"I believe I have a small amount of vacation time accrued, do I not, sir?"

"As a matter of fact, you have a lot of vacation time coming. Why do you ask?"

"I was thinking I might take some of it prior to our arrival on Lorelei ... if it's convenient, that is."

Phule frowned.

"I can't say it's really convenient," he said, "what with us getting ready for a major relocation. Still ... what's up, Beek? If you don't mind my asking."

"I believe your plans call for Lieutenant Rembrandt to depart early? To audition and select a group of actors and actresses to replace those Legionnaires who will be working under cover?"

Phule nodded. "That's correct." He had never asked how it was that his butler always seemed to know his plans and decisions without being told ... mostly because he wasn't sure he wanted to know how this miracle was performed.

"Well, sir, I was thinking I might accompany her on her mission. While I'm sure that she is more than capable of completing her assignment on her own, it occurs to me that there will be a myriad of nonmilitary details and arrangements to be handled in connection with her work, things she may only have minimal experience in dealing with. While I would make arrangements to see to the packing and moving of our own gear before I left, I frankly think my services would be more valuable to her than to you in the upcoming weeks."

"I see," Phule said, pursing his lips. "I don't see where there would be any problem in letting you do that. Let me think about it and get back to you with my decision."

"Very good, sir. If I might add, however, I assume that Lieutenant Rembrandt will be in civilian garb for her mission?"

The commander nodded. "I hadn't thought about it, but you're right, Beeker. She'd have to be. Otherwise the media would catch wind of it and tip our hand before we even got started."

"Well, sir, I, for one, haven't see the lieutenant in anything except her Legionnaire wardrobe. While I have no reason to doubt the extent of her civilian wardrobe or her ability to supplement it as necessary, I have no basis to be confident of it, either."

"Point taken, Beeker. Like I say, let me think on it. Just remember ..."

They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Whoops! There's my first victim. Let them in, will you, Beek? On your way out?"

"Yes, sir ... but first, sir ..."

"Yes?"

"If I might draw your attention to the time?"

Again Phule glanced at his watch. "Okay. So?"

"It is my understanding that you're expecting to interview some fifty volunteers tonight?"

"If that many show up, yes."

"Might I point out, sir, that if each interview only takes ten minutes, it will take more than eight hours to finish them all?"

Phule sighed wearily. "I know, but it's important that I handle this as soon as possible ... as you yourself pointed out not too long ago."

"Of course, sir. I was merely suggesting that you might wish to make an effort to keep each individual interview as brief as possible considering the cumulative time involved ... resist the temptation to try to settle details tonight that could be handled at leisure over the next few days. While I'm aware that it's my favorite lost cause, you do need to sleep occasionally ... sir."

The knocking came again, more insistent this time.

"I'll keep it in mind, Beek ... but no promises. Sometimes I have to go with the flow."

"I know, sir." The butler sighed. "But I felt I had to at least make the effort."

"Evenin', Cap'n."

Chocolate Harry, the company's supply sergeant, slouched against the door frame, casually shooting a salute at his commander with his index finger.

"I'll keep this short, 'cause it looks like you got quite a mob shapin' up out there. Just put me down as one of your scouts."

"All right, C. H." Phule nodded, jotting a note on his pad. "I'll admit I'm a little surprised, though. I didn't think you'd want to be separated from your inventory."

"I'll admit I'm not wild about it," Harry said, "but I figure most of it will be packed and stored anyway for this assignment, and my boys can handle that easy enough. 'Sides, I don't think there's anyone in this outfit who can pass for a civilian as easy as me ... 'specially when it comes to movin' through the less legal portions of polite society."

He winked broadly at this. While it was normal in the Legion to keep one's pre-Legion life a secret, Harry was very open about the fact that when he joined up he had been on the run from associates who, if not criminal, were at least outlaw.

The commander did not return the smile.

"That brings up an interesting point, C.H. Is it going to be safe for you to operate out of uniform?"

"I've given that some thought myself, Cap'n," the sergeant admitted. "There shouldn't be any special trouble for me on Lorelei ... or if it pops up, it won't be any more dangerous for me out of uniform than in."

Phule hesitated for a moment, then gave a curt nod.

"All right then. Check back with me in the next couple days and we'll start working up a cover for you."

"Oh, don't you worry none about that," Harry said, uncoiling from the door frame as he got ready to depart. "Except for maybe a little travelin' cash, I figure I'll do my own job huntin'. That way, if HQ wants to complain about it later, they can't get on your case as an accomplice."

"Sergeant Escrima ... reporting for volunteering."

Phule's smile came easily as he returned the ramrod-stiff salute. He had a genuine fondness for the company's feisty little mess sergeant, though perhaps "feisty" was a poor description. Escrima was easily the deadliest fighter in the company, especially with sticks or any cut-and-thrust weapon.

"Stand easy, Sergeant," he said. "I'll admit I'm glad to see you volunteering. I rather hoped you would."

"Mmmm ... Company stay in hotel, nothing for cook to do." Escrima shrugged, relaxing his pose only slightly.

"My thoughts exactly." The commander nodded, jotting another note on his pad."I assume you're interested in us finding you work in the restaurant kitchen?"

The cook gave a quick nod. "Things can go wrong in a kitchen-too many things. Need someone there to watch for"-he gestured with his hand slightly as he searched for the right word-"too many accidents. Bad for food ... bad for business."

Phule leaned back in his chair.

"Now, you realize that you probably won't be head cook or chef for the casino hotel ... that you'll probably have to report to someone else."

Escrima hesitated for a moment, then bobbed his head again.

"Good," he said, flashing a quick smile. "Sometimes it's good not to be in charge. Maybe ... how you say ... learn something new for a change."

The commander shook his head slightly. "I was thinking more in terms of possible trouble," he said. "Say, for example, if someone told you to do something you didn't want to ... or maybe even criticized your cooking techniques."

Escrima's dark eyes glittered for a moment. The cook's temper was legendary, and he was particularly sensitive to slights regarding his culinary skills. In fact, his presence in what was once the problem company of the Legion was due to several such spirited discussions ... which led to hospitalization of his critics.

"I promise, Captain. No trouble ... I never start trouble."

"Do you mind if we do this together, Captain? I think it will save time."

Phule could not keep the surprise off his face.

"Brandy ... Super Gnat. Certainly. Come in together if you wish."

The two women filed into the office, giving the sketchiest of salutes before seating themselves in front of their commander's desk. Though once standoffish toward each other, they had grown into a close friendship since the company was reorganized and reoriented.