Phule Me Twice (28 page)

Botchup pulled on his uniform, ran a comb through his hair, and quickly ducked through the metal sliding door into the command area. A legionnaire was already on duty, a young human with long sideburns and a hint of a smart-assed expression. There was something about him that Botchup instinctively didn't like, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Was there a hint of insolence, perhaps, in that little half-smile?

"You," said Botchup. "What's the situation?"

"Uh, we have a possible intruder, sir," said the legionnaire. From the voice it might have been a woman, thought the Major, though he could have sworn this legionnaire was male. Those sideburns certainly gave that impression.

The answer would just have to wait, he decided; there were more important problems right now. "Where's the encroachment, and what's being done about it?" he snapped, leaning over to peer at the readout the legionnaire had been consulting.

"Uh, it was over behind Chocolate Harry's, sir," said the legionnaire, gesturing vaguely.

"Was?" said Botchup. "Was? Are you telling me that it's already over

"Uh, no, sir," said the legionnaire. "It's just that-"

He was interrupted by a cheerful new voice. "Good evening, how's everybody doing? Is everybody feeling lucky tonight?" It was Captain Jester, wearing a freshly ironed tuxedo. A broad smile was on his face as he sauntered into the command center, and he swirled a martini glass in his left hand.

"Jester! Are you out of your mind?" barked the major. "The base is under attack-"

"Security will take care of it," said Jester, dismissing it with a wave of his hand. "Why don't we let them handle it. It's nothing you need to worry about, is it? You're here to forget your worries. And you've come to the right place, let me tell you." He lifted the martini glass in a salute, then lifted it to his lips.

"Damn you!" shouted Botchup, and took a swipe at the glass, trying to dash it from Jester's hand. "You're drunk! And out of uniform! I'll have you cashiered from the Legion-"

"The cashiers are on the first floor, right by the casino entrance," said Jester, nimbly protecting the glass from Botchup's clumsy swing. "Remember, you're here to forget your troubles. Have a drink, play a few games, and you'll find yourself looking at the world with a new attitude. Remember, though, play with your head, not over it. Well, got to move along. The place is really jumping tonight!" He spun around and was out the door without waiting for an answer.

Botchup was still trying to make sense of what Captain Jester had just said, and coming up short, when the legionnaire on duty said, "Uh, Major, you've got a call from Lieutenant Snipe."

The major snatched the comm set from the legionnaire's hand. "Snipe! What the hell is going on in this crazy place?"

"Excuse me, sir?" said Snipe. "As I reported before, we've had an alarm in Blue Sector-"

"I know that, you nincompoop," said Botchup. "Have you sent anybody out to see what's actually going on there?"

To Snipe's credit, he only stammered for a moment before answering, "Uh, sir, I'll take care of it at once, sir."

"If it takes any longer, the damned base is going to be overrun," barked the major. "I needed that report five minutes ago, you understand? Now do it!"

"Yes, s-" Botchup cut the connection before Snipe could finish and turned to the command center's sensors to try to make sense of them. As he quickly discovered, that was a lot easier to try than to accomplish.

The camp was full of black-uniformed legionnaires running headlong toward positions on the defensive perimeter. Jennie Higgins stopped to try to get her bearings; without the night vision goggles the legionnaires would be wearing, it was hard to make out details. She ought to ask the captain for a pair. No, she wouldn't. She'd accepted her last favor from him.

"Where do you want me to set up, Jen?" asked a familiar voice nearby. It was her cameraman, Sydney, ready for action despite being rousted out of bed on a moment's notice; there was a dark mass perched on his right shoulder that had to be his holo equipment.

Jennie looked around. "I'm not sure yet, Sydney," she said. "Can you get anything in this light?"

"Light? There's light out here?"

"OK, that answers the question," said Jennie resignedly. "I don't think the Legion would appreciate your turning on a floodlight just to get a few action shots. In fact, if there's really an attack under way, I might not appreciate it.

"I wasn't about to offer, if you want to know the truth," said Sydney. "Maybe we should just wait and see if there's any action. Maybe there'll be a few explosions. That'd make good footage, I think."

"I like good footage as much as anybody, but if there are any explosions, I hope they're way out in the desert," said Jennie. "I've got a lot of friends here in the camp."

"Hey, I didn't say I wanted close-ups of explosions," protested Sydney. "Out in the desert's fine with me."

Jennie said, "Good. Let's see what we can find out, then. This whole scramble might be just a drill, in which case I want to go back and get some sleep. Maybe one of the officers will let us in on the scoop."

"OK, just don't hold your breath expecting the time of day from Major Botchup," said Sydney. "He's about as helpful as snot on a doorknob."

"If that," agreed Jennie. "Let's see if they'll let us into Comm Central. Somebody there'll know what's happening. And if something is going on, there'll be enough light there for you to get some footage." She turned and headed toward the MBC, with Sydney close behind.

"Yo, Mother!" Chocolate Harry burst into Comm Central, sweeping past the startled Lieutenant Snipe as if he were invisible. "Cap'n needs a message sent."

"Sergeant, aren't you forgetting something?" said Snipe, frowning. He drew himself up to his full height, still nearly a foot shorter than the supply sergeant and not even in the same arm of the bell curve in terms of sheer bulk.

"No, man, it's cool. I got it all," said Chocolate Harry, paying about as much deference to the lieutenant as a battle cruiser would to a garbage scow. "Now listen, Mother, here's the deal-"

"Sergeant, this base is in a state of emergency," Snipe said, in a nagging tone of voice. "The equipment has to be reserved for essential military communications, and as officer on duty, that is my decision to make."

"Look here, the cap'n told me to send this," said Harry, turning for the first time to face Snipe. "You got a problem, go talk to him, OK? Better yet, go-"

Before Harry could complete the sentence, the door burst open again, and in came Jennie Higgins and her holocam operator. "Hi!" said Jennie, with her best professional smile. "Can anybody tell me whether this is a drill or not? If it's the real thing, I've got to put together a story."

"Honey, this is some serious shit goin' down," said Chocolate Harry with a wink. "I can't tell you nothin' now, but you come talk to me when it's over, and I'll tell you stuff make your hair curl."

"Her hair already curling," said Tusk-anini, looking up from his book.

Lieutenant Snipe raised his voice. "I want this area cleared at once," he shouted. "The major has put the base on full alert status-"

"He didn't do that," interrupted Tusk-anini. "You do that, just a few minutes ago."

"Can I get your statement?" said Jennie, stepping up to the lieutenant and turning on her microphone. Sydney hovered behind her, his holocam humming almost inaudibly. "I'm speaking to Lieutenant Erwin Snipe of Omega Company. Can you tell my viewers whether the base is under attack?"

"Yo, Jennie, don't go botherin' Snipe with questions," said Chocolate Harry, waving his hand. "You'll just get him worse confused. Nobody tells baby lieutenants what's happenin'."

"That's not true!" said Snipe, his voice going up an octave. "I have reports from the front line-"

He was interrupted again as the door swung open and a new voice boomed out, "Hi, it looks as if I've finally found the party!" It was Phule, wearing a perfectly tailored tuxedo and holding a martini glass in one hand.

"Cap'n!" said Chocolate Harry. "I thought you was goin'-"

"Change of plans," said Phule with a wink. "You know, there's very little in life that's so important that a fellow can't afford to stop and smell the roses, is there?"

"Captain, I have reason to believe that this base is under attack!" said Lieutenant Snipe. "If I could get the comm center clear of unauthorized personnel..."

Jennie stepped forward. "Captain, can you confirm the lieutenant's rumor of an attack?"

Snipe tried again, a little bit louder. "All unauthorized personnel will leave the comm room at once, or I will have security clear it!"

"Oh, man, will you get off that jive?"

"Tgfrblt..."

"I don't know about you, but I'm going to go attack the free lunch buffet over by the dollar slots. It's the best deal in the casino!"

"Captain, can you confirm or deny the rumor?"

"Tgfrblt!"

"I'm calling Security right now, do you hear me?"

"Who you calling Security?"

"Come on, let's go see the action at the roulette tables!"

"Will everybody please shut up for one freaking minute?" The voice booming through the loudspeaker behind the comm console made everyone in the room jump and turn to look. There was Mother, standing at the console with a mike in her hand, glaring at the room. Suddenly realizing that six pairs of eyes and one Galaxy-wide network holocam were pointing at her, she gave a little shriek and ducked back behind the console almost as if someone had grabbed the collar of her jumpsuit and yanked her down.

In the silence came Phule's voice: "Well, time to go see about that free lunch," and before anyone could respond, he was out the door. Not that anyone was paying particular attention to anything except Mother's uncharacteristic outburst.

"Uh, did you wanna say somethin', Mother?" said Chocolate Harry very sheepishly.

"She say it already, but people weren't listening," said Tusk-anini, shrugging. "Now it too late."

"Too late for what?" said Lieutenant Snipe, making one more try to control the rapidly deteriorating situation.

"Yes, too late for what?" said Phule, slipping quietly into the room. He was wearing a legion jumpsuit that, for the first time in anyone's memory, seemed not to have been cleaned and pressed within the last twenty-four hours.

"Cap'n!" said Chocolate Harry. He stared for a moment, then shook his head. "That's two of the fastest clothes changes I've ever seen, dude. You gonna have to tell me how you did that."

"Oh, good, you back," said Tusk-anini. "Mother have message for you from Beeker, but she thought you gone already."

"From Beeker!" said Phule, surprise on his face. He lifted up his communicator and pressed a button. "If Beeker's breaking comm silence, it's got to be a serious emergency. Patch him through on a secure channel, Mother, I'm ready to receive him." He lifted the communicator close to his ear.

Silence reigned in Comm Central as everyone present strained to hear what Beeker was saying, but with Phule holding his wrist communicator inches from his ear, only an undifferentiated buzz was audible.

Phule's replies were singularly unhelpful: "Yes?" "Really!" "I'll get someone on that at once," and "Good man, Beeker!"

When he lowered the communicator, every pair of eyes in the room was staring at him. He looked back at them and grinned. "Well, I guess we've all got jobs to do, don't we?" he said, and turned and went out the door again.

It was Chocolate Harry who broke the silence. "Man, he flies lower than any dude I ever seen." Then he shook his head and turned to Mother. "That reminds me. Orders from the Cap'n-he didn't say nothin' to change 'em, so get this out to all personnel ASAP."

"Excuse me, Sergeant," said Lieutenant Snipe. "We are in an emergency situation, and I am the OD. I am responsible for all communications until further notice."

Chocolate Harry stared at him for a long moment. "Dude, you just got further notice. Mother, send this out, and if any jive-ass Lieutenant wants to put his mark on it, he's gonna have to do it on the fly."

"Chocolate Harry right," said Tusk-anini, and he folded his arms, adding his stare to Chocolate Harry's. After a moment, Snipe blinked. He stood up hastily and made a rapid exit from Comm Central. Nobody watching had any doubt where he was going, but nobody bothered to stop him. The only question was whether he and the major had any way to stop them.

"Hey, Brandy, is this a drill or not?" said one of the legionnaires in the trenches looking out into the night. "I got a nice soft bunk back in the air-conditioning, if we ain't doin' anything in particular out here."

"You think I'm out here trying to get a date?" said Brandy. "All I know is, if this ain't a drill, some nasty BEM's likely to hear you jawin' and put a laser hole through your butt. And if the BEM don't do it, you got a top sergeant right here that'll kick it halfway back to Lorelei. Either way, you lose. So maybe you ought to act like it's the real thing and keep your mouth shut."

"Aw, gimme a break, Brandy," said the legionnaire, but he kept his voice low and his eyes toward the desert beyond the perimeter. If anything was happening out there, it was too subtle to be visible, even with the help of night vision goggles. But Brandy wasn't in the habit of issuing idle threats, and if she wanted the troops to treat the situation as a genuine emergency, that was what she'd get.

After an indeterminate length of time, Brandy's wrist communicator buzzed. She sighed and reached out to touch the miniature control that would let her hear the incoming message, undoubtedly the recall signal, ending tonight's drill. Another pointless exercise. That seemed to be Major Botchup's stock in trade. At least Captain Jester's exercises usually had some objective she could understand. It wasn't until she realized that she had also heard the buzz from all the other communicators within earshot that she began to wonder whether this might be something other than an ordinary drill, after all.

Journal #605

The one thing that consistently allowed my employer to triumph over his adversaries was their utter inability to escape their preconceived notions. In business, this ability to "think out of the box" was at least given lip service, although a true innovator often met more obstacles than rewards. But in the Space Legion, especially among the officer corps, any notion that hadn't been held by generations upon generations of legionnaires was suspect. So the reaction of a typical Legion officer to one of my employer's schemes was completely predictable.

I am informed that within military circles this inflexibility is considered an asset. Perhaps it is just as well that I was never tempted to follow that career myself. It was all I could stomach to watch the operation of the military mind at a safe and comfortable distance...preferably several kilometers away.

"Major, we have a mutiny on our hands," said Lieutenant Snipe, bursting into the command center.

"Mutiny?" Botchup snarled. "These damned incompetents couldn't organize a barroom brawl, let alone a mutiny." Then he frowned. "What are you doing away from your post?"

"The supply sergeant sent out a message, and he wouldn't let me look at it first!"

"Huh, I just got that damned message," said the major. He handed Snipe a printout. "What the hell do you make of this?"

Snipe squinted at the printout for a moment, then said, "I don't understand. This says that all full members of the Church of the New Revelation are to report to the supply shed at once, orders of Captain Jester. What in the world does he want with them in the middle of an attack?"

"Uh, that'll be me," said the legionnaire behind the console.

"You'll stay right where you are," Major Botchup grunted. He turned to Snipe and said, "I want to know what he's doing sending the supply sergeant to transmit the message when he ought to be bringing it here in person. Maybe you're right. We just might be looking at a conspiracy, Snipe."

Snipe rubbed his jaw, thinking fiercely. "That makes sense, Major, he might be trying to open a door to the very invaders we're digging in to repel. What other motive could he have for pulling essential personnel out of our defensive lines?"

"Exactly," said Botchup. "It looks as if our friend Jester is about to sell us out to the very enemy he was sent here to suppress. I'm not surprised that he's doing it, but it is a bit of a shock that he'd be fool enough to put it on record. This'll be all the grounds we need to expel him from the Legion-and clap him into prison for a good long term, as well."

"It'll serve him right!" agreed Snipe. "In fact, I wish they'd...What's that?"

"It's the distant motion detector alarm, sir," said the legionnaire at the command console. "Something really big seems to be approaching the perimeter."

"Seems to be?" said Botchup. "Seems to be? Is it approaching, or isn't it?"

"I dunno, sir," said the legionnaire, pouting. "Whyn't you take a look if you think you can tell any more than I can?"

"I'll do just that," snarled Botchup, and he elbowed the legionnaire out of the seat and slid in. The legionnaire said nothing but began sidling toward the exit.

Botchup fiddled with a control, muttered something foul-sounding under his breath, switched to a different control, hit a couple of buttons, cursed under his breath, fiddled some more, and then fell silent. Gradually his mouth began to fall open, and his hands began trembling. After a long silence, he gave a low whistle and said, "Great Ghu, how can anything that big not show up on visual?"

"I don't know," said Snipe. "But it sure is moving fast-"

"Told you so," said the legionnaire, smirking, just before he dodged out the door. But Major Botchup sat staring at the console, not even noticing the young man's departure. That was when Snipe really began to worry.

"What's the story, C. H.?" Rev looked at the supply sergeant, then at the group of legionnaires, all with variations on the same face, the sideburned, full-upped face with the Grecian nose that he himself wore. By his quick calculation, every member of the Church of the New Revelation-the Church of the King, as it was also known-was here by the supply shed in response to the cryptic message calling them all together at this tense moment.

"I'm just the dude carryin' the message, Rev," said Chocolate Harry. "The cap'n's the only one knows the whole story, and he said he'd be here to fill y'all in as soon as he got one other bit of work taken care of. So be cool, and I reckon he'll be along when whatever's happenin' is ready to happen."

"I can wait, sure 'nuff," said Rev. "Only thing that worries me is, I don't see where the major's signed off on whatever we're doing. That could get mighty touchy if the major decides we're away from our posts in the middle of an emergency-"

"Let me worry about that," said a familiar voice.

"Cap'n!" said Chocolate Harry. "Glad you're here. Looks like we got everybody you asked for-"

"That's right," said Rev. "Every single one of my flock is here, waitin' t' hear what you've got in mind."

"Good work, both of you," said Phule. "Now, here's what I want all of you to do..."

"What are we going to do, sir?" Snipe peered over Major Botchup's shoulder at the command center's combat situation screen. "What are we going to do?" The screen showed a large, amorphous blip sitting in the desert immediately outside the camp. But reports from the lookouts on that section of the perimeter reported nothing unusual.

"I still can't believe that none of those idiots can see anything out there," muttered Botchup. "Instruments don't lie, damn it." The major sat, staring at the screen and rubbing his chin a moment, then turned and looked at his adjutant. "Snipe," he said.

"Yes, sir?" said the adjutant. Then he saw Botchup's expression and said, "No, sir! You can't be thinking-"

"Don't you let me down, too, Snipe," said Botchup, a growl in his voice. "There's something fishy going on here, and I don't dare take any chances. Either these moronic Omega Company clowns are even more grossly incompetent than they've been up to now, or Jester's talked them into deliberately refusing to report a hostile incursion. I need somebody out there, Snipe, and you're the only one I've got."

"Sir," said Snipe resignedly. "What do you want me to do.

Botchup put a hand on Snipe's shoulder. "Get out to the perimeter in Blue Sector," he rumbled. "That's where the trouble seems to be-and tell me what's going on. And be ready for anything, Snipe, anything. When in doubt, assume the worst. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, sir," said Snipe, his face a mask of discontent. He patted his hip, where a side arm rested in its holster. "I'll be ready, sir." He came to attention and saluted smartly, then turned and headed for the door. It would have been a very smart exit had he not misjudged his step and tripped over a heavy power cable on the floor. He landed flat on his face and lay there a second, then pulled himself up, saluted again, and headed for the door.

He almost made it this time, except for colliding with a legionnaire coming in as he went out. The legionnaire managed to get an arm around Snipe and prevent him from falling again. "Sorry, Lieutenant," she said. "Ah'll be mo' careful next time."

Snipe stared at her-an oval face with thick dark hair in a high pompadour, with locks combed into sideburns. Her thick lips had an expression somewhere between a sneer and a pout. "Didn't you just leave?" he said. He stared at her name tag, which read "Tupelo."

"No, suh, ah'm just at the start of mah shift," said Tupelo. "That must've been Private Sandbag."

"Oh, yes, I guess you're right," said Snipe. "Well, sir, I'm off." He turned abruptly and made a dash for the door, and this time he managed to find the way out.

It took Lieutenant Snipe a moment to get his bearings in the dark; too late, he remembered that he had a pair of night vision goggles back in the Comm Center. But the major was in a hurry for answers; no time to get the goggles now. His eyes would just have to adjust.

Now, which way was Blue Sector? Snipe remembered that the incursion had reportedly begun somewhere near the supply depot, which was to the...to the left of the exit he'd taken from the MBC? Yes, that must be right. He'd looked at the screen before leaving the command center but wasn't sure just how it was oriented in relation to his present position. Well, the encampment wasn't that large. He'd find it soon enough.

He jumped as a voice behind him said, "Excuse me, sir, can I help you?"

He turned to see a legionnaire with a dark pompadour, sideburns, and night vision goggles hanging around the neck. "Aren't you supposed to be on duty in the command center?" he asked.

The legionnaire grinned. "No, I wish I was. Working there's got to be a lot more fun than running around in these stupid drills."

From the voice, Snipe realized that this one was a male. Obviously not the same as the one he'd just seen...except the face was uncannily close. Snipe shivered, then said, "I need to inspect the perimeter in Blue Sector. And don't assume it's a drill, either. This is a war zone, you know."

"Uh-yeah," said the legionnaire, whose nameplate Snipe couldn't make out in the dark. "Blue is over that way, sir"-he gestured to the left just past the supply depot, if you know where that is. I'd take you there, but I've got to get to my post."

"That's good enough," said Snipe, and he set off in the direction indicated. His eyes were beginning to adjust to the dark. Above him, the desert sky was full of brilliant stars in unfamiliar constellations-not quite enough light to see by, but perhaps enough to help him avoid crashing into objects the size of a hoverjeep. He made his way gingerly, wondering just what he was supposed to be looking for.

After a short distance, he made out a vague shape ahead of him: the supply depot, he assumed. He moved purposefully toward it, but barely had he covered half the distance when a hulking figure loomed in front of him and said softly, "Who goes there?"

Snipe drew back a pace, noting even in the dark that his challenger was aiming a large weapon toward him. "Point that thing the other way," he said. "It's Lieutenant Snipe, on orders from the major."

"Oh, sorry, sir," said the legionnaire. A small red light appeared in his hand, briefly illuminating Snipe's face-and his own. Snipe got a momentary glimpse of a dark pompadour, long sideburns...

"I thought you had to go the other way," said Snipe, beginning to wonder if this legionnaire was following him for some reason.

"No, sir, this is my post," said the legionnaire, just loud enough to be heard. Then he drew closer and whispered, "Say, if you don't mind telling me, sir, are we going to see action tonight? Seems awful long for a drill."

"I'm damned if I know what's going on anymore," said Snipe. "That's why I'm out here. Have you seen any sign of action?"

"No, sir," said the legionnaire. "Quiet as a mouse, right here. You're the first person I've seen."

"I see," said Snipe. "Wait a minute. I hear something over there!" He pointed toward the dark shadow he assumed was the supply depot.

Before they could react, a group of dark figures dashed up to them. Snipe felt what had to be the muzzle of a weapon pressed against his midsection. "What are you doing here?" growled a low voice.

"L-l-lieutenant Snipe," he managed to stammer. "M-major's orders."

"Snipe? Not bloody likely," said one of the newcomers. "He's probably sitting in his soft bunk while the real legionnaires run the show. Give me a light, here."

Again a soft red light gleamed, and in its brief flare Snipe saw the legionnaires around him. After the first instant of shocked recognition, he gave a terrified shriek and fainted dead away.

Major Botchup paced, stopping occasionally to look at the Command Center console over the shoulder of the legionnaire on duty. What was taking Snipe so long? The approaching...entity that showed, now larger than the Legion camp itself, on the Command Center's screens, surely must be visible from the defensive perimeter. Even Snipe must be able to see it.

He'd tried paging the lieutenant on the communicator, but the interference that had plagued communications ever since he'd arrived on this planet had suddenly increased again. He suspected sabotage. It had to be sabotage. Not even Omega Company could rise to this level of incompetence. The camp was in a state of siege, the enemy was gathering its strength for a final assault, and now the enemies were boring from within.

"Try him again," he snapped.

Obediently, the legionnaire at the console went through the routine of trying to hail Botchup's adjutant, but the speakers kept up an unrelenting rumble and rattle of white noise. Or was it noise? Botchup could swear there were patterns in it, but the cryptological analysis devices in the company's arsenal could detect no meaning in them. Either the code was subtler than anyone expected, or...He didn't want to think about what the alternatives might be.

Suddenly the door to the outside burst open. He turned to glare at the intruder. But his heart sank when he saw Captain Jester come through the door along with Lieutenant Armstrong. Supported between them was the limp, pale form of Lieutenant Snipe.

"What the hell?" said Botchup, as Jester and Armstrong maneuvered the unconscious Snipe to a seat.

"Stand back, sir, let him have some air," said Armstrong. He stepped over to the water cooler and filled a disposable cup and brought it back to Snipe. "We think he'll be all right, but he's got to get a few moments to breathe."

"Yes, yes, but what the hell happened?"

"He appears to have passed out," said Phule. At least now he was in proper uniform, Botchup noted absently. "He was found on the ground out in Blue Sector. It could have been the heat, or it could have been sheer terror..."

"Terror?" Botchup asked, his brows going upward at least an inch. "Terror? The man's a Legion officer. What in the world could have frightened him?"

"There's something uncanny going on out there," said Phule. "Something's lurking just beyond the perimeter. Look at your readouts! It's there, all right, but nobody can see it. It's the reason the Zenobians called us here."