“What the hell happened … sir?” Master Sergeant Spengler said, rising to meet his commander.
“Well, Sergeant, what we have is-“
“Company! Atten-hut!”
O’Donnel turned to look down the floor.
The Space Legionnaires were on their feet, Captain Jester centered in front of them. With a picture-book precision they had not shown during the close order drill competition, they were saluting the Red Eagles.
The major stared at them for a few moments, but their pose didn’t waiver. Correct military procedure called for holding a salute until it was returned or the person or unit you were saluting was out of range.
This time, O’Donnel’s decision was easier.
“Red Eagles … Atten-hut!”
And for the first time since their arrival-in fact, in the history of the Red Eagles-the crack unit of the Regular Army saluted the Space Legion, and meant it.
Soaking in a hot tub can be of mental, as well as physical, therapeutic value, and Phule was enjoying it to the fullest as he felt his muscles slowly begin to relax.
“Sir?”
Slowly, reluctantly, he raised his head and opened his eyes.
“Yes, Beeker?”
“Will that be all, sir?”
“Have you asked Mother to hold all calls until this morning?”
“Yes, sir. Actually it seems she was already doing that without instruction. There are several messages of congratulation, and it seems that young reporter has been trying to reach you.”
“Again?” Phule closed his eyes and sank a few inches deeper into the tub. “How many interviews does she need in one day?”
“I don’t believe she’s calling about an interview … sir.”