“No, sir,” said Sparrowhawk. Herself, she was just as glad the old Legion ways were starting to die out. But that wasn’t something to admit to Blitzkrieg, who fancied himself the last bastion of Legion tradition-and the legacy of ineptitude that went with it. She was pretty sure that was the main reason he’d taken such a hatred of Phule, far beyond any provocation the captain of Omega Company had given his superiors. “Shall I cut orders for Major Botchup to join the company on Landoor, then?”
The general rubbed his chin, musing. “No, I think that’d give Jester too much time to get ready for him. We’ll have him join his new command at their destination on Zenobia. And we’ll keep it under our hats for now. No point in having somebody try to undercut the plan before it’s had a chance to work.”
“Yes, sir,” said Sparrowhawk. She knew the reasoning behind that one: easier to ask forgiveness than to get permission. It was no surprise to find out that Blitzkrieg operated on that principle. It was probably the oldest of all Legion traditions.
“Thank you very much, sir,” said Phule. He shook Ambassador Gottesman’s hand. “I didn’t really want to get my hopes up for this assignment. Quite frankly, some of the top Legion commanders can be counted on to oppose anything that looks like a reward for this unit. But I must say, you came through rather quickly.”
“I made use of a few connections,” said the ambassador with a wink. “And I did point out that, if this assignment is in the nature of a reward, it’s by no means a sinecure. There’s some probability your people will face combat, Captain.”