Phule came to a sudden stop and looked at his lieutenant. "Hmm-tell me the truth, Armstrong. You don't think that could be exactly what happened, do you?"

Armstrong's jaw fell. "Why, that's imposs...No, I guess it's not impossible. It is far-fetched, but I suppose Qual could have arranged it. But if the robbers were hired to take the fall, or tricked into it, Qual couldn't be sure they wouldn't talk."

"I think you should call to Station Security and make sure those fellows are thoroughly questioned before they're sent off to prison," said Phule. "Odds are they're smalltime robbers who picked the wrong victim. But if there's anything fishy about Qual's being there to make the rescue, we need to know about it as soon as possible."

"Yes, sir," said Armstrong, although he didn't look happy. "That's the way things have been lately, isn't it? Just as we think a problem's solved, it turns out there's a new twist we haven't thought of."

"I'm afraid that's the way of it, Lieutenant," said Phule, nodding sympathetically. Armstrong always wanted problems to be simple, with simple solutions. It had taken Phule a good while to learn that real life didn't always work that way. With luck, his lieutenant would make the necessary adjustment before he had a command of his own. It was one thing to go through life thinking you could ignore all the shades of gray in the world; it was another thing to stake the lives and safety of people under your command on that assumption. Well, Armstrong was learning, a bit slower than he might have, but there was hope for him.

The two officers burst through the door to the command center together. Mother shot them a panicked look, then ducked behind her console. "Good morning, Mother," said Phule. As usual, the reply was inaudible. Phule gave a sigh, and continued into his own office. He'd been working on the assumption that pretending everything was perfectly normal might keep Mother from ducking into a shell every time she had to deal with someone in person. The jury was still out on this approach.

But when he entered his private office, the light on his desktop communicator was blinking. He picked it up. "Yes, Mother?"

"Well, honey-bun, I thought you'd never notice," came the saucy voice in his ear, suddenly bold now that she didn't have to look him in the face. "Got some people want to see you, not that I can figure out why. I assume you're still not interested in talking to those pesky IRS agents."

"That's right, Mother," said Phule. "What did you tell them?"

"Your morning schedule's full, they should check back later, like ten years from now. It's close enough to true, sweetums. You haven't left yourself much time to get organized for this reassignment."

"We'll be ready," said Phule. "And with any luck, I can put off the IRS until we've left the station. That'll give Beeker time to work on my taxes. What else is on the menu today?"

"Another group of civilians dyin' to see you," she said. "You'll love this bunch-all three of 'em look like flunkouts from charm school. Act like it, too. You wanna know their names?"

"Three of them, you say?" Phule's interest suddenly picked up. "Sure, let's have the names."

"OK, sweetie." There was a moment while Mother retrieved the names. "Stonecutter Johnson, Joe the Blade, and Asteroid Annie. Representing the Renegades Hovercycle Club, they say. Shall I give 'em the brush-off?"

Phule sat up straight in his chair. "Oh, send them in, by all means," he said, suddenly alert. "But first, why don't you patch me through to the supply depot? I think the time may finally have come to solve another of our outstanding problems."

"So, Sarge, when these Renegade guys show up, what do we do?" Double-X peered through a slit between the board Chocolate Harry had nailed over the casino loading dock, now converted to Omega Company's supply depot. The view outside was unchanged.

"We kick ass," said Louie's translator voice. The Synthian brandished his automatic shotgun, as if eager for the impending showdown. "Blow them away."

"Easy for you to say," said Chocolate Harry, "Problem is, it ain't enough to blow away the first guys they send. We finish this bunch off, there'll be others-and more after them. These dudes don't give up a grudge just because they have a tough time settling it."

"Yeah, I can get into that," said Double-X. "Back on Crumbo, where I grew up, the Slambeens and the Ratzers used to go at it like that. Those were some tough guys-steal the glimmer right off a cragbolt, and laugh about it like it was nothin'."

"Yeah, well, you never saw me back down from no cragbolt, neither," said Chocolate Harry, sneering. He asserted this with a certainty bolstered by the fact that he had never to his knowledge been on the same planet as a cragbolt. "A man's got a rep to live up to, he can't pick and choose his fights."

"I guess that's right, Sarge," said Double-X, who like most sensible legionnaires was more in awe of his own sergeant than of any potential adversary-human, alien, or monster.

"Somebody coming," said Louie, in what sounded like a hoarse whisper despite the translator's limited range of expression.

Chocolate Harry leaned over to look at the monitor screen showing the output of the security cameras he had covering the approaches to the supply compound. "Relax," he said, after a moment. "It's the captain." Then, after a longer pause he added, "At least it looks like the captain."

"Should I challenge him, Sarge?" asked Double-X, picking up the microphone.

"Nah, I'll hail him on his private frequency," said C.H. "The Renegades might be able to rig somebody up to look like him, but they can't jigger the whole comm system without a lot of work. That ain't their style, anyway-more likely they'd walk up to the door and call me out." He reached to activate the wrist communicator, but before he could do so, Phule's unmistakable voice came from the speaker.

"C.H., are you in there? I have something we need to talk about."

"Sure, Cap'n," said the supply sergeant. "Come on in-we aren't gonna shoot you."

"Oh, I wasn't worried about you shooting me," said Phule's voice. "But you might start trying to shoot the people I've got with me, and get careless."

"What do you mean, Cap'n?" said Chocolate Harry. Then, as he saw who stood next to Phule, his voice went up an octave. "Look out, Cap'n! It's the Renegades!"

Phule's calm voice came back: "They've promised not to try anything, C.H.-I think they've realized they'll get more by talking to you than any other way. Will you let us come in and talk?"

Chocolate Harry said nothing for a long moment, his face impassive but his mind racing. At last he said, "You vouch for 'em, Cap'n? They ain't carryin' heat?"

"They're clean, Harry," said Phule. "Are you going to let us in?"

"OK, Cap'n. Yo, Double-X, Cap'n comin' in, with hostiles. Keep 'em covered, but no shootin' unless they make the first move. Got it?"

"Yeah, Sarge," said Double-X, and he went to unbar the door.

Phule and the three Renegades picked their way through the obstacles outside the supply depot, and finally entered the door. Inside, the Renegades stopped and stared. Phule stepped over to the side of his supply sergeant, who stood with his fists balled at his sides. "Relax, Harry," he said in a low voice. "I think we're going to solve your problems."

"I know these guys," said Chocolate Harry, his eyes fixed on the intruders. "Stonecutter Johnson, ain't it? And your old sidekicks, Joe the Blade and Asteroid Annie. Never thought I'd see your nasty faces up here."

"Not a bad setup you got, Harry," the big Renegade said, nodding appreciatively. "Anybody starts a rumble with you boys, he better know how to take care of hisself"

"The Legion knows its business," said Phule calmly. "You saw a sample of that."