But the captain was already gone, the door closed behind him. If he had heard her outburst, he gave no sign at all.

The two local policemen standing in front of Phule's desk were obviously doing their best to stay calm and professional. The complainant, standing unsteadily on crutches between the policeman, wasn't.

Phule massaged the bridge of his nose. It had been a long day, filled with problems that required instant minute attention, and the burden of command was weighing particularly heavily on his shoulders this afternoon. Especially since, on top of everything else, he'd skipped lunch-not at all his usual routine. And now he had to deal with a civilian who insisted on having one of his men arrested. "Are you absolutely certain that the man who robbed you and damaged your restaurant was one of my legionnaires?" he asked.

"I seen him with these here eyes," said the restaurateur, a small man with a heavy Landooran accent that seemed incongruous in conjunction with his Japanese features and immaculate dress. "He was Legion, all right-wore the same black uniform as yours. And he done more than damage the place. It'll be a miracle if I can open up again any time this week."

"Well, that's serious enough to require some action, if it's the truth," said Phule. "But I can't discipline the whole company for one man's actions. We'll have to see if you can identify the one who did this."

"I'd know him anywhere," said the restaurateur. "That long greasy haircut, and that smirk on his face. Ain't a whole lot of people who'd look that way if they had any choice in it. My security holovid caught the whole thing, and there ain't much mistake."