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 a.s.signment. 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, pa.s.s 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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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 b.a.s.t.a.r.d, 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 doc.u.ment. "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 s.e.xy 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."

The belt-fed shotguns were some of the deadliest, most vicious weapons in the company's a.r.s.enal. To say the least, it was an unlikely choice for the Voltron, whose pacifistic nature was well known.

"Captain need help. This will help!" Tusk-anini growled, not releasing his grip on the weapon.

"Give it to him," C.H. said, turning back to the supply clerk.

"But Sarge ..."

"Give it to him. I'll check him out on it myself."

With a shrug, the clerk released the weapon and watched as Tusk-anini walked away, cradling the bit of nastiness protectively in his arms.

"You tell me, hoss," the sergeant said softly. "Can you think of anyone in this outfit who could hold down that weapon better'n Tusk? It's got a kick like a sonofab.i.t.c.h."

"Well, no. But ..."

"'Sides, didn't your mama ever tell you it ain't healthy to argue with somethin' that outweighs you by maybe a ton?" Harry finished. "I'll tell you, Jase, you still got a lot to learn about survivin'."

With that he turned to go, only to find his path blocked by Colonel Battleax.

"Tell me, Sergeant," she said, "now that we have a moment relatively alone. That little episode we had earlier ... would you have really shot me?"

Harry had the grace to look a bit abashed.

"I'd of had to, Colonel," he admitted. "Truth is, I'd rather of just tried to knock you out, but the cap'n says there's a rule against noncoms. .h.i.tting officers."

"Excuse me ... Lieutenant Rembrandt?"

"Yes, Beeker?"

"If I might have a moment of your time?"

The lieutenant glanced around the room to be sure everything was going smoothly-or as smoothly as could be expected-then nodded.

"Sure, Beek. What's up?"

"Am I understanding correctly that you're nearly ready to commence your rescue attempt?"

"Well, I think we're about ready as we'll ever be," Rembrandt confirmed.

"I notice that I have not been included in any of your planning," the butler said, "and I do appreciate that. I believe my employer would be most distressed if he thought I was attempting to a.s.sume a place in the company chain of command."

The Lieutenant smiled. "Don't worry. You're considered a civilian for this one-strictly noncombatant."

"Quite ... well, not quite." Beeker frowned. "That's what I wished to speak to you about. You see, I feel my own course of action in this situation is quite clear, nor is it likely that anyone could dissuade me from it. I thought, however, that you should be made aware of exactly what it is I intend to do, so that you could take it into account in your planning or, perhaps, even interphase with it."

Leaning close, the butler launched into an explanation of his thoughts. At first, Rembrandt frowned, shaking her head slightly, but as Beeker continued speaking, a slow, broad smile crept across her face.

As I have mentioned throughout this account, my role in this campaign was larger than normal, and never so noticeable as it was for the rescue attempt. I would hasten to clarify, however, that this did not mean I joined the s.p.a.ce Legion, even on a temporary basis, and was therefore never under their command or control. I am a butler, and owe my loyalties to a single, chosen individual, and the idea of accepting a.s.signed authority has always been abhorrent to me. If anything. I prefer to think that the s.p.a.ce Legion temporarily joined me.

Max did not share Laverna's taste for holos, preferring instead to read during her occasional leisure time. She was indulging in this pastime now, having a substantial hunk of time to fill, and curled up on the sofa with a lamp shining over her shoulder and onto the book she was reading, Maxine almost gave the suite an air of domestic tranquillity. The effect was ruined, however, by the presence of the two gunmen in the room with her. Wearing their weapons openly in shoulder holsters, they alternately wandered around the room, peered out the window through the crack in the drawn curtains, fidgeted, and idly leafed through the room's small stack of magazines, looking at the pictures rather than actually reading.

Max found the extra movement in the room to be an irritating distraction, but refrained from saying anything. It wouldn't do to have her guards sullen or resentful at this stage of the game.

The truth was that they were all a trifle on edge. The nature of their operation normally allowed Maxine and those under her command free rein to prowl the casinos and walkways of Lorelei at will. Close confinement like this was unusual, and even though she had deliberately kept the contingent of guards down to four, Max found having extra people in her living quarters to be an unexpected trial. In idle moments, she mused over the irony that, as much as their unwilling guest, she and her people were being held prisoner by the current situation.

Max glanced up as Laverna eased into the room through the bedroom door, gently closing it behind her.

"Is he still asleep?" she said, glad for the interruption.

"He sure is," her aide responded, shaking her head. "I swear sometimes I think we're doing that child a favor. He hasn't budged since he stretched out."

Upon arriving, under guard, at Maxine's suite, Phule's first request had been to ask if he could "lie down for a few minutes," and he had been sleeping ever since. Seemingly unruffled by his capture, he appeared to be taking advantage of the situation to get some long-overdue rest.

Laverna caught the eye of one of the guards.

"Your buddy in there wants someone to spell him for a while," she said. "Says he's going a little buggy sitting in the dark with nothing to do but watch our friend sleep."

One of the guards shrugged and started for the bedroom door, but Max waved him off.

"That won't be necessary," she countered. "I think our guest has slept long enough. Besides, it's about time we had a little chat. Laverna, would you wake Mr. Phule up and ask him to join us?"

"No, ma'am."

The sudden fierceness in her aide's tone startled Max almost as much as the rare refusal.

"What was that, Laverna?" She blinked, more stalling for time to collect her own thoughts than actually requiring a repet.i.tion.

"I said, 'No, ma'am,'" Laverna repeated, shaking her head. "I usually stay out of this side of the business and just handle the books, and I know you might have to kill him sooner or later"-she fixed Maxine with a hard gaze-"but I don't ever want to have to tell Beeker that I had any part in mistreating his gentleman while he was in our care. I say if the man wants to sleep, let him sleep! Otherwise, get someone else to wake him up. I'm not going to do it."

Before Maxine had to reach a decision over what to do about this open rebellion, the matter was settled for her. The bedroom door opened and Phule emerged, his uniform slightly disheveled, but aside from that looking relaxed and refreshed.