Phule started to cross his fingers behind his back, then recalled the requirement of not lying, or at least not saying anything that might later be proved a lie. With that in mind, he uncrossed his fingers and phrased his answer very carefully.
“Colonel Battleax … ma’am … frankly it’s their bodies. I don’t feel I have the right to order them not to display them, any more than it would be my right to order them to display them.”
The colonel’s image pursed its lips for a moment, then seemed to deflate with a long exhale.
“I see. All right, Captain. You’re off the hook again. I hope you realize though, exactly how much I’m going to enjoy explaining this here at HQ.”
“I realize that, ma’am,” Phule replied, stoically repressing a smile at the mental image, “and I’d like to say that I and the rest of the company appreciate the colonel’s efforts in our behalf. “
“Well, you can tell that menagerie of yours for me that they can show their appreciation by trying to give me a few less items to explain. Okay?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll definitely pass that along.”
“Very well. Battleax out.”
The transmission did not break off immediately, and for a moment Phule thought he saw a grin flash across the colonel’s face as her image vanished.
Perhaps the most puzzling thing to me has always been that successful people invariably seem surprised by their own success. As a case in point, my employer had taken over the Omega Company with the express idea of building it into an effective unit. He planned to do this by raising the Legionnaires’ self-esteem, and worked ceaselessly toward that goal. When his labor finally began to bear fruit, however, it seemed to take him totally unawares.