say.”
“Colonel! I asked you a question!”
Mahoney sat up straight. He knew where the chain of command started. “Yessir. It’s a guy on the board of directors. Named Lester.”
“Lester . . . I know him. I was at his birth ceremony. Absolutely trustworthy in matters concerning the Empire. ‘Course, in a hand of poker — well, nobody’s perfect. So Lester is suspicious of this Bravo Project, huh?”
“Very. Thoresen is practically bleeding the Company dry to pay for it. He’s maintaining barely enough profit to keep the stockholders happy. Even then, Lester thinks he’s messing with the books.”
“That’s not much to go on. Even I can’t put the Guard on Vulcan on mere suspicion. I’d lose all credibility. Hell, I founded this Empire on the principles of free enterprise and zip government interference.”
“Do you have to believe your own propaganda?”
The Emperor thought about it a second. Then answered regretfully, “Yes.”
“So what do we do about it?”
The Emperor frowned, then sighed and chugged his drink down. “Hate to do this, but I got no other choice.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, I’m about to lose a great drinking buddy. For a while, anyway.”
Outraged, Mahoney came to his feet. “You’re not sending me to that godforsaken hole? Vulcan’s so far out of the way even comets duck it!”
“Got any better ideas?”
Mahoney ran it over. Then shook his head. Slugged down his drink. “When do I leave?”
“You mean you’re still here?”
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