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so luckily. A few casualties and we'd have put Jester behind bars."
    "Exactly, sir," said Sparrowhawk. "It may have slipped your memory that Landoor is the world where that incident occurred."
    "Yes, of course I knew that," said Blitzkrieg. "So, life goes on, and they've got a new government. Nothing to concern us, eh, Major?"
    "Perhaps not," Sparrowhawk doggedly continued. "Nothing directly, of course. There was some information down in the fifth paragraph I thought you could turn to use, but perhaps I misunderstood its implications."
    "Possibly you did," said the general, glancing at the sheet of printout in his hand. "Well, not everyone has the instinct for grand strategy, Major. But if you stick with me, you may have the opportunity to learn the rudiments."
    "Yes, sir," said Sparrowhawk. Now she was certain he'd read the paragraph again. Perhaps he'd see how to bend it to his own ends without more prompting. He wasn't really all that stupid, she told herself. With her help, he'd eventually get his revenge on Jester-and then retire, and at last she'd be free of him.
    The general took the printout into his inner office, and closed the door. When he was gone, she turned back to her computer-her stocks had been doing nicely, but recent news suggested that they might have peaked. She wanted to see if it was time to sell and get into something else...
    She managed to read nearly a dozen screens of financial analysis before the general buzzed her on the intercom and roared, "Sparrowhawk! Get me the General Staff office, right away! No, make that a conference call-add on Ambassador Gottesman, too. I've come up with the perfect answer to our problems with Jester!"
    "Right away, sir," she said, smiling. She already knew exactly what the general would want from his superiors. Sometimes, the job had its rewards, after all.
    "Hey, Do-Wop, how's it going?" said Mess Sergeant Escrima, looking up from a shipment of fresh asparagus that had just arrived. The sprouts were young and tender, a miracle of hydroponic agriculture and genetic tailoring, but Escrima was still inspecting them as critically as he did every item of food that passed through his kitchens. "Any sign of that partner of yours yet?"
    "Nah, Sarge-wherever Soosh is hiding, it's a good spot," said Do-Wop, stopping at the end of the counter where the asparagus was laid out. He looked around the kitchen. "We're looking everywhere we can without spooking the customers. I guess you didn't see him?"
    "Haven't laid eyes on him," said Escrima, waving a hand to indicate the whole kitchen. Two assistant cooks were at work slicing something, and several large pots were already boiling atop the luxury hotel's state-of-the-art TherMaster MultiRange. "Not today, at least. Last I saw him was Sunday-I needed to borrow a few bucks until payday. Bad run of luck..."
    "Tell me about it, man," said Do-Wop, rolling his eyes. "I thought I knew my way around a card table-especially after the captain had those pro gamblers show us the ropes. There's not a card mechanic's trick I can't spot by now. But it don't make me a winner. I think my luck's even worse than it was before I knew what to watch out for."
    "Ditto," said Escrima. "Without Sushi, I wouldn't have two nickels to rub together. With him bankrolling me, at least I've got something to get back to the tables with so I can try to reverse my luck."
    "Yeah, he's been lending me enough to scrape through, too. I'm gonna owe him a bundle next paycheck, though. Maybe I'd be better off if he didn't come back." Do-Wop frowned, then blurted out, "You know I don't mean that, Escrima."
    "I didn't think you did," said Escrima, nodding. "But he won't be going anywhere-too many people owe him. Let's hope he's not selling our markers to the Yakuza. I hear those boys play really dirty with deadbeats. So hurry up and find him-I don't like owing him three months' pay, and he's one of us. I'd hate to owe it to somebody who's only in it for the money."
    "Yeah,