"Well, sir, which shall we tackle first-saving you from the stockade, or from bankruptcy?" Beeker sat calmly at the keyboard of his Port-a-Brain computer, watching Phule pace nervously across the room and back again.

            "Getting this house arrest lifted would be a good start," said Phule. "The park opens tomorrow morning, and I want to be there. I can work on the rest of my problems from a jail cell, if need be, but I think I've earned the right to be at the opening."

            "Your priorities astonish me, sir," said Beeker. "However, I am certain we can find a way to persuade the general to give you your freedom for the day-possibly you'll have to put up with a guard, but that should be a minor inconvenience."

            "Good, I trust you to explore all avenues on that one," said Phule. "As far as the rest-well, I told the IRS you had the figures to prove I'm in compliance with the tax laws, but they didn't want to hear it. I think they're so used to dealing with criminals that they can't imagine anyone actually obeying the law."

            "More likely, the laws make it impossible to file a tax return without some sort of violation," said Beeker, dryly. "How much do they claim you owe?"

            "Including penalties and interest, it's something like twenty million," said Phule. "That's absurd, of course-I can't possibly owe them penalties or interest if I'm not guilty of any violations to begin with."

            "Your faith in common sense is quite inspiring, sir. I regret to inform you that the IRS operates on some entirely different system, as appalling in its way as anything the military can conjure up."

            "Well, if you can't find me a way out, I doubt anybody can. You've got all the records here, don't you?"

            "Yes, sir," said Beeker, nodding in the direction of his Port-a-Brain. "I'll set up a meeting to show them the relevant figures-that will take a good while, though. And we may still have to drag it through a couple of levels of appeal before we satisfy them. It might be easier to agree to some token payment, say a couple of million, to get rid of them."

            "Blackmail!" said Phule. "I won't do it!"

            "As you wish, sir. Unfortunately, they can tie up your assets rather thoroughly pending appeal. Not even Dilithium Express can entirely shield your money from the IRS, although I suspect you'll be able to pay your personal bills."

            "I'll need more than that, if I'm going to keep running the company," said Phule.

            "General Blitzkrieg seems bent on preventing that, sir," Beeker pointed out. "It might be prudent for you to give some thought to counteracting the general's plans, while I'm saving you from the IRS."

            "Believe me, Beeker, I'm trying." Phule paused, then said, "Well, to be honest, keeping me from going bankrupt is of some urgency, as well. But I'm going to leave that in your hands, Beeker."

            "I appreciate your confidence, sir," said Beeker.

            Phule smiled. "It's been well-earned, Beeker. This won't be the first time you've saved my assets."