"Sure, that ought to work just as well," said Sushi. "We'll give it a try when we stop again. It shouldn't take long to set up."

The search party set out again in the direction Sushi's detector indicated the signal was coming from. But it was only a short time when Sushi stopped and said, "Hold on, guys. This thing's going crazy."

"Crazy? How?" asked Brick. "Has it stopped picking up the signal?"

"No, the directional indicator's gone haywire," said Sushi. "It says the signal's coming from all directions. Wait a minute...That could only mean one thing. Except it doesn't make any sense."

"I see what you mean," said Qual. "If the signal comes from all directions, it means we are in the place where the signal comes from. Yet there is nothing but the desert here." He had taken a handheld spotlight off his belt and was shining its beam in all directions.

"Be damn," said Double-X. "Maybe them Hidden Ones really are invisible."

"I still don't believe that," said Sushi. "More likely, they're hiding underground."

"Then the signal would come from below us, would it not?" said Mahatma. "Does the detector indicate that?"

"No, it's from all directions including straight up," said Sushi. "Maybe it's time to hook up a translator to the detector-"

"Hey, what's that?" said Brick, pointing off into the desert.

Qual swung his spotlight beam back in the direction she was pointing, and the legionnaires saw the reflection of the beam from something metallic.

"We'd better go check it out," said Sushi. "What are your orders, Flight Leftenant?"

"Wait, I can see it well," said Garbo, the gambolt. "It is a Legion hoverjeep!"

"It's gotta be the captain's jeep," said Double-X. "What's it doin' this far out? That's a hell of a hike for a guy without any supplies or protection."

"That's a good question," said Sushi. "I expect we're going to learn the answer to that, and to a lot of other questions, very soon now."

"Yes, I think we are," said Qual. "Here is the plan. Sushi and I will advance carefully and examine the jeep; the rest of you must take up positions whence you can observe and keep us covered in case of surprise; having the best night eyes, Garbo will command the covering party. Be certain to shout a warning if you see any movement other than ourselves. Is it understood?"

"Understood, Leftenant Qual," murmured Garbo. She directed her group to fan out to positions with clear sight lines toward the hoverjeep, while Qual and Sushi carefully made their way forward. Stunners on the ready, they waited breathlessly to see what would happen next. Around them, the sounds of the desert filled the air.

The camp was full of activity as Lieutenant Snipe emerged from the CO's office into the open area inside the perimeter-as active as he'd ever seen it. Brandy had the troops in their defensive emplacements, and everyone in sight was wearing a helmet and body armor. It made the lieutenant's blood sing to see it.

A short distance away, Snipe spotted Lieutenant Armstrong scanning the sky with a pair of high-powered stereoculars. Snipe hurried over and stood next to Armstrong. "What can you see?" he said.

"The ship's still below the horizon," said Armstrong, with a casual air that Snipe wished he could emulate. "So far, no sign of missiles or landing craft."

"Keep a sharp eye out," said Snipe, not bothering to keep an edge out of his voice. "I'll need to know instantly if you spot any sign of activity."

Lieutenant Armstrong took the 'ocs away from his eyes and fixed Snipe with a look that would have made an oyster flinch. "Sure, Lieutenant Snipe, just as soon as I see anything worth reporting. I hope you don't mind if I use my judgment. It'll be a few minutes before the ship clears the horizon, so if you need to do anything urgent-"

"Good, good, keep your eyes peeled," said Snipe, oblivious to the chill in Armstrong's voice. He turned and headed toward the perimeter to check out the defenses.

To Snipe's surprise, there were only two legionnaires visible, sitting with their feet in the perimeter trench and quietly eating sandwiches, with their backs facing outward. One of them was looking at the centerfold of a men's magazine, while the other was nodding his head in time to the music in the earphones he wore. "What are you doing?" Snipe shrieked, his voice going up an octave in pitch. "There's an unidentified ship-probably an enemy-approaching the camp, and you've got nothing better to do than sit here reading a skin mag?"

"Chill, Lieutenant," said the one wearing earphones-Snipe recognized him as the one named Street. "We on lunch break, is all."

"Lunch break!" Snipe's jaw dropped. "I never heard such bullshit! This is a war zone, legionnaire, and we're under attack. Who told you to take a break?"

"Sergeant Brandy said it was OK," said the other legionnaire. Snipe saw that his name tag read Gears.

"'Sides, ain't no attack I can see," said Street. "Somebody starts attackin', we be there."

"And meanwhile you think you can go off and do as you please," snarled Snipe. "The major will hear of this, you know. Consider yourselves both on report!"

"You can go get yourself some vacuum," said Street. "I take my orders from Brandy." He reached down, turned up the volume control on his headset, and proceeded to act as if Snipe did not exist.

Furious, the lieutenant turned around and began to search for the first sergeant. To his surprise, she was nowhere near the two errant soldiers. Finally spotting her unmistakable figure across the camp, he marched over to her, stiff as an overwound toy soldier.

Brandy was standing on the parapet of the trench on this side, looking out over the desert. "Sergeant!" Snipe strode right up to her and put his hands on his hips. "Sergeant, I need to talk to you."

Brandy turned slowly and looked at him. "We're in the middle of a situation right now, Lieutenant Snipe. Is this important, or can you wait until we get it sorted out?"

"A situation! I should say so," said Snipe. "You've left the entire western perimeter undefended, except for a couple of men who say you told them to take a break!"

"That ship's coming from the east, Lieutenant," said Brandy. "If it's going to land west of us, we'll get plenty of notice. We don't even know if it's landing at all. If it does, I've got time to get those men back."

"That's not the point, Sergeant," said Snipe. "Discipline must be maintained-"

"Sure, sure," said Brandy, waving the lieutenant off with a huge hand. "You Headquarters types always think discipline's the whole game. But this is Omega Company "

"Yes, and your headline-hogging Captain Jester thinks he can throw away centuries of Legion tradition," said Snipe. "Well, your little journey into unreality is over, Sergeant. We're going to do things the Legion way from here on out. And you're going to-"

"Here comes the ship," a voice behind him called suddenly. It added, dryly, "Looks like she's about to land."

"Oh my God!" said Snipe, turning white as a sheet. He turned to Brandy, but she was already moving along the line, giving terse orders to her people. The whole line tensed, looking at the dot of light that was now visible to everybody in the camp. Lower it came, and lower still. Snipe watched in helpless fascination. It seemed to descend agonizingly slowly, but at last it touched down.

After a careful approach, Qual and Sushi reached the hoverjeep only to discover that it was unoccupied. That was a disappointment, though hardly a surprise. Inside the vehicle's cab, the legionnaires found equipment belonging to both Phule and Beeker: notably the captain's Port-a-Brain computer, an item that could put a serious dent in the budgets of most planetary governments.

"That's not something the captain would leave behind unless he was out of choices," said Sushi. "And if Beeker were in any position to protest, he'd have made him take it along anyway. I wonder why he didn't bring it back to camp with him."