"I don't think anybody can escape the past," said Phule, wondering why he was bandying words with this man. "But by changing our names, we can focus on our present tasks without having to keep explaining how we got here. That doesn't mean the past doesn't come looking for us, from time to time."

Colonel Mays nodded. "Perhaps the policy is a wise one, then. But in your case, you will find a good many people here who remember what you did. As for myself-and I can tell you I speak for my superiors in the government, here-there is no animosity to you. Quite the opposite-you are one of our heroes. Your strafing mission broke the old government's last resistance. We had heard very little from the mainland rebels until that shooting today. I think we can assume that they know who you are as well."

"You're certain that was the rebels shooting at me?" said Phule. "My people responded almost immediately, but the shooters had gone, and left no clues to their origins. We haven't even established for sure that I was the target-though that seems to be the best guess."

Colonel Mays took a pull on the cheroot. "Until you came here, the rebels did nothing but camp out in the jungle and play their self-deluding games," he said. "They have no popular support. When they are not half-drunk, they know that as well as I do. But today, when you arrived-you, the off-planet enemy who rubbed their faces in their defeat-somebody shows up to shoot at you. Yes, Captain, I think that is a very good guess." The two men with him laughed.

Phule glanced at Armstrong and Rembrandt, neither of whom seemed to find Mays's statement amusing. "Another possibility occurs to me, Colonel," he said. "What if someone in your government is more worried about the rebels than you are? Perhaps they faked an assassination attempt, hoping to convince the peacekeeping team to punish the rebels. Of course this is mere speculation, but can you deny the possibility?"

Mays scowled. "Of course I deny it," he said. "We are a peaceful government-in fact, the peace agreement completely disarmed our military. Now it is fit only for construction and police work. Your company-and the rebels over on the mainland-are the only significant armed bodies on the planet."

"I see," said Phule. "Well, if that's the case, you'll have no problem with us. In fact, the less we have to do, the happier my people will be. What kinds of work have you got your soldiers doing?"

"We are currently embarked on a project to increase tourist revenues," said the colonel. "I don't know how much you know about our planet's economy..."

"You'd be surprised what I know," said Phule. He and Beeker had done exhaustive financial research on the world they were coming to, looking for opportunities to make the new assignment profitable for the legionnaires (and of course, for themselves). Nothing had struck them as quite ripe, but that didn't mean they wouldn't find something once they were on the ground.

Colonel Mays grunted. "Well, then, you probably know that our mines were played out over a generation ago, and nothing has really replaced them. Jobs are scarce. Many of our people are subsistence farmers-in some ways, they're the lucky ones. The former government tried to develop a manufacturing industry, but that didn't go very far."

"I can see why," said Phule. "Everything you make here is being made just as well and just as cheaply elsewhere, so there aren't off-planet markets for it. You're stuck trying to lift yourselves by your own bootstraps."

"Exactly, Captain," said Mays. He stubbed out the cheroot. "You've done your homework. So we're looking at a stagnant economy. The former government never could find a way to improve things. Now it's our turn to try-and I hope we can do better."

"I understand," said Phule, his financial instincts taking over. "What avenues are you pursuing?"

"We need off-world money, and one way to get that is to attract off-worlders here," said Mays with impeccable logic. "We hope to develop a tourist industry."

Phule nodded, thinking of Lorelei's tourist-generated revenues. "That's not a bad basic plan, Colonel-in fact, it's probably your best bet. But for it to work, you need something that can't be duplicated off-world. You have gorgeous beaches and mountains, but there are beaches and mountains all over the galaxy."

"Correct again," said Mays smugly. "Don't sell us short, Captain-we have our plans in place, and they are moving forward. Before you know it, Landoor will be the tourist mecca of this entire sector."

"This is good news," said Phule. "Stability depends on a healthy economy. If I may ask, what are your plans? I'm always looking to invest a few dollars-if the prospective return is sufficiently appealing, of course."

"Captain, I am not the person to answer those questions," said Colonel Mays, standing. "For that, you should speak to the Ministry of Development. I don't know whether they are looking for foreign investments-you will have to ask them. As far as I'm concerned, you can best help Landoor by insuring that the rebels don't sabotage our plans before they reach maturity. You saw today how desperate they are. They would rather bring the entire structure down around their ears rather than see us benefit from it. I hope we can count on you, Captain."

"Colonel, you can be sure I'll do everything I can to promote the safety and success of your world," said Phule. "I will of course keep an eye on the rebels, as well as on your government's activities. But now, if you don't mind, I had best get started settling my people in and determining the best ways to achieve these goals."

The two men eyed each other for a moment, quite aware that nothing had been settled; then Phule and his lieutenants turned and strode out of the room.

Journal #373

It had been a matter of concern to my employer that, for all the favorable publicity his Legion company had received, its achievements to date had been realized in a peacetime environment. The closest any of his troops had come to combat was in facing the Mob on Lorelei: an adversary not to be taken lightly, but in the last analysis a good bit less formidable than a disciplined military force. Now, after the events at the spaceport, it became clear that Landoor might be a much tougher assignment than anticipated.

Not that anyone believed General Blitzkrieg's assurances that Landoor had been pacified. A little thought would have made it clear that a world recovering from a civil war-with peace imposed by outside powers-was likely to harbor a fair number of unsettled grudges. The assassination attempt, and the cool initial reception by the local government, drove those points home very forcefully to my employer.

So, almost immediately after its arrival at its new headquarters (in the Landoor Plaza Hotel, located in. a new development west of the capital city) the company began to prepare as best it could for the possibility of combat.

"All right," said Brandy, hands on hips, "you all saw what happened out there this morning." The recruits muttered among themselves. They had all joined the Legion with some notion that they might eventually be fired upon, but having that vague expectation become reality was a shock. It showed on their faces, and in their voices.

"Nobody got hurt today," Brandy continued. "We hope it stays that way. But we've got to be ready in case somebody starts shooting again. That means being ready to shoot back."

"Excuse me, Sergeant," came a voice from the ranks.

Brandy suppressed a groan. It was Mahatma, who smiled and followed orders to the letter and, every now and then, asked questions nobody could answer-and persisted until everybody had gone crazy trying to explain the unexplainable. She smelled one of those questions coming up. Well, maybe she could buy a little time. "Mahatma, I think maybe you ought to hold your question for a while, OK?"