For the first time since entering the rec room, Phule allowed himself a small smile.
“Like I said, gentlemen … and ladies … things are going to be different from now on. Officers and cadre … outside my office. Now!”
CHAPTER THREE
Journal File #014
Honoring the tradition of the Space Legion, my employer did not have, nor did he request, any information regarding the lives of those under his command prior to their enlistment. Not being a member of the Legion, however, I felt no obligation to be so restrained, and consequently had compiled substantial dossiers on the individuals that would be affecting my employer’s, and therefore my own, life and well-being for the foreseeable future.
For the most part, this was relatively easy to accomplish. A computer check of the police records and news items around the time and place of each Legionnaire’s enlistment provided a starting point for most of the searches. There were some, however, that required much more extensive research, and occasionally I was forced to resort to mere extrapolation and guessing. Such was the case of the two lieutenants my employer had inherited with his command.
“Good evening, Lieutenant Armstrong, … Lieutenant Rembrandt. Please, have a seat.”
Phule had deliberately kept his office as small and spartan as possible. It was his belief that large meetings were useless for anything except announcements. Consequently there were only two visitor chairs in his retreat.
Rembrandt nodded her thanks and reached for one of the seats. She was of medium height which made her look small beside Lieutenant Armstrong’s six foot plus-with dark hair, a round face, and a vaguely rotund body … not fat, but broad across the rump and far from slender.