"We ... uh ... were just leaving, weren't we, Sydney?" Jennie said, rising abruptly to her feet.

"That's right," the cameraman echoed, following her example. "Thanks for the dinner, Captain. Nice seeing you again, Colonel."

"That was really unnecessary, Colonel," Phule murmured as the two left. "Jennie and Sydney are okay."

"Forgive me if I don't share your love of the media, Captain," Battleax growled, her pasted-on smile slipping away, "but my own experiences with members of the fifth estate have been less than pleasant."

"So, to return to my original question," the commander said, "what are you doing on Lorelei? Forgive me, but I hadn't expected to see you-or anyone else from Headquarters, for that matter."

"I was on Brookston when I caught the media coverage of your arrival here," the colonel explained, "and realized why Blitzkrieg was so eager for me to take my vacation. Since I was having trouble figuring out what to do with my off time, anyway, I thought I'd drop by to see how things were going."

Phule made a few mental calculations and realized that to make the trip from Brookston to Lorelei by commercial transport, Battleax would have had to start her journey almost immediately upon seeing the newscast. Despite his surprise at her appearance, he was nonetheless touched by her obvious concern for himself and his troops.

"It was good of you to come," he said, "but we pretty much have things under control. I can probably get you a complimentary room, though, for the balance of your vacation. I have an `in' with the management here, and Lorelei really is a spectacular place."

He smiled warmly, but Battleax didn't return it.

"Uh-huh," she said. "Now, tell me the rest of it, Captain. All of it. What exactly is going on here?"

Phule hesitated for a moment, then heaved a heavy sigh.

"You've heard, huh? Well, let's just say that it's been a far cry from the easy duty in paradise that the general billed this assignment as."

"Could you be a bit more specific, Captain?" Battleax said, helping herself to some of the remaining wine. "Remember, I just got here."

"Well ... how much do you know so far?"

"Not a thing," the colonel said.

"But then how did you know ..."

"That things were rough?" Battleax finished. "Give me credit for a little intelligence at least, Captain Jester. It really wasn't all that hard to figure out. First, there's the fact that Blitzkrieg wouldn't give you a drink of water in a desert unless there was poison in it. That coupled with the timing of the assignment-waiting until he could deal with you without going through me-made the whole thing suspect from the beginning."

She paused to take another sip of wine.

"Second ... frankly, Captain, you look like hell. While I know you have a tendency to push yourself, you usually take better care of yourself than this-or, at least, that butler of yours does. It looks like you haven't slept in a week, and I'd be willing to bet it's because things are bad enough that you feel you have to oversee things personally, to a point where it takes priority over your own well-being. An admirable stance, perhaps, but still an indication that something's desperately wrong with this assignment. And finally ..." The colonel fixed the commander with a steely gaze. "I've made a point of keeping up on the Legionnaires under your command, Captain. I review their records and your reports on a regular basis. Even in the short time I've been here, I've noticed that there are several unfamiliar faces wearing Space Legion uniforms and I've recognized a few of your degenerates working as hotel staff. Realizing they all view you as their ringleader and wouldn't say boo to a goose unless they cleared it with you, I thought it best to come straight to the source for my information." She leaned back in her chair. "Now it's your turn, Captain. I want to know the truth behind what's happening on this assignment before I hear it from the media, for a change."

Phule made a face and shook his head ruefully. "It's a long story, Colonel."

Battleax waved for a waiter and signaled for another bottle of wine.

"I've got time," she said, settling into her chair.

Again, I am handicapped in my account by a lack of specific knowledge of the details surrounding an event or conversation which took place in my absence.

I do, however, feel I can state with some certainty that some form of the following exchange took place roughly in the time frame I am recording it here. I base this conclusion on the simple fact that Maxine Pruet is said to be a decisive leader, and it is doubtful she would leave delayed long before implementing a decision once it had been made.

"Shit!" Laverna declared, tossing down her pencil onto the nest of work sheets and notes in front of her. Like many of her profession, she preferred the old, manual form of doodling and numeric experimentation when trying to work out a problem.

"I know you don't want to hear this, Max, but my best recommendation is to throw in the towel and eat our losses on this one."

"How so?" her employer prompted from the sofa.

Laverna tapped the table repeatedly with her finger, organizing her thoughts for several moments before she spoke.

"The time factor is the killer," she said at last. "We might be able to put together something that would hurt Rafael financially, but not in time to keep him from paying off the note to you."

"Nothing at all?"

"Well, we could try to burn the place down to keep him from turning a profit at the tables, but then you'd have to rebuild from scratch once you took over ... and figure out how to offset the bad publicity from the fire. Besides, he's probably got insurance for `interruption of business,' so even that might not stop him."

"In any case, I don't think we want to go that far," Maxine said with a faint smile. "No, I tend to agree with you, Laverna. In fact, I arrived at much the same conclusion yesterday."

"You did?" Her advisor made no effort to hide the surprise in her voice. "Then how come you've been having me-"

"There might have been an option I overlooked," Max said. "That, and I guess I've been stalling having to say it out loud. This isn't the first time I've been outmaneuvered, but it doesn't make me any happier about running up the white flag." She rose and wandered over to the window. "I think what irritates me the most," she said, looking down at the inevitable stream of passing tourists, "is that I can't figure out just how he managed to do it."

"That's simple enough," Laverna said as she gathered up her work sheets. "The man used his money better than you used yours."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's clear that he's been spreading bribe money around the staff pretty good-or, at least, better than we have. There's no way he could have pulled this off without a lot of inside information."

"You think so? That's interesting. I assumed that Huey Martin provided him with all the information he needed."

"Uh-uh. He got more information somewhere than what Huey had to sell. There have got to be other folks in this complex serving as his eyes and ears-and I don't mean the security guards."

"Speaking of that," Maxine said, "has there been any word as to the whereabouts of that bartender? The one who so effectively removed Mr. Stilman from the picture?"

"Not yet," Laverna said. "I'll tell you, it's like the man vanished into thin air. He hasn't left Lorelei on any ship either as passenger or as a crew member. We got that much from the watchers at the spaceport. The thing is, though, he hasn't shown up at any hotel on or off the Strip, either."

"That's strange," Maxine said thoughtfully. "If nothing else, it should be hard to hide that hover cycle of his."