“What’s the word, Beeker?”
“Is HQ after the captain again?”
“Is he being transferred?”
Becker was on the verge of getting backed against a wall when Brandy, quick despite her size, materialized between him and the advancing horde.
“As you were! All of you!”
This last was directed, along with a glare, at the two lieutenants, who had started to join the throng but now sheepishly resumed their seats.
“Leave the man alone! He doesn’t know anything more than we do … and if he did he couldn’t tell us. You know the rules. Official Legion business comes through channels, not from Becker! Now, back off and let the man do his job!”
The assemblage grumbled and cursed under their breath, but gave ground, reshuffling their groups as they went back to their original speculations.
“Thank you, Brandy,” the butler murmured softly. “It was starting to get a bit ugly there for a minute.”
The company’s top sergeant barely acknowledged the thanks, continuing to glare at the retreating Legionnaires. When she spoke, she did it without moving her lips or looking directly at Becker.
“Have you heard anything, Beek? Anything you can tell us?”
The butler hesitated, then relented.
“Only that a call came in from Legion Headquarters,” he said. “I’m here looking for more information myself.”
“Well, you might remind our Fearless Leader that he’s got some folks out here who are a little curious about what’s happening.”
“I’ll do my best … and Brandy? Thanks again.”
Of course, Brandy had been correct. Becker was not in the Legion chain of command, being privately employed by Phule, and was therefore doubly constrained from relaying information … both by military procedure and by his professional ethic as a butler. His position did, however, allow him one privilege not accessible to the Legionnaires, that of entering the commander’s private quarters without being specifically summoned, and he freely exercised that privilege now, pausing only briefly after knocking before opening the door.