The speaker was a sluglike creature with spindly arms and eyestalks. Balanced on a kid's glide board and encased in a tube of black fabric which suggested rather than imitated the familiar Space Legion uniforms, the creature looked more like some bizarre advertising display than an authority figure.

"No, I meant what is that you're holding?" the thug corrected. "That doesn't look like a tranquilizer gun."

The Sinthian had a sinister-looking mechanism tucked under his arm. The tubelike barrel, which was pointing at the thugs, appeared to be a good inch in diameter, though they knew from experience that the muzzle of a weapon always looks bigger when it's pointed at you.

"This?" the Legionnaire chirped, bending one eyestalk to look at his implement. "You are correct that it is a weapon. It is magazine-loaded, however, which enables me to change the loads depending on the situation at hand."

He suddenly pointed the weapon at the fallen side of beef, and it erupted with a soft stutter of air.

The thugs could see a line of impacts on the meat, but no appreciable damage. Then they noticed the surface start to bubble, and a sharp hiss reached their ears.

"As you can see," the Sinthian was saying, "I neglected to bring my tranquilizer darts on duty with me today, an omission which will surely earn me a reprimand if reported. All I have with me are acid balls-and, of course, a few high explosives."

He realigned the weapon with the motionless men.

"Now, if your curiosity is settled, gentlemen, I suggest you begin unloading the van as requested. I'm afraid it may ruin your clothes, but you should have come dressed for the occasion."

The thugs glanced at Stilman.

"Do as he says," the headman croaked, still under the knife.

"And pay for ruined meat before you go," his captor added.

"But I didn't ..."

"You throw meat on the ground, you pay for it!" the little man growled, tightening his grip. "Yes?"

"Okay, okay!" Stilman gasped. "Pay the man ... Now!"

In my privileged position, l was able to hear not one, but two accounts of the loading dock incident: the one which constituted the official report, and the one passed among the Legionnaires over drinks and coffee. As such, I could not help but note that in the account rendered to my employer, both Escrima's role and the use of the acid balls were diplomatically omitted.

Far more important to me, however, was the evidence of growing bad blood between the forces led by my employer and those reporting to Laverna's employer. This concerned me since, to the best of my knowledge, both leaders seemed unaware of the tensions building in the levels under them.

Journal #234

There is much made of the satisfaction felt by a commander when a plan comes together.

Obviously I cannot comment on the conduct of all, or even the majority of, military commanders under these circumstances, but the behavior of my employer on the opening day of the Fat Chance Casino showed little of this passive enjoyment. Rather, he was more like an insecure party hostess, hurrying here and there and busying himself with countless details, dealing with both important and minor chores with equal intensity.

Huey Martin was in the middle of getting dressed when he was interrupted by an insistent hammering on the door of his suite. This was both annoying and puzzling, as people rarely visited his room, and never without calling in advance.

"Who is it?" he called, hurrying to button his shirt.

Instead of an answer, he heard the sound of a key in his lock. Before he could protest, the door slammed open and the commander of the casino's security force strode into the room, followed closely by two guards ... and Gunther Rafael himself!

A sudden pang of fear stabbed at the casino manager's gut, but gambler's reflex kept him from showing his emotions openly.

"What's going on?" he demanded indignantly. "I'm trying to get ready for the opening."

"That won't be necessary," the commander, said levelly. "You're being relieved of your duties. Effective immediately."

"I ... I don't understand," Huey said, looking at the casino owner in feigned bewilderment.

"It won't work, Huey," Gunther said tersely. "We know all about your working for Max and about the dealers you've been hiring."

"We have some interesting tapes from the eye-in-the-sky cameras," Phule said. "Your pet dealers have provided us with a catalog of skims and scams, often while you were standing on camera watching them. They're being met as they report for duty, incidentally. We felt it was best that they not work the opening. In fact, they're being given the entire week off without pay. After that, we'll interview them again to see if they're willing to work for us without the skims and perks."

"But that won't leave you with enough dealers to open!" the manager said, then realized he was admitting the extent of his treachery.

The commander smiled humorlessly. "That would be true if we hadn't arranged in advance for replacements for them ... and you."

Huey was stunned by the admission that this action against him was not spontaneous, but rather the result of foreknowledge and substantial planning.

"So what does this mean for me?" he said, both from curiosity and to cover his confusion.

Gunther looked at the commander.

"You will be held here," Phule said, "incommunicado."

As he spoke, he nodded at the Legionnaires, who responded by moving through the suite and pulling the phone in each room out of the wall.

"Once the opening is over," the commander continued, "you'll be free to go. Your employment here is, to say the least, terminated."

"You can't do that," the manager said, shaking his head. "I have a contract that guarantees me due notice as well as a share of the casino."

Phule scowled and shot a sidelong glance at the casino owner.

"Do you have a copy of that contract?" he said. "I'd like to see it."

Huey produced the document from a drawer in his desk and passed it to the commander, who moved closer to a light to study it.

"Why did you do it, Huey?" Gunther said, the hurt showing in his voice. "Wasn't the deal we had between us enough for you?"

"Hey, nothing personal, kid," the manager said. "It's just that my mom raised me greedy. The way it was, it looked like I could collect on our deal and from Max, and by my addition, two paychecks are better than one. Like I say, nothing personal."

"Excuse me," Phule interrupted, turning back to the conversation, "but I don't find anything in here about termination notice or about your having a share in the casino."

"Of course it's there," Huey said, snatching the contract back. "Look, I'll show you. It's right ..."

He began paging through the document, then scowled and flipped back a few pages to study it closer.

"I don't understand," he murmured. "I know they're in here."

"Believe me, Mr. Martin," the commander said, "I just reviewed the contract, and they're not."

An image flashed across the manager's mind. The image of Phule turning away to look at the contract.

"You switched it!" he accused with sudden realization. "This isn't the contract I handed you!"

"Nonsense," Phule said. "That's your signature on the last page, isn't it?"

Huey barely glanced at the indicated page.

"It may be ... More likely a forgery," he spat. "Either that or you pulled the last page and attached it to a new contract. Don't think you're going to get away with this!"

"That's an interesting accusation," the commander said, unruffled. "Though I suspect it would be hard to prove in court. Of course, if you did try to take this to court, we'd be forced to make our tapes a part of the public record to defend the position that you were fired with cause. That might make it a little hard for you to find another position, since I doubt the media would let the story die until they had broadcast the footage several dozen times."