General Blitzkrieg shook his head. “I’ll be damned if I’ve ever seen the like,” he said. He shuffled over to the large easy chair at one end of Zenobia Base’s VIP quarters, turned around, and plopped into it.
Worried in spite of herself, Sparrowhawk broke the growing silence by asking, “The likes of what?”
“Excuse me, Major?” The general looked up in bemuse-ment.
“You said you’d never seen the like of… something,” said Sparrowhawk. “I was asking what.”
“Oh, Jester, of course,” said the general. He still looked a bit dazed. Sparrowhawk looked at him closely and made a decision. She quickly splashed two fingers of Scotch into a glass and handed it to the general. He took it in his hand and sat swirling the glass, so far without taking a sip.
“Jester’s got a squad training for infiltration work,” said Blitzkrieg, in a flat tone of voice. “Who’d have thought it? But after seeing them, I’m almost ready to believe it. Why, there’s one little devil who could make you think he’s a store clerk, or maybe a waiter-almost anything but a legionnaire…”
“Very interesting,” said Sparrowhawk, trying to figure out where the general was going.
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” said Blitzkrieg, still swirling the glass. “But I’m beginning to wonder… What do you know about bugs, Sparrowhawk?”
“Bugs?” Sparrowhawk frowned. “I guess I know as much as anybody who’s not a scientist. What were you thinking about?”
“Way back when, on Old Earth, there was a time when bugs were the main cause of lots of diseases. So they invented chemicals to kill ‘em.“
“Yes, I’ve heard about that,” said Sparrowhawk. “Some of the chemicals were apparently worse than the bugs.”
Blitzkrieg went on as if he hadn’t noticed her comment. “Thing is, some of the bugs were immune to the chemicals, so they invented more chemicals. And some of the bugs were immune to the new chemicals, too…”
“I think I’ve heard that story,” said Sparrowhawk. “Instead of getting rid of the bugs, they ended up breeding a new kind of superbug that was worse than the ones they’d started with.”
“That’s right,” said Blitzkrieg. “My point is… This legionnaire Mahatma-believe me, I’m going to remember that name-is damn near the biggest pain in the ass I’ve ever had to deal with-and that’s saying a mouthful. Perfect fit for Omega Company, if you know what I mean.”
“Yes, sir,” said Sparrowhawk. “That’s pretty much the whole purpose of Omega, isn’t it? A place to send the problems, get them off everyone else’s back.”
“Of course, of course,” said the general. “But I’m beginning to wonder if we haven’t created a monster, here.”
“A monster, sir?” said Sparrowhawk, frowning. “Surely one smart-mouth legionnaire can’t amount to that much of a problem.”
“Oh, it’s more than just one,” said Blitzkrieg. He finally seemed to notice the glass he held, and took a long sip. “The sergeant was doing her best to cover up just how widespread insubordination has become in Omega, but I haven’t spent this much time in the Legion without figuring out how these noncoms think. I’ll guarantee you, she picked out that Mahatma rascal because he’s one of the best recruits in her squad!”
“I suppose that makes sense, General,” said Sparrowhawk. She wasn’t convinced, but she had long ago learned that contradicting Blitzkrieg was pointless.
“But do you see what that means?” the general continued. “By concentrating all the bad eggs in Omega, we’ve created a breeding ground for even worse eggs-this Ma-hatma may be the first of a new breed of super-pain-in-the-ass legionnaires! My God, I tremble to think what could happen if this spread to the rest of the Legion!”
“Well, there’s only one answer to that,” said Spar-rowhawk. “It’s a good thing you’ve already anticipated the answer.”
“Excuse me, Major? I’m not sure I follow you,” said the general. It was some measure of how disoriented he was that he actually admitted his confusion to her.
It gave her considerable satisfaction to explain the whole thing to him. The best part about it was that it would get her exactly what she wanted, without requiring her to do anything beyond convincing the general that the problem was already solved. Which, as far as she was concerned, it was.
“This is stupid,” said Do-Wop. He looked around the little moonlit plaza, empty except for the two legionnaires. “Somebody tells us to come here for some important news, then don’t bother to show. I ain’t got the time for this kinda…”
“Then go on home,” came a voice from just behind him.
“What the…” Do-Wop whirled to face the speaker, as did Sushi. Both legionnaires assumed defensive stances as a figure emerged from the shadows. “Who you think you are, scarin‘ us like that?” said Do-Wop.
“I know exactly who I am,” said the newcomer, a middle-aged man in an expensive suit. He spoke excellent English, with just a trace of an Earth Italian accent. “So do quite a few people here in Rome. And I suspect if you knew what some of them know, you’d be even more scared. But that’s not why I asked you to meet me here. There are two other people you need to talk to.” He gestured, and another pair of figures came into the light. A man and a woman… Beeker and Nightingale!
“Wow, you two picked a great time to finally show up,” said Sushi. “You wouldn’t believe how many planets we’ve chased you across…”
“I expect I would believe it, providing the number is no greater than four,” said Beeker, dryly. “I will say I was surprised to learn of your pursuit-which came to my attention back on Hix’s World-and, thanks to this gentleman, here on Old Earth.” He indicated the older man standing next to him.
“And who is this guy, anyway?” asked Sushi.
“Pitti da Phule,” said the newcomer, in a soft growl.
Do-Wop bristled. “Who you callin‘-” he began…
Beeker cut him off. “Mr. da Phule is one of your captain’s relatives living in this city. What he has told me has brought us all here tonight.”
Do-Wop snorted, still not quite mollified. “It must be pretty hot stuff, to make you change your mind after you up and run away from the captain…”
“I’d hardly call it running away,” said Beeker, raising an eyebrow. “In fact, I have done nothing but take my accumulated vacation time, as the young master himself had encouraged me to do. It had been nearly three years since I had more than a weekend away from my duties. Nightingale was entitled to leave after finishing her training, as well, and she decided to take it with me. She’d been planning our vacation for some time, in fact. Unfortunately, my gentleman was away from his office when Nightingale and I learned that the Lorelei space liner schedules had changed. We had to leave Zenobia immediately on the outgoing Supply shuttle if we were to make connections to Cut ‘N’ Shoot in time for the roundup festival.”
“Roundup festival?” Do-Wop was incredulous.
“I read about that as a little girl, and I always wanted to see it,” said Nightingale, enthusiastically.
“But we can talk about that at some more appropriate time,” said Beeker. “As this gentleman has informed me, your captain is in trouble. In fact, he has been kidnapped, and we need to act quickly-and in close cooperation-to set things right.”
“Sure, who we gotta kill?” said Do-Wop, striking a belligerent stance.
“We won’t need that,” said Pitti da Phule, calmly. “If we did, I could arrange it with local contractors-I think it’s always better to deal with people you know. No, what I need you to do is a bit trickier. But from what my nephew’s butler tells me, it should be right up your alley…”
Beeker, Nightingale, and the two legionnaires listened carefully while Pitti da Phule outlined his plan, with Sushi and Nightingale occasionally asking questions. Finally, everyone knew their part in the operation. With a final handshake, the group split up-Beeker and Nightingale headed in one direction, Pitti da Phule in another, and Sushi and Do-Wop headed back toward their hotel. They’d have to get some supplies in the morning, but there was plenty they could do before then. And if they were lucky, they just might get some sleep before the whole thing was over.