Her voice trailed off as she shook her head.
“To me, there’s one problem that stands out like a beacon,” Phule said firmly. “In fact, it’s the only one I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle.”
“What’s that, sir?”
“You.”
Brandy pulled her head back, frowning.
“Me, sir?”
“That’s right. Now, don’t get me wrong. You’re good, Brandy … head, shoulders, and waist above any of the other personnel I’ve inherited. From your record, and from my personal observations this last week, you’re an excellent leader, easily as good or better than me.”
The commander shook his head slightly.
“The problem is that you’re a cynic. If you had been around when the Wright brothers were designing their first plane, you would have been the one saying, ‘It’ll never fly.’ Then, as it passed overhead on its maiden flight, your only comment would’ve been, ‘They’ll never get it down!”’
A ghost of a smile flitted across the top sergeant’s face.
“You got me there, Captain,” she admitted.
Her smile wasn’t returned.
“That’s the one thing I can’t have in this company … not in the top sergeant slot, anyway. I’m going to try to turn this company around, starting with getting every Legionnaire under my command to develop a better opinion of his or her self. I can’t do that if the main leader for the enlisted personnel keeps telling them that they’re dirt and there’s no point in even trying. I’m already figuring on a two-front war: with Headquarters and with the Legionnaires themselves. I can’t afford to open a third front by fighting with you as well.”