Robert Asprin - Phule Me Twice

The new officer grunted. "Malfunctioned, hey? Sounds as if somebody's slacking off in your motor pool, Lieutenant." It was clear he considered it Armstrong's fault.

"Oh, no, sir," said Armstrong, beginning to sweat. "Our motor pool is up to Legion standards-"

"We'll see about that, " said the major. "When the CO's personal jeep breaks down in the boonies, what kind of attention are the other vehicles getting, I wonder? Omega Company's not drawing soft barracks duty anymore, Lieutenant. This planet's at war, you know."

"Not exactly a war, is it, sir?" said Armstrong meekly. "We were asked in to help the locals find out-"

"Not a war?" the major stopped and turned on his heel to face Armstrong. "That's naive of you, Lieutenant, wouldn't you say? These lizards bent over backward to get into the Alliance, and the ink was barely dry on the treaty when they asked for this outfit-which they seem to think is some sort of elite company, God help 'em-to come in as military advisers. What other than a war could be so urgent, hey?"

"Preventing one might be, Major," said a new voice, calm and genial. "That'd be at the top of my list of priorities, anyway."

Major Botchup whirled. "Captain Jester!" he said. He drew himself up to military posture and said, "I'm surprised it's taken you so long to report, Captain. As you must have heard, I have been assigned by Legion Headquarters to take over command of this company. Frankly, I don't like what I've seen so far."

His glower made it obvious that he included Phule in this assessment. The captain was wearing a white dinner jacket with a plaid bow tie and matching cummerbund-appropriate attire for greeting customers at the Fat Chance Casino, but a bit out of place in the field. And he was carrying a martini glass in his left hand. The major's eyes settled on it in an instant, and radiated disapproval.

Surprisingly, Phule showed no reaction to the criticism implicit in the major's voice. He reached out his right to shake hands with the officer. "Armstrong, see if the major wants something to drink," he said, then grinned and added, "it's on the house."

The major stiffened. He looked down his nose at Phule and said, "Captain, I had heard appalling stories about this command, but I thought they had to be exaggerated. I'll grant you, Legion tradition allows a certain degree of liberty. But our officers are supposed to be gentlemen, and that implies a degree of discretion. Here you are, in a combat zone, out of uniform and-not to put too fine a point on it-soused before noon! I can see the general was right to relieve you of command. You will return to your quarters at once and make yourself presentable. Then report to me to be assigned your new duties. I'm sure we can find something you can do without screwing it up. If not, I may have to send you back to headquarters as unfit for duty!"

Phule grinned inanely. "Now, Major, let down your hair and relax a while. This is a place to forget your troubles."

The major turned to Armstrong and barked, "Lieutenant, put this man under house arrest! And make sure he doesn't drink any more until he's in shape to understand the trouble he's in!"

"Yes, sir!" said Armstrong, saluting. His expression was troubled, but he took Phule's elbow and said as gently as possible, "Captain, it's time for you to get some rest. Let me help you to your quarters."

"The cashier will give you quarters," said Phule, grinning like an idiot. "But I'll give you a tip. The dollar slots give better odds. Why not go for the gold?"

"Get him out of my sight!" bellowed the major. Visibly disturbed, Armstrong somehow managed to lead Phule away, and the major turned and stomped off toward the command center. It was time to determine just what was needed to get this company into shape and to bring it unequivocally under his own control. Grim-faced, he marched through the entrance to the MBC. There was work to do.

It was the second day since Phule had returned to the company and had been relieved of command by Major Botchup. A group of legionnaires stood outside the MBC; breakfast was over, and there was a little time still to shoot the breeze before they had to report to morning duty. Being Omega Mob, they were not about to let a chance to do nothing in particular escape them.

As they milled about, forming into groups for talk and banter, the entrance to the MBC opened and Captain Jester emerged, carrying an attaché case. He went over to a table in the shade of a canvas awning and sat down.

It had become obvious even to the major that a certain amount of routine administrative work that needed to be done could most easily be performed by the captain, who after all knew the company's personnel and history. So the confinement to quarters was modified to allow him to do routine paperwork. With the major having taken over the commanding officer's office, the captain was allowed to work wherever he could find space. And, as it happened, there was plenty of space in the open air. He opened the case and began to leaf through its contents, not paying any attention to the group of legionnaires a few meters away.

After a minute or so, Brick noticed him sitting there. She nudged one of her companions and said, "Be back in a minute. I'm going to go ask the captain about those renegade robots Chocolate Harry says we might have to fight. He'll give us the straight story."

"Sure, let me know what you find out," said the other legionnaire. Phule had always been open to questions and suggestions from the troops.

"Captain? I'm sorry to interrupt..." Brick hovered near the camp stool where Phule sat, a stack of printouts on the table in front of him.

Phule looked up with a quizzical expression. "Yes, who is it?" he said.

"Oh, I'm Brick, Captain," she said. "I'm new with the company, so I guess you don't know me yet..."

"Oh yes, of course," said Phule, flashing a fixed smile even as his head swiveled from side to side, as if trying to locate the source of Brick's voice. "What's the problem, uh, Brick? You don't have to hide-come on out where I can see you!"

"Excuse me, sir?" said Brick, puzzled. She was right in front of the captain, so he must be playing some kind of joke. Either that, or his ordeal in the desert had taken far more out of him than anyone had at first thought. Come to think of it, his behavior had reportedly been a bit strange ever since he had arrived back at the Legion camp. After a moment, she decided she was better off just asking her question. "It's like this, sir. There's a rumor we might be facing renegade robots here. As you can imagine, all of us want to know the straight dope on that, as far as you can give it. We understand the need for security-"

"Renegade robots?" Phule scoffed, even while his eyes kept flicking this way and that. "Now, I can tell you with pretty solid authority there's no such thing. Robots are fine machines, Brick, made to exacting specifications, incapable of error. Except human error-you'll get that every now and then, of course. You can trust robots, Brick. Anybody who tells you otherwise is dead wrong-dead wrong, I tell you. Take my word for it. I ought to know!"

"Yes, sir," said Brick, somewhat surprised at Phule's sudden vehemence on the subject. "Then you don't think we're likely to see any combat against them?"

"Combat? Don't be ridiculous," said Phule. "That's off the charts, Brick, completely off the charts." He paused a moment, then said, "What's going on, anyway? Are you hiding from me?"

"Hiding?" Brick took off her purple robot camouflage cap and said, "No, sir, I'm not hiding. Maybe you need a cool drink of water, sir. The desert heat may be affecting you-"

"Oh, there you are!" said the captain, suddenly looking her straight in the face. "Well, the heat isn't really that bad, but it's a good idea to take sensible precautions, isn't it? Well, if you don't have any other questions, I have these reports to go through..."