With my humble assistance, however, Lieutenant Rembrandt had completed her assignment prior to the company’s arrival on Jewell, or, should I say, completed most of it.
Phule barely recognized his senior lieutenant as he disembarked from the shuttle at the Jewell spaceport. In fact, he might have missed her completely had she not been standing next to Beeker in the waiting area.
Rembrandt had forsaken her usual long-braided ponytail, and her dark brown hair now hung loosely almost halfway down her back. There was no sign of her customary black Legionnaires uniform, either, as she was dressed in a deceptively simple white blouse and dark skirt combination, topped off with a camel-colored sweater worn over her shoulders like a cape, with the arms tied loosely around her neck. Her wardrobe, combined with the stack of folders she was hugging with both arms and the pencil stuck behind her ear, gave her the appearance of the young assistant of someone in some branch of the entertainment field-which was, of course, what she was striving for.
“Lieutenant … Beeker,” Phule said, coming to a halt in front of them. “That’s a new look for you, isn’t it, Rembrandt?”
Rembrandt’s normally pale complexion suddenly exploded with a bright pink blush.
“Sorry, sir. Becker said … I mean, I felt … Well, you said we shouldn’t let anyone know I was with the Space Legion, so I thought …”
“Whoa! Stop the music!” the commander said, holding up a restraining hand. “There’s no need to apologize, Lieutenant. I was just teasing you a little. You look fine … really. In fact, you look exceptionally good in that outfit. You should wear skirts more often.”