A Phule and His Money Read Online Free Page B

corridor, with Garbo close behind.
    Tusk-anini was perched on a stool near the entrance of the Fat Chance Casino when two humans in bad suits stepped up to him. Even Tusk-anini, who paid very little attention to human clothing styles, could tell that the suits were bad. Not only cheap and ill-fitting, but unattractive by design. They looked as ugly as the uniforms the Omega Company had worn before Phule's arrival.
    "Excuse me, friend, can you direct us to the Fat Chance Casino?" said the taller of the two humans. He wasn't that much taller, but the difference in height was the only marked distinction between them. They had nondescript faces, mousy brown hair in nearly identical unflattering short cuts, and extremely unstylish dark glasses. They also carried identical briefcases, in a sort of grayish dark material that had come out of a vat in some chemical plant. The briefcases were almost the same noncommittal color as the suits.
    "You standing in front of Fat Chance," said Tusk-anini, cautiously. While neither of the humans had done anything in particular to alarm him, he had a bad feeling about them. One thing the Volton had learned during his association with humans was that feelings could be trusted. In fact, they sometimes gave you better answers than the most rigorous logical analysis.
    The shorter human looked up and noticed the sign and said, "Yes, so we are." Now that he heard the voice, Tusk-anini realized that the shorter one was a female, a fact that the baggy suit and short haircut did much to conceal from the casual glance.
    The man spoke again, "Are you a casino employee?"
    "Yes, I am," said Tusk-anini-not quite truthfully, for while the legionnaires had been brought to Lorelei to guard the casino, they had always been freelance contractors, not regular employees. Now, of course, as a member of Phule's Company Tusk-anini was in fact a part-owner of the Fat Chance. A comparatively small part-owner, since every member of Phule's Company also had shares, but put together the Omega Mob was the majority stockholder.
    "You're just the sophont we need to talk to, then," said the man. "We're trying to gather information on the operation here. We'd like you to answer a few questions."
    "Asking anything you want. I answer what I may," said the Volton cautiously. He had begun to wonder whether these two humans were from a competing casino, or from one of the criminal organizations the Legion was here to guard against. His eyes narrowed, giving his warthog-like face an even fiercer expression than normal.
    "Maybe I should rephrase that," said the man. He pulled a wallet out of his jacket pocket and flipped it open to reveal a holo-ID, which he held up a few inches from Tusk-anini's snout. Above his picture (which miraculously made him look even less attractive than he was in person) were the initials IRS; below it was written Roger Peele, Special Agent. "We're in receipt of information to the effect that your employer is failing to report substantial amounts of income," said Special Agent Peele. "If you impede a lawful investigation, you're guilty of conspiracy to defraud a government agency. That's a serious offense, in case you didn't know it."
    Tusk-anini abruptly stood up. This brought him to his full height, nearly seven feet tall, and put his enormous barrel chest nearly at eye level for the two humans. "You ask me betray Captain Jester!" he accused. "Tusk-anini no do that! Not right to betray the captain."
    "Easy now, friend-you're looking at this all wrong," said the woman in a calm voice. "We appreciate your loyalty to your commander-that's what makes the military work. But sometimes you have to look beyond that to a higher loyalty. Your captain has to report to his generals, and they report to civilian authorities. The Interstellar Revenue System is part of that civilian authority, a very important part of it. It's your duty to cooperate with us."
    "If captain say it my duty, I do it," said Tusk-anini. "He not