Moments after the external doors came open, Beeker was standing beside the shuttle. Phule suppressed a grin- the butler had put on a very respectable burst of speed, considering that he was by a wide margin the oldest human on the planet. As the dust settled, a slim figure in a black Legion jumpsuit emerged into the Zenobian air, looked around, eyes adjusting to the light, and then fixed its gaze on Beeker. “You’re here!” said a woman’s low voice, and the next thing anyone knew, she had thrown herself into the butler’s arms.

“Laverna!” said Beeker. “There are people watching!” The butler’s voice sounded shocked. But nobody watching had any doubt that he was pleased. And he made no effort to push away the new arrival.

The woman leaned back and looked around at the onlookers, most of whom were doing an excellent job of keeping a straight face. “Screw ‘em,” she said, with a dry laugh. Then she turned back and looked Beeker in the eye. “Besides, there’s no such animule as Laverna anymore- the name is Nightingale. Remember that, Beeker.”

The tableau was interrupted by a shuttle crewman who stuck his head out the door. “We’ve got your luggage, Legionnaire Nightingale, and a sack of personal parcels for the Legion outpost-and then we’ve gotta get off. You all ready?”

A pair of legionnaires stepped forward to take off the mail and luggage, and then Phule said, “That’s it, then. Let’s move off so this fellow can get back to orbit!”

“You got it, Captain,” said Double-X, who’d taken charge of the mail sack. “Come on, suckers, let’s give the shuttle some room, like the captain said.” The Legion party quickly complied, and within moments, the shuttle had leapt from the ground and quickly begun its graceful ascent toward the scattered clouds high above the desert floor.