“Basically I’m sure that General Blitzkreig figures this is an impossible assignment, and that he gave it to us fully expecting us to fall flat on our faces.”
A few growls answered this statement, but Phule pressed on quickly.
“Hey, he may be right. We may not be able to stop an organized-crime takeover, but we’re going to give it our best shot. Remember what I told you when I first assumed command? About doing the best you can with what you have in any given situation? Well, in this situation, to do our best-to have any chance at all of success-we’re going to have to send part of our team under cover. They’re going to have to give up their pretty uniforms and the support they get from them and stand duty all alone. To cover for them, to give them a chance, we’re going to have to accept the presence of stand-ins in our ranks. What’s more, we’re going to have to treat the substitutes as equals … really let them blend in. Because, if we don’t …”
He swept the room with his sternest stare.
“If anyone gets the idea that not everyone in our uniformed show is genuine, they’re going to start looking around for where the real Legionnaires are. If they do that, if they catch on to the scam we’re running on them, then your teammates, and in some cases your partners, are going to be sitting ducks in a very rough shooting gallery.”
“Our partners?” Even his broken accent couldn’t hide the horror in Tusk-anini’s voice.
Phule cursed his verbal slip. Realizing how upset the company was over the idea of stand-ins, he had decided to hold back this particular piece of bad news until later, but now the cat was out of the bag.