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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."
    A warning bell went off in the back of Phule's mind, but he maintained a calm expression. "If that's the case, I think we can take care of this business quickly. There are holo ID pictures of the entire company on file. Why don't you and the officers look through them and see if you can identify the robber? Then we'll call him in and see what he has to say for himself."
    "Oh, that'll be just triff," said the restaurant owner sarcastically. "He'll lie and you'll take his word for it, and I'll end up springin' for the doctor bills."
    Phule stood up abruptly and said coldly, "You don't know who you're talking to, do you, Mr. Takamine."
    "Sure I do," sneered the restaurateur, drawing himself up to his full height-perhaps four inches shorter than Phule-and standing face-to-face with him. "You're the captain of this here Legion company. And when it comes to a quarrel between Legion and us poor locals, Legion sticks up for its own. Nothin' we can do but eat whatever shit you pile on our plate."
    Phule put his finger in the middle of the man's chest. "You won't gain anything by using that kind of language, Mr. Takamine. I've offered to give you a chance to identify and confront the person you claim is responsible for the robbery and damage and for the injuries to yourself. Do you want to go ahead with this, or are you just here to make a disturbance?"
    "I'll look," said the man. "But I ain't expecting much, I tell you for a fact."
    Beeker led the policemen and Takamine to an outer office, where they could browse though the ID files. But Phule had a sinking feeling. The description of the legionnaire responsible sounded far too familiar. He'd thought the man had finally outgrown his penchant for getting into trouble with the law-at least, this kind of trouble. Well, if he had to teach the legionnaire a lesson, he'd do it, that was all.
    Phule was pacing nervously in front of his desk when the door opened and Beeker returned. "I've set the gentlemen up with the viewer and the appropriate files, sir," he said. "I think we'll have an answer soon."
    "Good," said Phule. "I assume you disabled all features except the image viewer? We don't want these people looking into the confidential portions of the personnel files."
    "I have done so, sir," said Beeker solemnly. "But I'm afraid I know what the restaurateur will find."
    "I'm afraid you're right," said Phule, shaking his head. "I'm disappointed, to tell you the truth. I thought Do-Wop had changed his ways. But the man they describe has to be him."
    "Perhaps he only got better at concealing his misdeeds," said Beeker implacably. "The young man's code of ethics seems primarily to consist of Thou shalt not get