A Phule and His Money (10 page)

Gears saw motion off to one side, and then a mechanical-sounding voice said, "Great Gazma, what a curious sight! Is this a common economic transaction?"

"This isn't your business," said Chuckie, moving ominously toward the speaker, whom Gears now recognized as Flight Leftenant Qual, the Zenobian. "Walk on by before something happens to you, too."

"Oh, no, this appears to be one of my comrades," said Qual, moving forward. "It would not be soldierly not to assist him."

"One step closer and I cut his liver out," snarled the man with an arm around Gears's throat. "Stand off and nobody gets hurt."

"I take exception," said Qual. "You are now the ones in danger of a hurt. Let the human go, if you would."

"We wouldn't," said Chuckie. "Now, we're going to back away real slow. You stay right where you are if you want your friend safe. My partner's dangerous when he gets nervous, and I'm afraid you've put him right on the edge."

"How unfortunate," said Qual, stopping and touching something on his belt. "Perhaps he needs a period of inactivity." He held out his hand and did...something. Gears felt a sudden lethargic feeling overcome him, and he slumped to the ground. He was vaguely aware of the arm around his throat coming loose, and as he fell, the other man's body dropped to the ground next to him. Idly, he wondered what had happened.

Then Qual was standing over him. "Rest, friend, and have no concern," said the Zenobian. "I have communicated to Mother to send us help-all the trouble is complete now."

I don't know what he did, but I think he saved my life, thought Gears, and then unconsciousness overcame him.

"Am I making a mistake to trust him, Beeker?" Phule pushed aside the sheaf of printouts he'd been reading during breakfast and leaned back in his chair.

"I take it you are referring to Sushi, sir?" said Beeker. He set down his coffee cup.

"Right," said Phule. "Do I continue to trust a man who can take control of my Dilithium Express account, or do I safeguard the money-and show him I don't trust him? When the lives of everybody in this unit could depend on that trust some day?"

"One always needs to strike a balance between trust and security, sir," said Beeker. "There are things that every member of your company needs to know-daily pass words, for example. But only a few are cleared to receive top secret information-and yet nobody takes that as a matter of distrust. The fewer people who know some things, the more secure we all are. It would seem axiomatic that access to your money needs to be restricted."

Phule took a sip of juice and rubbed his chin. "That's great advice, Beeker-except, what is there that's more secure than Dilithium Express? If he can hack that account, is there anything he can't hack?"

"Perhaps not," said Beeker. "But if Dilithium Express is vulnerable, obviously some alternative is necessary."

"I guess you're right," said Phule. "Too bad there's no way to keep the information quiet-but even if we captured that Yakuza agent, there's no way of knowing he hasn't already reported to his bosses. Or that any of several people have not figured out what happened."

"Yes, the genie is out of the bottle," said Beeker, his face impassive as always. "Now our goal should be to minimize the damage it can do. Or better yet, to turn it to our advantage."

"I don't see how I'm going to get any advantage from having people know my credit account is vulnerable," said Phule. He stood up from the table and began to pace. "As far as I can tell, the only person who comes out of this with any advantage is Sushi, if you get right down to it."

"Oh, I believe there may be a way to profit from Sushi's skills," said Beeker. "Sometimes, letting everyone know you can do something is as good as actually doing it. Word that one of your men can meddle with a Dilithium Express account should make its way through the criminal underworld quite rapidly. This will undoubtedly prompt many of them to turn all their efforts toward duplicating the feat-but of course, you will have protected your assets against any such attempt."

"I see," said Phule. "And while they're doing that, they're not trying to attack us in other ways. Well, it's not much of a silver lining, but I'll take what I can get. But we still need a way to protect my assets without losing easy access to them."

"As to that, sir, I have a suggestion I believe you will find of interest," said Beeker, a faint smile on his lips.

"Do you, now?" said Phule. "What do you have in mind?"

Beeker was about to reply when Phule's wrist communicator buzzed. "Yes, Mother?" he said, wondering what new crisis had occurred.

"Get yourself prettied up and don't drag your feet, sweetie," came the familiar voice from the communicator. "Your favorite brass hat wants to see you on the holophone."

"General Blitzkrieg?" Phule's jaw fell.

"Well, it sure sounded like him to me, silly boy. If I were you, I'd hurry up and talk to him. I can stall the old lizard-face as long as you need me to, but I doubt it'll improve his not-so-sunny disposition."

"Give me three minutes," said Phule. "Did he say what it was about?"

"You must be out of your ever-lovin' mind," said Mother. "Now, get your tail movin', toots-that three minutes is already started, and as much as I'd enjoy giving the general the run-around, I'm worried about what he'd have done to me if he found out I was wastin' his time." She broke the connection.

"General Blitzkrieg," said Phule, looking at Beeker. "He certainly picked an interesting time to call."

"Yes, sir," said Beeker, looking at Phule critically. "You've enough time to comb your hair before you talk to him. It would be exactly in character for the general to waste the first five minutes of a trans-space holophone call reprimanding you for your appearance."

Phule grimaced. "I wish I had time to change the whole uniform, but I doubt it'd make any difference. Let's hope the news isn't too bad this time."

"Sir, I doubt very much that even General Blitzkrieg could do very much to make the situation worse," said Beeker. He paused a beat, then added, helpfully, "Of course, if there's any way he can make it worse, I'm sure he'll be glad to do it."

General Blitzkrieg was smiling. It was not a pleasant smile, but Phule tried to ignore that and concentrate on what the general was saying. "Captain, I must admit we haven't always seen eye to eye, but it seems somebody's bought the image you've created for your unit. Your company has been requested for an assignment that might be a genuine feather in the Legion's cap-assuming your people are up to it, of course. Wouldn't want to send them if they can't deliver, you know."

"I'm pleased to hear that, sir," Phule said cautiously. He stood at attention, facing the general's holographic image across the room. He knew Blitzkrieg could see his every move, as well as he could see the general's. He would have to make an effort to keep his emotions off his face-never easy with someone as infuriating as the general.

"I have complete confidence in my people," he continued. "What sort of assignment, sir?"

The general's smile stayed on. "There's a world that just got over a civil war. Well, to tell the truth, the Federation had to step in toward the end and stop things from getting out of hand. The Legion had a part in that, I'm proud to say. They've got a new government in power, and they're making progress toward putting things back on track. But of course, there are factions that aren't happy with the new order, and so the Federation has been supplying troops to keep things in hand. A peacekeeping team from the Regular Army is being rotated out, and we've managed to convince Ambassador Gottesman to accept a Legion unit as their replacement. It took some politicking, believe me, but when the ambassador found out the Legion was available, he asked if we could send your unit."

"That sounds like a genuine coup, sir," said Phule. "What's the planet called, if I may ask?"

"It's got some silly name-let's see..." The general frowned, then leaned over and punched a button on a computer somewhere offscreen. "Landoor. They call their world Landoor."

Phule thought a moment. "I don't recognize the name, sir-not that it makes much difference, of course. You say they requested my company specifically?"

"That's right, Captain," said the general. The predatory smile was back. "I admit I was surprised-you haven't always been my idea of a model officer, you know. But you have had a knack for getting favorable news coverage, and evidently that's paid dividends. All things considered, I must admit it hasn't hurt the Legion as much as it might have. So we've decided it's time for you to wrap up the guard assignment on Lorelei and get ready to transfer to Landoor."

"Yes, sir," said Phule. Then, after a pause, he continued, "Uh, as you no doubt realize, sir, my company is the majority stockholder in the Fat Chance Casino. That makes us the contract holders, and naturally we're very concerned about continued security after we're transferred away. We'll need sufficient time to arrange a replacement before we can leave."

The general's smile vanished. "Captain, this is no time for barracks-room lawyering. There's a whole planet asking for your company to protect its people, and all you're worried about is your pocketbook. That's not the Legion way, and I'll be hanged if I'm going to stand for it."

Phule held his ground. "Sir, with the general's permission, may I point out that the security of Lorelei is of concern to far more people than just my company? Several thousand people arrive on this station every day, staying for an average of five days, and they spend an average of three thousand dollars apiece during their stay-on hotels, food, gifts, and entertainment as well as on gambling. They come with families and children, too-and they expect a safe environment. Some of them are retired, and a lot are ordinary working people who saved up their money for a dream vacation. Any breakdown in casino security affects them more than it does my pocketbook-because from their point of view, they have much more at stake."

"Fine sentiments," said Blitzkrieg. "Or they would be, coming from any other officer. Coming from you, I suspect they're a ploy to look altruistic as you protect your own interests. Quite frankly, Captain, you aren't a team player."

"I take exception to that, sir," Phule said, rather hotly. "I treat my people not just as members of a team, but as a family. Believe me, these troops have very little tolerance for posturing. They'd find me out in a minute if I was merely paying lip service to that dogma."

"Perhaps," said General Blitzkrieg, momentarily taken aback by Phule's fervor. Then he recovered his aplomb; he leaned forward and pointed a finger at the transmitting camera, and at the man viewing his image. "But the Legion can't permit officers to set their own conditions for accepting an assignment. If you refuse the assignment, you'd better be ready to justify that decision to a court-martial. And I can tell you now, Captain, all your headlines won't do you a lick of good if it comes to an insubordination charge. And I'll make sure it does come to that. Now, are you going to accept the Landoor mission or not?"

Phule didn't hesitate. "Sir, my company will go where the Legion sends it."

"Good, that's settled, then," said Blitzkrieg, although without great enthusiasm. It was easy to guess that he'd wanted Phule to give him an excuse for an insubordination charge. He frowned at Phule and said, "You will ready your company for shipment to Landoor in-"he turned and looked at the readout again-"sixty standard days. That will be all, Captain!" Blitzkrieg broke the connection.

Phule sighed, and turned to Beeker. "Well, that's done," he said with a weary smile.

"Yes, sir," said the butler. "Now you can withdraw your company from Lorelei, and no one can question your motives or impugn your honor."

"True," said Phule. "But that's not the whole story, Beeker. If Blitzkrieg thought I really wanted this transfer, he'd break his back to prevent it. Now, he'll make sure we stay there long enough for me to get the unit back on track. This new assignment will give the company a worthy common goal-and that kind of motivation is exactly what's been missing here."

"I suppose so, sir," said Beeker, skeptically. "I'd think the opportunity to build the company's portfolio would have been enough to motivate them, but perhaps I fail to comprehend the military mentality."

Phule cracked a wry grin. "Military mentality? After watching my interview with the general, I'm surprised you even use those two words in the same sentence."

Beeker sniffed. "Sir, I suspect that the general's mental powers are beneath ordinary calculation. However, some of your troops show a modicum of intellect, albeit in my opinion largely misdirected. It was to them that I referred."

"Thank goodness," said Phule. "I was afraid it was some backhanded reference to me."

"Sir," said Beeker, pulling himself up even straighter than usual, "let me assure you that, had I wished to refer to you in a derogatory manner, I would have done so in such a way as to leave no doubt as to my intentions."

"Good. I was afraid you might not be feeling well," said Phule. "Well, that still leaves us one question to settle. Now that we've gotten something we want from the general, what are we going to do with it?"

"Well, sir, I think you had better begin by informing the company," said Beeker. "Some of them, I suspect, will be a good bit less sanguine than you are about departing this station."

"Man, I'm gonna miss this joint," said Do-Wop, setting his lunch plate down at a table with three fellow legionnaires. Word about the company's reassignment had gone out in midmorning. Within an hour it was the only topic of conversation among the Omega Mob.

"Are you really?" Super-Gnat raised her eyebrows. "I'll be glad to get back to a real planet, myself. Something about natural sunshine and fresh air..."

"I be happy if not too much sunshine," said Tusk-anini, who came from a nocturnal race. "But fresh air good to breathe. Soft ground feel good underfoot, too."

Do-Wop had already begun shovelling food into his mouth. But between two forkfuls he mumbled, "I'm a city kid, y'know. I hear the place we're headed for is the real boonies jungles and swamps. If they got any sidewalks at all, I bet they take 'em in after dark."