Robert Asprin - Phule's Company

"I am, ma'am. The fact is, Colonel, I purchased the buildings and land currently leased to the Legion from the local owner. As such, permissions to remodel are not a problem. For the record, however, I hasten to assure the colonel that I have no intention of raising the price should the Legion's contract here last long enough to require renewing that lease."

"That's decent of you," the colonel said wryly. "This is all very interesting, Captain. Just between you and me, though, what do you plan to do with your new holding when and if we pull out of there?"

"Normally I'd hire someone locally to manage the property for me," Phule explained. "In this particular instance, however, there is already interest-in fact, a firm offer-to purchase the remodeled facility from me whenever I wish to dispose of it. It seems someone saw the architect's sketches and feels it would make an excellent country club."

"This purchase would, of course, result in a profit for you."

"Of course."

"Why am I not surprised? Getting back to the article, Captain, perhaps you'd care to explain why it was necessary to move the company into the best hotel on the planet for their temporary housing? And while you're at it, how do you justify calling that outfit of yours an elite force?"

"That was another assumption on the reporter's part. I simply said I was here on 'a special assignment,' and she jumped to her own conclusions. As to the quality of our temporary housing... may I speak candidly, Colonel?"

"Please do. If you can clarify the situation without prolonging this rather expensive conversation, it would be appreciated... though from the sound of things, I should have called collect."

"The remodeling of our quarters, the luxury hotel for temporary housing, and some of the other things you will doubtless be hearing about in the future are all a part of my plan to turn this company around. You see, these people have been treated like losers and been told they're losers for so long they have little choice but to believe that they're losers, and they act accordingly. What I'm doing is treating them like they're the best, like top athletes being groomed for a competition. I'm betting that they'll respond by acting like winners because they'll see themselves as winners."

"The theory being that if they don't look like soldiers and act like soldiers, how can we expect them to fight like soldiers? You're betting quite a bit on a theory, Captain."

"I think it's a good risk," Phule said firmly. "And if it isn't... well, it's my money to risk, isn't it?"

"True enough." Colonel Battleax pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Very well, Captain. I'll give you your head on this one for a while. If your idea works, the Legion will benefit. If not, we're no worse off than when we started. Of course, now that your real name is known, if you foul up like you did on your last assignment, it'll be hard for you to disappear from sight."

"Of course."

"What I'm trying to say, Captain Jester, is I'm hoping you're aware that you're more vulnerable on this than the Legion is."

There was genuine concern in the colonel's voice, which warmed Phule despite his early morning haziness.

"Of course," he repeated. "Thank you, Colonel."

"Very well. I'll try to cover the ruckus at this end. You focus on shaping up those troops of yours. I have a hunch it's going to take all the time and concentration you can give it and then some. In the future, however, try to give me advance warning if the media is going to pounce on something you or your crew is doing. You're not the only one who doesn't like early morning surprises."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll try to remember that."

"Oh, and Captain..."

"Yes, ma'am?"

"The remodeling of your barracks. How long do you chink that will take?"

"The estimate is two weeks, ma'am."

A triumphant smile flashed across the colonel's face.

"I thought so. It might interest you to know, Captain, that that's the estimate my sister was given when she wanted a new porch put on her house. Battleax out!"

Phule waited until the projected image faded completely before heaving a big sigh of relief.

"That went better than I would have hoped," he declared.

"Yes, sir," Beeker responded. "I notice you neglected to tell the colonel that you not only purchased the barracks and land but also the construction company that's doing the remodeling."

"It didn't seem the right time, somehow." The commander winked. "Incidentally, remind me to get a clerk or something assigned to monitor the communications gear in here. You shouldn't have to do that on top of the rest of your duties."

"Very good, sir... and thank you."

"No thanks necessary, Beek. I just don't want to give you any more ammo than is necessary when it comes time to negotiate your next raise."

Phule stretched and looked out the window.

"So... what's on the docket for today?"

"Quite a bit, sir... but as you pointed out when I wakened you, it's still early."

"Well, I'm up now. Let's get to work. And give the officers and cadre a call-especially Chocolate Harry. No sense in letting them lounge abed when I'm working."

Journal File #024

I will not attempt to capture the true feeling of what it was like for the company to stand guard duty in a swamp, though my employer's impressions of the duty the first day he joined them in that task would doubtless be of interest to some. This is not so much a lack of willingness or ability on my part to impart such details, but rather a simple lack of data, as I never actually accompanied the company into the swamp--a fact I became particularly appreciative of when I observed the condition of their uniforms at the end of the day.

Bombest had nearly resigned himself to the Legionnaires' presence in his hotel. There was no denying the welcome influx of rental monies during a normally slack period, and the troops themselves had proved to be far less raucous and destructive than he originally feared. He even made an honest effort to muster a certain amount of enthusiasm in his mind for their residence. What progress he had made along those lines, however, faded rapidly as he observed the Legionnaires' transports pull up to the front door late in the afternoon, disgorging what could only be described as "mudmen" onto the sidewalk.

From the waist-or, in some cases, the armpits-up, they were recognizable as the hotel's latest guests. From the "disaster line" down, however, any familiar detail of individual or uniform was lost in a coating of gray-green muck. As sticky as it looked, Bombest noted that the coating seemed to lack sufficient adhesion to fully remain on its hosts, disturbing quantities of it falling in flakes and globs onto the sidewalk and, with apparent inevitability, the lobby carpet.

"Hold it right there!"

The voice of the Legionnaires' commander, or, as Bombest tended to think of him, the Leader of the Pack, cracked like-a whip, bringing the mud-encrusted figures to a complete, if puzzled, halt on the lobby's threshold.

The hotel manager watched with some astonishment as Phule, his uniform displaying the same dubious collection of swamp mire as his followers, squeezed through the front ranks and advanced on the registration desk with the cautious tread of one trying to ease over a mine field.

"Good afternoon, Bombest," the commander said pleasantly upon reaching his destination. "Could you call housekeeping for me and see if they have... Never mind. These will do nicely."

So saying, he scooped up two of the stacks of the day's newspapers from the desk, the hard copies still preferred by many, piling them on top of each other, then slipping an arm under them as he fished some bills from the relatively clean shirt pocket of his uniform.

"Here... this should cover it. Oh, and Bombest?"