The butler had long since learned to distinguish between his employer’s occasional irritated temper flares, which were quickly forgotten, and genuine anger. While he had been previously unaware of this particular area of sensitivity, he made a mental note of it.
“Understood, sir. It won’t happen again.”
Phule relaxed, confident that the matter was settled.
“I’ll admit,” he mused, “that of the three nonhuman species that we’ve made alliances with, I’m surprised to find individuals from those two species in my command. I suppose it would have been too much to hope for to get a Gambolt or two.”
Beeker almost said “The Cats?” but caught himself in time.
“I believe that members of that species inclined to enlist usually sign onto the Regular Army,” he commented instead. “In fact, I’ve heard there’s an entire company of them.”
“It figures.” Phule grimaced. “With their combat reflexes and abilities, they can pretty much pick their assignments.”
“Certainly a different breed of … a different caliber material than you’ve been given to work with,” the butler agreed readily. “Tell me, sir, do you really think you can mold such a … diverse collection of individuals into an effective unit?”
“It’s been done before. Specifically the Devil’s Brigade … the first Special Service force, which eventually became …”
“The Special Forces,” Beeker finished. “Yes, I’m familiar with the unit. If I might point out, however, that was a joint U.S.-Canadian force. At the beginning, the Americans provided a motley assortment of rejects and criminals, as opposed to the Canadians, who donated a crack fighting unit. While you definitely have your allotment of criminals, I fear you’re lacking the offsetting crack fighting unit to serve as an example. “