"You might say that, sir. Nearly forty years in the Regular Army before they gave me the boot-forced retirement, that is."

Startled, Phule glanced at the man's folder again. By the record Moustache was well on in his years, but if he had been in the Regular Army for nearly forty years, then he must be at least ...

"Before you say anything, sir, I did shave a few years off my birthday when I filled out my enlistment papers. While the Legion is reputed to accept all applicants, I didn't want to take the risk of being turned down."

"You were really that eager to join up?"

"Frankly, sir, it was my last hope. You see, sir, when they retired me from the Regular Army, it didn't take long to find out there wasn't much of a place for me in civilian life. I was way too old to go into police work, and bein' a night watchman always struck me as a race to see which gathered dust and cobwebs faster: the guard or the stuff he was supposed to be guarding."

"I suppose just taking it easy and enjoying your retirement wasn't included on your list of options?"

"Not bloody likely," the Legionnaire snorted. "The Army always kept me busy-until one of their computers started counting up my birthdays, that is. After years of keeping the lads busy, with `make-work' assignments, the idea of just doing nothing sounded uncomfortably like being dead. I mean, sir, inactive is inactive, whether you're sittin' in a rocker or six feet under."

"It sounds like you had some rank before you retired," Phule observed cautiously.

"Let's just say I was a noncom and leave it at that, sir. I've been trying not to make a big thing of my experience. Seen too many new blokes to an outfit come in ringing the mission bell and preaching to the heathens how they should be doing things. The noncoms you have seem to be doing a right good job, especially since you got them back on track. Truth is, it's been a bit of a treat for me to be back in the ranks-letting others do the thinking and just following orders."

"I see," Phule said, then reached for his notepad. "Well, Moustache, I'm afraid your vacation is over, as of now. I'm refusing your offer as a volunteer, and instead am assigning you duty as an acting sergeant for this assignment. We'll see about making it permanent when it's all over."

"Yes, sir. Very good, sir."

The Legionnaire snapped into a rigid, parade-ground salute, but Phule did not return it immediately.

"Just one more thing, Moustache. Excuse me for asking, but exactly what is that accent you have, anyway?"

"Holo-movie, sir," the Legionnaire said, flashing another quick smile. "I never could master the Southern American drawl that's so popular with noncoms, so I settled for the next best thing. Studied every war holo I could find with a proper British sergeant major in it. It may not be authentic, but after forty years, it's habitual ... sir!"

And so it went, hour after hour, volunteer after volunteer.

True to Becker's prediction, even with making an extra effort to keep the interviews brief, it was late even by Phule's standards when the last Legionnaire had been dealt with. Finally alone, he tried to review his notes, but set them aside with a sigh when his eyes refused to focus.

He didn't really need to read the list to confirm what he already knew. While he had more than enough volunteers for a full complement, there was one name missing from the roster, one he had been counting on since receiving the assignment.

Glancing at his watch, he debated briefly over whether he should call it a night and deal with this problem in the morning. At this hour, the Legionnaire in question would probably already be asleep, and ...

With a conscious effort, the commander accepted a mental compromise. He'd just make a casual walk-by of the Legionnaire's room and then, if the lights were out, he'd get some sleep himself.

"Come in, Captain. I've been expecting you."

Sushi set aside the book he had been reading and beckoned his commander through the open door and into a chair.

"Sorry to be calling so late," Phule managed, sinking into the offered seat, "but there were a lot of volunteers for the new duty-more than I expected, really."

"More than you need?"

"Well ... yes and no," the commander hedged, glancing around the room. "Where's your partner?"

"Do-Wop? He headed into town to do a little celebrating. Late as it is, I expect he won't be back until morning."

"Good, good," Phule said absently. Now that he had found Sushi, he wasn't quite sure what to say to him. "I, um ... wanted to talk to you."

"Let me make this easy for you, Captain," the Legionnaire said, holding up a hand. "You want to know why I didn't volunteer. Right?"

"Well ... yes. If it isn't prying, that is. I would have thought the assignment would be a natural for you. Considering ..."

He let his voice trail off, leaving unsaid what was already common knowledge between the two of them.

Phule knew Sushi-or, at least, had a passing acquaintance with him-from before their respective enlistments in the Space Legion. They had traveled in the same, or similar, circles, both coming from exceptionally wealthy families. Phule also knew, as did a few in the company, that Sushi was an embezzler and that most of the money he had stolen had gone to finance a passion for casino gambling.

"I should think the answer is obvious." Sushi shrugged. "I'm a compulsive gambler. I love high-stakes risks the way an alcoholic loves a bottle. That was bad enough when the only thing to lose was my own money and reputation-or that of my family's company, as it turned out-but to have our company's reputation riding on my control ..." He shook his head. "I just think it would be safer all around if I stood normal duty and avoided the tables completely. The only sure way I've found to stop gambling is not to start."

Phule leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling for a moment, frowning thoughtfully.

"This is a volunteer mission," he said finally, "and I wouldn't want to frog-march you into it, Sushi, particularly not if it means asking you to go against a decision you've made for your own good. The problem is ... let's face it, you're probably the only one in the company who really knows casinos as a gambler. I had been hoping you'd take the role of one of those high rollers-the big-stakes players that the casinos give red-carpet treatment to. You could move around openly with more freedom than the team members we infiltrate into the staff, since they will be pretty much limited to those areas defined by their jobs, plus you'd have a better feel for normal operations and when there was anything going on at the tables that warranted closer inspection."

"Sounds like you were counting on me as one of your main spotters," Sushi said, chewing his lip slightly.

"I was," Phule admitted. "But, still, I can understand your reluctance. I'll just have to figure out some other way to-"

"Don't bother, Captain," Sushi interrupted. "I'll do it on one condition. If I feel like I'm losing control, or if in your personal opinion I'm plunging too hard, you'll pull me out of there, even if it means locking me in my room with a guard to keep me away from the tables. Agreed?"

"Agreed." Phule nodded with a smile. "Okay. That's a load off my mind. Let's see ... you'll need a bankroll to play with ... shall we say, a hundred thousand for starters?"

"Excuse me, Captain, but if-and I stress if-I happen to come out ahead, who gets the profits?"

"Well ... I hadn't given it much thought, but I suppose if you're gambling out of the company fund, then any winnings should go back into that fund."

"In that case," Sushi said, flashing a schoolboy's grin, "I think I'll provide my own bankroll, if you don't mind. I did squirrel away a few dollars before I enlisted, in case of just such a rainy day."