"Uh-oh," said Rembrandt.

            "Now, that's an encouraging statement," said Armstrong, looking up from a printout of political commentary culled from the net. The two officers were catching up on their news reading over breakfast, and neither had said a word until now.

            Rembrandt threw her printout on top of his pages. "Take a look at the story on the lower left, and see whether it encourages you," she said.

            "Diplomats arrive for park openings," read Armstrong. "Hey, that can't be all bad. Bigwigs coming means more publicity for the park."

            "Keep reading."

            "Ambassador Gottesman and the peacekeeping verification team made Landoor Orbit on the Pride of Durdane...A spokesperson said their visit had been planned several months ago, but they were pleased to learn that their arrival coincided with a planetwide celebration..." Armstrong looked up. "So?"

            "Keep reading."

            "Also on board was a military delegation headed up by..." Armstrong blanched. "Holy mackerel!"

            "You see what I mean," said Rembrandt. "The captain needs to see this right away." She stood up from the table and grabbed the printout from Armstrong's hands.

            "Hang on, I've got one piece of bacon left," said Armstrong, reaching for his plate.

            "Eat it on the run, this is a red alert," said Rembrandt. She turned and headed for the captain's office without looking back.

            Several legionnaires turned to look as the lieutenants-Rembrandt in the lead, with Armstrong gaining rapidly-hurried through the dining room out toward the company offices. Just as the rear door closed behind them, Moustache, who was sitting near the front door, leapt up and shouted, "Ten-hut! General Blitzkrieg, sir!"

            The assembled legionnaires straggled to their feet, their mouths gaping open. The sight of any high-ranking officer was a rarity at Omega Company, and the troops' demeanor showed it. Moustache and Mahatma managed to snap off salutes that might have satisfied a moderately lenient drill sergeant. If any of the others had ever known how, they had long since forgotten it.

            It hardly mattered. Looking neither to the left nor to the right, General Blitzkrieg stormed through the dining room toward the company offices. Even those who didn't know of Phule's previous run-ins with Legion brass had no difficulty figuring out that their CO was about to get his head chewed off.