Robert Asprin: Phule's Errand

“Sure thing, Captain,” said Gears, pushing the button to open the hatch. Phule lifted his duffel bag, and Gears stepped out to help stow the luggage.

Suddenly a voice came from the intercom speaker on the hoverjeep’s dash: Mother, from Comm Central. “Welcome back, darlin‘-you too, Beeky. Suggest you all duck inside the jeep for a sec-we got another incoming shuttle, and you might want to get out of the backwash when it lands.”

“Another shuttle?” Phule was genuinely astounded now. “Who in the world could be landing so soon after us? Why didn’t the shuttle service put them on the same ship as us?”

“I dunno, but I reckon we’re about to find out,” said Gears, tossing in Phule’s bag and returning to the driver’s seat. “Hop in and close the doors, unless y’all want dust in your drawers.”

“I’ll take a pass on that,” said Nightingale, climbing into the jeep’s back seat. Phule, Beeker, and Armstrong followed suit. After a moment, they could make out a moving object high above the desert, somewhat to the east of the landing site. Gradually it came west and descended until they could see that it was, in fact, another shuttle like the one Phule’s group had arrived in. In due time it slowed and touched down in a cloud of dust, not far from the first shuttle, which was still waiting for its passengers to clear the area before taking off again.

After a couple of minutes the dust settled. To Phule’s surprise, two familiar figures, both in Legion uniform, emerged. “Sushi!” he exclaimed. “Do-Wop! What were you two doing off-world?”

“Chasin‘ our tails in a circle,” said Do-Wop, sourly. “If it hadn’t been for the last bit, I’d say it was all a waste of time.”

“Waste of time? How can you say that?” said Sushi, although he had a weary look on his face. “You’ve had a first-class tour of the triffest vacation spots of the galaxy, at company expense. And in the end, we did our job-see, the captain’s home, all in one piece. And so are Beeker and Nightingale.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Do-Wop. “Except we’re back on a freakin‘ Legion base, too. Back to the same lousy routine, sergeants and marchin’ and orders and drills… You tellin‘ me that’s good?”

“It could be worse, young man,” said Beeker, with a barely raised eyebrow.

Do-Wop stared at the butler, scowling. “OK, I’ll bite,” he said at last. “What’s worse than the same lousy routine?”

“Why, no routine at all,” said Beeker. “I would find it intolerable to arise each morning with no clear idea what to expect that day.“

“I can vouch for that,” said Nightingale, smiling at the butler. “I had to hide the power module for his Port-a-Brain to stop him from trying to work on the captain’s portfolio. He was so antsy for his routine that he couldn’t just take it easy, even on vacation.”

“That sounds just like good old Beeker,” said Phule, grinning. “I guess I know why you never saw my emails, too.”

“As much as I enjoyed the vacation, I have to say I was disappointed not to be able to use the computer, sir,” said the butler, holding his head high. “After all, if I’d been able to work on your portfolio, I’d have had a perfect excuse to skip the Floribunda Fete.”

“You jerk!” said Nightingale, punching him on the arm-but grinning, at the same time. “Just see if I take you along on my next vacation!”

“That’s all right,” said Lieutenant Rembrandt. “Next time you go on vacation, I think there’ll be plenty of volunteers to go with you. In fact, you can put me first on the list. How about you, Armstrong?”

Armstrong raised a quizzical eyebrow. “What, and miss golfing with the general?” he said.

Phule knew he’d eventually figure out why everyone found Armstrong’s remark so hilarious. For now, he was just glad to be back with Omega Company.