Phule’s Company by Robert Asprin

Escrima bobbed his head in quick accord.

“Good,” he said curtly. “It’s about time.”

“Then I’ll consider the matter handled.” The commander nodded, crossing off an item on his notepad. “That will be all for now, Sergeant. “

Once again the sergeant gave his exaggerated salute, which Phule started to return when another thought struck him.

“Oh … one more thing. Am I also correct in assuming you would not have taken your name, Escrima, from the Philippine stick-fighting form unless you were skilled at it?”

The modest smile and shrug flashed past again.

“Then I’d take it as a personal favor if you’d consent to teach it to the interested members of the company, myself included. I don’t know that much about it, but any stick form that can take out Magellan and his men while they were armed with swords, and armored to boot, is worth studying.”

“Have a seat, Sergeant … Chocolate Harry, isn’t it?”

“Just ‘Harry’ will do, Captain,” the sergeant said, easing his massive bulk carefully into the indicated chair. “ ‘C.H,’ to my friends. “

“All right. We’ll make it C. H.”-Phule nodded, jotting a quick note on his pad-“seeing as how I think we’re going to become fast friends over the next couple months.”

“Now, how do you figure that?” The sergeant frowned suspiciously. “No offense … sir … but to my recollection officers aren’t noted for chummin’ around with us enlisted types.”

“Sorry. I’m getting ahead of myself,” the commander answered absently, flipping through his notes. “That was assuming you’re as crooked and conniving as I think you are.