“Guess he’s never worked with the Space Legion before,” Armstrong gasped, trying to catch his breath.
“Well, certainly not with our crew, that’s for sure,” Rembrandt agreed, wiping a laugh tear from one eye.
“Seriously, though,” the commander said, bringing himself under control at last, “Tullie does have a point. Be sure to brace the company about keeping their hands in their pockets, at least until this assignment’s over. No showing off, and no grifting for pocket-change pots. We’re supposed to be the guards on this caper, and it wouldn’t do to have anyone get busted for the exact same thing we’re policing the casino for. That kind of media coverage we don’t need. Besides, I think it would be tactically sound not to let on how much we do or don’t know just yet.”
“Gotcha, boss,” Rembrandt said, flipping an index-finger salute at him. “You want us to tell them as a group or as individuals?”
“Both,” Phule said firmly. “A general announcement should do for most of them, but I think some of them would benefit from a personal reminder that we’re watching them and won’t tolerate any nonsense this time around.”
“So what else have you got for us, Captain?” Armstrong said, picking up his notepad.
“Nothing, really,” Phule said, stretching his arms. “I just thought I’d give you two a chance to ask any questions that Tullie shouldn’t be hearing. I figure I’ll give you some time to review your notes before we get down to the final shift assignments-that and get some sleep. You two have been pushing yourselves awfully hard on this trip so far.”