That the commander found this conduct puzzling and more than a little curious went without saying. Their general manner was that of school kids sneaking a peek at a frog which had been smuggled into class, all the while wondering what the teacher would do when she discovered its presence. The trouble was, for the life of him he couldn’t imagine what would inspire this behavior in his, own motley crew. Finally he gave up trying to speculate and sank into a chair at his butler’s table.
“Good morning, Beeker,” he said absently, still peering around the room. Were it not for his preoccupation, he might have noticed that his butler never glanced up from the Port-A-Brain he was bent over.
“Morning, sir.”
“Tell me; Beek … the troops tell you things they won’t tell me … if it isn’t a breach of confidence, do you have any idea what has everybody wound up this morning?”
“I believe I could make a fairly accurate guess.”
Phule broke off his surveillance and turned his gaze to Beeker, only to find himself studying the top of that notable’s head.
“Well?” he prodded.
The butler tore his eyes from the computer screen to meet his employer’s gaze with ill-concealed amusement.
“I believe it also explains the sizable donation Brandy made to the company fund … the one you found so puzzling.”
“Look, Beek. Are you going to tell me or-“
“I believe it involves this … sir,” Beeker-said deadpan as he swiveled the computer screen around to share with the commander.
The screen displayed a page from a magazine, but the reduced size did not affect the impact of the banner headlines superimposed on the picture: