"Come in!" called a female voice as Lieutenant Phryne rapped sharply on the door, which slid open.  "Come in!  This is Liberty Hall; you can spit on the mat and call the cat a bastard."  Then, "Who's your new girlfriend, Grimes?  You never waste much time, do you?"

Fenella Pruin, sprawled in an easy chair, her long, elegant legs exposed by her short chiton, a glass of gin in her hand, looked up at the commodore.  So did Shirl and Darleen, who were sitting quite primly side by side on a sofa, holding cans of beer.  Foster's, noted Grimes, an Australian brand, no doubt brought to New Sparta as part of one of Sister Sue's cargoes.

"Lieutenant Phryne," said Grimes stiffly, "has been acting as my chauffeuse."

"And what are you acting as, Grimes?  What hat are you wearing this bright and happy morning?  Owner-master?  Pirate commodore?  Planetary governor?"

"Recruiting sergeant," said Grimes.

"You intrigue me.  But take the weight off your feet.  And you, Lieutenant.  And find the Commodore a gin, Shirl, and his Amazon Guard whatever she fancies..."

After the drinks had been organized Grimes found himself sitting between Shirl and Darleen, facing Fenella.

"Here's to crime," she toasted, raising her refilled glass.  "And now, Grimes, talk.  What's with this recruiting sergeant business?  Let me guess.  You're an old boozing pal of the Archon's.  The Archon's lady wife is building up her own private army, of which Lieutenant Phryne is a member.  Lady Ellena is on the lookout for offplanet martial arts specialists to act as instructors.  Right?"

"Right."

"And Shirl and Darleen are not only artists with the boomerang but expert in their own peculiar version of savate.  Boxing with the feet.  Right?"

"Right."

"What's in it for them?"

"Lieutenants' commissions.  Standard pay for the rank, plus allowances."

"Should we accept, Fenella?" asked Shirl.  "It would seem to be a steady job, staying in one place.  We are becomming tired of jumping from world to world."

"Leave me to negotiate," said the journalist.  Then, to Grimes, "At times I wear more than one hat myself.  As well as being a star reporter I am a theatrical agent.  Oh, only in respect of Shirl and Darleen.  I sort of took them under my wing when you left them stranded on Bronsonia."  She added virtuously, "Somebody had to."

"Is it an agent's hat you're wearing?" asked Grimes sardonically.  "Or a halo?"

She ignored this and turned to Phryne.  "What's lieutenant's pay in the Amazon Corps?"

"One thousand obols a month."

"And what's that in real money?  Never mind...."  She used her wrist companion as a calculator.  "Mmm.  Not good, but not too bad.  And the bennies?"

"Bennies, Lady?"

"Side benefits."

"Free accommodation, with meals in the officers' mess.  Two new uniforms a year.  A wine ration..."

"We do not like wine," said Darleen.  "We like beer."

"I think that I could arrange that," Grimes said.

"All the more cargo for your precious ship to bring here," sneered Fenella.  "But, anyhow, a generous beer ration must be part of the contract.  Imported beer, not the local gnat's piss."  Again she turned to Phryne.  "What extra pay do instructors get?"

"I cannot say with any certainty.  But junior officers often complain that instructor sergeants make more money than they do."

"And a sergeant's pay is?"

"In the neighborhood of six hundred obols a month."

"Which means that they must get at least another five hundred extra in special allowances.  Find out how much it is, Grimes, and then argue that a commissioned officer should receive allowances on a much higher scale than a non-commissioned one.  And, talking of commissions....  What about mine?"