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.
Inside, the bartender was dressed in camouflage, and the menu was full of fruity concoctions served in glasses shaped like voonga-nut shells. The piped-in music was heavy on percussion. A few other customers, off-planet tourists in newly purchased straw hats, sat at other tables, chattering brightly. Neither Phule nor the general was in the mood for small talk, but the ambassador kept up a well-practiced line of easy banter until the drinks came. Then, after a ritual sip of his Planter's Punch, he folded his hands and leaned forward. "Now, gentlemen, the real reason I'm here has to do with the Zenobians."
"The Zenobians?" General Blitzkrieg's puzzlement was obvious.
"Do you mean Flight Leftenant Qual?" said Phule, and he was suddenly even more apprehensive than he'd been when the general was chewing him out.
"Right-o," said Ambassador Gottesman. "As you know, Qual has been observing your unit as part of his government's decision-making process whether or not to ally with the Federation. Naturally, he's been sending back regular reports all along."
"He has?" said Phule. "Oh, of course he has-it only makes sense, but he's been such a part of the company that I didn't think of trying to intercept them."
"I'm not surprised," sneered Blitzkrieg. "This is typical of your slapdash methods."
"He wouldn't have had much luck at it anyway, old fellow," said the ambassador. "Qual was using some ultrasecret comm equipment their military has developed. I don't understand how it works-of course, that's not my bailiwick-but our tech boys have been on top of it since the beginning. Anyway, we've been able to monitor his messages all along."
"Oh, that's good," said Phule, looking from the general to the Ambassador, and back again, "At least, I hope it's good..."
"Well, as you know, Qual came here to make a detailed study of our tactics and ethics. Apparently he's learned a great deal about both by watching your company."
"I knew it!" said Blitzkrieg, slapping his hand on the table-top. "You've delivered us into the hands of the enemy, Captain! The lizards have stolen all our secrets. I knew you were the kind who'd do anything for a few dollars, but selling out your own species...There'll be a court-martial on this, I guarantee you, and this time you won't get off with a slap on the wrist."
"General, you're off-target," said the Ambassador, tiredly. "Qual confessed that he found the company's tactics utterly baffling-he said several times that it would be suicide to fight a race so unpredictable."
"Really?" said the general, sniffing. "Well, perhaps Jester's security breach may not cost us as much as it might have. But I can't exonerate him on that count. These things have a way of changing, once the enemy's had a chance to absorb their stolen knowledge."