Robert Asprin - Phule Me Twice

Double-X shrugged. "All I know is, the captain's took 'em on and won before. If anybody can do it again, he's the man."

"Well, then you better hope he gets back soon," said Brandy. She paused a moment, then said, "You got anything else to gripe about, or are you going to hang out here until the major notices and puts you down for extra punishment?"

"Man, I don't need no part of that," said Double-X. "Catch you later, Sarge."

"Yeah, see you on punishment duty," said Brandy. She didn't laugh, and neither did Double-X.

"Where are we?" asked Phule. He had opened the jeep's canopy and was standing up, scanning the horizon for signs of...He realized he wasn't sure what he was scanning for, but at the moment there was nothing noteworthy in sight, unless the boulders and scrubby vegetation concealed secrets beyond his guessing.

Beeker looked up from the map he had taken out. "Very approximately, sir, we are midway between the Zenobians' capital and our own base. We have strayed some distance off our original course, however, and I cannot locate us exactly. Our instruments are not providing meaningful information at the moment."

"Yeah, I got that impression," said Phule. He sat down in the seat and looked over Beeker's shoulder. "Does the map show any landmarks in this general area?"

"Nothing, really," said the butler. "But this is an ordnance survey map provided by our hosts. They could conceivably have omitted items they preferred not to let us know about."

"That'd be a lot of trouble to confuse an ally," said Phule, although even as he said it, he remembered being ordered to provide similarly doctored information to Leftenant Qual when the Zenobian had been an observer with Omega Company. He shrugged. "Anyway, there's nothing obviously military in eyeball range. Unless they've got it pretty well camouflaged, that is." He paused. "Hmmm...we are trying to locate an invader that appears to have unusually effective camouflage..."

"You don't think the Hidden Ones brought us down here, do you?" Beeker laughed. "What reason could they have for that? Although I don't pretend to comprehend the psychology of an alien species; quite frankly, the human race gives me enough trouble." He accompanied this remark with a meaningful nod in Phule's direction.

Phule ignored the nod-or perhaps he simply missed it. "There's not much research on the psychology of interstellar warfare," he said, seriously. "There haven't been a whole lot of examples to study, partly because it's usually not cost-effective. But any race that gets cheap FTL has at least the capability to wage interstellar war. That's why there's a Legion-so that if some rogue species tries to attack another race's world, we can stop it."

"In theory," said Beeker, peering nervously at the landscape beyond the hoverjeep. "Still, someone appears to have invaded this world. Unless the Zenobians are deceiving us for some reason."

"I've considered that," said Phule. "Even the ambassador had some suspicions on that score. Don't worry, old man, I'm keeping an open mind about it. On balance, I think they're telling the truth about the invasion. There are still some questions I haven't gotten good answers to..."

"Sir..." said Beeker, tentatively.

Phule ignored him. "The ambassador was worried they might be trying to get a fully equipped Alliance military unit on-planet, so they could knock us out quickly and gain access to our equipment. But that assumes that our equipment is superior enough to theirs that they'd risk an interplanetary incident to get some, then expect to be able to replicate it before the Alliance could respond. I can't see that."

"Sir!" said Beeker, touching his employer's elbow.

"Not that it wouldn't be a good idea to develop some defense to the stun ray," Phule continued. "I'll bet you they have one, even though they haven't mentioned it to us. You don't deploy a weapon that powerful without some...What is it, Beeker?" The butler was now tugging on Phule's sleeve.

The butler pointed abruptly to the left. "Sir, that boulder over there iust moved."

Phule turned abruptly. "What boulder?" he said, reaching for his side arm.

But it was too late.

"Don't like Major Botchup," said Tusk-anini with characteristic bluntness.

"Well, that puts you with the majority," said Super-Gnat, sitting at the far end of the mess hall table. "He's about as popular as the itch."

"Itch not popular," said Tusk-anini, squinting at his partner.

"Sure it is," said Do-Wop, scratching his left armpit. "Everybody's got it, ain't they? If it was a vid show, it'd be numero one-o."

"Having it doesn't mean you like it," said Super-Gnat. She took a spoonful of soup and continued, "Besides, Do-Wop, you shouldn't confuse Tusk. It just makes him ask more questions."

"There's nothing wrong with asking questions," said Mahatma, setting down his tray at a vacant spot at the table. "It's the best way for people to learn things. I have to keep telling Sergeant Brandy that."

"The NCOs aren't sure your main reason for asking questions is to learn something," said Super-Gnat with a frown. "Then again, maybe you've got a better reason."

Mahatma shrugged. "I didn't say that the one asking the question was the only one to learn things, did I?"

"Well, I wish you'd go ask Major Botchup some questions, then," said Do-Wop. "That sucker's got a lot to learn, and I hope he learns it fast."

"I hope he learns it without getting anybody hurt," said Super-Gnat. "That kind of ignorance is dangerous-and not just to the ignoramus, if you know what I mean."

"Who you callin' ignoramus?" said a booming voice. They jumped and looked up to see Chocolate Harry, balancing a mess tray and grinning at them. After they relaxed, he said, "Mind if a sergeant sets his tray down?"

"What we gonna say if we do mind?" said Do-Wop. "Hey!" he added as Super-Gnat elbowed him in the ribs.

"Sure, C. H., join the party," said Gnat, acting as if nothing particular had happened. Do-Wop glared at her for a moment, but he knew better than to say any more.

Chocolate Harry slid his tray onto the table and settled into a chair. He took a sip of his coffee and smacked his lips. "Man, Escrima is a genius," he said. "Dude can cook as good a meal in the middle of no place as in the best hotel you ever saw." He paused and thought a moment, then added, "Course, on this planet, maybe we're in the best hotel there is."

"Well, I'm not griping about the food," said Super-Gnat.

"Right," said Chocolate Harry. "So what are you gripin' about?"

There was an uncomfortable silence as the group around the table glanced at one another. Even Mahatma, who was usually eager to make his opinion known, seemed reticent. At last, Tusk-anini broke the silence. "New major making everything worse," he said with characteristic directness.

"Everything?" said the supply sergeant, raising an eyebrow. "Hell; the food ain't any worse. What else?"

When Do-Wop muttered something foul sounding, Harry turned to him and said, "Yo, Do-Wop, either tell me what you wanna say or keep it buttoned. I can't fix somethin' I can't hear about."

"Maybe you can't fix this, neither, so why tell you?" said Do-Wop. Harry just stared at him. After an uncomfortable couple of moments, Do-Wop shrugged. "OK, man, it's just all the chicken shit. You're outta uniform, you gotta shave, you gotta salute your officers, you gotta get up at O-five-hundred hours, you gotta say `sir' when you talk to me, yada yada yada, blah blah blah. We were doin' fine without that crap, so what's the major gotta bring it in for?"

"He does not respond to questions," added Mahatma.

"He says he going to break up partners," said Tusk-anini, glowering as only he could. His huge hand rested on Super-Gnat's shoulder.

"That's his rights, you know," said Chocolate Harry reasonably. "Most other Legion units, they ain't got partners."