Phule was about to turn down the corridor to his hotel room when he was stopped by two people in civilian outfits so identical that they might as well have been uniforms. "Mister Phule?" said the taller of the two.

            "Yes," he said. "I am Phule. I'm afraid I can't really stop to talk, though."

            "Captain, it is your decision whether or not to talk to us," said the man who'd spoken. Phule could now see that the other was a woman. "However, we are here on important government business, and it would be very wise of you to make the time." He opened a wallet and displayed an ID card: Special Agent Roger Peele of the Interstellar Revenue System.

            Phule struck himself on the forehead and said, "I knew there was something I'd been forgetting! You were looking for me back on Lorelei, weren't you?"

            "Yes," said Peele. "And after what we've found there, we're even more anxious to talk to you."

            "I guess we might as well do it now as later," said Phule with a sigh. "At this point, there's nothing you can do to make my day any worse."

            "Perhaps not, Mr. Phule," said the other, female, IRS agent. "However, I must warn you-it's our job to try." Her thin smile made it clear that she was not joking at all.

            "Well, come with me, then," said Phule, and they followed him to his quarters.