"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 tickets 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.