hey've got us surrounded."

ME TO THESE RATS Q Q SAM VERN PLEASE DONT SCARE ME

* * * * *

I said, pointing to the fluttering paper in the rattling machine:
"You're worrying our friend."

Vern shrugged impatiently.

I KNEW I SHOULDNT HAVE TRUSTED YOU, Arthur wept. THATS ALL I MEAN TO
YOU EH

Vern said: "Well, Sam? Let's take the cash and get this thing over
with. After all, he _will_ have the best of treatment."

It was a little like selling your sister into white slavery, but what
else was there to do? Besides, I kind of trusted Vern.

"All right," I said.

What Arthur said nearly scorched the paper.

Vern helped pack Arthur up for moving. I mean it was just a matter of
pulling the plugs out and making sure he had a fresh battery, but Vern
wanted to supervise it himself. Because one of the little things Vern
had up his sleeve was that he had found a spot for himself on the
Major's payroll. He was now the official Prosthetic (Human)
Maintenance Department Chief.

The Major said to me: "Ah, Dunlap. What sort of experience have you
had?"

"Experience?"

"In the Navy. Your friend Engdahl suggested you might want to join us
here."

"Oh. I see what you mean." I shook my head. "Nothing that would do you
any good, I'm afraid. I was a yeoman."

"Yeoman?"

"Like a company clerk," I explained. "I mean I kept records and cut
orders and made out reports and all like that."

"Company clerk!" The eyes in the long horsy face gleamed. "Ah, you're
mistaken, Dunlap! Why, that's _just_ what we need. Our morning reports
are in foul shape. Foul! Come over to HQ. Lieutenant Bankhead will
give you a lift."

"Lieutenant Bankhead?"

I got an elbow in my ribs for that. It was that girl Amy, standing
alongside me. "I," she said, "am Lieutenant Bankhead."

Well, I went along with her, leaving Engdahl and Arthur behind. But I
must admit I wasn't sure of my reception.

Out in front of the hotel was a whole fleet of cars--three or four of
them, at least. There was a big old Cadillac that looked like a
gangsters' car--thick glass in the windows, tires that looked like
they belonged on a truck. I was willing to bet it was bulletproof and
also that it belonged to the Major. I was right both times. There was
a little MG with the top down, and a couple of light trucks. Every one
of them was painted bright orange, and every one of them had the
star-and-bar of the good old United States Army on it