Phule's Paradise (8 page)

     
"I ... I guess so sir."

     
"Fine. Like I've said before, Rembrandt, you need to be more decisive. I don't have time to duplicate your work-and neither do you if we're going to give the new bodies time to pack and get on board before lift-off. I suggest you start moving."

     
"Yes, sir!"

     
Momentarily forgetting her civilian garb, Rembrandt drew herself to attention and fired off a salute before fleeing her commander's presence.

     
"Well, Beek," Phule said, turning to his butler at last, "except for that, how are things going?"

     
"Rather better than they are for you, it would seem ... sir." Beeker's voice was utterly devoid of warmth.

     
"How's that again?" Phule frowned. "Is something wrong, Beek?"

     
"Not at all, sir. It's always a treat to watch the finesse and compassion with which you handle your subordinates. Of course, I have noticed that your skill level seems to drop in direct proportion to the amount of sleep you've been getting ... sir."

     
The commander shot a glance in the direction in which Rembrandt had disappeared.

     
"What you're trying to say, in your traditionally subtle way, of course, is that you think I was a little hard on Rembrandt just now. Right?"

     
"I suppose from your point of view, sir, you were being quite tolerant," the butler observed blandly. "I mean, you could have had her stood up against a wall and shot."

     
"I'll take that as a 'yes.'" Phule sighed heavily. "I guess ..."

     
"Or then again, flogging is always effective, if a bit outdated," Beeker continued as if his employer hadn't spoken.

     
"All right, all right! I get the point! I guess I've been a bit tense lately. Relocating the company has been more of a hassle than I anticipated."

     
"I wouldn't know, sir," Beeker said, shrugging slightly. "What I do know, however, is how hard Lieutenant Rembrandt has been working on the assignment you so casually dumped on her, and how concerned she's been about whether or not you'd approve of her efforts, much less her results."

     
"Which is why she wanted me to review her choices before finalizing them," Phule said, finishing the thought. "Of course, my barking at her is only going to hurt, not help, her confidence, which is the exact opposite of what I wanted to have happen."

     
"It's hard to see where anything positive will come from your current stance ... in my own, humble opinion, sir," the butler confirmed mercilessly.

     
Phule gave another sigh, running a hand over his face like he was trying to wipe water from it, and seemed to deflate back into himself.

     
"Sorry, Beek," he said. "I seem to be running tired these days. You know, when I was giving the crew going under cover their final briefing, Armstrong had to point out to me that I was getting redundant-that I had reviewed the procedures on their new communicators three times even though there hadn't been any questions. Can you believe that? Armstrong? Keeping me from making an idiot of myself in front of the troops?"

     
"Lieutenant Armstrong has come a long way," Beeker observed, "but I see your point. I think, however, that your troops, like myself, will be inclined to worry rather than be critical over minor flaws in your performance."

     
"Yeah. Well, that still doesn't change the fact that I'm not functioning at peak efficiency, especially in the manners department. What can I say other than I'm sorry?"

     
"You could try saying the exact same thing-only to Lieutenant Rembrandt," the butler said. "After all, it is she and not I who is the offended party in this situation."

     
"Right." Phule nodded, glancing down the corridor again, as if expecting to see his senior lieutenant appear at the mention of her name. "Maybe I can catch her before-"

     
"As for myself," Beeker continued, "what I would probably most like to hear is that you plan to take some time to catch up on your sleep ... sir."

     
"Excuse me, what was that, Beek?" the commander said, pulling his attention back to the conversation.

     
"You asked a rhetorical question, sir," the butler explained. "I was merely taking advantage of it to state my own opinions."

     
"Oh."

     
"And in my opinion, sir, what is most important at the moment is not that you apologize for past errors in judgment, but rather that you get some sleep to lessen the probability of compounding the situation with future errors."

     
Phule frowned.

     
"You think I should get some sleep?" he said finally, reducing things to their simplest form.

     
"It would seem in order, sir. By your own admission, you're `running tired.'"

     
"Can't do it-not now, anyway," Phule insisted, shaking his head. "I have too much to do before the actors' briefing tonight. I can't afford the time."

     
"If I might suggest, sir, I don't believe you can afford not to get some sleep, particularly if you're getting ready for an important presentation. Perhaps you could delegate some of your planned preparations?"

     
Phule thought for a moment, then nodded slowly.

     
"I guess you're right, Beek. It's bad enough if I'm snapping at the troops that already know me, but if I start leaning on the newcomers ..." He shook his head again, more emphatically this time. "Okay, I'll try to get some sleep. But only if you promise to wake me up a couple hours before the briefing."

     
"Consider it promised, sir."

     
"And Beeker? It's good to have you back. Sarcasm and all."

     
"It's good to be back, sir."

The actors' briefing went smoothly ... much more so than I had ever hoped, considering the circumstances.

     
Because of the secretive nature of their work, Lieutenant Rembrandt had specifically not informed them of any details regarding the "parts" they were auditioning for, other than the necessary warnings that there might be some danger involved, and (apparently more important to the actors) there would be no "billing" or other credits for their individual performances. In short, the only reward the actors could expect from their roles would be financial. As might be expected, having come to know my employer's style of problem solving, as mysterious and sketchy as the information was, the offered pay scale was generous enough that there was no shortage of applicants to choose from.

     
Still, it must have come as no small shock to at least some of them to learn that the "troupe" they had been auditioning for was none other than the Space Legion, or that in accepting, they had effectively "enlisted." The ease with which they absorbed and adapted to this news is a tribute to their professionalism ... or their greed.

"That pretty much concludes the basic information I wanted to cover at this first meeting," Phule said, giving his notes one final scan. "Now, I'm sure that you all have questions. Let me remind you, however, that we have a lot of time before we reach Lorelei, and that specific information on standing duty will be covered in later briefings which will include the entire company. Also, some of your questions might be better asked, and answered, in private. Lieutenants Rembrandt, who you've already met, and Armstrong will be available throughout the trip to discuss individual problems, or, if it will make you more comfortable, you can speak with either Sergeant Moustache or myself."

     
He paused to gesture toward the individuals mentioned, who were currently standing at parade rest on either side of him, reinforcing the introductions which had been made at the beginning of the meeting.

     
"Now then," he continued, "are there any questions you would like to raise in front of the group at large? Things that would affect all of the temporary Legionnaires?"

     
The actors, seated in auditorium formation at one end of the transport's ballroom, exchanged looks for a few moments. Since the company leaders appeared before them in the unexpected black uniforms to start the briefing, silence had reigned, and even now everyone seemed reluctant to speak.

     
"Mr. Phule?"

     
"That's `Captain Jester' or just `Captain' for the duration." The commander smiled gently. "Yes? You have a question?"

     
"You said that we were free to withdraw if we wanted to, now that we've heard the whole story. How would that work, exactly? I mean, now that we've lifted off and are en route, wouldn't it be kind of hard for us to get back to Jewell?"

     
"You would be provided with a return ticket to Jewell-at our expense, of course-after we had completed our assignment," Phule explained. "In the meantime, you would be held incommunicado on Lorelei. While you were our guests, all expenses would be paid as well as a small stipend, but it should be noted that your earnings would be substantially less than what will be paid if you honor your contracts and stand duty with us."

     
There was some mumbling in the assemblage at this announcement, but Phule held up his hand for silence.

     
"Believe me, I regret having to take this position, but we can't run the risk of having too many people wandering around who know about the substitution we're attempting. It would be dangerous to our undercover members, as well as to those of you who do stand duty, if information is leaked that not all the Legionnaires guarding the casino are combat-trained. I cannot stress enough the need for secrecy on this assignment. Now, obviously, we'd rather you all agreed to stick around, but it will be understood if you choose to withdraw at this time. I can only apologize that the situation required that we kept you in the dark as long as we have. Take your time and think it over, but I'd appreciate it if you'd let me know as soon as you've made up your minds so we can try to arrange for replacements if necessary."

     
"Just how dangerous will standing duty be, Captain?"

     
"Minimal," the commander said firmly. "We haven't worked together before, so you have no way of knowing my personal style. Let me assure you, however, that if I thought there was even an average chance of physical danger, I wouldn't be putting you in this spot. All we have so far is a rumor, unconfirmed, that there may be an attempt to take over the casino by organized crime. Even if it's true, I'm expecting more of a financial attack than any kind of physical harassment. That chance does exist, however, so it would be less than honest of me to withhold the information while you were making up your minds, though I'll admit the pay scale you were offered to lure you into this position was inflated, in part, to compensate for the potential hazard. Also, rest assured that we are not entirely without plans if things do get a little rough. I say specifically a little rough since it is my understanding that organized crime has long since abandoned armed confrontation due to the legalities and publicity involved. Each of you is being teamed with an experienced Legionnaire, and I suggest that in event of trouble, you step back and let them handle it as they have been trained to do. Also, if any of you are still nervous, hand-to-hand combat training will be available during the trip, and while it might not make you experts, it should provide you with the basic skills necessary to get you out of any awkward situation which may arise. Frankly we're hiring you as decoys, not as combat troops. If things do take a turn for the worse, you have my personal guarantee that your contracts will be `terminated with cause' from our end, and you will be free to leave."

     
He swept the assemblage with his eyes. "Any other questions?"

     
The actors looked around as well, but there were no takers. "Very well." Phule nodded. "I'll be trying to spend some time with each of you, individually and informally, during the trip in an effort to get to know you better. In the meantime, if you'll follow Sergeant Moustache now, you'll be issued uniforms and given your teammate assignments. If you would, please change into your new uniforms and report back here in an hour."

     
He allowed a faint smile to flit across his face.

     
"I'm giving a cocktail party to introduce you to the rest of the company and welcome you to our ranks. It will be a good time for you all to start getting to know each other."

Despite my employer's good intentions, his cocktail party was something less than a roaring success.

     
While the regular Legionnaires had long since resigned themselves to the inevitability of their new assignment, and had even accepted the necessity of breaking up their established two person teams, the idea of "outsiders" standing duty with them as equals was still unpopular. Though they were careful to keep their feelings hidden from their commander, it was readily apparent to a careful observer that little warmth was spared on their new "colleagues."