Robert Asprin - No Phule Like an Old Phule

"Thank you, Lieutenant," said Chief Inspector Snieff. "But I believe I'm going to make my own decision on this company's environmental practices rather than accept the testimony of an undoubtedly biased party. Granted, I haven't found any blatant destruction of vital habitats, or flagrant pollution of the environment-so far. The lack of evidence doesn't mean this company isn't guilty."

"What a convenient system," said Beeker. "Guilty until proven innocent-it must save you ever so much trouble."

"We nearly destroyed Old Earth by giving the antienvironment forces too many loopholes," retorted Snieff. "The AEIOU has sworn never to let that happen again."

"Perhaps you should consult the local inhabitants before you make your decision," said Rembrandt. "The captain has worked very closely with the Zenobians to minimize the impact of this base on their planet. If they're satisfied, why is it your concern?"

"Locals can be very shortsighted," said Slurry. "It's our business to think of the long term."

"Well, at the moment, I'm not thinking any farther ahead than dinner," said Phule, stepping forward to cut off any reply from his officers. "If you all want to join me, now's your chance-and I cannot only promise you the best food on the planet, but one of the best meals you'll ever eat."

Gardner and Slurry both looked at Snieff, but apprehension was clear on their faces as their chief wrinkled her brow, trying to decide. Some of the legionnaires who'd overheard the discussion shook their heads, or grinned ruefully. Escrima's cooking had spoiled them for the kind of rations the AEIOU contingent had undoubtedly brought with them to Zenobia. The inspectors would be sorry if they missed it-but they'd be even sorrier if they accepted the invitation, and then had to go back to their own cooking.

At last, Chief Inspector Snieff shrugged, and said, "Very well, Captain, we'll dine with you tonight. It's late enough that by the time we returned to camp we'd be behind schedule for our meal. 1 suppose we will simply have to trust this Legion cook to make us something moderately healthy and not too extravagant."

"I think you cart trust Escrima for that," said Phule, with a knowing smile. "Come with me!" And he turned and led the AEIOU inspectors toward the mess hall.

Mess Sergeant Escrima, undisputed ruler of Omega Company's kitchens and dining hall, hadn't been told to expect company for dinner, but that didn't matter. Every meal that came out of his kitchen was a special occasion, as far as he was concerned. And when he learned that the visitors were humans, he shrugged. For someone who regularly cooked for Synthians, Gambolts, and a Volton, that was no challenge at all.

Sure enough, the captain's guests had found plenty to put on their plates as they went through the line. One of the AEIOU- inspectors, a severe-looking woman, restricted herself to plainly cooked vegetables and rice; Escrima, watching from behind the counters, thought she could use a little fattening up, but kept his opinion to himself. If she didn't appreciate his sauces and meat dishes, she wasn't worth talking to, anyway, he thought. As long as she didn't say anything, he'd leave her alone.

The others took a wider sampling of the cuisine, and seemed excited to find so many tasty choices in what they must have expected to be a typical military mess. That made Escrima feel better; he always enjoyed surprising visitors who thought that institutional food was required by some cosmic law to consist of- subpar ingredients, unimaginative recipes, and bad cookery. Even Barky, the Environmental Dog, was relatively easy to please. An interplanetary tri-vee star could have gotten away with being much more temperamental-even ace reporter Jennie Higgins had been known to get picky about her dinner selection-but the legionnaires of Omega Company (at least the ones who dared get close to his teeth) oohed and ahhed to see such a famous animal in their midst. And so, with a good dose of fan appreciation as appetizer, the ever-environmentally aware Barky settled right down with a medium-rare prime vege-rib and seemed as happy as a clam in unpolluted water. Escrima grinned.

Most cooks-even the specialists in vegetarian cuisine had a tough time making vege-beef taste like anything but recycled cardboard (which it mostly was), and then only by disguising it with enough marinade and sauces to swamp a space liner. Only a genius like Escrima could serve it up plain and make it not just edible but delicious. He'd been more worried by another variation from the normal routine tonight-the unannounced arrival of a new legionnaire of a species not previously represented in Omega Company. Escrima pulled down his trusty copy of The Practical Chef's Encyclopedia of Culinary Preferences and Nutritional Requirements of Sophonts Around the Alliance and looked up the entry on the new arrival. It'd be just his luck to be short of some nonsynthesizable nutrient the Lepoids' required, with no way to get it but express delivery at exorbitant prices. And since the entire expense would be to feed just one legionnaire, some bean-counter in headquarters was likely to gripe at the expense. That was tough luck, as far as Escrima was concerned. They should have thought about that before they'd sent a Lepoid legionnaire to Zenobia. His job was to feed 'em, and screw anybody who didn't like the expense. But after flipping through several cross-references and charts of substitutions, scowling as he matched the names of the exotic ingredients with their common equivalents, Sergeant Escrima sat back and smiled. Feeding the new guy was going to be a piece of cake, after all. Carrot cake, to be exact.

Thumper's introduction to Omega Company was progressing at whirlwind speed. In the short time he'd been at the company's Zenobia Base, he'd already met the first sergeant, who'd shown him to a comfortable barracks room and explained how Omega Company did things. He was going to be paired with one of the other legionnaires on base, not just as a roommate, but as a partner. This was one of Captain Jester's innovations, though Thumper didn't quite understand the reason for it. But eventually he'd get it, he knew. He was a smart Lepoid, and had the grades in school to prove it. Things hadn't gone quite so well in basic training, but that had been his first exposure to mass human psychology. Now he had a better idea what was going on. Or so he thought...

The mess hall was open for the evening meal beginning at 1700 hours, the same as in basic. Here, though, the legionnaires apparently had the option of going to eat at any time between then and 2030, instead of being assigned a set (and usually too short) time slot during which they had to report for their meal. Having had his last meal just before the human hunters' shuttle landed on Zenobia, Thumper was starved. He finished stowing his gear, washed his paws and combed his whiskers, and stepped out into the corridor, hoping the mess hall was close by and easy to find. It was. At the end of the short corridor leading to his barracks room, Thumper turned left and almost immediately saw the double doors of the mess hall in front of him. There was a small group of legionnaires standing around chatting just outside the doors, while a stream of their comrades walked through. Not really knowing anyone yet, Thumper stepped past them and took a tray. He was unavoidably conscious that the conversation in the group behind him had stopped just after he had passed, then resumed in a lower tone. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had caused it.

New guy, they were undoubtedly saying. New guy. Well, he was a new guy, here at least. Before long, he'd get a chance to show them just what kind of guy he was. And if he'd learned anything from his last talk with Sergeant Pitbull, he thought they'd be glad to have him on board. Meanwhile, his stomach reminded him, he hadn't eaten in hours.