“He did, didn’t he?” Phule smiled, then raised his wrist communicator once more.
“Mother?”
“Yes, O Exalted One?”
“Put a call through for me. I want to speak with Gunther Rafael, Junior … at the Fat Chance Casino on Lorelei.”
The call took nearly an hour to put through, though most of that time seemed to be spent trying to locate the person who was to receive it. When Gunther Rafael finally did take the call, the image which formed before Phule was less than encouraging.
What the holo-projection showed was an acned youth who didn’t look old enough to be admitted to a casino, much less own one.
“Mr. Phule?” the image said, peering at a point slightly to the left of where Phule was standing. “Hi. Gunther Rafael here. Gee, I’m really glad you called … I’ve been waiting to hear from you for a long time now.”
“You have?” Phule was a little taken aback at this.
“Well, yeah. I sent in my request for your services nearly a month ago, and the Space Legion accepted it almost immediately.”
From the corner of his eye, Phule saw Beeker lean back in his chair and stare at the ceiling, and knew the time lapse between the acceptance of the contract and their notification of its existence wasn’t lost on the butler.
“I see,” the Legionnaire said. “Well, I only received the assignment recently, and was hoping you could provide me with a few more details so I could brief my troops before we arrive.”
The youth frowned. “It’s not that hard to understand. I thought I made it clear in my request. I want you to keep those scumbags from taking over my casino, and I don’t care if you have to gun every one of them down to do it!”