“Excuse me, what was that, Beek?” the commander said, pulling his attention back to the conversation.
“You asked a rhetorical question, sir,” the butler explained. “I was merely taking advantage of it to state my own opinions.”
“Oh.”
“And in my opinion, sir, what is most important at the moment is not that you apologize for past errors in judgment, but rather that you get some sleep to lessen the probability of compounding the situation with future errors.”
Phule frowned.
“You think I should get some sleep?” he said finally, reducing things to their simplest form.
“It would seem in order, sir. By your own admission, you’re `running tired.'”
“Can’t do it-not now, anyway,” Phule insisted, shaking his head. “I have too much to do before the actors’ briefing tonight. I can’t afford the time.”
“If I might suggest, sir, I don’t believe you can afford not to get some sleep, particularly if you’re getting ready for an important presentation. Perhaps you could delegate some of your planned preparations?”
Phule thought for a moment, then nodded slowly.
“I guess you’re right, Beek. It’s bad enough if I’m snapping at the troops that already know me, but if I start leaning on the newcomers …” He shook his head again, more emphatically this time. “Okay, I’ll try to get some sleep. But only if you promise to wake me up a couple hours before the briefing.”
“Consider it promised, sir.”
“And Beeker? It’s good to have you back. Sarcasm and all.”
“It’s good to be back, sir.”
The actors’ briefing went smoothly … much more so than I had ever hoped, considering the circumstances.