"Your father," Illya explained. "I got to your house and he gave me a warm bath, some liniment - cow brand, I think, from the sting of it - and a couple of drinks. He made me almost as good as new."

"Gloryanna's father?" Solo was surprised. "He actually let you in the house?" He remembered only too well how the man had thrown him off the farm.

Illya smiled slyly. "He said he liked my face. And he had a lot of well chosen words for you."

"Thanks," Solo said with a grin. "Next time I meet him I'll impersonate a ragamuffin and maybe he'll let Gloryanna see us off with our ink bottles."

Solo reached under the hay and retrieved his three prizes. "Our monthly salary, Illya. Again we manage to return with our shields and not on them."

Illya glanced about. "We'll need help to clean up this barn. And you might dress, Napoleon. Such a display of manly charm is misleading to a sweet girl like Gloryanna."

Gloryanna met Illya's eyes steadily, proving that there wasn't a blush in her. "Why did you have to spoil my whole day? I was enjoying the view. But - let's do go home, all right? Because pretty soon the reaction will set in and I'll cry like a baby. I refuse to shed a tear in front of this moon woman."

She took Galaxy roughly in tow and Solo waited to see what Galaxy would do. Galaxy surrendered. Gloryanna's strength was obvious and the dancer wouldn't endanger one soft contour by trying to fight free.

Solo and Illya pivoted together and went to collect Mr. Saturn. "Alley-oop," Solo told the half-conscious man. "You have a command performance coming up, Saturn. United Network Command."

Illya scowled humorlessly at the joke and helped heave the skinny prisoner to his feet where he held him while Solo used Dundee's own Thrush radio to call Chicago for an intercept on the helicopter scheduled to rendezvous at the barn.