"Are you sure this guy can deliver the goods, C.H.?" Phule said impatiently, glancing at the door of the cocktail lounge for the twentieth' time. "If this turns out to be a waste of my time... "

"Don't fret yourself none, Cap'n," his supply sergeant said, desperately signaling the bartender for another round for his commander. "If my man says he's got 'em... he's got 'em. I just thought it would be best if the two of you met face-to-face before any money changed hands, is all."

The subject of this oblique discussion was knives. Harry claimed to have found a source who could supply them with a large quantity of the latest design in "action" knives, which was to say spring-loaded. These beauties were unusual in that not only did the blade emerge straight out of the handle at the touch of a button, as opposed to the more traditional switchblades which opened from the side like a jackknife, but if one held down the locking lever while triggering the blade, it would keep going, launched like a dart by the forty-pound spring that powered the mechanism. All in all, they were deadly little beasts. They were also illegal... hence the cloak-and-dagger approach to closing the deal.

Harry's connection had refused to come out to The Club to discuss the matter, but had agreed to meet them at their old watering hole, the Hotel Plaza lounge. Not surprisingly, the Legionnaires were well remembered at that establishment, and part of Phule's nervousness was that he was afraid their supplier would be scared off if Bombest or any of the rest of the hotel staff were talking to them when he arrived.

"How are things going with the inventory?" he inquired, more to make conversation than anything else. "Are you going to be ready by next week?"

"Ready anytime you are, Cap'n." The sergeant grinned. "Just be sure to wear one of your old uniforms. Physical inventories can get kinda dusty."

"Oh, I'm not going to be doing the audit."

"Yer not?" Harry scowled. "You mean my boys have been doin' all that prep work for nothin'?"

"Not exactly," the commander said. "I've asked Sushi to handle the first couple rounds with you."

"Sushi? Aw, c'mon, Cap'n. That's not exactly fair."

Sushi's partner, Do-Wop, had proved to be less than discreet when it came to bragging about his crony's criminal achievements. As a result, that notable's history as an embezzler was already legend throughout the company.

"Think of it as setting a poacher to catch a poacher, C.H." Phule smiled. "I figure he knows more about what to watch for than I do. Of course, I'll be spot-checking his work as well."

"But don't you think... Uh-oh. Here comes trouble."

Phule followed his sergeant's gaze. Chief Goetz had just entered the lounge and was making a beeline for their table.

"Just relax, Harry," he murmured. "Let's not be too eager to post bail until we're charged."

"Haw! Hey, that's a good one, Cap'n."

"Good afternoon, Willard... Sergeant." Goetz was standing over their table now. "Mind if I join you for a drink, or am I interrupting something?"

"As a matter of fact, Chief," Phule said, glancing pointedly at his watch, "we are waiting to meet someone."

Ignoring the hint, the policeman pulled up a chair and parked himself on it as if he had been invited.

"You know, it's funny you should mention that." He smiled, waving for the bartender. "We've got a guy down at the station, name of Weasel Honeycutt. Picked him up for questioning on a couple break-ins last night, and you know what? Instead of pushing for a lawyer like he usually does, what he wanted was for someone to come down here and tell you he wouldn't be able to meet with you today... and here I am, being a conscientious public servant. Would that, by any chance, be the appointment you were waiting for?"

"Uh..."

"Good. Then you've got time to have that drink with me, and maybe answer a few questions yourselves... like what's up between you and the Weasel?"

The last came out as a snarl, as Goetz abandoned his pleasant manner and glared at the two Legionnaires.

"He wanted to talk to the cap'n here about enlistin'," Harry answered quickly.

Phule barely managed to avoid choking on an ice cube.

"Enlisting?" The chief's eyebrows collided with his hairline. "I knew the Legion wasn't picky about whom they recruited, but don't you think that the Weasel is stooping a bit... even for you? I mean, you've already got one fence and black marketeer working for you."

He stared pointedly at Chocolate Harry, who shifted uneasily in his chair.

"Regulations require me to speak with anyone who expresses an interest in enlisting," Phule interceded smoothly. "One's pre-Legion history is unimportant to us. As you've so tactfully noted, we take anyone... we've even been known to accept ex-cops."

That earned a guffaw from the policeman, though the best Harry could manage was a weak smile.

"You got me there, Captain," Goetz acknowledged with a mock salute. "I don't think you'll get the Weasel, though. It would mean too much of a pay cut for him... unless you're supplementing his enlistment bonus personally, that is."

"It was just talk," Harry mumbled, playing with his empty glass. "You know... nothin' definite."

The chief pursed his lips for a moment, then nodded.

"All right," he said. "We'll let it drop for now and keep it social. I'll tell you, though, if there's a chance it might get the Weasel off-planet and out of my jurisdiction, I'll help with the paperwork myself."

He paused as the bartender delivered his drink. By unspoken agreement, he paid for his own, lest there be any question as to whether he was accepting bribes from the Legionnaires.

"Mebbe I should get on back to The Club, Cap'n," Harry muttered, starting to rise, but Phule waved him back into his seat.

"Relax, C.H.," he said. "The chief here says it's just a social visit, and besides, it's about time you two got to know each other a little better."

"Where are the rest of your bandits, if you don't mind my asking?" Goetz said, taking a sip of his drink. "Haven't seen any of them around town today."

"It's a duty day," Phule explained. "The fearless forces of the Space Legion are hip-deep in muck, protecting the miners from the local ecology, and vice versa. The fact that C.H. and I happened to schedule our... meeting the same day as we would be normally joining our comrades in their discomfort is mere coincidence."

"Amen to that," Harry acknowledged with his first genuine grin since Goetz entered the lounge.

"Say"-the chief frowned, peering at one of the other groups in the lounges-"isn't that the Eagles' commander sitting over there with that little reporter... whatzername?"

"Jennie," the Legion commander said without looking. "I believe it is. Why do you ask?"

"I thought you had her staked out as private property. Or is she part of the settlement between you and the Army?"

"She's her own woman," Phule said. "Always has been, from all I can tell. Just because we had dinner together a couple of times doesn't mean-"

The shrill screech of his wrist communicator interrupted him in midsentence.

Annoyed, since he had left word he was not to be interrupted, the commander debated for a moment as to whether or not to acknowledge the call. Then it occurred to him that it would have to be important to override his orders, and he reached for the controls.

"Excuse me a moment, Chief... Phule here, Mother. What's the problem?"

"We've got trouble, Captain," came the communication specialist's voice without any of her normal banter.

"What...

"I'll let you hear it direct. Stand by for a patch from field operations... Go ahead, Lieutenant."

"Captain Jester? Rembrandt here."

"Go ahead, Lieutenant."

"We have a situation here. I thought I should alert you as soon as possible."