Robert Asprin: Phule Me Twice

"Wake up, lover boy, there's somebody here to see you," came the saucy voice in Phule's ear. It was Mother, the voice of Omega Company's Comm Central, of course.

Phule looked up from the screen of his Port-a-Brain computer, where he was running a financial spreadsheet showing the company's investments, and said, "Who is it, Mother?" The omnidirectional pickup on his wrist communicator picked up his voice at normal volume.

"That cute Ambassador Gottesman," came Mother's voice. "Maybe you could take your time getting here."

Phule laughed. "Tell him I'll be right there, Mother. Sorry to break up your rendezvous." Actually, he was doing Mother-whose original name was Rose-a favor. For all her brassy personality over the comm system, Mother was impossibly shy when dealing with someone face-to-face. Getting the ambassador out of her presence and into Phule's office would let her relax again-no matter how cute she thought he was.

A few steps down a short corridor took Phule into the Comm Center. The handsome, impeccably groomed ambassador had taken a seat and was making himself as unobtrusive as possible behind a news printout, so as not to set off Rose's defensive reaction. He was, after all, a diplomat, and he had met Rose before. Gottesman rose to his feet when the captain entered.

"Hello, Ambassador, come right on in," said Phule, shaking the older man's hand.

"It's good to see you again, Captain," said the ambassador with a warm smile. "I hope you're getting a chance to enjoy yourself after all your work getting the park running."

"Thanks," said Phule. "I am, a little bit-in between the usual unrelenting work. He showed the ambassador to a seat, fixed drinks, then settled back behind his desk.

After a few minutes of conversation on general topics, Ambassador Gottesman set down his drink and said, "You've been doing a great job here, certainly from State's point of view."

"Thank you," said Phule. "It's been an interesting experience. I hope some of the other branches share your appreciation for our work."

"Meaning Legion Headquarters in particular, I take it?" Phule gave just the tiniest nod of acknowledgment, and the ambassador shook his head. "I suspect you're no better off there than before," he said. "They have their own way of seeing things, and it doesn't necessarily mesh with what those of us outside the service see. Of course, I suspect the rest of the government would say pretty much the same about State. But being on our good side is definitely an asset, I can promise you. If nothing else, it'll get you on the short list for some very interesting assignments. In fact, that's why I'm here."

"I suspected something like that," said Phule. "Now that we've got the planetary economy on a fairly steady upward course, there's not a whole lot of work for a peacekeeping force here. I'd been wondering how long it'd be before somebody else came to that conclusion."

"Well, that may have occurred to somebody, but it's not why I'm here," said the ambassador. "To get down to it, we've got a pending request from a friendly government for military advisors, and they indicated a strong preference for your company. Before I took definite action on the request, though, I wanted to find out how the assignment looked to you. We don't want to throw you into a situation you don't think your company is prepared to handle."

"I'll be honest with you, Ambassador Gottesman," said Phule, putting his hands behind his head and leaning back in his chair. "I don't think there's anything my people can't handle, if I have sufficient opportunity to prepare them for it. So I appreciate the chance to see what we might be getting into, ahead of time." He paused and leaned forward, his right hand on his chin. "This friendly government you're talking about-is it by any chance the Zenobian Empire?"

"You got it in one, Captain," said the ambassador with a chuckle. "Flight Leftenant Qual's report on his stay with your company must have made a strong impression on his government. If I were you, I'd see this as a chance to make a similar impression on the powers that be in the Alliance. This would be a very good career move."

"I can see that," said Phule, rubbing his chin. He thought for a moment, then said, "But I have to wonder. A government doesn't ask for military advisors when everything is going smoothly, does it? There's some sort of trouble brewing for the Zenobians, or they'd never have put in the request. I'd prefer to have some idea what kind of trouble it is before I put my people in the middle of it. Or is that an undiplomatic attitude for me to take?"

"It's a damned sensible attitude to take, Captain," said the ambassador. "I wish I could answer you, but we're as much in the dark as you are. Our mission to Zenobia is still being organized, so we don't have any useful intelligence presence there. Right now, the timetable has the military mission landing on Zenobia before we diplomats are even in place. I don't like it, but I didn't get a vote. Anyway, I'm afraid I'm offering you the chance to bid on a pig in a poke. Are you interested, on those terms?" This time Phule didn't hesitate. "Yes, I'm interested. We'd be crazy to pass it up. If we can't handle it by now, I don't think there's an outfit in the Legion that can."

"Great. That's what I was hoping to hear," said Ambassador Gottesman. He raised his glass. "Here's to opportunities and to those who make the most of them!"

"I'll take that as a personal compliment, if you don't mind," said Phule, smiling as he clinked his glass against the ambassador's.

"And why shouldn't you?" said the ambassador. "That's certainly how it was intended." They both drank.

"I'm glad to hear it," said Phule. "But do me a favor. If you find out anything about why the Zenobians really want us, let me know, will you? If there's real trouble there, we could use a little advance warning."

"Don't worry, Captain; the minute I know anything, you'll be the next to hear it," said the ambassador. He sipped his drink again, then added with a wry grin, "But let me tell you this, based on my own experience: You probably won't know you need to duck until the first ray gun beam flashes past your head. So prepare your people for anything and everything-and then expect a few surprises."

Phule grinned. "Ambassador, I think my people can deal out a few surprises of their own. In fact, they do it to me almost every day."

"This is why we at State have such confidence in you, Captain," said the ambassador, swirling his drink. His smile could have meant anything.

Journal #489

Without intending it, my employer had become a symbol. And in the nature of all such things, that meant that he represented different things to different people.

To one faction in the Space Legion, he was the bright hope for the future; the (literally) fair-haired young captain who would restore the Legion to its former prestige. This image was shared by a number of supporters in the Alliance government, particularly those who had long chafed at seeing progress stalled by Legion Brass. And to his own men and women (and alien members of his company, as well) he was a hero, the first CO who'd ever really given them a chance to be something.

But to another faction, a very powerfully entrenched one, he was a threat to everything the Legion had become. He was a boat-rocker of the worst sort. Chief among these enemies was General Blitzkrieg.

"Military advisors? Over my dead body!" roared General Blitzkrieg. He put enough vehemence into the roar that his listeners, veterans of the rough-and-tumble of General Staff infighting, fell back from his wrath for a moment.

But only for a moment. "This is a signal honor to the Legion," growled General Havoc, the Legion's representative to the Joint Chiefs of Staff. His voice was quiet, but there was no mistaking that he meant every syllable. "The Legion doesn't get a whole lot of honors, Blitzkrieg-in case you hadn't noticed. I'll be damned if we're going to turn this one down just because it puts one officer's nose out of joint."