He broke off, realizing that his fatigue was making him prattle.
“Anyway,” he said, forcing a conclusion, “I’m sorry I can’t help you with your problem, Gabriel, but frankly it’s out of my league.”
“Actually you have, Captain.” The Legionnaire smiled.
“I have?”
“Well, at the very least you’ve given me something to think about. Thank you, sir.”
Strangely enough, of all the problems that had beleaguered him that day, it was the final conversation with Gabriel that haunted Phule’s thoughts and kept him from dozing off when he finally tried to sleep. Despite the Legionnaire’s claims that the commander’s talk had helped him, Phule felt that his help and advice had been inadequate.
Group dynamics, personal image, military strategy, and, of course, finances-all these things the commander felt qualified in helping and training the people under his command. But deeper problems? Matters of the soul?
With a flash of insight, Phule decided to do what he had always done when confronted with a problem beyond his personal abilities: find an expert. Sliding out of his bunk, he marched over to his desk, fired up his Port-A-Brain computer, and blearily composed a personnel request to Legion Headquarters. If his Legionnaires needed spiritual guidance, then, by God, he’d get them a spiritual expert. A chaplain!
There was an almost tangible load lifted from his mind as he hit the Send key, but close on its heels came the crushing weight of exhaustion. Staggering back across his cabin, Phule toppled into his bunk and fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.