Robert Asprin - A Phule and His Money

Phule responded with a thin smile. "I appreciate the support, Remmie, but General Blitzkrieg is trying to get rid of me. Knowing him, he'd probably enjoy wiping out the entire company in the process-he considers its very existence a blot on his record."

"And making it a success is probably a deadly insult," said Rembrandt. The two of them began walking, sharing the street with the ebullient crowds. "The brass hats couldn't make this company effective, but you came in and did it in a couple of years-mainly by scrapping their system. And in the process, showing them up as incompetents who couldn't recognize good legionnaires if they fell over them."

"Don't say that where the general can hear you," said Phule, smiling. "Actually, as much as I appreciate the compliment, you know as well as I do that everybody in the company deserves the credit. It's a shame it's all going down the drain, now that we've finally accomplished something worthwhile."

"Sir, I'm going to do my best to make sure it doesn't go down the drain," said Rembrandt. She stopped at the corner of a little cross-street leading off to more shops and attractions. "Why don't you enjoy the fruit of your labors? If this park doesn't cheer you up, we've done something very wrong. I'd stay with you, but I've got work to do."

"Thanks, Lieutenant," said Phule. "I suggest you take your own advice and enjoy the park, too."

But Rembrandt was already striding purposefully away.

Phule strolled around the park soaking up energy from the crowds for most of the morning. He returned to the central offices to have a working lunch with Taep, who had attendance figures for the morning. Both parks had been thronged with patrons, but the best estimates indicated that New Atlantis Park had drawn a larger crowd-so far. The difference seemed to be in the off-planet visitors, a testimony to the effectiveness of Phule's publicity campaign. And the lines outside to buy tickets were still impressive. Phule and Taep drank a champagne toast to the clear-cut success. Phule privately hoped that it could continue on the same scale. It had to.

He strolled around the park some more after lunch, watching hoards of local children patiently waiting to board rides ("Stop shoving, Abdul! We'll all get on when it's our turn."), and happy riders emerging from the exits of one ride to go immediately to join a line for the next. He ate an ice-cream cone and took his own turn on the Skipper-a ride that gave the illusion of piloting a small boat through rapids, out in the jungle by the rebel camp. It was thoroughly unauthentic, but great fun.

Finally, despite his worries, he realized he was actually enjoying himself. With a smile, Phule headed back to get the latest attendance figures from Le Duc Taep. But as he entered the little cul-de-sac leading to the park offices a familiar voice addressed him, "About time you got back, Jester."

It was General Blitzkrieg, rising from a bench outside the park offices, where he'd evidently been waiting for some time. He shook his finger under Phule's nose and bellowed, "You've outdone yourself, Jester. If this is your notion of following orders, I don't want to see your idea of mutiny."

Blitzkrieg was literally trembling with anger. Phule had never seen his superior so disturbed. It almost made him hold his tongue. But he knew he had to make one more attempt to make the general see reason.

"General, I don't think you understand my position," said Phule. He looked around nervously, but this area had nothing to attract the fun-seekers. At least there were no witnesses to the chewing-out he was undoubtedly about to receive.

"There's not much to understand," said Blitzkrieg, backing him toward a corner. Somewhere in the distance, incongruously, Phule heard a brass band playing. "What's your excuse for aiding and abetting the enemies of the government you were sent to protect?"

Phule did his best to keep his voice calm. "Sir, I have done no such thing. In fact, I've insured a lasting peace by persuading the rebel forces to adopt a peaceful program instead of trying to overthrow the government. Stamping out the rebels would have pleased the current government-someone tried to push me in that direction by shooting at me when I arrived on-planet. They probably figured I'd blame it on the rebels and send out a punitive expedition. But that would have started a new war-and my orders were to protect the peace."

The general loomed over him. "You can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs, Jester. Not recognizing that is your single greatest failing as an officer."

"I disagree, sir," said Phule. "I can't see how the Legion is hurt by a solution that minimizes the expense of life and property."

"Minimizes expenses? You gave the rebels millions of credits!" shouted Blitzkrieg. "Now every bandit in the galaxy will be trying to hold us up for business loans!" The general strode forward, backing Phule up against the wall.

"Sir, I gave them nothing until they had declared an end to the rebellion. Once they agreed to work within the system, it was consistent with my orders for me to offer them a private business loan. After all, a successful businessman is the last person who wants to overthrow the government."

"That's an excellent point, Captain," said an unfamiliar voice. Phule and General Blitzkrieg turned to face the person who had come out of the park offices; he was an impeccably dressed man with a cleft chin and an ample mane of gray hair, parted in the middle.

"Ambassador Gottesman!" said the general. He stepped back a pace, so that Phule was no longer cornered. "I didn't know..."

"That I was listening? Please pardon the eavesdropping," said the ambassador, bowing his head. Then he turned to Phule and smiled. "I came to speak to Le Duc Taep, but I was hoping to find Captain Ph...er, Jester, too. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Captain. We at State have followed your progress on this assignment with great interest."

"The pleasure is mine, Ambassador," said Phule, shaking the diplomat's hand. "I hope our progress has been satisfactory as well as, uh, interesting."

"Amply satisfactory," said Ambassador Gottesman. "No offense to you gentlemen, but we diplomats tend to feel that when we have to send a peacekeeping team in someplace, we're as good as admitting that we've already made a botch of things. The military is rarely our implement of choice. So we're always pleased when the military can find a way to pull the situation back over the event horizon without shooting."

"Well, sometimes you do have to shoot a few people," the general growled, with a significant glance toward Phule.

"Oh, no argument with that," said the ambassador, affably. "But it's a lot harder to restore the status quo ante, once you start doing that. We like to exhaust the other options first. Which is why we're impressed with the captain's performance here. Even the government is now admitting that the competition has made their park better. But that's all by the bye-there's other business afoot. If you two gentlemen will join me in a drink, I've got a proposition I think will be of benefit to you both."

"Yes, sir," said Phule, puzzled. He would have agreed to almost anything that offered a momentary truce with the general. He would have to continue his argument eventually, but now was clearly not the time. He certainly had nothing to lose by listening to the ambassador's proposition.

The general grumbled his assent as well, although he was obviously skeptical that anything that benefited Phule could be of interest to him. They followed the ambassador down the theme parks's main street to a little bar. The sign over the door read JOE'S JUNGLE JUICE, and the building was decorated to look like a grass but from a jungle-movie set. Children ran by squealing with excitement, heading for the next attraction on their list.