"By what authority?"

"Oh, come now, Captain. Isn't it obvious? Dealing with a new alien race, particularly one which is potentially hostile, is much more in the Army's line than the Legion's."

"I don't think it's all that obvious."

"Do you mean to say you think...

"In fact," the Legion commander continued, raising his voice slightly to cut off the major's protests, "what's obvious to me is that the Legion has been contracted to protect Haskin's citizens from whatever dwells in or comes out of these swamps, and that you and your force, Major, are interfering with our operation. Now, while I appreciate your offer of help, and would love nothing better than discussing military protocol with you, we're rather busy at the moment. Would you kindly take your force and retire?"

"You want authority?" O'Donnel said tightly, fighting to control his temper. "All right. I'll play your game. Pass me one of your communicators and I'll get authorization for you."

"I'm sorry, Major. Our communication network is for Legion personnel only. I'm afraid you'll have to hike back to the settlement to find and open-"

"Damn it, Willard!" the major exploded. "By what right do you have the gall to try to give orders to a unit of the Regular Army?"

"Well, Matthew," Phule said softly, "how about because at the moment we have you outnumbered by roughly ten to one?"

O'Donnel was suddenly aware that most of the nearby Legionnaires were listening to their conversation and that an uncomfortable number of weapons were now pointed in the general direction of the Red Eagles rather than at the alien ship.

"Are you threatening us?" he hissed, still watching the Legionnaires' weapons. "Would you actually order your troops to open fire on friendly forces from the Regular Army?"

"In a minute," Brandy said levelly.

"That's enough, Sergeant," Phule snapped. "As to your question, Major... Lieutenant Rembrandt?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"Do we have any hard evidence that the aliens are not capable of shape changing or low-level illusionary mind control?"

"No, sir."

"So for all we know, they may have the ability to disguise themselves as humans, even a people we already know, to infiltrate our positions?"

"Well... I guess so... sir."

"There you have it, Major. If necessary, I would feel more than justified in allowing my troops to defend themselves from any intruders, even if those intruders happened to look like a Regular Army unit."

"But...

"And especially," Phule continued, dropping his voice, "if they were conducting themselves in a manner inconsistent with known behavior patterns. You're losing it, Matthew. Cool down and we'll try it again... from the top."

O'Donnel wisely followed the advice, taking and releasing several long breaths before resuming the conversation.

"Am I to understand," he said at last, "that you are refusing to relinquish the situation to the Regular Army?"

"That is correct, Major O'Donnel," the Legion commander confirmed. "In my opinion, it still falls within our contracted services and is therefore our responsibility and ours alone. Simply put, it's our fight, so back off."

The major glanced at the waiting Eagles again.

"Seriously, Captain, are you sure you wouldn't like to have my boys around-at least as a backup?

Phule wavered. There was no denying the benefits of having a team like the Red Eagles around.

"Would you be willing to serve as a reserve unit under my command?"

O'Donnel straightened slightly and saluted.

"If that's the only way we can be included in this waltz, then yes, sir! Reporting for duty, sir."

It was far from an unconditional surrender, and everyone present knew there would be a reckoning later on. Still, if O'Donnel said he would take orders from the Legion, then his word would be good... at least until the engagement was over.

"Very well, Major," Phule said, returning the salute with equal formality, "then I want you to take your force and pull back about two hundred meters. I'll let you know when and if we need you... and thanks."

"How will we know if we're needed?" the major pressed, ignoring the offered thanks.

The Legion commander looked around, then raised his voice slightly.

"Tusk-anini!"

"Yes, sir?"

The large Legionnaire came crawling on his elbows at his commander's summons.

"I want you to go with Major O'Donnel and the Red Eagles while they take up a reserve position. We'll use your wrist communicator to send instructions if we need backup."

"No, sir!"

"What?"

Phule was momentarily stunned by the refusal.

"No send away. I work hard... train hard. Have much right anybody be here for fight. Send someone else... Please, Captain."

At a loss as to how to deal with the Voltron's obvious sincerity, the commander glanced about, seeking someone else to take the assignment. None of the other Legionnaires would meet his eyes, however, everyone suddenly developing intense interest in the alien spacecraft.

"All right, Tusk. Then give me your communicator."

"Sir?"

"Give it to me, then get back to your position."

After a moment's fumbling with the straps; Tusk-anini handed over his precious wrist communicator, then went squirming across the ground to resume his post.

"I thought he was supposed to be a pacifist," O'Donnel said, watching the Voltron go.

"So did I," Phule acknowledged absently as he worked the communicator's settings. "All right, Major. I've keyed this thing for a beeper cue so it won't give your position away when it goes off. Three beeps means we need you, then press this side lever here to go into talk/receive mode for specific instructions. Except for that, don't touch any of the controls. If you're not familiar with the unit, you might end up making noise at someone's else's position by mistake. Clear?"

"Got it." The major nodded, accepting the communicator. "We'll be waiting if you need us."

"All right, get moving. And Major... thanks."

O'Donnel threw him a wry salute and scuttled off to join the Eagles.

"Do you really trust him, Captain?" Brandy said skeptically.

"Just a moment... " Phule was busy working his own communicator. "Mother?"

"Com Central here, Captain."

"Major O'Donnel and the Red Eagles are now on the network using Tusk-anini's communicator. Do not-repeat, do not-allow him to make any calls outside this area. Also monitor his position and inform me immediately if he starts moving. Copy?"

"Got it. "

"Jester out." Phule shut down his communicator and turned to Brandy. "In answer to your question, Sergeant, of course I trust him. Trust is the cornerstone on which intra-service respect and cooperation are built."

"Right, sir. Sorry I asked."

"Now then, returning to the original reason for this party"-the commander flashed a quick smile-"I think we've learned about as much as we can about our visitors from watching them. Spartacus, I'm going to have to borrow your translator."

"My translator?" the Sinthian chimed.

"That's right. Then switch your position to where you're close enough to Louie for him to translate for you if necessary."

"Excuse me; Captain," Lieutenant Rembrandt said, scowling, "but what do you need a translator for?"

"I'm going to try to open communications with the beings in that ship, and I don't think it's safe to assume we speak each other's language."

"But that's... I mean... do you think that's wise, sir?"

"I figure it's wiser than opening fire on them if there's a chance they're friendly... or cooling our heels out here while they get ready to attack if they're not," the commander said. "One way or the other, we've got to find out what their intentions are."

"By setting yourself up to be a duck in a shooting gallery?" Brandy frowned. "Don't you think it would be better to send someone out who's a little more expendable than you are, Captain? We really don't need our chain of command blown apart on the first salvo."