Phule Me Twice (29 page)

"I don't believe one word of it," said Botchup, jaw firmly clenched. "Invisible menaces are the stuff of bad holodramas-something to scare babies with. Whatever's out there-"

"He's waking up," said Armstrong, hovering near Lieutenant Snipe. "Here, try to drink some of this water," he urged, holding out the cup he'd filled.

"Good, maybe now we can get some sense out of him," said Botchup. He walked over to Snipe and barked, "Wake up, man! What did you see out there?"

"Dark," muttered Snipe, his eyelids half-open. "Dark. That face...looking at me..."

"Face?" said Botchup. "What's he talking about?"

"I haven't the foggiest idea," said Phule. "Or perhaps...No, that can't be. It's just a native superstition."

"What native superstition?" growled Botchup. "Out with it, man! There may be lives at stake."

"Captain Clown!" The door burst open again, and a diminutive lizardlike creature came scrambling in, dressed in what was obviously a uniform. It stopped when it noticed the major and made a complex gesture-a salute, apparently. "Major Snafu! It is my onerous duty to report to you!"

"Who the hell is this?" said Botchup.

"It's our native liaison, Flight Leftenant Qual of the Zenobian military," said Phule. "He'll know what's going on, if anyone does. What's happening, Qual? Our instruments show something out there, but nobody can see anything."

"Ah-hhh," the Zenobian hissed. "It is as I feared, Captain Clown. The Hidden Ones come, and we shall be powerless against them."

"Powerless?" Major Botchup smirked. "You underestimate us, Flight Leftenant. A Space Legion company is nothing to sneeze at, and even considering the sorry shape they were in when I came on board, I fancy I've got these fellows in pretty decent fighting trim by now."

"With all respectability, it is not so effortless, Major Snafu," said Qual. "The Hidden Ones appear to be where one can strike at them, but when one strikes, the effect is as of nothing. I have seen it. We Zenobians have concentrated the fire of an entire Swamplurkers battalion on them, without consequence except the expenditure of munitions. And when they become agitated, they begin to play tricks on the mind."

"Tricks on the mind?" Botchup scoffed. "Now you're really telling fairy tales. Invisible bogeymen that you can't shoot and that play tricks on the mind when you annoy 'em-go tell it to the Regular Army!"

"It is quite true," insisted Qual. "They cause the victim to become unable to distinguish between persons. It is as if everyone in the world were hatched from the same egg."

Botchup laughed, a harsh braying laugh that conveyed no warmth. "Pardon my Vegan, Flight Leftenant, but that's bullshit, plain and simple. If I had a plot of tomatoes to fertilize I might buy some, but until then, I'll pass."

"Hey, it looks as if I've found the party," came a jaunty voice from the doorway. It was Phule, dressed for a night on the town, with a half-full martini glass in one hand.

Major Botchup turned and stared. "You!" he snarled. Then his eyes flicked back to Phule, standing there in Legion uniform, cool and correct as a recruiting poster, and a sudden doubt crossed his face. "Two of you?"

"Excuse me, Major?" said the Phule in uniform, with a carefully neutral expression.

"We could use a few babes to liven things up," said the Phule in the tuxedo. "I know the answer to that. It's ladies' night in the hotel disco. How about we go down there and check out the action?" He whirled and was out the door before anyone could stop him.

Oblivious to the entire episode, Armstrong had been helping Lieutenant Snipe get down a glass of water. Now at last Snipe managed to sit up straight and to look around. "How did I get back inside?" he said. "Thank goodness for the light-and for a friendly face. I was beginning to think-"

"Easy, now," said Armstrong. "Why don't you tell the major what happened?"

"Excuse me, Major, we've got somethin' new on the screen," said the legionnaire sitting at the console. He swung around to look over his shoulder.

In that instant Snipe saw his face. "Oh my God!" he screamed. "He's everywhere! He's everywhere!" His eyes rolled up into his head, and he fell back unconscious yet again.

There were four officers in the command center, now. Major Botchup, Phule, Lieutenant Armstrong, and Flight Leftenant Qual. Snipe was back in his own quarters, under sedation, with a large, sympathetic legionnaire outside the door to make certain nobody disturbed him. Externally, Botchup remained calm; but he kept casting a suspicious eye toward the other three officers, as if expecting them to metamorphose into identical triplets.

"The Hidden Ones are upon us," said Qual mournfully. "It remains to be seen whether we can escape utter madness."

"I know what you mean. Damn it, my adjutant's already close to the edge," said Botchup. "For a while there, I was beginning to think I was seeing things myself."

"Well, sir, it's a good thing that didn't happen," said Armstrong. "We need a sound mind at the helm, if you'll pardon a naval metaphor, sir."

"Yes, I suppose so," said Botchup glumly. He turned to Qual and asked, "The thing is, if these, uh, Hidden Ones, keep up the pressure, how long can we, uh, hold out against them?"

"That alters according to the specific, Major Snafu," said Qual. "They do tend to focus their attention on the leaders. But a strong-headed sophont such as you...There is no reason to believe you could not withstand it for hundreds of hours." He flashed a toothy grimace and waved a foreclaw toward the console, which still showed the mysterious presence beyond the camp's perimeter. "In any case, they are present, and we shall undoubtedly learn the answer."

"Yes, I suppose we will," said Botchup glumly.

"Yes, sir," said Armstrong. "Omega Company is lucky to have a commander who's willing to take these risks for his people."

"Not as if I have much choice," said Botchup. "The only way I have to get off-world is the landing shuttle. That'd get me up to orbit with some power to spare, but there's no way to get me to an inhabited world. I'd starve waiting for another ship to come."

"Oh, it is not so difficult as that," said Qual. "You may not be aware-in this same system your Alliance has a large space station, easily reached in one of your landers. Lorelei, I believe your name is for it. But of course that does not signify, since you intend to stay and fight the Hidden Ones."

Botchup raised his brows. "Lorelei? The resort station? You mean Zenobia is in the same system as Lorelei?"

"Yes, we were very surprised to learn that," said Phule. "Of course, nobody had any notion this world was inhabited. It's not one we'd have settled for ourselves. It wasn't until after the Alliance signed a treaty with the Zenobians that we found out where their home world was located."

"A sensible precaution, with the other party's intentions unknown to us," said Qual. "Of course, now we are allies together, and we trust you to know these things."

"Lorelei," mused Botchup. "You know, poor Snipe might need to be evacuated-"

"That's a very humanitarian thought," said Armstrong. "Of course, he couldn't pilot the lander himself. Somebody would have to go with him. I'd be glad to-"

"Let me think about it," said Botchup. "This isn't the kind of decision that should be made on the spur of the moment. If Snipe recovers, it wouldn't be necessary. On the other hand-"

The door opened and in came Phule, dressed in a tuxedo. "Just a reminder," he said. "Free breakfast on the casino floor!" He waved his martini glass and ducked back out.

Botchup turned several shades paler. "You know, I think I have the most experience piloting that particular shuttle model. We really need to get Snipe to safety."

"Sir, that's a dangerous voyage," said Armstrong. "Shouldn't you let one of your subordinates take the risk?"

"Major, I think you should send the most expendable officer," said Phule. "That's obviously me..."

"Oh, no, you don't!" said Botchup. "I happen to know that you own the biggest casino on Lorelei! You'll run off and check into a luxury hotel suite and live the life of leisure. We're wise to your tricks, Jester. You're not taking that shuttle, not on your life."

"Very well, Major, I'm sorry you trust me so little," said Phule. "But if we're going to evacuate poor Lieutenant Snipe, who's to take him?"

The door opened to admit Chaplain Jordan Ayres, better known to Omega Company as Rev. "'Scuse me, gen'lemen, I reckon we got to talk about the morale problem here..."

Major Botchup's jaw dropped. He stared at Rev for fifteen seconds, then abruptly said, "Get Snipe ready to travel! And send a man to my quarters to pack up my personal belongings! I'm taking him to Lorelei myself!"

Armstrong said, "Sir, I admire your courage, but you need to designate someone to command in your absence-"

"Jester can do it," snarled Botchup on his way out the door. "He's half crazy already. Let the Hidden Ones have their way with him! I'm going to get off this crazy planet while I still have a few brain cells left!" He stormed out and left the other four staring at the doorway.

It was Flight Leftenant Qual who finally broke the silence. "It is a pity he was not more adamant. We did not even get to deploy our most interesting effects."

"That's all right," said Armstrong. "We can save 'em in case General Blitzkrieg ever visits."

But Rev stood there with a puzzled expression. "I guess y'all are gonna have to let me in on the secret sometime," he said. "I could swear that feller took one look at me and jes' flat-out lost his cool. I didn't think there was anything that disturbin' about my face."

Phule grinned. "Rev, I'm not going to explain it until later, but I will say that I've never been gladder to see your face than right now." Armstrong and Qual joined in the laughter.

Journal #611

Having regained de facto command of Omega Company, my employer moved quickly to solidify his gains. First of all, he made certain that Major Botchup and Lieutenant Snipe were able to leave the planet without undue difficulty or delay. He had no personal animus toward them, although many of his legionnaires seemed to. Besides, getting them to their destination with all due speed and safety would work more in his favor than otherwise.

His next priority was to reprogram the Andromatic robot; it had finally remained in his vicinity long enough for him to give it the verbal command that deactivated it. He had been tempted to return it to Lorelei in the same shuttle as the major, but that would have been unnecessarily cruel; Here was little enough room in the ship. He had more useful tasks planned for the robot, in any case.

His most important task was to pass along to the Zenobians the full details of his encounter with the Nanoids and his suggestion for a codification of the relationship of the two races: both, as he had reason to believe, authentic natives of this world. Flight Leftenant Qual was useful as a go-between in this matter, and we soon had a broad-based approval of the general terms of the agreement from the Zenobian side. Now all that remained was to bring the two races together and consolidate his diplomatic victory.

Oddly enough, while there were a hundred details to check and loose ends to tie together, everything moved extraordinarily swiftly once things were set in motion. After waiting outside the camp during most of the action, I drove the hoverjeep in at dawn and found I barely had time for a proper bath and change of uniform before I was up to my ears in work. But by late afternoon, everything was in readiness.

The command cadre of Omega Company stood facing Phule near the perimeter of the camp. While many of them were smiling, there were also several dazed expressions; the pace of events over the last twenty-four hours had been too much for almost anyone to keep track of without a script. Phule himself was not quite sure he understood everything that had happened, and he was sure that most of the things that had happened were best kept from the Legion's high command.

Next to him stood the Andromatic robot that had been his stand-in at the Fat Chance Casino on Lorelei and, after its kidnapping and escape, his unofficial double here in camp. Even now, several of the legionnaires kept looking back and forth between him and the robot, as if they weren't entirely sure which was which.

Lieutenant Armstrong spoke for all of them. "It's really uncanny," he said. "Even when it stands there, entirely motionless, it's hard to tell you apart."

"It would be even more difficult if he hadn't engaged the robot's override protocols," said Beeker.

"What's that?" asked Chocolate Harry.

"They prevent it from doing anything other than what I give it a specific order to do," said Phule. "But when I have it set to impersonate me, it'll follow a general program of doing things I might be doing, and it'll respond appropriately to events around it, subject to the robotic laws."

"Respond appropriately is an understatement," said Rembrandt with a nervous laugh. "If you hadn't come back, I guess we would have figured out it wasn't really you, but it would have taken a good while longer. And somebody like the major, who didn't know you from before-I don't think he ever had a chance."

Phule grimaced. "I suppose I ought to be glad I got my money's worth from the manufacturer," he said wryly. "But I can't help feeling a bit miffed that none of my officers noticed any difference between me and the robot."

"Yo, if folks paid attention, they'd a spotted it pretty quick," said Chocolate Harry. "Every time somebody came up to it wearing my purple camo, it couldn't see 'em. If somebody had tipped me to that, I'd have spotted that sucker for a bot in no time flat."

"At least, I'm glad it wasn't you ignoring me like that," said Jennie Higgins. Then she stopped and peered at Phule more closely. "It wasn't you, now, was it?"

"On my word as a gentleman and an officer," said Phule, holding up his hand as if taking a pledge.

Jennie feigned a pout. "Coming from you, I'm not sure how much that's worth."

"Oh, coming from me, it's worth a great deal," said Phule.

"And he's got the Dilithium Express card to prove it," said Rembrandt, winking.

Before anyone could reply to that, Brandy pointed out into the desert and said, "Something's coming, Captain."

"Ah, that may be what we're waiting for," said Phule. "The Nanoids coming to finalize their agreement."

"Movin' mighty fast," said Chocolate Harry. "They on a bike or somethin'?"

"Conceivably, yes," said Beeker. "They evidently have the ability to form themselves into aggregations for special purposes, so perhaps they've adopted a form not dissimilar to one of your hovercycles."

"Whatever you say, man," said Chocolate Harry, shading his eyes with a huge hand. "Still comin' in fast. Are y' sure this is all cool, Cap'n? We can still get a couple antitank lasers zeroed in on it 'fore it gets too close."

"I doubt they'd hurt it any," said Sushi. "It'd do about as much damage as shooting a rifle at a swarm of ripners."

"I just hope it has good brakes," said Armstrong. "Shouldn't we stand out of its direct line of approach?"

"That's actually not a bad idea," said Phule, stepping off a half-dozen paces to one side. The group of legionnaires followed him and watched as the cloud of dust came closer, eerily quiet for something so fast-moving. At last, just as it seemed it would inevitably crash into the camp, the oncoming entity came to a pinpoint stop a few meters away from the group of officers who, observing Phule's cool unconcern, stood quietly waiting for it. Only when the dust began to settle did anyone react to what had arrived in their midst.

"Sheeee-it! It's the renegade robots!" cried Chocolate Harry, and he fell flat to the ground, reaching for a weapon.

"Looks like it, doesn't it?" said Sushi. "We've been showing them kids' adventure holos, and they must have decided they want to look like Roger Robot. You can get up, Harry. Meet the Nanoids."

"Nanoids? What the hell is that?" said Harry, slowly getting to his feet. He eyed the new arrival suspiciously.

"They're the whole reason we came to this planet," said Phule. "They share Zenobia with the Zenobians, and now we've got to arrange it so the two species can coexist in peace. And as it happens, I've got the perfect ambassador in mind."

"Ambassador? Who's that?" said Armstrong.

"Yours truly, of course," said an uncannily familiar voice. The voice came from the Andromatic robot, which they now saw was dressed in a tuxedo, carrying an impressive-looking portfolio under one arm.

"The robot?" said Jennie Higgins.

"That's right," said Phule. "The Zenobians will accept it because it looks like me, and they already think of me as a human of unusual integrity and leadership-"

"I can't imagine where they got that notion," said Beeker, dryly.

Phule ignored him. "And the Nanoids will respond to its robotic logic in a way they couldn't to any organic ambassador. So both sides will trust it, and meanwhile, it'll remain completely loyal to the Alliance, because it can't conceive of any other course of action."

"Man, are you sure about that?" asked Chocolate Harry, squinting carefully at the Andromatic robot.

"Absolutely, Sergeant," said the robot. It gave a very passable imitation of a wink. "And, by the way, it's a pleasure finally to see you without all that silly purple. Awkward for me to pretend I didn't see you."

"Say what?" said Harry. "You mean you could see me all along, even with the camo? I be damn-"

"That is exactly right, Sergeant," said the robot.

"Why did you pretend you couldn't see us, then?" said Jennie, her eyes beginning to smolder.

"Very simple, Miss Higgins," said the robot. "That purple antirobot camouflage is distributed by Phule-Proof Industries. For me to reveal that it was ineffective would be to damage my owner's interests, which of course I am programmed to protect. So until he reprogrammed me, I had to pretend that it did, in fact, work as advertised."

Chocolate Harry let out a long, low whistle. "Man, that's way too fast for my speed. I got to tell you, Cap'n, I'm glad this sucker is on our side."

"So am I, Harry," said Phule, chuckling. "So am I"

Journal #612

General Blitzkrieg was not at all happy when he received the news from Zenobia. To begin with, he was forced to pay off his thousand-dollar bet with Colonel Battleax when the arbiters-General Havoc, Ambassador Gottesman, and the third judge chosen by them, Chief Plenipotentary Korg of Zenobia-declared that Omega Company had successfully achieved the mission's stated objectives. And that was only the beginning.

Next, the Alliance Senate had called him in to testify on the treaty that my employer had concluded between the Zenobians and the Nanoids, who had turned out to have great potential as trading partners for the Alliance, once communications channels had been opened up. Having gone on record as opposing Omega Company's being given the Zenobia assignment, he was caught completely off guard by this development. It was particularly aggravating that he was forced to depend almost entirely on Captain Jester's reports to prepare himself for the Senate hearings.

Most annoying of all, the man he'd hand-picked as CO of Omega Company had evidently turned tail and run away just as the new race was arriving to make its overtures to the Legion company. There was very little the general could do to make his choice of Major Botchup look like anything but a blunder.

He didn't understand how so many things could have gone wrong at once. Still, if there was a way to make himself into the hero of the day, he intended to find it.

General Blitzkrieg gripped the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. There was the beginning of a headache lurking just behind his sinuses. He wanted nothing more than to go lie down, but he had to appear before the Alliance Senate in half an hour, and he didn't dare go in there without some kind of coherent story-not unless he wanted to be even more a laughingstock than he already was.

"All right, tell me again how we're going to explain this," he said. "Not only did Major Botchup and his aide desert from Omega Company in the face of what they thought was an enemy incursion; they ran away to Lorelei. Lorelei! Why the hell did they have to pick the plushest resort station in the sector to escape to?"

Major Sparrowhawk looked on at her superior, tightlipped. She'd hitched her career to Blitzkrieg's, and she'd always been careful to tell him what he wanted to hear. But it was beginning to look as if her best bet for survival was to start telling him what he needed to hear. And there was no better time to start than right now. She drew a star on her notepad and said, "Sir, Lorelei was the closest Alliance outpost. You need to keep emphasizing that fact, General."

"I just hope the senators buy this bill of goods," said Blitzkrieg. He opened his eyes and glared. "It looks bad, damn it, very bad."

"It doesn't help a bit that it was your picked commanding officer ran off," snarled Colonel Battleax, pausing in her pacing back and forth around the anteroom to which the Legion delegation had been sent to wait until the Senate was ready for them. "The Legion's lucky Jester was there to pick up the pieces. If you were smart, you'd make the most of that point. He's the Legion's golden boy, as far as the civilians are concerned, and that includes the Senate. Our best chance to profit from this episode is to give him full credit for it."

"It galls the hell out of me," said the general. "That son of a bitch is leading a charmed life, Colonel. If it weren't for the good of the Legion-"

"The next time you give a damn about the good of the Legion will be the first time," said Battleax. "You didn't have the sense to leave Jester alone to take care of a situation he was perfectly suited to handle, and you've ended up saddling Botchup with a failure he may never get off his record. Not that anybody expected much of him to begin with."

"We don't want the senators to focus on any of that, ma'am," said Major Sparrowhawk quietly. "General, you are going to tell them we had an important mission that required Botchup's presence on Lorelei. And to make the most capital out of Jester's diplomatic coup-"

"Diplomatic farking coup!" moaned Blitzkrieg. "How the hell does a complete idiot keep coming up with diplomatic coups?"

"Idiot or not, he keeps doing it," growled Battleax. "His company did everything they were asked to do, and more. By my count, this is the third time he's saved our bacon." Her expression made it very clear who she thought was the idiot.

"Don't rub it in, Colonel," growled Blitzkrieg. "You've won your damned bet, thanks to Jester and his rabble-and those half-blind judges. I don't need your gloating-"

Sparrowhawk cleared her throat. This wasn't going to be easy to say, but somebody had to say it. "As I was suggesting, General, Colonel, the Legion will look a lot better if you claim that Captain Jester was acting in furtherance of your orders, instead of letting everybody know he did it in spite of you. And the best way to make capital out of his accomplishments would be to return him to official command of Omega Company and promote him to-"

General Blitzkrieg sat bolt upright. "Promote him! I'd sooner promote the devil!"

"Have it your own way, sir," said Sparrowhawk with a shrug. "I suspect the senators will have their own ideas of what Captain Jester deserves, though."

As it turned out, she was right again.