“We’re used to butting heads with the locals,” Doc’s son supplied calmly. “It’s almost like we’re gypsies, and being hassled or exploited-or blamed for whatever goes wrong in the near vicinity-gets to be expected after a while. Usually we have to knuckle under and go along with things or risk being run out of town. This time, though, we’ve got the forces of authority on our side for a change. Heck, we are the forces of authority.”
“What the kid’s trying to say, Captain,” the actress added, “is that we may be temperamental and sometimes quit a job in a huff, but nobody runs us off a stage … except maybe the director or stage manager. In this case, that’s you. Now, if you tell us that we’re not performing up to snuff or that you have to make some budget cuts, that’s one thing. But don’t tell us we’re being pulled from the cast for our own good. You hired us because we’re all pros … `real troopers’ as the phrase goes. These yokels can’t even imagine a situation bad enough to close us down if you say it’s all right to keep working.”
“The show must go on, eh?” Phule smiled wryly.
“That’s about it,” the youth said.
“All right.” The commander sighed, reaching a decision. “Pass the word that any of the actors who want to stay on, can. Oh, and son … ?”
“Yes, sir?”
“There’s a tradition in the Space Legion that lets a recruit choose his own name when he signs on, and suddenly I don’t feel comfortable thinking of you as `Junior.’ Is there anything else you’d like to be called?”
The youth’s face split in a sudden smile.