million dollars; deferred payments if the stock remains at its current value. Naturally, the payment could fluctuate, but under good management, I'd expect the value to go steadily up."

"I tried to get him up to fifty years, but he wouldn't bite," said Ernie, sheepishly.

Tullie Bascomb shook his head. "I'm going to have to run this past the captain, but I think he'll okay it. I don't see where he has a lot of choice. Is that everything? I can have the stenobot print it up and send it to the captain. Are you satisfied with the terms, Miss?"

Lola exchanged a quick glance with Bascomb. She was amazed. These two clowns had somehow managed to come up with a workable scheme-one she- could actually live with. There was, of course, no point in Ernie's having a serious interest in any kind of legitimate business, let alone a casino. He'd run it into the ground in record time if he ever tried to manage it. And he'd be robbed blind if he tried to hire somebody to run it for him. Lola knew that. And Tullie Bascomb, who was as shrewd an operator as she'd ever laid eyes on, probably knew it, too. So a flat buyout was the most sensible deal they could have asked for. The only question was whether they could realistically jack up the buyout price any higher.

After a moment's reflection, Lola decided not to press her-luck, and shrugged. "I think we can live with that." she said. "Are there any other conditions you haven't told us? Any reason we can't pick up our money and go as soon as the captain's OK comes through?"

"No, that's the whole deal," said Ernie, and Victor Phule nodded.

A high-pitched mechanical voice spoke-the stenobot "The agreement is subject to two legal restrictions that have not been made explicit. Shall I include them in the memo to Captain Jester?"

"Uh-legal restrictions?" Lola was frowning, now. "Just what are those?"

"First is the security and exchange commission registration fee for transfer of stocks. Since the stocks are being transferred twice, the fee is doubled. It comes to twelve hundred dollars."

"Twelve farkin' hundred? No way!" said Ernie.

"You cannot own the stocks without registering them, and you cannot sell the stocks unless you own them," said the stenobot, in an irritatingly pedantic tone.

"I don't care," said Ernie. "I'm not payin' no fees."

"We'll pay the fees," said Tullie Bascomb, raising a hand. "What else?"

"Lorelei casino regulation statutes require winners of all jackpots in excess of ten thousand dollars to have their holo image taken and put on file for use in casino publicity. A copy will also be kept on file in the station police headquarters."

"That's a completely unacceptable condition," said Lola. "Mr. Erkeep will not allow his image to be used."

"Aww, why not, Lola?" said Ernie. "I always wanted to see my picture on the cover of a mag-even if it's the back cover, in an ad." Lola grabbed him and pulled his head down close to her mouth. "You want Mr. V to see that image?" she hissed in his ear. "Or have you forgotten just why we came back here 1"

"Oops, that's right, no pictures!" said Ernie. "Completely unacceptable condition!"

"I'm afraid we're gonna have a problem with that," said Bascomb. "The casino security system automatically takes a picture of all big winners. It's been on file with the police ever since the jackpot bell went off. And unless the publicity department is asleep on the job, I'd bet we've been sending it to every media outlet in the galaxy, too."

"Oh shit," said Lola, with utter sincerity. Abruptly she stood up. "Come on, Ernie, we're out of here," she said, and before anyone else could say a word, the two of them stalked out of the office, leaving Bascomb and Phule standing openmouthed.

"Captain, there's something you need to know," said Sushi.

Phule looked up from the screen of his Port-a-Brain. Sushi was leaning against the frame of his office door, looking dead tired. "Come on in and sit down, Sushi," he said, activating the computer screen. When the legionnaire was seated opposite him, he said, "From the way you look, it's pretty important. I hope it's not bad news..."

"it is if we don't do anything about it," said Sushi. "But I think I know what we can do--if we're quick enough, and if I'm right about what I think the Zenobians are doing."

"This is getting complicated," said Phule. "Why don't you go back to the beginning and tell it straight through? Maybe that'll make it easier to figure out."

"All right, there are a couple of parts to it," said Sushi. "First of all, I've figured out what those so-called hunters are really here for."

Phule sat up and pushed his Port-a-Brain aside. "Now that's something we've been wondering about ever since they showed up. I didn't think they acted all that interested in getting out into the wilds and finding game. What are they up to?"

"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?"