Robert Asprin - A Phule and His Money

"Well, I guess we should be thankful for small favors," said Armstrong. "At least nobody's got enough firepower to overwhelm a single Legion company if they decide to start shooting. I guess that's an acceptable trade-off for the extra set of eyes."

"I agree," said Rembrandt, adding a dash of cream to her coffee. "Except we still need to figure out where the captain's gone. If an emergency comes up, I want to talk to him before I do anything drastic."

Armstrong looked up from his coffee cup. "I don't see how that's a problem," he said. "We can zero in on their wrist communicators, right? Or is there something else you haven't told me?"

"You got it. Everybody except the captain left their communicators behind," said Rembrandt. "And he's turned his off. I think he didn't want the rebels to get their hands on advanced tech if they decided to take him prisoner. One communicator won't do them much good; they need two or more to get any advantage from them."

"Rats," said Armstrong. "So we can't get in touch with the captain unless he initiates the contact."

"That's the story," said Rembrandt. "We better hope that nothing happens until he decides to come back."

"We better hope the rebels don't decide they've got a useful hostage on their hands," said Armstrong.

"Yeah, I thought about that, too," said Rembrandt. She drained her coffee and set down the cup. "Maybe you better get over to the comm center and see if you and Mother can figure out some alternate way to track down the captain."

Armstrong picked up his coffee cup and rose from his chair. "I'll get right on it," he said. "Let you know if I hear from him."

"Right," said Rembrandt. She watched Armstrong leave, then turned to the day's schedule. She'd be running the company in the captain's absence-this time without even Beeker's help. There had better not be any emergencies while she was in charge. She expected to have her hands full finding the captain.

They found the rebel base by following a bayou that led deep into the mainland, passing a little trading post, and turning up a broad jungle trail that rapidly became narrower as the lush vegetation closed in. Various stinging and biting insects closed in, as well. If the trail had been a bit better, it might have been possible to outrun them. As it was, the passengers spent half their time swatting pests. Phule wondered how the rebels managed to control the insects-or whether they simply put up with them as part of the price for their freedom.

Okidata, who was acting as driver as well as guide, stopped the hoverjeep outside the camp. "I don't know what kind of electronics they have, but there must be something they can pick us up on," he said, slapping a mosquito. "From here on in, we're probably being watched."

"I've been taking that for granted ever since we left our own base," said Phule, mopping his sweating brow. It was no exaggeration. Ever since the spaceport sniper had taken two shots at him, he'd assumed that every time he came outside Legion headquarters he might become a target again. So far, it hadn't happened. But up until now, he hadn't come strolling right up to the rebels' camp, either. Well, he ought to be all right as long as the rebels respected a flag of truce. If they respected it..."See if you can open up a comm connection," he said. "Might as well do what we can to keep from startling some trigger-happy sentry."

"You folks already way too late for that," came a voice from surprisingly nearby. Phule looked up to see a large weapon pointed at him. Behind the weapon was a wiry, bearded man in jungle camouflage with a red bandanna headband. Closer inspection revealed that he was wearing gold hoop earrings to match a gold front tooth. "Guess you better put them hands up," the rebel added, almost as an afterthought.

"Hey, take it easy-I'm on your side," said Okidata, indignantly.

"I ain't got the time to figure that out right now," said the rebel. "Get them hands up and we'll settle it later."

"We're here under a flag of truce," said Phule, reasonably. "Besides, our driver can't control the hoverjeep with his hands up."

"I wouldn't put too fine a point on it, sir," said Beeker, raising his hands. "At the moment, the gentleman appears to be in a position to insist on his demands."

"We ain't gonna worry about the hoverer," said the man with the gun. "Why don't you jes' get out so I don't have to worry 'bout you drivin' off all of a sudden? You don't wanna go makin' me jumpy, do you?"

"I reckon not," said Rev, his hands high above his head. "Looky here, of buddy, don't shoot-I'm jes' gettin' out, like you asked."

"That's a smart feller," said the rebel, nodding. He watched Rev get out, motioned him off to one side with the gun barrel, then said, "OK, next out-you with the bowler hat, there. Shake a leg."

"Very well," said Beeker. "Please be careful where you point that weapon. I'm afraid my health insurance doesn't cover acts of war, and I fear that any injury I receive under these conditions might be construed as such."

Two other armed rebels showed up while the man with the gun directed Phule and Okidata out of the hoverjeep. They gawked when they saw the Legion uniforms, but kept their weapons aimed at their captives, and managed to give the impression that they would fire if provoked. Nobody provoked them. When all four captives were standing together, hands raised, one of the newcomers whistled. "Whoo-ee, Buster, looks like you done made a real haul."

"He certainly has," said Phule. "Now, if you want to make the most of it, I suggest you take us to your superior officers."

"Suggestion noted," said Buster. He turned and spit into the underbrush, then said, "Durn if you ain't the fanciest bunch I seen in a while, though. Two of you in them black uniforms, and the other two wearin' their Sunday best, too. You all got the look of some kind o' face cards-what's your game, anyway?"

"We've come here to help you win," said Phule. "Now, will you take us to your officers?"

"Help us win?" said Buster, his eyes wide. "That's the damnedest proposition I've heard all month, and I keep some mighty strange company. What makes you think you can help us?"

"This," said Phule, pointing to the leather pouch strapped around his waist.

"Keep them hands up," said Buster. "What you got in there, anyway? If it's some kind of secret weapon, it's a mighty small one."

"Nothing secret about it," said Phule. "But it's the one weapon every fighting force needs more than any other. Now, if you'll take me to your superior, maybe he'll let you stick around while I open it up and show him. If you don't delay us unnecessarily, I'll even put in a good word for you."

Buster laughed. "The day I need a good word with the brass is gonna be a long time comin'. But I like your style, mister, so I'm gonna do what you say. This here vehicle oughta be safe right where it is. If you boys will just start walkin' along that trail, you ought to come to the camp in no time at all. Don't do anything rash, though-'cause I'll be right behind you."

"Believe me, friend, coming here was as rash an act as I'm prepared to engage in for some time to come," said Beeker. "We'll be greatly obliged if you keep it in mind that we are here under a flag of truce."

"I'll keep it in mind, long as nothin' happens to jar it out of my memory," said Buster. "Let's get a move on."

They started off along the jungle trail. Behind them, Buster began to whistle a jaunty melody. Phule trudged along, his hands held high. Perspiration had begun to soak his uniform, and the jungle flies swarmed around his face. It was inconvenient not being able to swat the flies, but Buster and his men might misunderstand any sudden notions. Off to the side, there was a droning chorus of spooky sounds-indigenous animals, he assumed. Presumably the creatures weren't dangerous. At least, the rebels seemed to pay them no mind. Then again, the rebels were armed, and he wasn't.