“Maybe,” said the woman, with a shrug. “This here’s a busy town, and there’s more people than rooms sometimes. You want to hold it longer, you give me up-front money. Nobody makes a better offer, you get to keep the room.”

“Any refund if somebody makes a better offer?”

“You sure do ask a lot of questions, stranger,” said the woman. “We don’t take kindly to Nosy Neds hereabouts.”

“Two nights, then,” said Sushi, firmly. “And my name’s not Ned.”

“You know, there’s a law ‘gainst giving wrong names to hotels,” said the woman, with a suspicious stare.

“That’s triff, lady, but maybe you noticed we didn’t give you no names, yet,” said Do-Wop. He squinted at the sign behind the counter. “Does that sign mean you’ve run out of disclavery? I got pretty good connections-I bet I could get you a batch, real cheap.”

“Disclavery’s against the law on this planet!” said the woman, giving Do-Wop the kind of look reserved for admitted criminals. She stepped back from the counter a pace.

“Well, that won’t matter with my connections… OOF!” Do-Wop doubled over and began to make strangling noises. Probably the elbow Sushi had jammed into his solar plexus had something to do with his sudden distraction.

Seizing the opening, Sushi stepped forward, flashing his brightest smile. “No need to worry about that,” he assured the landlady. He fished out his wallet and continued, “My friend’s a real joker, but he doesn’t mean anybody harm, not one bit. We really do respect the laws of all the worlds we visit, and that certainly includes Hix’s World. Now, how much do we owe you for that room?”

The landlady favored Sushi with a suspicious glare, but the money in his hands seemed to settle the issue. “Ninety-two,” she said. After a moment she amended herself: “Ninety-two apiece, and no rowdy stuff.” She sketched a nod in the direction of the no disclavery sign.

“Fine,” said Sushi. “Here’s for two nights.”

“Number six, in back,” said the woman, jerking her thumb in that direction. “You c’n carry yer own bags.”

“I guess we can,” said Sushi. “Come on, buddy, let’s stow the bags, and then we can get down to business.” He reached down and picked up his duffel bag, and motioned to Do-Wop to do the same.“

“Yeah, yeah,” said Do-Wop, who’d more or less recovered his breath. “I can’t wait to find the captain so’s I can go back to goofin‘ off.”

“Remember, you two,” said the woman behind the desk. “I find out you’re up to any kind o‘ mischief-and I p’rtic’rly mean disclavery-I’m callin’ the sheriff!”

“Great freakin‘ place you found us, Soosh,” muttered Do-Wop, as he shouldered open the door to the outside. Perhaps fortunately, the woman behind the desk didn’t seem to hear him.

Chocolate Harry boldly strolled into the captain’s office as if he had every legitimate reason in the world to be there. In fact, he knew nobody was likely to question him. That was just as well, because inside, he was all but quivering in his oversize boots. Like many men who exploit loopholes and ambiguities in the rules, he had a secret fear of being caught-and while he was damned good at lawyering his way out of a situation, he always worried that he might someday meet his match. Captain Jester had given him considerable leeway. But at the moment, the captain wasn’t here to protect him. And that could mean big trouble.

“Well, right on time, Sergeant,” said Major Sparrowhawk, who’d taken the liberty of sitting in the captain’s desk chair. “Pull up a chair-no point being uncomfortable while we’re talking business.”

“Business?” Chocolate Harry’s expression was guarded. “ ‘Scuse me, Major, but I didn’t know we had any business to talk about.”

“Well, Sergeant, I’m about to fill you in on it,” said Sparrowhawk. “Sit down; the chair’s not wired.”

“OK, I’m sitting,” said Harry. He turned the chair around so the back was between him and the general’s adjutant, as if to give him some protection in case she started throwing things at him. “What’s the scam?”

“Good choice of wording,” said Sparrowhawk, dryly.

“You’ve probably noticed that General B is getting really involved in his golf game here.”

“Hard to miss that,” said Harry. “In fact, considering how many of the guys are getting into the daily pools, I’d say it’s become the main attraction. What about it?”

Sparrowhawk crossed her arms and looked Harry directly in the eye. “What if I told you that, in spite of the wonderful attractions and thrilling people here on Zenobia Base, I’m a city girl at heart? In fact, suppose I said I’m getting utterly bored out here and want to get back home?”

“What, and give up Escrima’s cookin‘?” said Harry with an evil grin.

“I’d even give up that, good as it is,” said Sparrowhawk, with a look that left no doubt she meant it. “To put it bluntly, I need to come up with a way to make the general stop whacking around that stupid little ball.”

“And then?” said Harry. “S’pose he decides to start busting Captain Jester’s chops, which everybody knows is why he came to Zenobia Base to begin with. That don’t do nothin‘ for me.”

“I know this might come as a surprise to you, Sergeant, but it doesn’t do a damned thing for me, either,” said Sparrowhawk. “As I said, I just want to get back to Rahnsome Base and my own home and friends. I hope this isn’t a serious blow to you.”

“I’m tough enough to take it, Major,” said Chocolate Harry. “It’ll put a hole in my bottom line, but I can take it.” He shrugged and looked back at Sparrowhawk. “But you didn’t haul me in here to talk about that-or did you?”

“My, you’re slow,” said Sparrowhawk. “Getting the general off this godforsaken base and back to Legion Headquarters is exactly what I’m trying to do. And the whole reason he’s still here is that stupid game. Bad enough he putzes around with it in his office. Outdoors? In those silly shorts? Puh-leez! About the only good side of things is that he hasn’t asked me to cabby for him.”

“I think it’s called caddy, Major,” said Harry.

“Whatever it’s called, I’m glad I’m not doing it,” said Sparrowhawk. “Now-it has occurred to me that you can put a stop to the game if you’re so inclined. And I mean to see that you are so inclined.”

“Say what?” Harry’s voice went up an octave, and his frown betrayed utter bewilderment. “How you think I can stop the game?”

“What’s the one thing they can’t play without?”

Harry rubbed his chin. “You got me, Major. Grass? Clubs? Those flags that show ‘em were the holes are? Whisky?”

“Balls,” said Major Sparrowhawk.

“Hey, no need to get nasty,” said Chocolate Harry, drawing himself up to his full height, which was impressive even in a sitting position. “I’m tryin‘ to give you a straight answer…”

“Balls,” repeated the major. “Those little white balls they keep hitting around the park. They can’t play the game if they run out of those, can they?”

“I guess not,” said Harry. “Only thing is, there’s plenty of ‘em. The captain had me order-up three gross of Titleists when we were settin’ up the golf course, and the supplier threw in six dozen PoDos for a bonus…”

“They’re all going to disappear,” said Sparrowhawk, grimly. “All of them. I don’t care how you do it-I don’t need to know how you do it, as long as it’s done. I don’t want a single golf ball to be on this base by this time tomorrow.”

“I could do that,” said Harry. “It’ll be a little chancy, but 1 can do it.” He leaned forward. “What’s in it for me?”

“Getting the general off your back isn’t enough?” Sparrowhawk sat back in the chair, an expression of disbelief on her face.

“It ain’t my skanky ass he’s after, pardon my French,” said Chocolate Harry. “What’s the worst gonna happen to me? Kicked out of the Legion? Transferred to another unit? He can’t throw me into a combat unit, ‘cause there ain’t no wars to begin with.“