I boosted him through the window and let him drop onto the bed, then closed and locked the window behind us. There was a key in the door which made everything very much easier.

TUB eniMi BCC erKBi aaT MTC nDfBTBn

“Look,” I said, “lie here and recuperate. I’m going to lock you in. The building is empty as far as I can see, so what I have to do should not be long. Take a rest and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

I went carefully, but the building was empty of life and silent as the tomb. Its occupants away and hopefully hard at work. I had time to pick and choose, make my selections and select the right sizes. I heard a muffled moan of agony when I let myself back into the room, to which I responded as cheerfully as I could.

“New uniform—new persona!” I handed them over to Morton. “Get dressed and give me our old clothes. There’s enough light from outside to make that easy. Here, let me tie that necktie, you are all butterfingers today.” Dressed and ready, our caps square upon our heads,

our old clothes buried in a laundry basket, we sauntered forth into the corridor. Morton looked at me and gasped and fell away.

“Cheer up—you look the same way. Except that you are a second lieutenant while I am a captain. It is a young army.”

“B-but,” he stammered. “You are a… Military Policeman!”

“And so are you. No one ever questions a cop.” We turned the corner as I said this and approached the front entrance. The major standing there with a clipboard looked up at us and scowled.

“Now I have vou.” he said.

I snapped to attention, I could think of nothing else to do—and hoped Morton was not too paralyzed to do the same. There were just two of them, the major and the guard at the door. After I dropped the major could I reach the guard before he could get out his gun? A neat problem. The major was looking at his clipboard. Now—get him!

He looked up as I swayed forward. The guard was looking at me too. I swayed back.

“I missed you at the airport,” the major said. “You must have come on the earlier flight. But these shipping orders say two captains. Who is this lieutenant?”

Shipping orders? Two captains? I stopped my eyeballs spinning and finally threw my brain into gear.

“Could be an error, sir. Lot of confusion today. Might I see the orders?”

He grunted uncommunicatively and passed them over. I ran my finger down the list of crossed-off names to the remaining two at the bottom. Then passed them back.

“Error like I said, sir. I’m Captain Drem. This is Lieutenant Hesk, not captain the way they got it here.”

“Right,” he said, making the change on his sheet. “Let’s go-” We went. Outside the door was a truck stuffed with Military Police, a very disgusting sight. The major climbed into the cab, rank does have its privileges, and I led Morton to the rear. Moving quickly because I saw something that I hoped the major had not seen. Two MP officers, both captains, walking toward us. They scowled and passed and turned into the BOQ. I scowled in return, turning the scowl into a glare when I looked into the back of the truck and saw that there were no officers among the redhats there.

“What is this—a meeting of the girls’ club,” I snarled. “Move back, make room, shut up, give us a hand.” All of this was done with alacrity. Morton and I sat on the recently vacated bench and the truck pulled forward. I let out my breath slowly—from between still-snarling teeth. We bumped and swayed our way through the night and I began to feel very, very tired. It had been that kind of day.

“Do you know where we are going, captain?” a burly sergeant asked. “Shut up!”

“Thank you, sir.”

There was only silence after this witty exchange. Cold silence that continued until we ground to a stop and the major reappeared. “Climb out,” he ordered. “Captain, follow me.”

“Fall these men in, lieutenant,” I told Morton. He stumbled after me his face white with despair in the glare of the street lights.

“How, what, glug,” he whispered.

“Order a sergeant to do it,” I whispered back. “Pass the buck, that’s the army way.”

I trotted after the major who had stopped before the entrance of a large building and was going through an immense ring of keys. I stood at ease and looked at the large posters beside the door. Then looked closer when I realized they were 3Ds, in living color, of a number of naked young women. When my head moved they moved and I swayed slightly.

“Knock that off. caotain.” the maior ordered and I snapped to attention, my eyes still focused on the sign that read BASE BURLESQUE—OFFICERS ONLY. The major found the key he was looking for and turned it in the lock. “No performance tonight,” he said. “We’ve commandeered the place for an emergency meeting. Top security. As soon as the techs get here I want the entire theatre swept clean. And I mean clean. I want an MP with every tech and I want a headcount and I am making you responsible. Got that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m going to check aU the other doors personally to make sure they are locked. Get cracking, we only have an hour.”

I threw a salute as he moved off around the building and wondered just what I had gotten myself into. The rumble of engines cut through my thoughts as a truck pulled up at the curb before me. A sergeant climbed down from the cab and saluted me.

“And what do we have here?” I asked.

“Instrument technicians, sir. We were ordered…”

“I’ll bet you were. Unload them and fall them in.”

“Yes, sir.”

I stamped back to the MPs who were neatly lined up at attention and pointed my finger at Morton. “You, Lieutenant Hesk, get over in frdnt of that entrance. No one in or out without my permission.”

My heart dropped as Morton started to look over his shoulder. Memory of his new name apparently filtered through because he recovered himself and hurried away. I turned back and scowled at the MPs, with particular attention to the sergeant who stood before them. Grayhaired, skin like an old boot, stripes and hashmarks clogging his sleeve.

“You senior NCO?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Bight. Here is the drill. Those techs are going to sweep this theatre. I want one MP with every tech. I want every man counted in and counted out and I want no

TUB CTAiNteee sreeL BAT eers iwuTEn errors. And I want the sweep complete and overlapping and that building clean. Any questions?”

“No, captain. They’ll snap-cagal for me.”

“I thought they would. Get cracking.”

He turned on his heel, inflated his lungs—and let out a blast of orders that blew the cap off the nearest MP. They moved. I stepped back and nodded approval. Then stamped over and positioned myself next to Morton.

“Something big coming down,” I said quietly. “Secret meeting in an hour and we are in charge of security.” I ignored his moan of anguish. “Just stand around and look military and stay away from the major when he gets back. I don’t know about you, but I find this very interesting.” He moaned again and I strolled over to inspect the arrangements.

The technicians had shouldered their backpacks and were adjusting dials on the control panels that each of them wore slung about the chest. One of them pointed his detector wand at the side of the truck and I could see the needles jump; there was a squeal from the earphones that he had hung about his neck.

“Captain. Some trouble here.” I turned around. “What is it, sergeant.”

“This cagal-kopf says he got a malfunction.” He had a white-faced tech by the arm and was shaking him like a dog with a bone.

“Battery, sir,” the man wailed. “Checked… it’s a malfunction… fuse!”

“Arrest him, sergeant. The charge is sabotage. Have him shot at dawn.” The sergeant smiled, the tech moaned and I bent until my face was close to his. “Or can you manage to trace and repair this malfunction in the next sixty seconds?”