"And finally, I want to thank Flight Leftenant Qual, who's been with us as an observer-and a good friend-for the last several months. The ambassador tells me that Quals mission is complete and he's been recalled to his home world-but he'll always find a welcome if he visits Omega Company." Another cheer went up, amid cries of "Qual! Qual!" The little Zenobian stood in the corner grinning, holding a tall glass of water-his race didn't use alcohol, but he was clearly as happy as anyone in the room.
"One last thing, and then I'll let you get back to the party. Ambassador Gottesman tells me that in part because of our good treatment of Leftenant Qual, the Federation has signed a peace treaty with the Zenobian Empire. That's one more feather in the Omega Mob's cap! So let me offer a toast: To the Omega Mob, the best outfit in the Legion-and I'll fight anybody, right up to the commanding general, who tries to tell me anything else!"
"Hear, hear," cried Moustache, and the assembled legionnaires broke into cheers. Out in the park, a band was playing a syncopated dance tune, and from somewhere a little farther away, there came the rumble of a roller coaster and the involuntary squeals of passengers as the lead car dove into the steep plunge that began the ride. Phule raised his water glass and took a deep draught of ice-cold champagne, then threw back his head and laughed. It had been a very good day after all.