"You mean Dee Dee Watkins?" Armstrong frowned. "Do you think she'd go along with it?"

"Leave her to me." Lex winked. "Remember, I speak the language. It might cost a little, though."

"Set it up, Lex," Rembrandt said, reaching her decision. "In fact, I'll put the whole diversion in your hands, since you know more about this sort of thing than any of us. If anyone gives you any flak, tell them I've given you a battlefield promotion to the rank of acting sergeant for the duration of this operation."

She glanced at Battleax, who nodded her approval.

"Yes, sir," Lex said, snapped off a salute, and started to turn away, then hesitated. "What about the owner ... whazizname ... Gunther? Should I clear this with him as well?"

"If you want, Remmie, I'll handle that," Armstrong offered. "I've gotten the impression that Mr. Rafael is afraid of me, for some reason."

"Do that, Lieutenant," Rembrandt said. "But remember to ask nice."

Armstrong frowned. "I hadn't planned to ask ... just inform him of what we were going to do."

"That's what I meant." Rembrandt smiled sweetly. "Carry on, Lieutenant. You, too, Sergeant."

The actor moved a few steps away and triggered his wrist communicator.

"Lex, you rascal," came Mother's voice. "How many times have I got to tell you no before you stop tying up the airwaves? You're a gorgeous hunk of man, but I just ain't interested. Okay?"

The actor flushed slightly at the snickers that erupted from the Legionnaires standing close enough to hear, but pressed on with his new duty.

"This is Sergeant Lex, Mother, and this is an official call."

"Come again?"

"I said this is Sergeant-all right, Acting Sergeant Lex. I'm down here at the war council, and Lieutenant Rembrandt has just put me on a special assignment. I need your help."

"Who doesn't?" came the jaunty response. "Okay, Acting Sergeant Lex, what can I do for you?"

"Dee Dee Watkins should be finishing her show in the next few minutes," the actor said. "Have someone meet her when she comes offstage and bring her over to the war council. Then see if you can find that cameraman and send him along as well. In fact, get the reporter, too, if you can find her. No harm in a little publicity while we're doing this. Also, pass the word to the duty crew that there'll be new orders coming shortly. We're going to be evacuating the complex for a while. Got that?"

"Got it," Mother echoed. "Sounds like we're finally on the move."

"I'll leave that explanation to Lieutenant Rembrandt," Lex countered. "Just put those calls through, and give me a confirmation when you're done. Okay?"

"I'm on it. Mother out."

Glancing around, Lex caught Trooper's eye and beckoned him over.

"I've got to duck out of here for a few minutes," he. said. "If Dee Dee or the others show up, hang on to them until I get back."

"Where are you going, Lex?" the youth inquired.

"I don't know about the cameraman," the actor explained, "but I do know Dee Dee won't powder her nose without a contract. Fortunately I happen to have a couple blanks upstairs in my room."

"You do?"

"I never leave home without one, kid, even if I only end up using it for a reference." Lex winked. "As you can see, there's no telling when your next job might pop up."

In short order, the meeting had broken down into a number of small groups, each working out the details of their own portion of the operation. Conversation ebbed and swirled as small arguments broke out over one specific or other, but these were quickly smoothed over. Despite their occasional differences, everyone was united behind one objective-to free their captain before any harm came to him-and there was simply no time to indulge in petty bickering.

"I know there are holes in it," Lex was saying to Dee Dee. "I just thought you'd rather have some kind of contract. If you want, we can do this on scout's honor."

"Not a chance," the starlet said. "But really, Lex, this contract is for a series, not a movie."

"It's a fast copy of my last contract," the actor explained, "which happened to be for a series. We don't have time to put together a new agreement from scratch. Think of it as being for a series of movies."

"At these prices? Not bloody likely," Dee Dee said with a snort.

"I keep telling you, love, there's no actual movie involved. We just want to make a bit of noise and clutter so that the tourists will think we're making a movie."

"Even so, I'm worth ten times what's being offered here."

Lex flashed a wide smile at her.

"Oh, come on, ducks. Maybe the rabble will believe that, if you plant it in enough columns, but you and I both know that if you could command those kinds of prices, you wouldn't be doing a lounge act right now."

"You're such a bastard, Lex," the starlet said, baring her teeth.

"Look, don't think of it as being underpaid for a movie, think of it as being vastly overpaid for maybe an hour's posturing. Now, do you want in on this or not? We can shove someone else out in front of the camera, you know, but I'd rather it was someone the common folk will recognize."

"Oh, all right!" Dee Dee grumbled, scribbling her name next to Lex's on the document. "Now, how about wardrobe? What's this thing supposed to be about, anyway?"

"We figured the rough scenario would be the wronged woman-only you're an ex-army type so you're getting even with a machine gun or something. That will explain all the uniforms and lethal hardware we'll have hanging around."

"Not bad," the actress said judiciously. "With the Lorelei backdrop, we could call it The Long Shot. Say, does that mean I get one of those uniforms like everyone else is wearing?"

That much of the conversation, at least, caught the attention of several of the Legionnaires in the room. Glancing over to check Lex's reaction, they noted that, to his credit, a quick expression of distaste swept across his features before he caught himself and regained his confident smile.

"And hide those luscious curves of yours in baggy fatigues?" he said smoothly. "Not a chance, love. We want something that will show off everything the public is paying to see. How about that sexy tight outfit you were wearing at rehearsals?"

"You mean my old leotard?" The starlet frowned. "It's got a couple tears in it and is worn almost through in spots ... some rather revealing spots."

"Precisely." Lex beamed. "Of course, we'll give you some nasty-looking weaponry and maybe an ammo belt ... Sergeant Harry?"

"Yo, Lex."

"Can you fix Dee Dee up with some big, ugly armaments? Something that looks scary, but is light enough for her to handle?"

"Can do," the supply sergeant said, his eyes darting over the starlet's form. "I'll have one of the boys pull the firing pin just to be sure it don't go off accidental."

"There. You see?"

"But ..."

"Just scamper along, love, and fetch back that outfit. I think we're going to be moving soon."

Chocolate Harry, in the meantime, was having problems of his own. A small tug-of-war was escalating between one of his supply clerks and the big Voltron, Tusk-anini.

"Come on, Tusk," Super Gnat was saying, trying to dissuade her partner. "We can go with something else."

"Give me weapon now!" the Voltron insisted, ignoring the little Legionnaire as he tugged once more at the armament the supply clerk was clinging to, all but lifting the man's feet from the ground in the process.

"Hold it, Tusk-anini!" C. H. said, stepping in. "What seems to be the problem here, Jason?"

"He wants to use one of the Rolling Thunder belt-fed shotguns," the clerk complained, still red-faced from the argument and the exertion, "but he hasn't ever qualified with it!"

"You really want to use this, Tusk?" the sergeant said, making no effort to hide his surprise. "It don't really seem to be your style."