"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?"