"Yes, sir," said Rembrandt, not lifting her gaze to meet his.
Phule shook his head, then continued in a quiet voice. "The worst thing is, it almost worked. Even after Barky had his run-in with Tusk-anini, I thought we'd managed to smooth it all over. Then this Thumper walks into the mess hall, and Barky takes off after him like... like a dog after a rabbit. And now we've got another incident on our hands, just as I thought we were about to make some real headway."
"Escrima didn't make it any better," said Rembrandt, quietly.
"No, I guess not," said Phule. He raised his hand to grip the bridge of his nose, as if his sinuses were paining him. After a bit he looked up, and asked, "The new recruit Thumper-is he all right?"
"Yes," said Rembrandt. "He's pretty fast-maybe faster than Qual, from what I saw last night. Barky never had a chance to catch him."
"The canine made an astounding effort, though," Beeker observed quietly. "I've rarely seen such a... dogged pursuit."
Rembrandt groaned. "Well, it was in character," she conceded. Then her eyes opened wider, and she said, "But that reminds me, Captain-Legionnaire Thumper wants to speak to you personally."
Phule nodded. "Oh, of course. Is he here? Bring him in, then."
Rembrandt went to the door and beckoned to the waiting Legionnaire, and a moment later Thumper came into the room. Phule took a moment to size up the new member of his company, whom he'd seen before only in the chaotic action that had taken place in the mess hall earlier that evening. Thumper stood just under 1.5 meters tall, if you counted his long ears-which in any case were hard to ignore. His eyes were the second most prominent feature of his face: big and brown, nervously checking out the room as he entered. His incisors were prominent, and below his twitchy pink nose were long, catlike whiskers. His feet ..were long, too--or perhaps it was the obvious adaptation of his entire lower legs for speed that made them appear so., The instant reaction any human child would have had upon seeing him-or any other of his Lepoid race-was "big bunny." Phule had to consciously restrain himself from allowing a goofy grin to spread across his face. And he couldn't help wondering whether there was a fluffy white tail under that black Legion jumpsuit.
Phule somehow managed to keep a straight face as the Lepoid came to attention at the foot of his desk and saluted-rather smartly, he thought. "At ease, Thumper," he said. "What can I do for you?"
The Lepoid appeared to relax fractionally. "I'm not sure, sir," Thumper said. "I've always wanted to be a legionnaire. But now that I'm in the Legion, I keep having problems with superior officers. I got sent here because General Blitzkrieg thought I'd ruined his uniform..."
"The general had you sent here?" Rembrandt asked. "That explains it, then. He's been trying to make trouble for us ever since he sent the captain here..."
"I hope you don't mean that the way it sounds, Lieutenant," said Phule, with a grin. Before Rembrandt could protest her innocence, he turned to Thumper, arid continued, "What just happened in the mess hall wasn't your doing, Legionnaire. We thought we'd warned all our nonhuman legionnaires to take their meals after Barky had left, so as to avoid something like what happened. But you were new here, and nobody thought to include you in the warnings. I'm sorry about that, and it shouldn't have happened. But it's no more your fault than your being a member of a species that the dog wanted to chase. So relax-nobody here holds it against you."
"Thank you, sir," said Thumper. "But there's another thing..." He paused.
"Go ahead, Thumper," said Phule. He'd already noticed that the Lepoid spoke excellent Standard, without using a translator. Thumper took a deep breath. "As I said, sir, I've wanted to be a legionnaire ever since I was growing up. But what I've seen so far in the Legion hasn't been at all like what I expected."
"I know what you mean," said Phule, with a quiet smile. "Day-to-day life in the military actually tends to be pretty boring..." He looked at the expression on
Rembrandt's face, and added, "Well, maybe this company is an exception."
"I consider that rather an understatement, sir," said Beeker, his eyebrows raised.
Rembrandt cleared her throat. "Perhaps we ought to let Thumper finish what he's saying, sir," she said.
"Ahh, of course you're right, Lieutenant," said Phule. "Please, Thumper, tell us what you were about to say. Sorry for the interruption."
Thumper's ears twitched, and he looked open-eyed first at Rembrandt, then at Phule. "I was going to ask how I could get out of the Legion and go back home," he said. "Everything that's happened to me since basic training had convinced me I'd made a really bad mistake. But I think I just changed my mind. I mean, I never heard an officer admit he was wrong about something, or apologize to an enlisted legionnaire. I've gotta think about this. So if you don't mind, I think I'll withdraw my request to speak to you, sir."
"All right, Legionnaire Thumper," said Phule, carefully. He hadn't seen much of the little Lepoid in action-just that one incredible burst of speed in the dining hall-but he'd read the report from Sergeant Pitbull, who'd been Thumper's drill instructor in basic. Pitbull's report was obviously phrased so as not to set off too many alarms if a certain Someone in Legion Headquarters happened to see it, but reading between the lines, it was full of praise for the diminutive recruit. Maybe Headquarters had done Omega Company a favor without intending to do so. It wouldn't be the first time that had happened. He chuckled, then added, "Go look around the company and see if you like what you see. If you still want to get out of here after you've had a good look at us, I'll make sure nobody stops you. But give us a chance. I have the idea you might fit into this company better than you think."
"I'll give you a fair chance if you'll give me the same, sir," said Thumper, coming to attention and saluting with a crispness that reminded Phule that the recruit was fresh out of basic.
Phule returned the salute, and added a smile. "You've got a deal, Thumper."
"Somebody remind me where we were before the roof fell in," said Sushi. It was early in the evening after the food fight in the mess hall, and there was a prominent shiner under Sushi's right eye, where a too-enthusiastically thrown apple had nailed him. He'd gone to the autodoc, which had dispensed a couple of pain pills and a tube of cream that would take down the swelling, but the discoloration would still last a couple of days.
"Tryin' to learn how these here Zenobians can write before they can talk," said Rev, who'd fallen to the floor early and managed to avoid being hit by anything solid during the food fight. "And, to get right back to square number one, tryin to find out somethin' about this here character name of 'L'VlZ in their mythology, which is what got me started on this whole fuss and botheration."
"Yo, Rev, you really think there's some kinda connection?" asked Do-Wop. He'd somehow managed to avoid any damage other than a thoroughly besmirched uniform, despite being one of the prime instigators and most active participants in the mess hall fracas. "I mean, the dinos and humans never even met until just a couple-three years ago. Don't make sense that they'd know squat about your guy, the King. What d'you think, Soosh?"
"It seems far-fetched to me, too," Sushi admitted. "But tell me, Rev-why haven't you just asked Flight Leftenant Qual what it's about? He's got to know."
"Sure he does," said Rev. "In fact, I tried 'xactly that, and the little leftenant clammed up quicker than a politician on the witness stand. The long and short of it is, I gotta find out on my own."
"All right, I guess that makes sense," said Sushi. "It just doesn't sound like Qual to me. But what if it does turn out that the Zenobians had their own analog of the King? It'd be the most sensational discovery since it turned out the Synthians have a game exactly like human chess, only with a nine-by-nine board and an extra piece on each side, and the pawns reverse direction when they reach the back row, instead of promoting. Who could resist the chance to be in on a discovery like that?"