Phule's Paradise (5 page)

     
That got a few smiles and nudges out of the company. Once considered the losers and rejects of the Legion, the troops under Phule's command now took a perverse pride in their renegade status.

     
"Basically I'm sure that General Blitzkreig figures this is an impossible assignment, and that he gave it to us fully expecting us to fall flat on our faces."

     
A few growls answered this statement, but Phule pressed on quickly.

     
"Hey, he may be right. We may not be able to stop an organized-crime takeover, but we're going to give it our best shot. Remember what I told you when I first assumed command? About doing the best you can with what you have in any given situation? Well, in this situation, to do our best-to have any chance at all of success-we're going to have to send part of our team under cover. They're going to have to give up their pretty uniforms and the support they get from them and stand duty all alone. To cover for them, to give them a chance, we're going to have to accept the presence of stand-ins in our ranks. What's more, we're going to have to treat the substitutes as equals ... really let them blend in. Because, if we don't ..."

     
He swept the room with his sternest stare.

     
"If anyone gets the idea that not everyone in our uniformed show is genuine, they're going to start looking around for where the real Legionnaires are. If they do that, if they catch on to the scam we're running on them, then your teammates, and in some cases your partners, are going to be sitting ducks in a very rough shooting gallery."

     
"Our partners?" Even his broken accent couldn't hide the horror in Tusk-anini's voice.

     
Phule cursed his verbal slip. Realizing how upset the company was over the idea of stand-ins, he had decided to hold back this particular piece of bad news until later, but now the cat was out of the bag.

     
"Affirmative," he said flatly. "Between the volunteers for undercover work, and trying to pair the stand-ins with legitimate Legionnaires, I figure a lot of the normal partners in the company will have to be split up."

     
Utter silence reigned in the room.

     
Of all the information he had passed on this evening, Phule knew that this was probably the most unsettling of all. One of the first things he had done upon assuming command of the company was to pair the Legionnaires off with partners or "wingmen." While there had been some resistance at first, the company was now used to the system, and the partner teams had grown into more than friendships. Telling the Legionnaires that the partners would be split, particularly on top of the other bad news, was roughly like telling them he wanted to cut off their arms.

     
"Look," he said, making no effort to keep the regret out of his voice. "I know it's asking a lot ... and I can't expect you to like it. To tell you the truth, I don't like it much myself. Still, it's the only way ... if we're even going to have a chance of success on this assignment. I, for one, want to at least give it a shot before we run up the white flag."

     
He ran his eyes slowly over the assembled company, then sighed and pulled himself back up into a position of attention.

     
"Well, that's the bare bones of it ... the bitter and the sweet. As I said, there are still a lot of details to be worked out.

     
Think it over ... talk it over. I'll be in my office if any of you want to be considered for the volunteer mission. That's all for now."

     
With that, he beat a hasty but dignified retreat from the meeting.

CHAPTER THREE

Journal # 174

It seemed that while my employer might have sorely underestimated the reaction of his Legionnaires to his plan, he also underestimated the fierce loyalty they felt toward him ... a loyalty, I might add, which appeared to be growing steadily.

     
If, by the way, it seems to you that these accounts always start with an apparently endless parade of meetings, both group and individual, I can only say that this happens to be my employer's particular style of management. Whenever possible, he likes to talk with those in his employment or under his command, both to keep them informed and to learn their reactions to his plans. If anything, I have tried to spare you the tedium of the meetings and discussions he had with the Legionnaires on a weekly and sometimes on a daily basis by omitting them from these journals. Those affecting major events, however, such as the ones in this section, must be included for completeness of my account.

     
I should also note, as it will become apparent in this section, that while my position still is an individual contractual arrangement with my employer rather than with the Space Legion, I did take a larger role in this assignment than normal.

Beeker raised a speculative eyebrow as Phule stormed into the office.

     
"Difficult meeting, sir?"

     
"Difficult?" Phule snarled. "How does `open revolt' sound?"

     
"Frankly, sir, it sounds unbelievable," the butler said, choosing to ignore the redundant nature of his employer's question. "While your troops may be occasionally unhappy with your orders, I seriously doubt they would ever challenge your position as their leader. Their respect for you borders on reverence."

     
Phule took a deep breath, then blew it all out, puffing his cheeks in a near-silent whistle.

     
"That's true," he said. "But they were unhappy."

     
"Forgive my asking, sir," Beeker continued mercilessly, "but wasn't that what you expected? Considering the effort you've put into building camaraderie and a sense of family within the company, it seems to me only natural that they would react with shock and panic when confronted with an assignment which requires their splitting up."

     
Despite himself, Phule's face twisted into a wry smile as he cocked his head at his butler.

     
"Are you trying to tell me I did too good a job, Beek?"

     
"Not exactly, sir," the butler returned blandly. "I am suggesting that you should keep doing your job. At the moment your company needs a leader to make firm decisions, however unpleasant ... not an overly sensitive debutante who worries about popularity polls ... sir."

     
"Ouch." Phule grimaced. "Ouch and touché. All right, Beek. I'll shut up and soldier. You don't mind if I whine once in a while, though? When the schedule permits?"

     
"That is your prerogative, sir. I shall let you know when and if I find it excessive."

     
"I'm sure you will." The commander laughed. "And Beeker? Thanks."

     
"Just doing my job, sir," the butler said. "If you have recovered from your ordeal, however, there is a matter I wish to discuss with you ... if you have a moment."

     
Reflexively Phule glanced at his watch. "Well, the volunteers don't seem to be beating down my door ... not yet, anyway. What do you have, Beek?"

     
"I believe I have a small amount of vacation time accrued, do I not, sir?"

     
"As a matter of fact, you have a lot of vacation time coming. Why do you ask?"

     
"I was thinking I might take some of it prior to our arrival on Lorelei ... if it's convenient, that is."

     
Phule frowned.

     
"I can't say it's really convenient," he said, "what with us getting ready for a major relocation. Still ... what's up, Beek? If you don't mind my asking."

     
"I believe your plans call for Lieutenant Rembrandt to depart early? To audition and select a group of actors and actresses to replace those Legionnaires who will be working under cover?"

     
Phule nodded. "That's correct." He had never asked how it was that his butler always seemed to know his plans and decisions without being told ... mostly because he wasn't sure he wanted to know how this miracle was performed.

     
"Well, sir, I was thinking I might accompany her on her mission. While I'm sure that she is more than capable of completing her assignment on her own, it occurs to me that there will be a myriad of nonmilitary details and arrangements to be handled in connection with her work, things she may only have minimal experience in dealing with. While I would make arrangements to see to the packing and moving of our own gear before I left, I frankly think my services would be more valuable to her than to you in the upcoming weeks."

     
"I see," Phule said, pursing his lips. "I don't see where there would be any problem in letting you do that. Let me think about it and get back to you with my decision."

     
"Very good, sir. If I might add, however, I assume that Lieutenant Rembrandt will be in civilian garb for her mission?"

     
The commander nodded. "I hadn't thought about it, but you're right, Beeker. She'd have to be. Otherwise the media would catch wind of it and tip our hand before we even got started."

     
"Well, sir, I, for one, haven't see the lieutenant in anything except her Legionnaire wardrobe. While I have no reason to doubt the extent of her civilian wardrobe or her ability to supplement it as necessary, I have no basis to be confident of it, either."

     
"Point taken, Beeker. Like I say, let me think on it. Just remember ..."

     
They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

     
"Whoops! There's my first victim. Let them in, will you, Beek? On your way out?"

     
"Yes, sir ... but first, sir ..."

     
"Yes?"

     
"If I might draw your attention to the time?"

     
Again Phule glanced at his watch. "Okay. So?"

     
"It is my understanding that you're expecting to interview some fifty volunteers tonight?"

     
"If that many show up, yes."

     
"Might I point out, sir, that if each interview only takes ten minutes, it will take more than eight hours to finish them all?"

     
Phule sighed wearily. "I know, but it's important that I handle this as soon as possible ... as you yourself pointed out not too long ago."

     
"Of course, sir. I was merely suggesting that you might wish to make an effort to keep each individual interview as brief as possible considering the cumulative time involved ... resist the temptation to try to settle details tonight that could be handled at leisure over the next few days. While I'm aware that it's my favorite lost cause, you do need to sleep occasionally ... sir."

     
The knocking came again, more insistent this time.

     
"I'll keep it in mind, Beek ... but no promises. Sometimes I have to go with the flow."

     
"I know, sir." The butler sighed. "But I felt I had to at least make the effort."

"Evenin', Cap'n."

     
Chocolate Harry, the company's supply sergeant, slouched against the door frame, casually shooting a salute at his commander with his index finger.

     
"I'll keep this short, 'cause it looks like you got quite a mob shapin' up out there. Just put me down as one of your scouts."

     
"All right, C. H." Phule nodded, jotting a note on his pad. "I'll admit I'm a little surprised, though. I didn't think you'd want to be separated from your inventory."

     
"I'll admit I'm not wild about it," Harry said, "but I figure most of it will be packed and stored anyway for this assignment, and my boys can handle that easy enough. 'Sides, I don't think there's anyone in this outfit who can pass for a civilian as easy as me ... 'specially when it comes to movin' through the less legal portions of polite society."

     
He winked broadly at this. While it was normal in the Legion to keep one's pre-Legion life a secret, Harry was very open about the fact that when he joined up he had been on the run from associates who, if not criminal, were at least outlaw.

     
The commander did not return the smile.

     
"That brings up an interesting point, C.H. Is it going to be safe for you to operate out of uniform?"

     
"I've given that some thought myself, Cap'n," the sergeant admitted. "There shouldn't be any special trouble for me on Lorelei ... or if it pops up, it won't be any more dangerous for me out of uniform than in."

     
Phule hesitated for a moment, then gave a curt nod.

     
"All right then. Check back with me in the next couple days and we'll start working up a cover for you."