“I can imagine,” said Jennie. Then, seeing Phule’s expression, she guessed, “But it has its downside, too.”
“You’ve got it,” said Phule. “They’re so obviously superior to our other new recruits that it was affecting morale. I had to counteract that. Chasing Qual let them show how good they are, which is important-they need to feel success, too.”
“But not catching Qual right away took them down a notch, as well, I assume.”
Phule nodded. “They didn’t manage to get Qual cornered until they worked as a team, which was what I hoped for. They tend to be loners, and it was important to get them thinking as members of a team. That was a bit of a gamble on my part-it depended on Qual staying free until then.”
Jennie put a forefinger on her chin. “And right when they got him cornered, the company swept them all up.”
“Yes, that’s exactly it,” said Phule, smacking his fist into his palm. “I wanted the company to catch up to the Gambolts just at the moment they’d succeeded in running Qual down-to make them associate that feeling of success with being part of the whole company. The timing was tricky, but Qual carried it off-and I don’t mind telling you, it was a relief that he managed to. It all fell together when the rest of the company gathered them up and treated them as comrades. I wanted to inspire them to stop thinking of themselves as competing individuals, and become members of the family-to take pride in each other’s abilities. Now we can build on that.”
“Well, I hope you’re right,” said Jennie. “After what I saw today, I’m glad they’re on our side. I’d hate to have somebody that good as my enemy.”
“Jennie, we count you among our very best friends,” said Phule, smiling even more broadly than before. If her response was typical, the exercise had a chance to achieve his final, unspoken goal. Now, he had to hope the right people had been watching…
9
The shortest route from the officer’s mess to the Comm center went through the hotel’s ballroom wing. Phule and Lieutenant Armstrong, on their way to their offices after a working breakfast, happened to pass the Grand Ballroom as Flight Leftenant Qual, grinning from ear to ear, led the recruits in warm-up exercises before unarmed combat training. He was leading them through a set of jumping jacks to an improvised cadence that, after the translating circuits had mangled it, had even Brandy falling out with laughter. The recruits looked as enthusiastic as they’d been since joining the Legion.
Phule smiled at the sight. “Well, I think we’ve finally scotched the rumor that Qual’s a spy,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” said Armstrong, striding alongside. “It was a stroke of genius to have him play bait for the Gambolts in that exercise. That made him the underdog, and the recruits were all rooting for him. That broke down a lot of barriers.”
“Yes, that went a long way toward solving the problem,” said Phule. “But we got a piece of sheer luck, when Qual rescued Gears-you know him, from the motor pool from robbers out in town. That stun ray of his probably saved our man’s life.”
“Yes, that was very lucky,” said Armstrong. “He couldn’t have sat down and planned things any better to rehabilitate his reputation.”
Phule came to a sudden stop and looked at his lieutenant. “Hmm-tell me the truth, Armstrong. You don’t think that could be exactly what happened, do you?”
Armstrong’s jaw fell. “Why, that’s imposs…No, I guess it’s not impossible. It is far-fetched, but I suppose Qual could have arranged it. But if the robbers were hired to take the fall, or tricked into it, Qual couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t talk.”
“I think you should call to Station Security and make sure those fellows are thoroughly questioned before they’re sent off to prison,” said Phule. “Odds are they’re smalltime robbers who picked the wrong victim. But if there’s anything fishy about Qual’s being there to make the rescue, we need to know about it as soon as possible.”
“Yes, sir,” said Armstrong, although he didn’t look happy. “That’s the way things have been lately, isn’t it? Just as we think a problem’s solved, it turns out there’s a new twist we haven’t thought of.”
“I’m afraid that’s the way of it, Lieutenant,” said Phule, nodding sympathetically. Armstrong always wanted problems to be simple, with simple solutions. It had taken Phule a good while to learn that real life didn’t always work that way. With luck, his lieutenant would make the necessary adjustment before he had a command of his own. It was one thing to go through life thinking you could ignore all the shades of gray in the world; it was another thing to stake the lives and safety of people under your command on that assumption. Well, Armstrong was learning, a bit slower than he might have, but there was hope for him.
The two officers burst through the door to the command center together. Mother shot them a panicked look, then ducked behind her console. “Good morning, Mother,” said Phule. As usual, the reply was inaudible. Phule gave a sigh, and continued into his own office. He’d been working on the assumption that pretending everything was perfectly normal might keep Mother from ducking into a shell every time she had to deal with someone in person. The jury was still out on this approach.
But when he entered his private office, the light on his desktop communicator was blinking. He picked it up. “Yes, Mother?”
“Well, honey-bun, I thought you’d never notice,” came the saucy voice in his ear, suddenly bold now that she didn’t have to look him in the face. “Got some people want to see you, not that I can figure out why. I assume you’re still not interested in talking to those pesky IRS agents.”
“That’s right, Mother,” said Phule. “What did you tell them?”
“Your morning schedule’s full, they should check back later, like ten years from now. It’s close enough to true, sweetums. You haven’t left yourself much time to get organized for this reassignment.”
“We’ll be ready,” said Phule. “And with any luck, I can put off the IRS until we’ve left the station. That’ll give Beeker time to work on my taxes. What else is on the menu today?”
“Another group of civilians dyin’ to see you,” she said. “You’ll love this bunch-all three of ’em look like flunkouts from charm school. Act like it, too. You wanna know their names?”
“Three of them, you say?” Phule’s interest suddenly picked up. “Sure, let’s have the names.”
“OK, sweetie.” There was a moment while Mother retrieved the names. “Stonecutter Johnson, Joe the Blade, and Asteroid Annie. Representing the Renegades Hovercycle Club, they say. Shall I give ’em the brush-off?”
Phule sat up straight in his chair. “Oh, send them in, by all means,” he said, suddenly alert. “But first, why don’t you patch me through to the supply depot? I think the time may finally have come to solve another of our outstanding problems.”
“So, Sarge, when these Renegade guys show up, what do we do?” Double-X peered through a slit between the board Chocolate Harry had nailed over the casino loading dock, now converted to Omega Company’s supply depot. The view outside was unchanged.
“We kick ass,” said Louie’s translator voice. The Synthian brandished his automatic shotgun, as if eager for the impending showdown. “Blow them away.”
“Easy for you to say,” said Chocolate Harry, “Problem is, it ain’t enough to blow away the first guys they send. We finish this bunch off, there’ll be others-and more after them. These dudes don’t give up a grudge just because they have a tough time settling it.”
“Yeah, I can get into that,” said Double-X. “Back on Crumbo, where I grew up, the Slambeens and the Ratzers used to go at it like that. Those were some tough guys-steal the glimmer right off a cragbolt, and laugh about it like it was nothin’.”
“Yeah, well, you never saw me back down from no cragbolt, neither,” said Chocolate Harry, sneering. He asserted this with a certainty bolstered by the fact that he had never to his knowledge been on the same planet as a cragbolt. “A man’s got a rep to live up to, he can’t pick and choose his fights.”
“I guess that’s right, Sarge,” said Double-X, who like most sensible legionnaires was more in awe of his own sergeant than of any potential adversary-human, alien, or monster.
“Somebody coming,” said Louie, in what sounded like a hoarse whisper despite the translator’s limited range of expression.
Chocolate Harry leaned over to look at the monitor screen showing the output of the security cameras he had covering the approaches to the supply compound. “Relax,” he said, after a moment. “It’s the captain.” Then, after a longer pause he added, “At least it looks like the captain.”