“Does any of us really know what we are doing?” asked Mahatma, a faint smile on his face. “The simplest action has consequences no one can foresee.”
“Deep, Mahatma, deep,” murmured Street, nodding appreciatively and rubbing his hands together.
“This is the Legion,” said Snipe, directing what he hoped was a steely gaze toward Mahatma. “It’s your officers’ job to think about consequences. Your job is to follow orders, and if you do, everything will be fine.” He left it to the legionnaires’ imagination to conjure up what would happen if they didn’t.
Snipe had not reckoned on Mahatma’s imagination, which was more than equal to the task. “Lieutenant Snipe, may I ask a question, sir?” Mahatma was holding up his hand, like an eager schoolboy. It was almost impossible to ignore him.
“What is it, Mahatma?” asked Snipe. He frowned, vaguely aware that the confrontation was leading away from his original purpose. Well, he’d get it back on course quickly enough, once he’d dealt with this digression.
Mahatma asked, with a very serious expression, “Lieutenant Snipe, should we not know who is giving us an order so we can determine whether it is correct to follow it?”
Snipe favored Mahatma with a glare and said, “I don’t see how that applies-“
“Oh, but it does very much apply, sir,” said Mahatma, so polite it was impossible to find fault with him. “It is not always easy to tell one person from another, and what if one of those persons is an officer and another is not? If a person we do not know comes and says he is an officer, should we obey him, or should we learn what his authority is before following his orders?”