Surprise, astonishment, and incredulity showed. And vanished. Into Phil’s eyes came a look of dogged grimness. And Jimmy’s face showed—excitement.
“The Legion?” he asked.
“Yeah. No extradition. Since 1960, when the company started. No government has a hand in the Legion. They rent its services from the company, just as the Hessian dukes used to sell their soldiers to fight for other countries. When there’s a job to be done too dirty for anyone else, they ask the Legion—and waive extradition. The Polar fortresses. The Sub-Sahara. The Canal Patrols on Mars. Dangerous space-lane patrols. It isn’t like the ancient French Legion. This one’s privately owned, and, once you get in, nothing on Earth or Mars can touch you. As long as you’re in the Legion. Men don’t live long in it, as a rule.”
“Cheerful thought,” Phil grunted, puffing at his pipe. “By the way, which of us is the Merlin?”
Tony smiled. “I’m the guy, lads. And that’s what I’ve been building up to. I’m going to drop out of sight. Head for the Legion. And—well, I wanted you two to know about it. I can’t tell Seth, of course. But—”
“I’ll be damned,” Phil said in blank amazement. “You’ve got the Earth Star?”
“That’s right.”
“Odd. I happen to have it myself. In a hollow tooth.”
“You’re both crazy,” said Jimmy. “I’ve got it.”
Tony shook his head. “It’s no use. There’s no point in the three of us going into the Legion. One’s enough. So—”