Robert Asprin: Phule Me Twice

"Captain, I have reason to believe that this base is under attack!" said Lieutenant Snipe. "If I could get the comm center clear of unauthorized personnel..."

Jennie stepped forward. "Captain, can you confirm the lieutenant's rumor of an attack?"

Snipe tried again, a little bit louder. "All unauthorized personnel will leave the comm room at once, or I will have security clear it!"

"Oh, man, will you get off that jive?"

"Tgfrblt..."

"I don't know about you, but I'm going to go attack the free lunch buffet over by the dollar slots. It's the best deal in the casino!"

"Captain, can you confirm or deny the rumor?"

"Tgfrblt!"

"I'm calling Security right now, do you hear me?"

"Who you calling Security?"

"Come on, let's go see the action at the roulette tables!"

"Will everybody please shut up for one freaking minute?" The voice booming through the loudspeaker behind the comm console made everyone in the room jump and turn to look. There was Mother, standing at the console with a mike in her hand, glaring at the room. Suddenly realizing that six pairs of eyes and one Galaxy-wide network holocam were pointing at her, she gave a little shriek and ducked back behind the console almost as if someone had grabbed the collar of her jumpsuit and yanked her down.

In the silence came Phule's voice: "Well, time to go see about that free lunch," and before anyone could respond, he was out the door. Not that anyone was paying particular attention to anything except Mother's uncharacteristic outburst.

"Uh, did you wanna say somethin', Mother?" said Chocolate Harry very sheepishly.

"She say it already, but people weren't listening," said Tusk-anini, shrugging. "Now it too late."

"Too late for what?" said Lieutenant Snipe, making one more try to control the rapidly deteriorating situation.

"Yes, too late for what?" said Phule, slipping quietly into the room. He was wearing a legion jumpsuit that, for the first time in anyone's memory, seemed not to have been cleaned and pressed within the last twenty-four hours.

"Cap'n!" said Chocolate Harry. He stared for a moment, then shook his head. "That's two of the fastest clothes changes I've ever seen, dude. You gonna have to tell me how you did that."

"Oh, good, you back," said Tusk-anini. "Mother have message for you from Beeker, but she thought you gone already."

"From Beeker!" said Phule, surprise on his face. He lifted up his communicator and pressed a button. "If Beeker's breaking comm silence, it's got to be a serious emergency. Patch him through on a secure channel, Mother, I'm ready to receive him." He lifted the communicator close to his ear.

Silence reigned in Comm Central as everyone present strained to hear what Beeker was saying, but with Phule holding his wrist communicator inches from his ear, only an undifferentiated buzz was audible.

Phule's replies were singularly unhelpful: "Yes?" "Really!" "I'll get someone on that at once," and "Good man, Beeker!"

When he lowered the communicator, every pair of eyes in the room was staring at him. He looked back at them and grinned. "Well, I guess we've all got jobs to do, don't we?" he said, and turned and went out the door again.

It was Chocolate Harry who broke the silence. "Man, he flies lower than any dude I ever seen." Then he shook his head and turned to Mother. "That reminds me. Orders from the Cap'n-he didn't say nothin' to change 'em, so get this out to all personnel ASAP."

"Excuse me, Sergeant," said Lieutenant Snipe. "We are in an emergency situation, and I am the OD. I am responsible for all communications until further notice."

Chocolate Harry stared at him for a long moment. "Dude, you just got further notice. Mother, send this out, and if any jive-ass Lieutenant wants to put his mark on it, he's gonna have to do it on the fly."

"Chocolate Harry right," said Tusk-anini, and he folded his arms, adding his stare to Chocolate Harry's. After a moment, Snipe blinked. He stood up hastily and made a rapid exit from Comm Central. Nobody watching had any doubt where he was going, but nobody bothered to stop him. The only question was whether he and the major had any way to stop them.

"Hey, Brandy, is this a drill or not?" said one of the legionnaires in the trenches looking out into the night. "I got a nice soft bunk back in the air-conditioning, if we ain't doin' anything in particular out here."

"You think I'm out here trying to get a date?" said Brandy. "All I know is, if this ain't a drill, some nasty BEM's likely to hear you jawin' and put a laser hole through your butt. And if the BEM don't do it, you got a top sergeant right here that'll kick it halfway back to Lorelei. Either way, you lose. So maybe you ought to act like it's the real thing and keep your mouth shut."

"Aw, gimme a break, Brandy," said the legionnaire, but he kept his voice low and his eyes toward the desert beyond the perimeter. If anything was happening out there, it was too subtle to be visible, even with the help of night vision goggles. But Brandy wasn't in the habit of issuing idle threats, and if she wanted the troops to treat the situation as a genuine emergency, that was what she'd get.

After an indeterminate length of time, Brandy's wrist communicator buzzed. She sighed and reached out to touch the miniature control that would let her hear the incoming message, undoubtedly the recall signal, ending tonight's drill. Another pointless exercise. That seemed to be Major Botchup's stock in trade. At least Captain Jester's exercises usually had some objective she could understand. It wasn't until she realized that she had also heard the buzz from all the other communicators within earshot that she began to wonder whether this might be something other than an ordinary drill, after all.

Journal #605

The one thing that consistently allowed my employer to triumph over his adversaries was their utter inability to escape their preconceived notions. In business, this ability to "think out of the box" was at least given lip service, although a true innovator often met more obstacles than rewards. But in the Space Legion, especially among the officer corps, any notion that hadn't been held by generations upon generations of legionnaires was suspect. So the reaction of a typical Legion officer to one of my employer's schemes was completely predictable.

I am informed that within military circles this inflexibility is considered an asset. Perhaps it is just as well that I was never tempted to follow that career myself. It was all I could stomach to watch the operation of the military mind at a safe and comfortable distance...preferably several kilometers away.

"Major, we have a mutiny on our hands," said Lieutenant Snipe, bursting into the command center.

"Mutiny?" Botchup snarled. "These damned incompetents couldn't organize a barroom brawl, let alone a mutiny." Then he frowned. "What are you doing away from your post?"

"The supply sergeant sent out a message, and he wouldn't let me look at it first!"

"Huh, I just got that damned message," said the major. He handed Snipe a printout. "What the hell do you make of this?"

Snipe squinted at the printout for a moment, then said, "I don't understand. This says that all full members of the Church of the New Revelation are to report to the supply shed at once, orders of Captain Jester. What in the world does he want with them in the middle of an attack?"

"Uh, that'll be me," said the legionnaire behind the console.

"You'll stay right where you are," Major Botchup grunted. He turned to Snipe and said, "I want to know what he's doing sending the supply sergeant to transmit the message when he ought to be bringing it here in person. Maybe you're right. We just might be looking at a conspiracy, Snipe."