"Lola did her best to appear calm. "This wouldn't have anything to do with Lorelei Station, would it?" she asked.

"Very good." said Mr. V. nodding enthusiastically. "It's always good to start from a position of mutual understanding. I was afraid that little matter might have slipped your mind. May I inquire when we can expect you to fulfill your contractual obligations?"

"In fact, we made every effort to do exactly that," said Lola, twisting her neck to peer up at him. "There was an unexpected development..."

"An unexpected development;" the little man repeated her words, sympathetically. "That's the way things sometimes go in our business, isn't it? They never quite go the way you plan."

Lola-nodded, smiling.

Then Mr. V clapped his hands together loudly. "But a professional doesn't let those little setbacks get in the way of completing the job. A professional knows how to overcome obstacles. You and your colleague are professionals, aren't you?"

"Of course we are," said Lola. "But..."

"But me no buts, young lady;" said the little man, leaning forward to look her in the eyes. "You were engaged to deliver a certain package to a certain location. Now, it's been quite a long. time, and the delivery has not taken place."

"I can explain that," said ,Lola. Her mouth was suddenly dry.

"I'm sure you can," said Mr. V. But I'm going to save you the trouble, young lady. My principals aren't really interested in explanations, and neither am I. If we want explanations, there are any number of professional explainers whose services we can engage. At the moment, we would much rather see results. Do you grasp my meaning, young lady?"

"I think so," said Lola, in a very quiet voice.

"Very good again;' said the little man, turning away from her and pacing, He stopped and turned, and said, "Now, to the point. Your contract calls for the delivery of certain goods. We are going to insist that you fulfill that contract. And we are furthermore going to insist that it be done without any further unnecessary delay. Do you understand me?"

Lola nodded. "There may be additional expenses involved in retrieving the goods..." she began.

Mr. V held up a finger, like a scolding schoolteacher.

"Young lady, I wouldn't be eager to ask for more money when I hadn't finished the job I'd contracted to do," he said. "Not if l were in your shoes. Certain people might get very impatient with you."

"I was merely pointing out the possibility," said Lola, with a gulp. "It might not be a problem, in any case. We can discuss that when everything's wrapped up."

"Good," said Mr. V, smiling again. "And I notice that you say when everything's wrapped up:-can I take that as meaning you intend to go ahead with your operation?"

"Yes, of course," said Lola. She smiled. "We never intended anything' else."

"Good, it's a pleasure doing business," said Mr. V, rubbing his hands together. "I'll tell my principals that everything is in order, then. And when can they expect delivery?"

Lola began calculating in her head. The big variable would be travel time; hyperspace had unpredictable twists and wrinkles, and a ship might well arrive, some time before it had set out-or months later. Still, the expected travel time back to Lorelei ought to be something like three weeks. "You want the package delivered to the sameplace as before?" she asked.

"Precisely," said the little man, with a nod.

"Sixty days from now;' said Lola. 'That's cutting it close, but I think we can do that."

"We'll hold you to it," said Mr. V. "And just in case you're tempted to think about slipping out of your obligations again, I think we'll give you something else to think about." He snapped his fingers, and the man with the beamer-stepped into the room. Ernie's eyes grew wide.

Journal #649

The excesses of youth, as amusing as they may seem to those of riper experience, are nonetheless productive of worthwhile results. Youthful exuberance, wedded to the seemingly inexhaustible energies of the young, can achieve things that sober maturity would never attempt. It is undoubtedly for this reason that armies are made up of the young.

The negative corollary of this verity is that; despite almost comically elaborate efforts to arrive at correct intelligence, armies are more easily duped than almost any other institution of similar size and complexity. And the same can be said of their individual members-only more so...

"Here's a package for you from Legion Headquarters, Captain," said Lieutenant Rembrandt, bustling into her commander's office.

"Oh, good-maybe it's the promotion Ambassador Gottesman said I'm supposed to be getting," said Phule. He took the package from her hands and eagerly began to tear it open. "I never thought I'd make it to major," he said.

"I mean, I suppose I always hoped I'd do well in the Legion-maybe even make it to general. It's every officer's dream, I guess. But realistically, if you keep butting heads with the top brass-and I've pretty much made a full-time career of that..." He stopped suddenly, his face a snapshot of disappointment.

"What is it, sir?" said Rembrandt.

"This isn't my promotion," said Phule. "It's a set of environmental impact forms from the Alliance Ecological Interplanetary Observation Union. The AEIOU."

"That's interesting," said Rembrandt. "Have we had any previous dealings with the AEIOU?"

"Sometimes: Why?" Phule asked his lieutenant.

"I just wondered what they wanted," said Rembrandt.

Phule looked at the cover letter. "They want us to document our compliance with ecological preservation directives for undeveloped planets, and to submit our updated environmental preservation plan. There's a list of regulations..."

"Undeveloped?" Rembrandt frowned. "Where do they get that? This is an inhabited world, last I looked. The desert out here may be fairly empty, but that Zenobian capital city you were in is about as developed as it gets."

"That was pretty much my impression:" said Phule, scratching his head. "Somebody's gotten the wrong information."

"That could be a first-class pain," said Rembrandt. "You know these bureaucrats. Once they get the wrong idea, it's as good as gospel. I remember when the newstapers mixed up my Uncle Daryll with another guy who was killed in a skimmer accident. It took him nearly sixteen years to convince the Planetary Employment Bureau he was still alive-and poor Uncle Daryll worked for them..."

"Well, this is obviously irrelevant to a Legion mission," said Phule. "We've never had to file environmental impact forms before..."

"Don't bet anything on it," said Tusk-anini, who'd been sitting in one comer of the office, reading. "Environment all around us, so we having impact every day. Bureaucats' right to worry. I think is smart to fill out forms."

"How about you do it, then," said Phule, handing the pile of papers to the huge Volton legionnaire. "You fill out the paperwork, I'll sign it, and we'll send it back to the AEIOU. That'll get 'em off our back."

"I do it," said Tusk-anini. "When you want back?"

"I don't know-a week or so ought to be enough time," said Phule. "It's your baby, now-you can use the spare desk in the comm center to work on it. Let me know if you run into any problems."

"Will take good care of baby," said Tusk-anini. He tucked the papers under his arm and headed for the comm center.

Rembrandt watched him go, a trace of worry on her face. "Are you sure it's a good idea to give that job to him, Captain?" she said. "He's likely to come up with very strange answers to some of those questions-you know how his mind works. Sometimes I think he's too smart for his own good."

"Oh, I'm not worried about the AEIOU," said Phule.