“I’d rather not start dabbling in insurance fraud,” Phule said carefully, “but if instead we-“
The insistent beep of his wrist communicator interrupted him, and he broke off speaking to answer the call.
“Captain Jester speaking.”
“Beeker here, sir. Sorry to intrude, but you might want to come down here when you have a moment.”
“What’s the problem, Beek?”
“Well, there seems to be some difficulty fitting the Sinthians with their new uniforms. Specifically the tailors are arguing with the designer that it can’t be done.”
Phule grimaced. “All right. I’ll be down as soon as I finish here … figure about fifteen minutes. Jester out.”
“Which ones are the Sinthians?” Daniels said curiously’.
“Hmm? Oh. Sorry, Charlie, a little distracted there. The Sinthians are … well, you must have seen them on duty. They’re the nonhumans with the eyestalks and the spindly arms.”
“The little fellahs? Sure, I know ‘em. Nice little guys once you get the hang of listenin’ to ‘em. Tell you what, Captain. Can I talk to that Beeker fellah on your communicator for a second?”
The commander only hesitated a second before agreeing.
“Certainly, Charlie. Just a second here.”
He quickly punched Beeker’s com number into his wrist communicator.
“Beeker here.”
“Beeker, this is Jester again. Charlie has something he’d like to say to you.”
He extended his arm to Daniels, pointing at the microphone with his other hand.
“You there, Beeker?” the miner called, unconsciously raising his voice as if trying to cover the distance with volume.