The supply sergeant nodded and took a seat opposite her. "Got a problem, Remmie," he said without prelude.

"I figured as much from the way you look," said Rembrandt. "What's up, C. H.? Don't tell me those bikers are after you again. We must be a dozen parsecs away from them. "

"Nah, nothin' that simple," said Chocolate Harry. He pulled his chair closer to the desk and leaned forward. "I'm worried about the cap'n," he said in a lowered voice. "We all are," said Rembrandt, also quietly. "He's let this new CO's being appointed over his head throw him for a loop. It can't be easy having your command taken away from you."

"Yeah," growled Harry. "That really stinks-not that it surprises me, knowin' the Legion like I do. This new major is pure chickenshit, the kind they only make at Legion Headquarters. He hasn't started messin' with my end of things so far, except for asking for a bunch of fool reports. If he never gets around to me, that'll be damn soon enough. But that ain't what I was worried about."

"You said it was the captain..." Lieutenant Rembrandt paused and looked inquisitively at Chocolate Harry.

"That's right. He's actin' kinda flaky, Remmie."

"Flaky? How?"

Chocolate Harry rubbed his beard, considering his words. After a moment he said, "I dunno. He's acting like he's back at the Fat Chance. I mean, he's walking around wearin' that monkey suit, like he was gonna have dinner with the ambassador, and there's no ambassadors here that I can see. Looks mighty like a desert out there, in fact."

"Yes, that is unusual," Rembrandt admitted. "He's always told us to be proud of our uniform, and he's set an example by wearing it."

"Right, and he talks like we're at the casino, too," said Harry. He paused again and said, "I think somethin's touched his brain, Remmie."

"The heat out in the desert could have done that," said Rembrandt. "The sentries who met him when he came in said he was already acting strangely, and Armstrong confirmed it. They fired the Zenobian stun ray at him before they knew who he was. Maybe that could've had an effect..."

"It could be the heat," said Chocolate Harry. "But I'll tell you what I think." He leaned closer and whispered, "It was right after he got back from that conference with the Zenobians, Remmie. And Beeker ain't come back yet. What do you want to bet they've got some game goin'?"

"What do you mean?" asked Rembrandt, surprised. She hadn't even considered that the planet's natives might have had something to do with the captain's strange behavior.

"I think they slipped somethin' into his food or maybe a drink, that's what I think," said the supply sergeant. "We're sittin' here with a camp full of state-of-the-art Alliance military equipment, and if they can get their claws on it, they'll have a real edge on us. That business about invisible aliens-that sure sounds like jive to me. I bet the lizards figured they'd dope up the captain and he'd just hand it over to 'em."

"That's a serious accusation," said Rembrandt. "We'd need something more to back it up before we took any action on it."

"That's why I'm talkin' to you, Remmie," said C. H. "Major Botchup, I don't know how he'd act. Except he'd try to do everything by the book, and that ain't gonna work. We gotta figure out what's really goin' on before we tell the major."

Rembrandt didn't answer right away; withholding something potentially so explosive from her commanding officer was asking for a court-martial. And like him or not, Botchup was her commanding officer now. On the other hand, he'd already decided there was something wrong with Captain Jester and taken the steps he considered appropriate. So there was no need to tell him that. All she'd be doing was refining the diagnosis. Until she knew for a fact that there was some external threat to Omega Company's security, she didn't need to get Botchup involved. But unless she was going to dismiss Chocolate Harry's suspicions out of hand, she needed to find out what was really going on, and she couldn't wait much longer.

"All right," she said. "Where do we start?"

"Damn good question," said Chocolate Harry, but he didn't volunteer an answer.

Chapter 12

Journal #569

Being in command of Omega Company had greatly broadened my employer's horizons. For one thing, he had become familiar with members of several other intelligent races, from the sluglike Synthians to the feline Gambolts. He had even been so fortunate as to make the human race's first contact with the Zenobians, whom he subsequently helped bring into the Alliance. And he had been given ample opportunity to observe their differences from humanity, a species that was not by any means uniform in its culture or psychology.

But nothing had quite prepared him for the job of trying to understand a race that neither he nor anyone else had ever seen.

"Still no sign of them," said Phule. He had been pacing the small confines of their prison for the last hour. "When are they going to show themselves?"

"Perhaps they have, sir. Perhaps we're incapable of seeing or hearing them," suggested Beeker. The butler had scrunched into a corner and drawn up his legs to stay out from under the nervous captain's pacing.

"I still don't see how that could be," said Phule, stopping and turning to look at him. "The problem of invisibility has been pretty thoroughly investigated. Believe me, if there were some workable technique for it, every military unit in the galaxy would be using it. It only works in special circumstances, like on a magician's stage set."

"That is not an inapt comparison, sir," said Beeker. "Our captors may have set up almost any imaginable kind of equipment beyond these walls. Nor can we guess what substances they may have put into our air, our food, or our drinking water. One wonders what benefit they derive from the deception. It must cost them a fair amount of time and effort, if not actual money-assuming they use any such thing."

Phule paced around the cell a moment, then said, "You know, Beek, maybe that doesn't bother them. The biggest thing I learned from the Landoor mission was to stop worrying about money. That was the first time I've ever let the projected cost of something bother me, instead of just trusting my instincts to keep me in the black. And I didn't need to worry at all. With the people I had on the job, you among the most important, I ended up with more than I started out with."

Beeker frowned. "Yes, sir, but it was a very close thing..."

"And we came out the other side just fine," said Phule, waving the objection away. "The worrying didn't make a nickel's worth of difference, in the long run. All it did was make me unhappy, when I should've trusted my people to get the job done. Well, I can draw a conclusion as well as anybody else. I've got Sushi and Do-Wop on the job of investigating the Hidden Ones, and that means they'll eventually figure out what's happened to us. And once they know that, they'll find a way to get us loose. So why worry about it?"

Beeker clasped his hands together. "I am glad that you have stopped worrying about money, sir." He smiled. "If that is the case, and considering that you evidently value my suggestions, I think it is high time for us to discuss an increase in my salary."

"We can talk about that if we ever get out of this place," said Phule, "Not much you can do with money in here, is there?"

Beeker's face was stoical. "The accumulated interest from the date of the raise could be significant, sir."

"You do have a point there," admitted Phule. Then his eyes grew wide. "Wait a minute...It's opening again."

They turned to see a portion of the wall again darkening and becoming porous, as it had when their captors had fed them. Were they going to see their captors at last? Or were they simply going to be fed again? The Hidden Ones did not necessarily have any notion how frequently humans needed to eat, although the food they had provided before indicated familiarity with their nutritional requirements.