“That’s what people tell me,” the commander said, smiling back to show he hadn’t really expected the instructor to cut his profits. “Well, unless there are any further questions, I think we’ve pretty much covered everything.”
He glanced at his lieutenants for confirmation, but it was Tullie who spoke.
“If you don’t mind, Mr. Phule, I’ve got a question myself.”
“What’s that, Tullie?”
“Well, like I said, your boys have picked up a lot of information about gambling scams during this flight, and part of our deal was that none of my school’s records would show them as students, right?”
“That’s right.” Phule nodded. “What’s the point?”
“So how can you be sure you haven’t just footed the bill for my training up a new pack of grifters? What’s to keep them from taking what they’ve learned and going into business for themselves once they get out of the Legion? And I don’t mean by opening a training school, either.”
“Mr. Bascom,” Phule said carefully, “we also train our troops to use firearms despite the fact they could use that same training to be maniacal killers in civilian life. We give them the training in the skills they need to stand duty in the Space Legion, and beyond that we have to trust them not to misuse that training once their enlistment’s over.”
“Trust them? That bunch of crooks?”
Armstrong dropped his notepad and glanced fearfully at his commander, who was staring fixedly at the gambling instructor.
“Excuse me,” Phule said in a dangerously soft voice.”I didn’t quite hear that.”
Tullie shrugged. “I just meant that I’ve never seen so many blatant or potential criminals assembled in one-“