"Do you, now?" said Phule. "What do you have in mind?"

Beeker was about to reply when Phule's wrist communicator buzzed. "Yes, Mother?" he said, wondering what new crisis had occurred.

"Get yourself prettied up and don't drag your feet, sweetie," came the familiar voice from the communicator. "Your favorite brass hat wants to see you on the holophone."

"General Blitzkrieg?" Phule's jaw fell.

"Well, it sure sounded like him to me, silly boy. If I were you, I'd hurry up and talk to him. I can stall the old lizard-face as long as you need me to, but I doubt it'll improve his not-so-sunny disposition."

"Give me three minutes," said Phule. "Did he say what it was about?"

"You must be out of your ever-lovin' mind," said Mother. "Now, get your tail movin', toots-that three minutes is already started, and as much as I'd enjoy giving the general the run-around, I'm worried about what he'd have done to me if he found out I was wastin' his time." She broke the connection.

"General Blitzkrieg," said Phule, looking at Beeker. "He certainly picked an interesting time to call."

"Yes, sir," said Beeker, looking at Phule critically. "You've enough time to comb your hair before you talk to him. It would be exactly in character for the general to waste the first five minutes of a trans-space holophone call reprimanding you for your appearance."

Phule grimaced. "I wish I had time to change the whole uniform, but I doubt it'd make any difference. Let's hope the news isn't too bad this time."

"Sir, I doubt very much that even General Blitzkrieg could do very much to make the situation worse," said Beeker. He paused a beat, then added, helpfully, "Of course, if there's any way he can make it worse, I'm sure he'll be glad to do it."

General Blitzkrieg was smiling. It was not a pleasant smile, but Phule tried to ignore that and concentrate on what the general was saying. "Captain, I must admit we haven't always seen eye to eye, but it seems somebody's bought the image you've created for your unit. Your company has been requested for an assignment that might be a genuine feather in the Legion's cap-assuming your people are up to it, of course. Wouldn't want to send them if they can't deliver, you know."

"I'm pleased to hear that, sir," Phule said cautiously. He stood at attention, facing the general's holographic image across the room. He knew Blitzkrieg could see his every move, as well as he could see the general's. He would have to make an effort to keep his emotions off his face-never easy with someone as infuriating as the general.

"I have complete confidence in my people," he continued. "What sort of assignment, sir?"

The general's smile stayed on. "There's a world that just got over a civil war. Well, to tell the truth, the Federation had to step in toward the end and stop things from getting out of hand. The Legion had a part in that, I'm proud to say. They've got a new government in power, and they're making progress toward putting things back on track. But of course, there are factions that aren't happy with the new order, and so the Federation has been supplying troops to keep things in hand. A peacekeeping team from the Regular Army is being rotated out, and we've managed to convince Ambassador Gottesman to accept a Legion unit as their replacement. It took some politicking, believe me, but when the ambassador found out the Legion was available, he asked if we could send your unit."

"That sounds like a genuine coup, sir," said Phule. "What's the planet called, if I may ask?"

"It's got some silly name-let's see..." The general frowned, then leaned over and punched a button on a computer somewhere offscreen. "Landoor. They call their world Landoor."

Phule thought a moment. "I don't recognize the name, sir-not that it makes much difference, of course. You say they requested my company specifically?"

"That's right, Captain," said the general. The predatory smile was back. "I admit I was surprised-you haven't always been my idea of a model officer, you know. But you have had a knack for getting favorable news coverage, and evidently that's paid dividends. All things considered, I must admit it hasn't hurt the Legion as much as it might have. So we've decided it's time for you to wrap up the guard assignment on Lorelei and get ready to transfer to Landoor."

"Yes, sir," said Phule. Then, after a pause, he continued, "Uh, as you no doubt realize, sir, my company is the majority stockholder in the Fat Chance Casino. That makes us the contract holders, and naturally we're very concerned about continued security after we're transferred away. We'll need sufficient time to arrange a replacement before we can leave."

The general's smile vanished. "Captain, this is no time for barracks-room lawyering. There's a whole planet asking for your company to protect its people, and all you're worried about is your pocketbook. That's not the Legion way, and I'll be hanged if I'm going to stand for it."

Phule held his ground. "Sir, with the general's permission, may I point out that the security of Lorelei is of concern to far more people than just my company? Several thousand people arrive on this station every day, staying for an average of five days, and they spend an average of three thousand dollars apiece during their stay-on hotels, food, gifts, and entertainment as well as on gambling. They come with families and children, too-and they expect a safe environment. Some of them are retired, and a lot are ordinary working people who saved up their money for a dream vacation. Any breakdown in casino security affects them more than it does my pocketbook-because from their point of view, they have much more at stake."

"Fine sentiments," said Blitzkrieg. "Or they would be, coming from any other officer. Coming from you, I suspect they're a ploy to look altruistic as you protect your own interests. Quite frankly, Captain, you aren't a team player."

"I take exception to that, sir," Phule said, rather hotly. "I treat my people not just as members of a team, but as a family. Believe me, these troops have very little tolerance for posturing. They'd find me out in a minute if I was merely paying lip service to that dogma."

"Perhaps," said General Blitzkrieg, momentarily taken aback by Phule's fervor. Then he recovered his aplomb; he leaned forward and pointed a finger at the transmitting camera, and at the man viewing his image. "But the Legion can't permit officers to set their own conditions for accepting an assignment. If you refuse the assignment, you'd better be ready to justify that decision to a court-martial. And I can tell you now, Captain, all your headlines won't do you a lick of good if it comes to an insubordination charge. And I'll make sure it does come to that. Now, are you going to accept the Landoor mission or not?"

Phule didn't hesitate. "Sir, my company will go where the Legion sends it."

"Good, that's settled, then," said Blitzkrieg, although without great enthusiasm. It was easy to guess that he'd wanted Phule to give him an excuse for an insubordination charge. He frowned at Phule and said, "You will ready your company for shipment to Landoor in-"he turned and looked at the readout again-"sixty standard days. That will be all, Captain!" Blitzkrieg broke the connection.

Phule sighed, and turned to Beeker. "Well, that's done," he said with a weary smile.

"Yes, sir," said the butler. "Now you can withdraw your company from Lorelei, and no one can question your motives or impugn your honor."

"True," said Phule. "But that's not the whole story, Beeker. If Blitzkrieg thought I really wanted this transfer, he'd break his back to prevent it. Now, he'll make sure we stay there long enough for me to get the unit back on track. This new assignment will give the company a worthy common goal-and that kind of motivation is exactly what's been missing here."