“I see,” he said slowly.
“And now that I’m on site, as you put it, shall we proceed with accommodating my needs? What I need is the hundred rooms I reserved … as you can see.”
The commander indicated the now full lobby with a jerk of his head.
Bombest was fully aware of the crowd. Since seeing the Dilithium Express card, he had been weighing the potential windfall of business against the horror of admitting a full company of Legionnaires to his domain. Realizing that his salary would not be affected one way or the other, he reached his decision.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Phule. At this time, we don’t have enough rooms available to grant your request. If you’d like, I could assist you in finding other accommodations more … appropriate to your party.”
The manager was fully prepared for the burst of anger that an announcement such as this invariably drew. He was, however, taken by surprise when Phule responded instead with a lazy smile.
“I don’t want to argue with you on this, Bombast …”
“Bombest. “
“… since, you see, the same computer I used to place that reservation told me that of your hundred and fifty rooms, barely a dozen are currently occupied. Instead, I’ll point out that there are three possible solutions to our little impasse. First, I could bring a complaint against you and the hotel under the law which states you can’t refuse lodging to anyone on a basis of race, religion, sex, or occupation … but that’s a lengthy, annoying process and doesn’t satisfy my immediate need for rooms. Second, you can start handing out the keys like a good fellow. Third … “