It was a clumsy gambit, but Phule was getting tired and was hard-pressed to find a tactful way around the Legion rule against inquiring into a Legionnaire’s history prior to his or her enlistment. Fortunately Moustache made the job easy.
“Found me out, did you, sir?” he said, breaking into a sudden smile. “Well, I suppose it was just a matter of time before it came out. Secrets don’t last long in an outfit as tight as this one.”
“Is that to say that you’ve had military experience prior to your signing on with the Space Legion?” the commander urged.
“You might say that, sir. Nearly forty years in the Regular Army before they gave me the boot-forced retirement, that is.”
Startled, Phule glanced at the man’s folder again. By the record Moustache was well on in his years, but if he had been in the Regular Army for nearly forty years, then he must be at least …
“Before you say anything, sir, I did shave a few years off my birthday when I filled out my enlistment papers. While the Legion is reputed to accept all applicants, I didn’t want to take the risk of being turned down.”
“You were really that eager to join up?”
“Frankly, sir, it was my last hope. You see, sir, when they retired me from the Regular Army, it didn’t take long to find out there wasn’t much of a place for me in civilian life. I was way too old to go into police work, and bein’ a night watchman always struck me as a race to see which gathered dust and cobwebs faster: the guard or the stuff he was supposed to be guarding.”