Robert Asprin - Phule's Company

The company's new facility, or The Club, as the Legionnaires took to calling it, was certainly no comedown from the comfort they had enjoyed during their stay at the Plaza. In addition to the already referenced confidence course and firing range, it had its own swimming pool and sauna, a moderate-sized gymnasium, and enough rooms to accommodate a small convention. As it evolved, however, the main gathering point for the Legionnaires was the combination dining hall, meeting room, and cocktail lounge. With its comfortable sofas and fireplaces amid the widely scattered tables, it proved to be ideal for socializing during off-duty hours, which in turn made it the pivotal point for dispensing or collecting information or gossip that wasn't available through normal channels.

Phule paused for a moment before seating himself for breakfast, surveying again the bustle of activity in the dining hall. To his eye, it was apparent that there was something afoot this morning. The Legionnaires were huddled together in groups at various tables around the room, their heads close together as they murmured back and forth while poring over something. Occasional snickers erupted, and more than a few speculative glances were directed his way... and there was obvious nudging with elbows as his presence was noted.

That the commander found this conduct puzzling and more than a little curious went without saying. Their general manner was that of school kids sneaking a peek at a frog which had been smuggled into class, all the while wondering what the teacher would do when she discovered its presence. The trouble was, for the life of him he couldn't imagine what would inspire this behavior in his, own motley crew. Finally he gave up trying to speculate and sank into a chair at his butler's table.

"Good morning, Beeker," he said absently, still peering around the room. Were it not for his preoccupation, he might have noticed that his butler never glanced up from the Port-A-Brain he was bent over.

"Morning, sir."

"Tell me; Beek... the troops tell you things they won't tell me... if it isn't a breach of confidence, do you have any idea what has everybody wound up this morning?"

"I believe I could make a fairly accurate guess."

Phule broke off his surveillance and turned his gaze to Beeker, only to find himself studying the top of that notable's head.

"Well?" he prodded.

The butler tore his eyes from the computer screen to meet his employer's gaze with ill-concealed amusement.

"I believe it also explains the sizable donation Brandy made to the company fund... the one you found so puzzling."

"Look, Beek. Are you going to tell me or-"

"I believe it involves this... sir," Beeker-said deadpan as he swiveled the computer screen around to share with the commander.

The screen displayed a page from a magazine, but the reduced size did not affect the impact of the banner headlines superimposed on the picture:

HELL'S BELLES

THE GIRLS OF PHULE'S COMPANY COME IN

SMALL, MEDIUM, AND (VERY) LARGE!!

Sprawled across the page, in what might be politely referred to as their "natural splendor," were the all too recognizable figures of Brandy, Super Gnat, and... Mother!

Beeker watched his employer's face intently for any sign of surprise or alarm, but Phule's expression was as noncommittal as it was when reviewing the profit/loss statement of a company he was considering acquiring. The only clue that there was anything abnormal in his reaction was the length of time he spent studying the display, and it would require someone as familiar with his normal patterns as Beeker to spot even that. Phule was usually able to assimilate information and make decisions at a glance, yet in this situation he stared at the screen as if it was a busted flush he could change by willpower alone.

"I could download it and run an enlarged hard copy if you'd like... sir," the butler said at last, unable to restrain the urge to bait Phule out of his silence.

"I'm well aware of that, Beeker," was the calm reply as Phule continued to keep his eyes glued to the screen.

"It would be no trouble at all," Beeker pressed relentlessly. "I've already had several requests for just that from your Legionnaires, so one or two copies more or less wouldn't-"

"Is this local or interstellar?"

"What do you think... sir?"

Phule raised his eyes at last to stare sightlessly at the far wall for several moments before answering.

"I think..."

"Oh! You've seen it! Hi, Beeker!"

The butler rose politely to greet the company's first sergeant.

"Good morning, Brandy. Yes, the captain and I were just discussing it, as a matter of fact."

"Really? What do you think, sir? Not bad for an old girl, huh?"

"It's... you look good, Brandy," Phule managed through a strangely tight smile. "You all do."

"I think so, too." The sergeant beamed. "I'll admit I was a little worried at first, displaying this old heap side by side with the newer models"-she jiggled a little to illustrate her point "but the proofs turned out great, so I gave it my go-ahead."

The butler nodded sagely.

"Oh yes. The extra copies you asked for will be ready this afternoon." He smiled.

"That's swell! How much will I owe you for those?"

"Nothing. Consider it to be with my-or more accurately, with the captain's-compliments. After all, it's his printer I'm using. "

"Hey, thanks, Captain. Well, got to go... my public awaits. "

Phule finally broke his self-imposed silence.

"Ah... Brandy?"

"Yes, sir?"

He started to speak twice before managing to settle his mind on one question.

"How did you get Mother to go along with this?"

"Go along with it? It was her idea! Well... later!"

The two men watched as she strode off to join one of the huddles, waving merrily at the whistles and catcalls that erupted at her approach.

"It was Mother's idea... sir," Beeker repeated blandly.

Phule smiled vacantly at the room.

"Jesus wept!" he said, uttering through clenched teeth the closest thing to a profanity that had passed his lips in years. "Do you realize-"

The beeper on his wrist communicator interrupted him in midsentence-the shrill Emergency Page that's pitched to grate against the nerves of any intelligent being in the known universe. Phule silenced it the only way the circuits would allow, by opening communication.

"Yes, Mother?"

"I really do hate to interrupt you at breakfast, Big Daddy, but there's a Colonel Battleax on the holo from HQ. She wants to talk to you real bad."

"On the way," Phule said, rising from his seat. "Jester out."

"Like the lady said," Beeker quipped, "your public awaits!"

Following the pattern set during their penthouse HQ days, the communications equipment had been installed in a room next to the commander's office. The new location had not improved the quality of the holo projections received, however, or the content of their messages.

"What kind of a silly-ass stunt is this, Captain?"

The image of Colonel Battleax hovered a few feet above the carpet, though in her vibrant anger it might not have been an error in transmission. The disheveled condition of her uniform, even more than her distraught manner, was an indication that she was transmitting without her usual preliminary preparations.

"Silly-ass stunt?"

"Don't give me that, Jester! I'm talking about the pictorial on your girls in this god-awful T&A magazine!"

"Oh... that!" Phule said, mentally blessing the marvels of modern magazine distribution. "Yes, ma'am. What seems to be the problem?"

"What's the problem? Don't you realize what this does to the dignity of the Legion?"

"Excuse me, ma'am... dignity? Are we talking about the same Legion?"

"You know perfectly well what I mean, Jester!"