"Scope this out," said Do-Wop. He glanced around to make sure there were no eavesdroppers, and lowered his voice. In a dramatic whisper, he said, "The fat old snarkler drops out of a hand when he ain't gonna got good cards."

"What?" Sushi's voice rose nearly an octave, and his mouth fell open in surprise.

"Shh, you want everybody to hear what it is?" said Do-Wop, peering around worriedly. "I tell ya, it's a pure stroke of genius. Why, a dude could get rich overnight doin' that..."

"Do-Wop, that's not cheating," said Sushi. "It's the way you're supposed to play poker."

"Oh, su-u-ure," said Do- Wop, scornfully. "Go try that one out on Tusk-anini-it ain't gonna fly with me. If what you said was true, why don't everybody play that way?"

"Now there's a question well worth asking," said Sushi, grinning. "In fact, 1 think I'm going listen to myself and ask it. Why don't you play that way?" Do-Wop's jaw dropped. "What, and miss the chance of winning a really big one? Believe me, Soosb-there ain't no bigger rush than when everybody looks at your hand and thinks it's total crunk, and tries to boost the betting so's to clean you out, and then your last hole card gives you that sure winner."

"Right," said Sushi, with a sigh. "So how often does that happen?"

"All the time, man," said Do-Wop, excitedly. "I had a hand like that just a couple weeks ago. Had to draw a six to make my straight on the last card. 1 hung in there and got the sucker, on the last card. Woulda cleaned house, too-but all the dudes except Double-X had folded before then, and 1 only won seven--eight bucks on it."

"Uh-huh," said Sushi, unimpressed. "And how many times do you play for that kind of hand and wind up with crunk anyhow?"

"Sometimes it happens," Do-Wop admitted. "But hey, like C. H. says-you never go for it, you never get it!"

"Yeah, he would say that," said Sushi. "You know, I'd be tempted to give you a lesson about poker odds, except 1 seem to remember that you got one of those from Tulle Bascomb back on Lorelei, and it obviously didn't take.

Maybe he was right-it's a waste of time to wise up a sucker."

"Hey, who you callin' sucker?" said Do-Wop. "If you wasn't my buddy..." Whatever he was about to say, it was cut off by a fresh voice. "Good mornin', boys. Would y'all be interested in a little special project 1 just cooked up?" The two legionnaires turned to see Rev standing just behind them, with the half sneer that was the closest he came to a smile. "Yo, Rev, what's up?" said Do-Wop.

"A li'l ol' electronic reconnaissance project, 1 think would be the best thing to call it," said Rev. "When 1 ran into this here problem, 1 couldn't help but think of you" boys, rememberin' how you were the ones that cracked the Nanoids' transmissions. How'd you like to do somethin' along that line for me?"

Sushi shrugged. "Depends on what you've got in mind," he said. "Why don't you start talking, and we'll let you know whether it interests us."

"Sure, sure," said Rev, glancing around the parade ground. "But I'll tell you what-why don't y'all come into my office, where maybe it's a little more private? Then 1 can tell you the whole thing."

"Lead the way," said Sushi. "Come on, Do-Wop, this" might be fun."

"What the hell, it's a slow day," said Do-Wop. The two legionnaires fell into line behind Rev and followed him to his office. At first, Sushi didn't know whether or not to make anything of the fact that Rev led them on" a roundabout route instead of using the entrance nearest to his office, where Flight Leftenant Qual and two of his fellow Zenobians were working on some of their electronic equipment. But when Rev began to describe his plan, Sushi understood.

"All right, tell me about these games," said Victor Phule, standing in the middle of the Fat Chance Casino's main gambling floor. "How do they work, and what does the house get from them?"

"Yes, sir," chirped the young resort PR person Tullie Bascomb had assigned to show him around. Marti Mallard was blond and perky, dressed in a short, tight skirt-the very image of a cheery bubblehead. Phule knew better than to take her at face value. He'd already had a look at the casino's personnel files, and noticed that Ms. Mallard had graduated magna cum laude in Interspecies Studies from Libra Arts University, followed by a business degree from Taurus Tech. Underneath that perky exterior was a steel trap of a mind, and her presence on the Fat Chance Casino's staff showed that his son's personnel department hadn't been completely asleep when it put her on the job. "The most popular attraction in almost all casinos is the slot machines," said Marti, leading Victor Phule into a large bay filled with customers happily pumping tokens into an array of quantum slots. "One of the leading points of our ad campaign has been: Captain Jester's decision to make the Fat Chance Casino's slot machine payouts the highest on Landoor..."

"I wish you wouldn't call my son by that stupid Legion name," growled Victor Phule. "What exactly is the payout percentage on these machines, and why did my idiot son have to go raise it? That sounds like it'd cut into profits."

Marti moved closer to Victor Phule, and said in a low voice, "You probably don't want to talk about that in front of all these players, Mr. Phule. The fact is, even after your son shaved off one percent of the casino's percentage on the slots, it's still by far the most profitable of all the games we offer. No matter how big the jackpots are, on the whole, we're taking in a steady twenty percent of every dollar played." Just then a bell began ringing, accompanied by bright flashing lights and a honking Klaxon. "Yes-s-s-s!" shouted an enthusiastic voice, and along the ranks of avid quantum slots players, many (but far from all) heads turned to see what had set off the noise, which now included an electronically amplified victory march. "There's one now," said Marti. "The bells and lights mean it's at least-a thousand dollars. We want to make sure everybody knows when there's a big winner."

Victor Phule was incredulous. "You're giving away a thousand dollars?"

"Of course," said Marti. She managed somehow to whisper out of the comer of her mouth without losing her bright smile. "The players have to believe that they have a chance to win-and win big-if they're going to come here instead of one of the other casinos. On any given play, a player has a chance to win a jackpot of a hundred, a thousand, even ten thousand dollars-and when one of them does hit a jackpot, we give them the bells and lights so nobody can forget they have that chance."

Victor Phule's expression was skeptical. "To tell you the truth, I've never understood why anybody would bet on anything but a sure winner," he said. "And when you're giving somebody a chance to take away a thousand dollars--or more, if what you say is right-then the casino is betting on a losing proposition. On top of that, we give them free drinks and free food-and entertainment at a bargain price, as well. Why aren't we charging a competitive price for that, when we're giving away money hand over fist in the casinos?"

Marti's voice dropped even lower. "Because for every big jackpot, there are hundreds of losing bets, and that's the foundation of the business. Every single day of the year, as inevitably as taxes, the casino takes in many times what even the luckiest player can expect to win.. Over the long run, the casino comes out solidly in the black."

"Solidly in the black is all right," said Victor Phule.

"But I got my MBA at Rakeitin School of Business, and they taught us that any businessman worth his salt aims to maximize profits. I've built my arms business into the biggest in the galaxy by following that principle, and I can't see why it doesn't apply to this so-called business, as well."

"You saw the books, Mr. Phule," said Marti, shrugging.