cut, which will be sent to you along with the detailed briefing material, but I thought I should call you personally to let you know what's going on."
"That's good of you, sir. What is the new assignment?"
"It's a really sweet job." The general smiled. "Basic security guard work, actually. The nice part is that you'll be guarding the Fat Chance-the newest, biggest casino on Lorelei. Easy duty in paradise, if you ask me. What do you say to that?"
"My first reaction would have to be `Why us?' ... sir."
The general's smile tightened a little.
"Mostly because the owner specifically requested you and your outfit, Captain. I guess all that showboating you've been doing for the media is finally paying dividends."
"What I meant, sir, was why turn to the Space Legion at all? Our fees are significantly higher than any number of normal uniformed security services. Who is the owner, anyway?"
"I have it right here," the general said, referring to a sheet of paper on the desk before him. "Yes. Here it is. The contracting party is Gunther Rafael."
"I find that hard to believe."
"What was that, Captain?"
"There are two things wrong with that, General," Phule said hurriedly. "First of all, while I've never met Mr. Rafael, I'm familiar with his reputation, and he's always been dead set against gambling of any form. Consequently it's hard for me to believe that he owns a casino."
"I see." The general frowned. "And the other?"
"The other thing is that Gunther Rafael died nearly a year ago."
"He did?" Blitzkrieg was scowling now, examining the paper again. "Ah! Here's the problem. My mistake, Captain. It's Gunther Rafael, Junior, that's hiring you. Apparently the son doesn't share his father's dislike of gambling. Does that answer your question?"
"Not my first question: Why us?"
"Maybe he thinks hiring you will generate some publicity. You'll have to ask Mr. Rafael that," the general said. "But let me warn you, Captain, it's not the Legion policy to try to discourage clients from hiring us. Get my drift?"
"Yes, sir."
"Very well. As I said, your orders will be forthcoming. Another Legion company has been dispatched to take over your current assignment. You and your company are to leave for Lorelei as soon as they arrive. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir."
"All right. Enjoy your new assignment, Captain Jester. Blitzkrieg out."
Phule turned off the holo unit and sank into a chair.
"All right, Beeker," he said. "What's wrong with this picture?"
The butler pursed his lips thoughtfully.
"Well," he said, "aside from the obvious questions raised by your getting your assignment directly from General Blitzkrieg as opposed to Colonel Battleax, who is your immediate superior in the so-called chain of command, I guess my feelings could be summed up in one question: Why is this man smiling?"
The commander made little beckoning circles with his hand.
"Elaborate."
"It has been my distinct impression," the butler continued, "that the general holds you in something less than highest esteem. In fact, it would be safe to say that he would rather chew ground glass than give you the time of day, much less do you a favor. I therefore think it would be safe to assume that if he is taking the time to inform you personally of your new assignment, and is happy about doing it, the assignment is in all probability much less desirable than he is making it out to be."
"Check." Phule nodded. "A bit long-winded, perhaps, but dead on the money with my own assessment."
"You did ask me to elaborate, sir," Beeker said, a little stung by the "long-winded" accusation.
"The problem is," the commander continued as if his butler hadn't spoken, "how to
"That's good of you, sir. What is the new assignment?"
"It's a really sweet job." The general smiled. "Basic security guard work, actually. The nice part is that you'll be guarding the Fat Chance-the newest, biggest casino on Lorelei. Easy duty in paradise, if you ask me. What do you say to that?"
"My first reaction would have to be `Why us?' ... sir."
The general's smile tightened a little.
"Mostly because the owner specifically requested you and your outfit, Captain. I guess all that showboating you've been doing for the media is finally paying dividends."
"What I meant, sir, was why turn to the Space Legion at all? Our fees are significantly higher than any number of normal uniformed security services. Who is the owner, anyway?"
"I have it right here," the general said, referring to a sheet of paper on the desk before him. "Yes. Here it is. The contracting party is Gunther Rafael."
"I find that hard to believe."
"What was that, Captain?"
"There are two things wrong with that, General," Phule said hurriedly. "First of all, while I've never met Mr. Rafael, I'm familiar with his reputation, and he's always been dead set against gambling of any form. Consequently it's hard for me to believe that he owns a casino."
"I see." The general frowned. "And the other?"
"The other thing is that Gunther Rafael died nearly a year ago."
"He did?" Blitzkrieg was scowling now, examining the paper again. "Ah! Here's the problem. My mistake, Captain. It's Gunther Rafael, Junior, that's hiring you. Apparently the son doesn't share his father's dislike of gambling. Does that answer your question?"
"Not my first question: Why us?"
"Maybe he thinks hiring you will generate some publicity. You'll have to ask Mr. Rafael that," the general said. "But let me warn you, Captain, it's not the Legion policy to try to discourage clients from hiring us. Get my drift?"
"Yes, sir."
"Very well. As I said, your orders will be forthcoming. Another Legion company has been dispatched to take over your current assignment. You and your company are to leave for Lorelei as soon as they arrive. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir."
"All right. Enjoy your new assignment, Captain Jester. Blitzkrieg out."
Phule turned off the holo unit and sank into a chair.
"All right, Beeker," he said. "What's wrong with this picture?"
The butler pursed his lips thoughtfully.
"Well," he said, "aside from the obvious questions raised by your getting your assignment directly from General Blitzkrieg as opposed to Colonel Battleax, who is your immediate superior in the so-called chain of command, I guess my feelings could be summed up in one question: Why is this man smiling?"
The commander made little beckoning circles with his hand.
"Elaborate."
"It has been my distinct impression," the butler continued, "that the general holds you in something less than highest esteem. In fact, it would be safe to say that he would rather chew ground glass than give you the time of day, much less do you a favor. I therefore think it would be safe to assume that if he is taking the time to inform you personally of your new assignment, and is happy about doing it, the assignment is in all probability much less desirable than he is making it out to be."
"Check." Phule nodded. "A bit long-winded, perhaps, but dead on the money with my own assessment."
"You did ask me to elaborate, sir," Beeker said, a little stung by the "long-winded" accusation.
"The problem is," the commander continued as if his butler hadn't spoken, "how to
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