Phule Me Twice (26 page)

The other area she'd been unable to learn anything useful about was their mission here on Zenobia. Oh, everybody agreed that the Zenobians had called the company in to advise them how to deal with some mysterious problem. But, while everybody had an opinion, nobody seemed to know for sure just what the problem was. Even the Zenobians themselves had apparently never seen the mysterious invaders who were causing all the fuss. And the only one on the base who might have some more detailed information on the subject was none other than Captain Jester: the one man she couldn't find to talk to.

It had begun to gnaw at her. She'd racked her brain for reasons. Perhaps Phule was ill (she'd already heard the story of how he'd walked in from the desert, from far enough away that his hoverjeep hadn't been found yet). Perhaps the new major's arrival had been such a blow to his normally very healthy ego that he couldn't bear to talk to her. Perhaps it was some kind of conspiracy by top Legion brass to keep him from talking to the press. Perhaps it was something she had unwittingly done.

So it was almost a shock to come out of her tent-Major Botchup had allowed the press corps to set up its own little enclave within the legion perimeter-and see the captain sitting under the awning on a camp stool, riffling through a pile of papers. His expression was good-natured as always, but his body language said "Man Working-Do Not Disturb" as plainly as if he'd hung out a sign.

Jennie hadn't gotten to where she was in her profession without being willing to ignore that kind of message, even from people she didn't know. Willard Phule had taken her out wining and dining and dancing in first-class restaurants on two planets and one luxury space resort. More to the point, he'd given her blanket permission to interview any and every member of his company, with holocams running. He had been her best contact for one of the biggest stories of her career. She sensed that whatever was going on right now might be the single most fascinating twist in the entire story to date. And she certainly wasn't going to let the fact that he was busy get in her way of talking to him.

"Hey, there you are at last! How are you doing?" she called, waving heartily and striding purposefully over to where he sat. She straightened her new purple camouflage hat and smiled her best smile.

Phule raised his head at the sound of her voice and looked right through her. Jennie stopped dead in her tracks. She was used to being looked at-with appreciation by the male lookers, often with envy by the females. On any given day, several billion pairs of eyes might be scanning her face on holo sets all across the Galaxy. And when she walked into a place, it was a given that she'd be the center of attention.

To be looked at with a complete lack of interest-to be looked at as if she didn't even exist-and by someone with whom she'd shared good times and helped in bad times, that was beyond the pale. Jennie couldn't even begin to understand it. She tried to meet Phule's eyes for a moment, but she might as well have been trying to stare down a statue. After a moment, she averted her gaze. This wasn't the man she knew, and whatever had happened to him, she wanted nothing to do with it. She turned away and stumbled off in utter defeat for the first time in her long career.

Under the awning, the captain looked around in puzzlement, and muttered, "I could have sworn somebody was calling me." Then he shrugged and turned back to the pile of papers.

Journal #593

Our return journey to the Legion camp was slower than originally planned, since not all the legionnaires were able to ride in the hoverjeep. Since my employer thought it useful for the party to arrive all at once, he devised a shuttle system, whereby a part of the party would ride to a point within walking distance of camp and wait while the jeep returned for the balance of the party. Eventually, after three trips, all the personnel and equipment were within striking distance of the destination.

Now, though, my employer paused to consider how to go about entering the camp. With a new commanding officer in place, it was not going to be the triumphant homecoming he had envisioned. In fact, it might bear uncomfortable resemblances to attending a hanging-as guest of honor.

"Very well, Captain Clown, we are here," said Flight Leftenant Qual. The party had paused in a thick pack of scrub trees, just within sight of the Legion camp. "Now our difficulty is to bring you into the camp lacking any incident."

"I fear a bigger problem is going to be smuggling out that robot without the new commanding officer learning of it," said Beeker. He turned to Phule and said, "I told you it was a risky idea to depend on it, sir."

"Oh, I'm not worried about the robot," said Phule. "We'll have Sushi bring it out of camp. It's attuned to my vocal patterns, so I can reprogram it verbally. Beeker, you'll put the robot in the hoverjeep and transport it back to the Nanoids' base. When you get there, you'll take the translator off the Port-a-Brain and connect it to the robot so it can communicate with the Nanoids. Then you come back with the jeep, and don't forget the Port-a-Brain! I'll put out the story that I left you behind on some private mission. If everything goes right, they'll never even suspect there was more than one of me here."

"Seems a shame to waste the potential for creative chaos," said Sushi. "We could play some interesting games with the major's head if we had both you and the robot here."

"Don't even think about it," said Phule. "It's much more important for, the robot to serve as a liaison to the Nanoids. We need to set up a permanent communications link with them. If what we've seen of their capabilities is any evidence, they'd be an incredibly valuable addition to the Alliance as a whole. But I guess the diplomats will have to settle that question. I wonder if the Nanoids have diplomats."

"If they don't, I suspect they soon will. Their adaptability is their most impressive trait," said Beeker. He paused a moment, then added, "With proper instruction, I believe they could learn to be quite adequate butlers."

For a moment, Phule was speechless. Then he shook his head and said, "Let's just hope they don't try it. Civilization in this Galaxy has withstood everything from supernovas to clouds of dark matter, but a race of Beekers would be the final straw."

"To the contrary, sir," said Beeker, pulling himself up to his full height. "It would be the first opportunity for a real civilization to exist."

"You two could probably go on about this all night long," said Sushi with a crooked grin. "But I think we'd better get everything else taken care of before you get started on it-if you know what I mean, Captain."

"You're right," said Phule, chuckling. "All right, Beeker, you wait here with the hoverjeep until we bring the robot back. If anybody from the camp comes out looking for you, do what you have to do to lose them. Call me on our private frequency, and we'll figure out an alternate rendezvous point if we need to."

Beeker settled into the hoverjeep's cockpit, and the rest of the party began a careful approach to the perimeter. Not knowing what security measures Major Botchup had put in place since their departure, they couldn't assume they'd be able to walk in unchallenged. For all they knew, the major had ordered the camp guards to shoot any intruders on sight. And while odds were fairly good that the shooting would be done with Zenobian stun rays, being immobilized and brought in for questioning would put a serious crimp in their plans. All of them were technically AWOL, and even before that, all the legionnaires had been ordered confined to the base. The major would most likely throw the book at them without bothering to listen to explanations.

Closer they crept, making use of what little cover remained in the area around the camp. Unfortunately, Phule had chosen the campsite with some awareness of security, which meant that cover was sparse along the approaches to the camp, and thus the returnees were exposed to the eyes of any reasonably vigilant sentries within. Fortunately, this was Omega Company, so there was a fair chance that the sentries were somewhat less vigilant than their new CO might hope.

Suddenly, a voice rang out. "Yo, who that out there? You got half a second 'fore I fry your ass."

"I know that voice," said Sushi. Before Phule could say anything, he stood up and waved his arms. "Hey, Street, it's me," he called. "Keep it down before somebody hears you."

"Stay right there," said Street, somewhat more quietly. He and another figure were silhouetted against the dim lights of the camp, and the group of returnees heard a few lines of muttered conversation between the two before Street called out. "How I know you who you say?"

"Keep it down, OK?" said Sushi. "I'll come right in where you can see me-"

"No way, you stay there 'less you wan' get shot," said Street. "What the password?"

"Password?" Sushi said softly. "There wasn't any password before, was there?"

"Yeah, the major made us start using them," whispered Brick, who was closest to him in the group. "You must not have been on guard duty before you left."

"Who's the other one with him?" said Sushi. "Maybe they'll listen to me."

"Can't tell," said Brick. "They haven't said anything yet. Get 'em to talk, and maybe I can figure it out."

"No need for that," said Garbo's translated voice. "The wind comes from behind them, so I can identify his scent from here. That is the one called Gears."

"Good, he's not one of the major's brown-nosers," said Sushi. "If nobody else has been alerted, we may be in luck. I just have to convince 'em who we are. He lifted his voice again. Yo, Street, is that Gears with you?"

"You gots to have the password, Soosh," said Street. "Major's busting chops somethin' fierce."

"Take it easy. The major doesn't need to know about this," said Sushi. "Just be cool." He turned to Phule and said, "If the major's got Street asking for passwords, he's really got people scared. What do we do now, Captain?"

"Time to take the bull by the horns," said Phule. "Brick, you go to the left, and Garbo to the right, and move in on the perimeter. We'll keep Street and Gears busy until you're closer." The two legionnaires leaned closer as he outlined his plan, their heads nodding as he told them their roles.

"We can do it, Captain!" said Brick with quiet confidence. She and the Gambolt began creeping carefully away from Phule's position.

Meanwhile, Sushi was keeping up a stream of talk. "Look here, Street, you know I've been off base for a while-on a secret mission, you know. The major must have forgotten I was away, because he didn't tell me what the password was gonna be. But now I'm back, and I have to report. How do I get back in without you shooting me?"

"Man, I dunno," said Street, obviously confused. "We gotta send somebody to ask the major."

"No, no, no," said Sushi quickly. "We don't want to wake him up. You know how cheesed off he gets. Just let me come in so I can clean up and get a little rest before I have to report to him. I don't want him giving me the eyeball about my uniform when I'm giving him bad news."

"Bad news?" It was Gears's voice this time, sounding concerned. "What kind of bad news?"

His answer was the soft buzz of Zenobian stun rays, wielded by Garbo and Brick. "Bad news for you," said Sushi softly. The returning group waited a moment, then began to move quietly forward. They were inside the perimeter well before the stunned sentries awoke.

At this time of night, Comm Central was the only place in Omega Company's camp with much activity, and for the most part, it was pretty much a dead zone. Not even the officer of the day usually bothered to spend the latenight hours at the cluttered desk provided in one corner of the comm area. Thanks to Phule's introduction of the wrist communicators, it was normally a matter of moments for Mother to contact the OD-or the CO himself-if something required an officer's attention.

But Lieutenant Snipe had not trained with Omega Company. In his eyes, the company's officers were unpardonably slack in their duties; he'd been sent here to put things right again, So when the rotation came around to him, he spent his OD duty exactly as the Legion academy had taught him: at the desk, alert and prepared for any emergency. After all, as the major kept pointing out (not that anybody seemed to pay attention), this planet was technically a war zone. Anything could happen, and somebody had better be ready to deal with it. According to the books, tonight that somebody was Snipe.

The only other human in Comm Central was Mother, hunched behind her console, keeping tabs on the minimal late-night comm traffic: mostly routine messages from offplanet mixed with perfunctory "all's well" reports from the unlucky legionnaires who'd drawn late-night sentry duty. She steadfastly refused to acknowledge Snipe's presence. At the other desk sat Tusk-anini. So far, Lieutenant Snipe's disapproving glances had drawn no response whatsoever from the Volton, who was steaming along at high speed through the second volume of Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. The night was starting to look like another of those deadly dull intervals that had been the primary feature of Snipe's military career to date.

Having finally abandoned his futile attempts to intimidate Tusk-anini, Snipe found a challenge more worthy of his efforts: keeping himself from dozing off. He was well on his way to losing that battle, as well, when something in the faint buzz of comm traffic brought him to full alertness.

"What was that?" he said, staring in Mother's direction. "I could have sworn I heard something about intruders."

"imperthnthnthn," explained Mother, sinking lower behind her console.

"I hear it, too," said Tusk-anini. He marked his place and set the book down on the desk, then stood up and walked over behind Mother, looking over her shoulder at the readouts on her console. His piggish countenance took on even more of a frown than it usually wore.

Lieutenant Snipe stood and made as if to join him, but the Volton raised a huge paw and shook his head with unmistakable meaning. Snipe managed to resist the impulse to point out that, as an officer, he should be giving the orders. Instead, he asked in a somewhat timorous voice, "What's going on?"