settle their commercial
differences, the sums involved were staggering. Joe Mauser had been
correct in saying that the fracas had grown, even in his memory, from
skirmishes involving a company or two of men, to full fledged battles
with a division or even more on either side, forty thousand men at
each other's throats.

So a commanding officer became noted not only for his abilities in the
field, but also those of cutting financial corners, recruiting his
force of mercenaries, whipping them into a unit and getting them into
the action. In fact, corporations, these days, invariably stated the
period of time to be involved when they petitioned the Category
Military Department. Perhaps a month, three weeks of which would be
used for recruiting and drill, the last week for the fracas itself.
Nobody could excel Marshal Cogswell in using the three weeks to best
advantage.

Major Joe Mauser came to attention before the desk of the lieutenant
colonel of Marshal Cogswell's staff who was acting as receptionist
before the sanctum sanctorum of the field genius. He saluted and
snapped, "Joseph Mauser, sir. Category Military, Rank Major. On
request to see the marshal."

Lieutenant Colonel Paul Warren answered the salute, but then came to
his feet and grinned while extending his hand to be shaken. He said,
"Good to see you again, Mauser. Hope you're in this one with us." His
grin turned rueful. "That trick of yours with the glider cost me a
pretty penny. I'd made the mistake of wagering heavily on Hovercraft.
But the marshal is waiting. Right through that door, major. See you
later."

Evidently, Joe decided, the marshal was recruiting for another fracas.
Which was why Joe had been summoned, although when a field officer of
Cogswell's stature was gathering officers to command a force, he
seldom called upon them; they clamored for permission to serve with
him. You weren't apt to find yourself in the dill, under Cogswell, and
you practically never failed to collect your victory bonus. Victory
was a habit.

Marshal Cogswell looked up from the desk at which he sat scowling at a
military chart stretched before him. The scowl disappeared and his
strong face lit with pleasure. The craggy marshal was a small man but
strongly built, clipped of voice and with a tone that would suggest he
had been born to command, had always commanded.

Joe snapped to the salute which the marshal acknowledged with a flick
of his baton, then stood to sha