Beeker stared at his employer for a long moment. “That may be true, sir, but I suspect that many people would find the distinction rather esoteric. Even professional soldiers are likely to take being shot at as an invasion of their personal space, I’d think.”
“Well, that really ignores the whole context,” said Phule. “I was trying to exploit a military situation in wartime. That’s hardly the same as assassinating someone-assuming that’s what they were up to.”
“I am glad you perceive a difference,” said Beeker, mildly. “However, it seems apparent that not everyone is quite ready to forgive and forget.”
“Well, we’ll have to talk some sense into them,” said Phule. “In a way, that’s what we’re here for, isn’t it?”
“Sir, I was under the rather distinct impression that we had come here to get out of trouble. I suppose it was foolish of me to believe that. I shall have to learn to moderate my irrepressible optimism.”
“I’d be just as happy if you’d learn to moderate your sarcasm,” said Phule, “but I’d never recognize you without it. In any case, if the rebels really have taken my arrival as a pretext to reopen hostilities, it’s going to jeopardize this company’s peacekeeping mission. I don’t intend to sit still for that.”
“Not at all a wise policy with someone shooting at you,” agreed Beeker.
“Exactly. So first we have to find the rebels and convince them I’m not their enemy. Any idea how we go about that?”
“Given today’s events, I should think the rebels may not be especially interested in negotiating.”
“Well, I’ll have to do what I can to change that,” said Phule. “Until then…”
The door opened and Lieutenant Armstrong stuck his head in. “Captain, it looks as if things are finally under control. If you’ll follow me, the government people are ready to meet you.”
“Good,” said Phule. “Now let’s hope they haven’t decided to hold that shooting against me.”
“Perhaps they won’t, sir,” said Beeker gloomily. “Always assuming they weren’t the ones responsible for it.” But Phule and his lieutenants had already left the room.
Phule followed Armstrong and Rembrandt down a corridor to an office complex, and into a large office, evidently commandeered for the purpose. The sign on the door read SPACEPORT MANAGER, and there were several harried-looking men and women in the outer office as the Legion contingent passed through. On the walls were framed photographs of beach scenes and sunsets, reminders that this island was a tropical paradise-at least, when there wasn’t a war going on.
Inside the inner office, they were met by a big, bearded man, smoking an evil-smelling cheroot and wearing a dark green uniform with an impressive number of service stripes on the sleeve. To either side of him were two similarly uniformed men, both grim-faced. The window blinds were drawn. All three watched in silence as Phule and his officers stepped into the room.
Phule stepped up to the desk and stopped, standing at attention. “Colonel Mays, I am Captain Jester of the Space Legion, ordered here to supervise the administration of the peace treaty. Allow me to present my credentials.” Lieutenant Armstrong stepped forward with the dossier and put it on the desk in front of the big man, then stepped back to a position flanking Phule.
Mays neither looked at it nor touched it. Instead, he took the cheroot out of his mouth, looked Phule directly in the eye, and said, “You are a man who requires no introduction on this planet, Captain Jester-or should I call you Captain Scaramouche?”
“I would much prefer the former, Colonel,” said Phule. “The Space Legion has a tradition that a legionnaire leaves his past behind him when he joins-as symbolized by leaving his name behind him. Our former names and former ways of life aren’t anyone’s business.”
“A very romantic tradition, I am sure,” said Colonel Mays, with a hint of a sneer. “I am sure it gives you legionnaires great comfort to know that you can walk away from what you have done before, just by taking a new name and putting on a black uniform.”
“I don’t think anybody can escape the past,” said Phule, wondering why he was bandying words with this man. “But by changing our names, we can focus on our present tasks without having to keep explaining how we got here. That doesn’t mean the past doesn’t come looking for us, from time to time.”
Colonel Mays nodded. “Perhaps the policy is a wise one, then. But in your case, you will find a good many people here who remember what you did. As for myself-and I can tell you I speak for my superiors in the government, here-there is no animosity to you. Quite the opposite-you are one of our heroes. Your strafing mission broke the old government’s last resistance. We had heard very little from the mainland rebels until that shooting today. I think we can assume that they know who you are as well.”
“You’re certain that was the rebels shooting at me?” said Phule. “My people responded almost immediately, but the shooters had gone, and left no clues to their origins. We haven’t even established for sure that I was the target-though that seems to be the best guess.”
Colonel Mays took a pull on the cheroot. “Until you came here, the rebels did nothing but camp out in the jungle and play their self-deluding games,” he said. “They have no popular support. When they are not half-drunk, they know that as well as I do. But today, when you arrived-you, the off-planet enemy who rubbed their faces in their defeat-somebody shows up to shoot at you. Yes, Captain, I think that is a very good guess.” The two men with him laughed.
Phule glanced at Armstrong and Rembrandt, neither of whom seemed to find Mays’s statement amusing. “Another possibility occurs to me, Colonel,” he said. “What if someone in your government is more worried about the rebels than you are? Perhaps they faked an assassination attempt, hoping to convince the peacekeeping team to punish the rebels. Of course this is mere speculation, but can you deny the possibility?”
Mays scowled. “Of course I deny it,” he said. “We are a peaceful government-in fact, the peace agreement completely disarmed our military. Now it is fit only for construction and police work. Your company-and the rebels over on the mainland-are the only significant armed bodies on the planet.”
“I see,” said Phule. “Well, if that’s the case, you’ll have no problem with us. In fact, the less we have to do, the happier my people will be. What kinds of work have you got your soldiers doing?”
“We are currently embarked on a project to increase tourist revenues,” said the colonel. “I don’t know how much you know about our planet’s economy…”
“You’d be surprised what I know,” said Phule. He and Beeker had done exhaustive financial research on the world they were coming to, looking for opportunities to make the new assignment profitable for the legionnaires (and of course, for themselves). Nothing had struck them as quite ripe, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t find something once they were on the ground.
Colonel Mays grunted. “Well, then, you probably know that our mines were played out over a generation ago, and nothing has really replaced them. Jobs are scarce. Many of our people are subsistence farmers-in some ways, they’re the lucky ones. The former government tried to develop a manufacturing industry, but that didn’t go very far.”
“I can see why,” said Phule. “Everything you make here is being made just as well and just as cheaply elsewhere, so there aren’t off-planet markets for it. You’re stuck trying to lift yourselves by your own bootstraps.”
“Exactly, Captain,” said Mays. He stubbed out the cheroot. “You’ve done your homework. So we’re looking at a stagnant economy. The former government never could find a way to improve things. Now it’s our turn to try-and I hope we can do better.”
“I understand,” said Phule, his financial instincts taking over. “What avenues are you pursuing?”
“We need off-world money, and one way to get that is to attract off-worlders here,” said Mays with impeccable logic. “We hope to develop a tourist industry.”
Phule nodded, thinking of Lorelei’s tourist-generated revenues. “That’s not a bad basic plan, Colonel-in fact, it’s probably your best bet. But for it to work, you need something that can’t be duplicated off-world. You have gorgeous beaches and mountains, but there are beaches and mountains all over the galaxy.”
“Correct again,” said Mays smugly. “Don’t sell us short, Captain-we have our plans in place, and they are moving forward. Before you know it, Landoor will be the tourist mecca of this entire sector.”
“This is good news,” said Phule. “Stability depends on a healthy economy. If I may ask, what are your plans? I’m always looking to invest a few dollars-if the prospective return is sufficiently appealing, of course.”