Phule's Paradise (2 page)

     
The commander's butler, Beeker, had just stepped through the entrance, taking the common shortcut across the pool/firing range area to the captain's quarters. Unfortunately this might not have been the wisest move. Though the butler was notoriously closemouthed about the confidences shared with him by his employer, the crew was still quick to seize on any chance of information and swarmed to him like locusts after the last ear of corn on the planet.

     
"What's the word, Beeker?"

     
"Is HQ after the captain again?"

     
"Is he being transferred?"

     
Becker was on the verge of getting backed against a wall when Brandy, quick despite her size, materialized between him and the advancing horde.

     
"As you were! All of you!"

     
This last was directed, along with a glare, at the two lieutenants, who had started to join the throng but now sheepishly resumed their seats.

     
"Leave the man alone! He doesn't know anything more than we do ... and if he did he couldn't tell us. You know the rules. Official Legion business comes through channels, not from Becker! Now, back off and let the man do his job!"

     
The assemblage grumbled and cursed under their breath, but gave ground, reshuffling their groups as they went back to their original speculations.

     
"Thank you, Brandy," the butler murmured softly. "It was starting to get a bit ugly there for a minute."

     
The company's top sergeant barely acknowledged the thanks, continuing to glare at the retreating Legionnaires. When she spoke, she did it without moving her lips or looking directly at Becker.

     
"Have you heard anything, Beek? Anything you can tell us?"

     
The butler hesitated, then relented.

     
"Only that a call came in from Legion Headquarters," he said. "I'm here looking for more information myself."

     
"Well, you might remind our Fearless Leader that he's got some folks out here who are a little curious about what's happening."

     
"I'll do my best ... and Brandy? Thanks again."

Of course, Brandy had been correct. Becker was not in the Legion chain of command, being privately employed by Phule, and was therefore doubly constrained from relaying information ... both by military procedure and by his professional ethic as a butler. His position did, however, allow him one privilege not accessible to the Legionnaires, that of entering the commander's private quarters without being specifically summoned, and he freely exercised that privilege now, pausing only briefly after knocking before opening the door.

     
"Oh ... Hi, Becker. Come on in. I want your opinion on something."

     
Willard Phule was sprawled in a chair, his lanky form the picture of casual relaxation. To the butler, however, this pose conveyed the exact opposite message. Normally Phule was the embodiment of nervous energy during the day, constantly pacing and fidgeting as he tried to do or consider a dozen things at once. For him to sit still, as he was doing now, required a crisis of monumental proportions, one which-would put all other worries and tasks on a back burner while he weighed and considered the immediate problem. In short, anytime he seemed relaxed physically, it meant that he was racing about mentally.

     
"Is there a problem, sir?" Becker prompted, pointedly closing the door behind him.

     
"You might say that. I just got a call from Headquarters giving us a new assignment, and-"

     
"Is that a new assignment for the entire company, or just for the two of us?" the butler interrupted.

     
"What? Oh. For the entire company. Why?"

     
"You might want to announce that to your command as soon as possible, sir. They seemed quite anxious when I passed though the pool area just now."

     
"I don't know," Phule said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I was planning to wait until I had a better fix on this new assignment before announcing it. It's always nice to have the information clear yourself before opening the door to questions and answers."

     
"If you'll forgive my saying so, sir, I really think you should say something to quiet their minds. They're aware that a call has come in from Headquarters, and many of them are concerned that you are being removed from the command of this unit."

     
"I see. Well, I'll put a stop to that right now."

     
As he spoke, Phule raised his wrist communicator to his mouth and pressed a button.

     
"Mother?"

     
"Yes, Captain," came the immediate response without any of that Legionnaire's usual banter.

     
"Is everyone in range for a general broadcast?"

     
"That's a big affirmative. Truth to tell, they're all hangin' so close you could probably just raise your voice and save the batteries."

     
A brief smile flitted across Phule's face.

     
"I think I'll follow normal procedure, anyway ... just for practice. Give me a broadcast channel."

     
"You got it, Big Daddy. We're all ears."

     
Without thinking, Phule dropped into a deeper, formal voice as he began his announcement.

     
"If I could have your attention for a moment ... I have been told that some of you are worried about the recent call from Legion Headquarters. All I can tell you at the moment is that we are being reassigned. I repeat, we are being reassigned ... That's the entire unit. Details will be provided at a formal briefing tonight at twenty hundred hours. Officers, please stand by. Your presence will soon be required for a strategy session. That is all."

     
He clicked off his com unit and leaned back, winking at his butler.

     
"There, I think that should do it."

     
"Quite. Thank you, sir."

     
"Okay, now that that's taken care of, I have something I want you to see."

     
Phule waved Beeker toward a chair as he rose and fiddled with the holo unit which occupied the better part of one wall of his quarters. He had purchased and installed this unit as a supplement to the one issued the company specifically to ease the reception of calls from Headquarters. Of course, unlike the issued model, this one also had a record and playback capacity.

     
"This is a replay of the call I just received," he said. "I want to know what you think of it."

     
As he spoke, the image of General Blitzkrieg materialized in the room, seated at his desk, leaning forward on his elbows, his hands clasped in front of him.

     
"Good morning, Captain Jester." The image smiled. "Sorry to wake you so early."

     
"Actually," came Phule's phantom voice, "it's afternoon here, sir."

     
While interstellar communications were now commonplace, the problem of coordinating days, much less hours, between widely separated settlements still remained.

     
"Whatever." The general shrugged. "I have some good news for you, Captain. You and your company are being reassigned to a new duty. Orders are being cut, which will be sent to you along with the detailed briefing material, but I thought I should call you personally to let you know what's going on."

     
"That's good of you, sir. What is the new assignment?"

     
"It's a really sweet job." The general smiled. "Basic security guard work, actually. The nice part is that you'll be guarding the Fat Chance-the newest, biggest casino on Lorelei. Easy duty in paradise, if you ask me. What do you say to that?"

     
"My first reaction would have to be `Why us?' ... sir."

     
The general's smile tightened a little.

     
"Mostly because the owner specifically requested you and your outfit, Captain. I guess all that showboating you've been doing for the media is finally paying dividends."

     
"What I meant, sir, was why turn to the Space Legion at all? Our fees are significantly higher than any number of normal uniformed security services. Who is the owner, anyway?"

     
"I have it right here," the general said, referring to a sheet of paper on the desk before him. "Yes. Here it is. The contracting party is Gunther Rafael."

     
"I find that hard to believe."

     
"What was that, Captain?"

     
"There are two things wrong with that, General," Phule said hurriedly. "First of all, while I've never met Mr. Rafael, I'm familiar with his reputation, and he's always been dead set against gambling of any form. Consequently it's hard for me to believe that he owns a casino."

     
"I see." The general frowned. "And the other?"

     
"The other thing is that Gunther Rafael died nearly a year ago."

     
"He did?" Blitzkrieg was scowling now, examining the paper again. "Ah! Here's the problem. My mistake, Captain. It's Gunther Rafael, Junior, that's hiring you. Apparently the son doesn't share his father's dislike of gambling. Does that answer your question?"

     
"Not my first question: Why us?"

     
"Maybe he thinks hiring you will generate some publicity. You'll have to ask Mr. Rafael that," the general said. "But let me warn you, Captain, it's not the Legion policy to try to discourage clients from hiring us. Get my drift?"

     
"Yes, sir."

     
"Very well. As I said, your orders will be forthcoming. Another Legion company has been dispatched to take over your current assignment. You and your company are to leave for Lorelei as soon as they arrive. Is that clear?"

     
"Yes, sir."

     
"All right. Enjoy your new assignment, Captain Jester. Blitzkrieg out."

     
Phule turned off the holo unit and sank into a chair.

     
"All right, Beeker," he said. "What's wrong with this picture?"

     
The butler pursed his lips thoughtfully.

     
"Well," he said, "aside from the obvious questions raised by your getting your assignment directly from General Blitzkrieg as opposed to Colonel Battleax, who is your immediate superior in the so-called chain of command, I guess my feelings could be summed up in one question: Why is this man smiling?"

     
The commander made little beckoning circles with his hand.

     
"Elaborate."

     
"It has been my distinct impression," the butler continued, "that the general holds you in something less than highest esteem. In fact, it would be safe to say that he would rather chew ground glass than give you the time of day, much less do you a favor. I therefore think it would be safe to assume that if he is taking the time to inform you personally of your new assignment, and is happy about doing it, the assignment is in all probability much less desirable than he is making it out to be."

     
"Check." Phule nodded. "A bit long-winded, perhaps, but dead on the money with my own assessment."

     
"You did ask me to elaborate, sir," Beeker said, a little stung by the "long-winded" accusation.

     
"The problem is," the commander continued as if his butler hadn't spoken, "how to find out what the trap is before we step in it."

     
"If I might say so, sir, I believe the general himself has given you the answer to that problem."

     
"How's that?"

     
"You could check the recording again, but as I recall, he specifically instructed you to obtain additional information on the assignment directly from the casino owner."

     
"He did, didn't he?" Phule smiled, then raised his wrist communicator once more.

     
"Mother?"

     
"Yes, O Exalted One?"

     
"Put a call through for me. I want to speak with Gunther Rafael, Junior ... at the Fat Chance Casino on Lorelei."

The call took nearly an hour to put through, though most of that time seemed to be spent trying to locate the person who was to receive it. When Gunther Rafael finally did take the call, the image which formed before Phule was less than encouraging.

     
What the holo-projection showed was an acned youth who didn't look old enough to be admitted to a casino, much less own one.