Phule's Company

by RobertAsprin

  Lost in thought, Phule decided to take the stairs down to the vending-machine floor instead of waiting for an elevator.

  It was easy to see why the lieutenants—and probably anyone else she had been assigned to—thought of her as a problem case. He would try to talk to Rose again, sometime when he wasn’t so tired. Maybe if he was more alert he would be able to find a way to put her at her ease. As it was, it was hard to relax around someone who constantly reacted to you as if you were some kind of a monster.

  As if on cue, a nightmare rose off the steps at his feet, stopping his descent—and his heart—in midstride.

  “Wha …Oh! Jeez, Tusk-anini. You scared the … I didn’t see you there.”

  “Not apologize, Captain. Many scared by me when expected. You not expect see me, so scared.”

  The big Voltron shook his head, though Phule noted he rotated it around his nose like a dog instead of pivoting his chin back and forth on his neck as a human would. There was no denying this nonhuman Legionnaire cut a formidable, if not terrifying, figure under the best of circumstances, much less when encountered unexpectedly in a stairwell late at night.

  Nearly seven feet tall with a massive, barrel chest, Tusk-anini towered over all but the tallest of humans, and even those had to look up to meet his black, marblelike eyes. His brown-olive skin more closely resembled an animal hide than human flesh in color and texture, particularly when complemented by substantial amounts of dull-black hair. Crowning the entire effect was a misshapen face only a mother—or, one assumes, another Voltron—could love. It was elongated and protruded into an unmistakable snout, and his two tusklike canines jutted from his lower jaw on either side of his nose, presumably the feature the Legionnaire took his name from.

  “Incidentally I’m sorry we haven’t spoken before,” the commander said, still struggling to regain his composure.

  “Again, no apologize, Captain. Know you busy. Do good job, too. Will help any way you want.”

  Phule only listened to the Voltron’s response with half an ear, the rest of his attention being claimed by the stack of books in the stairwell.

  “What were you doing here, anyway, Tusk-anini? Reading?”

  The Legionnaire nodded, his head moving in exaggerated up-and-down motions like a horse fighting a bit.

  “I no need much sleep, so read lots. Came here so roommate not have to sleep with light on in room.”

  Phule had squatted down to examine the books and looked up with new speculation in his eyes.

  “These are pretty heavy reading. How come you brought so many?”

  “Will read whole stack tonight.”

  “The whole stack?”

  Again the Voltron tossed his head in agreement.

  “Read fast. Humans have much knowledge. Joined Legion learn human knowledge. Want be teacher after duty tour over.”

  The commander hastily revised his estimation of the Voltron. It was so easy to assume that because he was big and spoke broken English, his intelligence was somewhat lower than that of the average Legionnaire. Once one was thinking about it, though, the fact that the Voltron had mastered an alien tongue well enough to speak it, however clumsily, rather than resort to the translators used by the Sinthians, said something about his mental ability … and his pride! It was obviously a matter of some pride to Tusk-anini that he could speak a human tongue at all, even if he did it so crudely he gave the impression of being stupid.

  “Why don’t you use the duty room of my penthouse?” Phule said, his mind racing over this new discovery. “You’d be more comfortable, and I think the light’s a lot better for reading.”

  “Thank you, Captain. Most gen … erous.”

  The Voltron stumbled a bit over the word, but began to gather up his books.

  “Let me give you a hand there. You know, Tusk-anini, if you were serious about helping—above and beyond the call of duty, that is—there is something you might be able to give me a hand on.”

  “What that?”

  “I get lots of communications from Headquarters: copies of reports and modifications to the rules and regulations. Most of it is pointless paper shuffling, but I end up having to read it all to find the few items that do affect us, especially the changes in regulations. Now, if you could read through those for me, and pull the really important items for me to look at …”

  The beep of Phule’s wrist communicator interrupted his explanation. For a long moment he debated ignoring it to continue his conversation with Tusk-anini. Then he remembered that Rose would have to deal with it if he didn’t, and reached for the activator button.

  “You got Com Central here,” came a voice from the unit’s speaker. “What desperate situation can we alleviate for you this evening?”

  The commander froze with his sign-on unuttered on his lips. Apparently whoever was calling in was also thrown by the response, as there was a pregnant pause before a reply came on the air.

  “Is … is Captain Jester there?”

  That voice was clearly recognizable to the commander as Brandy’s, which meant the other voice had to be …

  “The Great White Father, or Big Daddy, as he’s sometimes known, is not available at the moment, Top. He’s done tippee-toed off to feed his face, thereby giving lie to the belief that the man never eats or goes to the bathroom.”

  “Who … who is this?” the voice of the company’s first sergeant demanded.

  “You got Rose at this end, Super Sarge … that’s Rose as in Rose-alie? I am faithfully and alertly monitoring our dazzling communications network this evening, as is my sworn duty according to the duty roster you signed and posted this very morning.”

  “That Rose?” Tusk-anini rumbled, but Phule waved him into silence as he listened for the next exchange.

  “Rose?” Brandy’s surprise was clear in her voice. “I don’t … Well, tell the captain when he gets back that I want to talk to him.”

  “Hold on a second there, Brandy-Dandy. Before I tell him any such thing, perhaps you might want to reconsider your request? The Main Man is tryin’ to keep going on potato chips and two hours’ sleep, and I was kinda hoping he’d have a chance to fall on his face and die for a couple hours when he got back—that is, if there isn’t an emergency hangnail or something to keep him up all night. You don’t suppose that just maybe this busy old universe of ours could stagger along without him until morning, do you?”

  “Rose, have you been drinking?”

  Phule fought back a snicker and kept listening.

  “Not a drop that wasn’t as pure as a maiden’s virtue, O Ramrod of the Masses … and don’t you go trying to change the subject. Is it absolutely, positively cross-your-heart-and-kiss-your-elbow necessary that you talk to the Cheez Whiz tonight, or can I maybe leave him a love note for when he wakes up?”

  “Well, Rose-alie. Since you put it that way, I suppose it can wait until the dawn’s early light. I can work around it for now.”

  “Whoa back there, Brandy-wine. You know, you’ve been keeping the pedal to the metal yourself there lately. Now, realizing that you have to be in tippee-top sergeant shape to kick some sense into our merry band when the officers aren’t looking, don’t you think it might be a good idea to catch a few winks yourself while the tide’s out?”

  “What are you? My mother?”

  “Just your average loyal Legionnaire trying to do her best to help the wheels of our mighty war machine turning smoothly instead of goin’ flat. While there may not be much that I can do personally to assist our fearless leader, I feel it behooves me to try to see to it that those who can make a difference stay on their feet and function at something approximating maximum efficiency. Get my drift, or am I goin’ too fast for you?”

  Brandy’s laugh was clear over the communicator.

  “All right. You win. I’ll get some sleep and pick it up from here tomorrow. Good night now … Mother. Brandy out.”

  “That Rose?” Tusk-anini said, repeating his earlier question as the communicator w
ent dead.

  “It sure as hell was.” Phule grinned. “Come on up when you’re ready, Tusk-anini. I’ve got to go talk to that woman!”

  The commander flew back up the stairs, nearly breaking down the door of the penthouse in his enthusiasm and eagerness.

  “I overheard that last exchange, Rose,” he exclaimed, bursting into the room. “You were fantastic!”

  “Uggle mpt.”

  Stunned, the captain stopped in his tracks and stared at the Legionnaire who a moment before had been verbally the height of confidence and wit. Head bowed and blushing, she was the same as she had been when he left the room.

  “I … I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to shout,” he said carefully. “I just wanted to compliment you on your handling of Brandy’s call.”

  Rose blushed and shrugged, but kept her eyes averted.

  “Well, I guess I’ll follow your advice and get some sleep now. Oh. I told Tusk-anini he could do his reading up here. He’ll be up in a few minutes.”

  That got him a nod, but no more. After a moment’s hesitation, he retreated through the connecting door into his bedroom.

  Once within his sanctum, Phule leaned back against the now closed door and thought hard for several long minutes. Finally, with careful deliberation, he raised his hand and punched the proper key on his wrist communicator.

  “This is the all-night voice of Com Central,” came the now familiar voice. “How may we help you decide what to do with the rest of your life?”

  “Rose? Captain Jester here,” Phule said, sinking into a chair with a smile.

  “Why you High-ranking Rascal. Didn’t you promise me you were going to go beddie-bye?”

  “Truth to tell, Rosie, I just couldn’t doze off until I told you one more time how much I appreciate your golden tones brightening the airwaves.”

  “Well, thank you, Captain. My lonely night here at Com Central is brightened considerably by your tribute.”

  “And also,” Phule continued quickly, “I’ve just got to know why you’re so much different than when we meet face-to-face.”

  “Hmmm … I suppose I can light that one little match of enlightenment for you, since things are so slow tonight—but only if you promise to go right to bed when I’m done.”

  “You’ve got a deal. So, what’s the story?”

  “Not much to tell, really. I had a terrible stutter when I was a kid. I mean, it could take me fifteen minutes just to say ‘Hello’ to someone. The kids at school used to tease me something awful about it, so I got so’s I wouldn’t say anything just to keep them from laughing at me.”

  The commander nodded his understanding, so wrapped up in Rose’s tale he didn’t pause to think that she couldn’t see his reaction.

  “Anyway, finally somebody got around to running some tests on me. They slapped some earphones on my head and turned up the tone until I couldn’t hear myself talk, and you know what? Like that, I could talk as normal as anybody! It seemed the problem was that I was scared of the sound of my own voice! Once I found that out, things got a bit better, but I still had trouble talking in front of other people. So what I did was I got me a job in a little-bitty radio station, and let me tell you, I did everything. I was the DJ, the news and weather person, the ad person. Mostly, though, I did phone-in conversations with the listeners. Everything was fine, just as long as I didn’t have to talk to folks face-to-face. I practically lived at that station for five years … until it got bought out and the new owner automated the whole shebang and fired me.”

  “And so you joined the Legion,” Phule finished for her thoughtfully.

  “Well, there were a few things I did first, but that’s about the size of it. Now, don’t you go feeling sorry for me, Big Daddy. I’m a grown girl now and I made up my own mind to join.”

  “Actually,” the commander said, “I was thinking seriously of offering you permanent duty at Com Central—that is, if you can forgo the pleasure of standing duty in the swamp.”

  “Now, that’s a thought. Let me mull it over and get back to you on that one. Meantime, I believe you were going to get some sleep? Seems to me I recall someone making me a promise to that effect a little while back.”

  “Okay. I’ll do it.” Phule grinned. “Nice chatting with you … Mother. Jester out.”

  Clicking off his communicator, the commander rose, stretched, and headed for the bed. All in all, it had been a pretty good day. It looked like he had found himself a new clerk and a communications specialist. If things worked out, he’d have to see about getting them each an extra stripe.

  It wasn’t until he had disrobed down to his shorts that he remembered that he never had gotten anything to eat.

  Chapter Nine

  Journal #104

  The assigning of partners within the company was a milestone event. Though it actually occurred over the space of several weeks, the effects were apparent almost immediately.

  While great care had been taken in deciding who would be paired with whom, and for the most part the choices accepted by the Legionnaires, it was expected that there would be some complaints and protests. Needless to say, in this, at least, my employer was not to be disappointed.

  * * *

  “Excuse me, Captain. Have you got a minute?”

  Phule glanced up from his coffee to find two of his Legionnaires, Do-Wop and Sushi, fidgeting at his table. It seemed that his relaxing morning cup of coffee was not going to be so peaceful.

  “Certainly. Would you like to have a seat?”

  “This shouldn’t take long,” Do-Wop said, shaking his head. He was of medium height and weight, with a coarse complexion and black curly hair that always looked like it needed washing. “We were wondering if it was possible to be assigned different partners. I mean, there are still some of the crew who haven’t been assigned …”

  “Both of you feel this way?” the commander interrupted.

  “That is correct, Captain,” Sushi confirmed crisply. A full head shorter than Do-Wop, he was a slightly built Oriental who dressed and held himself with meticulous precision. “Our personalities and values are incompatible. I’m afraid that any permanent association between the two of us would prove to be detrimental to the smooth operation of the company.”

  “I see.” Phule nodded grimly. “Sit down, both of you.”

  This time, it was a command, not an invitation, that was voiced, and the Legionnaires grudgingly selected chairs.

  “Now then, tell me more about these incompatible values you’re experiencing.”

  The two men glanced at each other, each apparently reluctant to be the first to voice his complaints. It was Do-Wop who finally took the plunge.

  “He’s always talkin’ down to me,” came the complaint. “Just because he knows a lot of big words …”

  The commander held up a restraining hand.

  “I really don’t think that the size of your partner’s vocabulary should be a factor here.”

  “It’s not just that,” Do-Wop said, flushing slightly. “He called me a crook—to my face!”

  “I said you were a petty thief—and you are!” Sushi corrected sharply. “Anyone who would jeopardize the unity of the company for nickel-and-dime—”

  “There! You see?” the other appealed to his commander. “How am I supposed to team up with someone who—”

  “Just a moment!”

  Phule’s voice cracked like a whip, cutting through the argument and cowing both men into silence. He waited for a moment until they had leaned back in their chairs, then turned to Sushi.

  “I’d like a little clarification here,” he said. “How exactly would you define a petty thief?”

  The Oriental glanced at the captain, then turned his gaze toward the ceiling.

  “A petty thief is one who, in his criminal activities, takes risks disproportionate to the potential rewards.”

  “Criminal activities!”

  “Sit down, Do-Wop,” Phule ordered, keeping his eyes on Sushi. “If you can keep your
mouth shut and listen, you just might learn something.”

  The curly-haired Legionnaire sank slowly back into his chair, and the commander continued his line of questioning.

  “If I understand you correctly, Sushi, your objection to Do-Wop is not the fact that he steals, but rather the scale he operates on.”

  A faint smile played across Sushi’s lips.

  “That’s right, Captain.”

  “So tell us, what kind of reward do you figure would justify … what was that phrase? Oh yes … criminal activity?”

  “Not less than a quarter of a million,” the Oriental said firmly and without hesitation.

  Do-Wop’s head came up like a shot.

  “A quarter of a … Oh bullshit!”

  The other two men ignored him.

  “Of course,” Phule said levelly, “eight or nine million would be even better.”

  “Of course.” Sushi nodded, locking gazes with his commander.

  Do-Wop’s head swiveled back and forth as he frowned at each of them in turn.

  “What the hell are you guys talking about?” he demanded at last.

  The Oriental broke off the staring match, shaking his head with a sigh.

  “What Captain Jester is speaking of with polite circuitous-ness is something he has been careful not to acknowledge since he took command of our unit. Specifically that he and I have met prior to our enlistment … under social business situations.”

  “You two know each other?”

  “What is more,” Sushi continued, “he is leaving it up to me whether or not to mention that I left the business community under a cloud of suspicion—a matter of embezzlement involving several million dollars.”

  “It was never proven,” Phule said.

  The Oriental smiled. “Computers are marvelous devices, aren’t they?”

  “Wait a minute!” Do-Wop exploded. “Are you trying to tell me you got nine million dollars?”