Phule stooped, trying to see if he could detect anything from a lower angle. But, as before, the opening stayed opaque, although apparently perfectly transparent to material substances. Through it, a round object about the size of a person's head came bouncing, making a jingling noise as it rolled across the enclosure and came to a stop at Beeker's feet. The butler bent to pick it up. "What in the world is this, sir?" he asked, holding it balanced on his palm.

Phule looked at the object, then said, "If I didn't know better, I'd say it was a gravball. Except they've put a bell inside it for some reason."

Rembrandt had taken advantage of an hour off duty to sketch the rugged terrain just beyond the Legion camp's perimeter. As always, she found that the challenge of turning blank paper into a recognizable picture of a specific landscape helped clear her mind of other matters-of which there were far too many at present-for a short time. But, as too often happened, other matters had come looking for her, and now she was going to have to deal with them.

"OK, Sushi, tell me what you've found," she said, wearily setting aside her sketchpad and pencil. "I won't even ask where you and Do-Wop have been hiding."

"I wouldn't tell you," said Sushi. "Major Botchup hasn't found out about us yet, but somehow, I don't think he'd authorize us to continue the search. And we have every intention of keeping it going. As Do-Wop says, `If the major don't like it, he can shove it.'"

"Sounds just like what he'd say," said Rembrandt. "But maybe you should ask yourself, what if I don't like it?"

"Well, we'd have to take that pretty seriously," said Sushi. "But as far as I'm concerned, the person with the final say is Captain Jester. If he tells me to give it up, that's final. Anybody else, I reserve the right to disagree."

"And what has the captain said?"

Sushi paused, then admitted, "I haven't talked to him. But from what I hear, he's acting very strange. Maybe being lost in the desert threw him into a loop-I don't know. Anyhow, I think my best move is just to keep on with the job he gave me."

Rembrandt sighed. "Sushi, even in Omega Company you can't just ignore a superior officer's orders. I wish the major had never been sent to us, but that doesn't change the rules. He's still our commanding officer, no matter how you feel about it."

Sushi winked at her. "I'm not ignoring his orders, Lieutenant. He hasn't given me any yet."

"Because Do-Wop and you have been AWOL ever since the major stepped out of his lander," said Rembrandt. "In fact, I'm technically violating the Legion Code of Conduct myself, for failing to report you two."

"We won't report you if you don't report us," said Sushi. "Now, why don't I tell you what I came here for, and get away before somebody else sees us and has to agonize over whether to report us both?"

"You know I wasn't going to report you," said Rembrandt. "But yes, if you've come out of hiding to tell me something, I'd better hear what it is. And then you'd better take off before somebody does see us together."

"Ah, you anticipate my plan," said Sushi, in a mock-villainous accent. He leaned forward and said, "Our new apparatus has picked up a signal from out in the desert; I'm pretty sure it's the aliens the Zenobians have been looking for."

Rembrandt sat up straighter. "A signal. I'll take it for granted you've eliminated other local sources. So, if you're right about what you've got, you and Do-Wop have just accomplished one of our main mission objectives, all by yourselves." She stopped and looked him in the eye before continuing. "Why are you telling me, anyway, instead of taking it to the CO? He's the one who needs to know it. Hey, he might even give you a citation."

"Whoopee," said Sushi, twirling a finger in the air. "Seriously, Remmie, I don't think so. The major got sent here for just one reason: to undermine Captain Jester. And the captain's got Do-Wop and me working on just the kind of wildcat scheme the brass hats hate. The major would rather fail doing things the Legion way than succeed any other way, especially if it comes from the captain. The best that could happen if I told him what I've got is that he'd ignore me. No, the best that could happen would be that he'd go ahead and let me finish up and do his damnedest to steal credit for it. Then, at least, something would get done."

"What needs doing?" asked Rembrandt.

"What needs doing is tracing that signal and seeing where it comes from," said Sushi. "I think that when we do that, we'll find the captain's hovercar, and Beeker, and maybe we'll learn what happened to the captain and how to fix it."

"That's worth doing," said Rembrandt, nodding. "Chocolate Harry already asked for a team to go find the hovercar, but the request is backed up in the paperwork on the major's desk. Meanwhile, everybody in the company knows the captain's not acting like himself, but he won't let the autodoc check him out, and the major's not interested in helping him. And most of the troops think the captain's getting away with something they wish they could do themselves, and they root for him when they think the major's not paying attention. Probably the only person with any chance to get him to take care of himself is Beeker."

"Right," said Sushi. "That's why we need to find Beeker and bring him back-if we can."

"I see," said Rembrandt. "So, what do you want me to do?"

Sushi smiled and said, "Here's my plan..."

Lieutenant Snipe squinted into the blazing sun. His brow was already covered with sweat, and he could tell that his uniform was going to be soaked if he spent more than a few minutes outside his air-conditioned office.

The Legion might have picked a somewhat more comfortable place to send him, he thought with some annoyance. If the brass had its mind so set on replacing Jester, why hadn't they come up with the plan while Omega Company was still at the luxury resort that had been its barracks before this assignment? The MBC was more comfortable than any standard barracks, but still...

Well, if he'd missed one opportunity, it was all the more reason to seize the one that had come along. Major Botchup was Snipe's first-class ticket to favor with Legion Headquarters, and he'd be an idiot if he didn't make the most of it, scorching climate be damned. And the first step on the ladder he meant to climb was making himself as useful as possible to the major. That meant discovering as many ways as possible for the major to discredit-and, ultimately, to destroy-his predecessor in command. Luckily, that part of the job was turning out to be quite easy.

Snipe spotted a group of legionnaires busy at some task or another and strode over to inspect what they were up to. It was almost a given that there'd be something to find fault with, and he could add another item to the list of failures being chalked up against Captain Jester's record. He smirked. Chewing out these sorry specimens would almost make up for the despicable heat.

The legionnaires noticed the lieutenant's approach, for he heard a low voice mutter, "Yo, here come Sneak." Snipe frowned; his hearing was good enough to make out the words, but he couldn't be certain which legionnaire had said it. Well, no officer worth his salt would let his inability to spot the offender keep him from imposing proper discipline. It would be even more satisfying to make them all pay. For the moment, he'd pretend to ignore the insult.

"What are you men doing?" he snapped, balling his fists and putting them on his hips. The posture, intended to establish his authority, instead made him look faintly ridiculous. Even so, the group of legionnaires stopped whatever they'd been doing and turned to face him.

"We workin', Lieutenant," said one man. He was a lanky fellow whose name tag read Street, and his accent was so thick that Snipe had to think a moment before he realized what the man had said.