“What do you mean, Beek?”
“Well, it seems to me that buying stocks in corporations where you are a majority stockholder, particularly just before mergers or new product developments are announced, might be viewed by some as ‘insider information.”’
“Nonsense.” Phule smiled easily. “Coincidences will happen … and besides, if I don’t have enough faith in my own ventures to invest in them, how can I expect anyone else to?”
“If you say so, sir.”
“How about dinner tonight, Beeker? Truth to tell, I’m a little tired of looking at Legionnaire uniforms today.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I already have a dinner date.”
“Oh?” The commander raised an inquiring eyebrow.
“The court recorder,” his butler said in explanation.
“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed she was your type.”
Beeker sighed. “Normally she wouldn’t be. The conversation did, however, keep her occupied until after the company arrived for its demonstration.”
“I guess it did at that,” Phule said. “Tell you what, Beek. Go ahead and put the dinner on my account.”
“Very good, sir.”
Aboard the shuttlecraft, Colonel Battleax was embroiled in a conversation of an entirely different nature.
“I tell you, General, he’s completely turned the Omega Company around. You saw how they rallied when they thought he was in trouble. What’s more, the media loves him. As far as they’re concerned, the original reports were correct: He’s heading up the Space Legion’s crack outfit. Now, you and I may know different, but I think we should capitalize on that publicity. They’re wasted on this swamp guard contract.”