"Tullie, you don't need to ask me about every detail of the business," said Phule. "You're where you are because I trust your experience and your common sense. Use them, and don't worry about me second-guessing you."
"It's not you I'm worried about, Captain," said Bascomb.
There was a long pause.
Phule finally said, "Is it Dad you're worried about? I don't think you need to. He's run a business for most of his life, and made it one of the most profitable in the galaxy..."
Bascomb cut him off. "And because of that, he thinks he knows everything there is to know about the business I've been running most of my life, and making a damned good profit at. It's because of him that we're in this mess, Captain. That's why I want you signing off on our plans to handle the most likely reactions from Mr. Erkeep."
Phule sighed. "All right, I understand," he said. "If I know Dad, it's not going to make much difference. I'm the one he thinks is incompetent, Tullie, not you. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he'd gained a degree of respect for you by now. But I'll give you what you need to cover your-ass, If you think it'll help. Tell me what you're looking at."
They spent the next half hour going over different scenarios Bascomb had sketched out, with Phule making occasional comments, but for the most part simply approving Bascomb's plans without modification. On one occasion, Beeker broke in with a suggestion that both Phule and Bascomb immediately recognized as better than anything they'd thought of. Finally, Bascomb said, "All right, I .. think that covers everything I can foresee. Any other suggestions, Captain?"
"No." said Phule. "If they manage to pull any more surprises out of their hats, you'll just have to deaf with them according to your best judgment. Don't feel you have to call me-I trust you, Tullie. And if Dad has any problems with that, tell him to call me. All right?"
"I'll tell him, Captain," said Bascomb. He chuckled, then said, "And I wish I could listen in on that conversation," before he broke the connection.
Phule turned to Beeker with, a wry grin. "Well, I hope that's the worst problem we have to deal with today," he said.
The butler raised one brow. "I still find it anomalous that you would so easily part with your stock in what must be one of the more profitable of your investments, sir. Are you really so certain your father can handle it as well as you can?"
"He can if he keeps his hands off, which is all I've really done." said Phule. "Besides, Beeks, 1 intend to write off the shares as a promotional expense, which in my tax bracket will be almost more valuable than the shares themselves.
And there's no shortage of profitable investments. Speaking of which-what do you think of Sushi's description of the Zenobian Sklern? I'd bet we could get the off-planet marketing rights to it for a song..."
The nighttime desert air was still bone-dry, but on the cool side, as Thumper made his way along a well-trodden path out of Zenobia Base toward his destination. Brandy had shown him where the electronic sensors of the perimeter defenses were, and with that knowledge in his head, it wasn't -too hard to dodge around them. He'd know soon enough if he didn't dodge around one; the perimeter alarm would alert Mother, who'd signal him to go investigate the disturbance-and send backup just in case it wasn't something he couldn't handle by himself. That would pretty much put an end to this little unauthorized excursion. If he didn't run into anything unexpected, he'd be back in camp well before his relief guard showed up. And he was confident he could convince Mother he was still at his post, if she decided to call him on the wrist comm to chat, or (just as likely) to check up on how well he was managing to stay awake. His new friend Mahatma had told him Mother was often like that, going out of her way to make sure the newer legionnaires didn't get into trouble when they weren't actively looking for it. That was good to know-but just now, he didn't need anybody to hold his forepaw.
A dim light in the middle distance pointed out the way to his goal. He struck off in that direction, and shortly found a smoother path going his way-the clean-swept ground mark of a recent hoverjeep passage. He considered for a moment whether he needed to worry about leaving footprints, then shrugged and stepped onto the path. If he succeeded, nobody would pay any attention to a stray set of Legion-issue boot marks. And if his plan fell through, they'd have a lot more to worry about than figuring out who'd been along this trail-and when.
He was almost to his destination. He slowed down, making sure he could see everything in his pathway. (The night-vision goggles Brandy had given him for sentry duty brought out the landscape almost as clearly as in bright daylight, although there were funny color substitutions, especially where a large rock or other object glowed warmer than its surroundings.) There, a short distance ahead, was what he'd been expecting: a low-lying shape to one side of the trail, glowing brightly with the warmth of a living body. He came to a halt, not wanting to intrude on the other's territory. "Hello," Thumper said softly. "You can probably see me as well as I can you. Can we go somewhere to talk where we won't wake everybody else up?"
"Why should I trust you?" the other said, in a strangely familiar guttural voice. "Why are you here, anyway?"
"To talk to you," said Thumper. "I'm by myself, incase you hadn't noticed."
"You have weapons."
"sure do," said Thumper. "It's part of my job to carry them. If I wanted to use them, I would have sneaked up on you from downwind and got you before you knew where I was. You know I could do it."
There was a pause, as if the other were thinking things over then the voice said, "Follow me." The bright shape got to its feet and began to walk quietly away from the camp it had been guarding. Thumper followed, at a distance.
Perhaps a hundred meters from the camp, the figure turned and faced Thumper. "All right, this should be safe," it said. "What does a legionnaire want with me?"
"1 told you, I want to talk," said Thumper. "What do you have against the Legion?"
"Stinking humans," growled Barky, the Environmental dog. "Make other sophonts do all the work, take all the credit."
"Not everybody in the Legion's human," said Thumper. "There's me, for one. And the Gambolts, and the Volton, and the Synthians."
"All the leaders are human," said Barky.
"That's true," said Thumper. "Especially the commanding general. I got in trouble with him back in basic training. But that's a long story, and it's not what I came here to talk about." Barky said nothing, waiting.
"All right," said Thumper, shrugging. "All I really need to say is that you and your humans are doing your jobs, and we're doing ours, and there's no reason we need to be enemies. Have you 'caught us polluting or destroying the environment?"
"Not yet," said Barky, reluctantly. "But if you do your job, sooner or later it will hurt the environment. War is not healthy..."
"For living things," Thumper said. "I learned that in school. They had us watch your show a lot."
"Then you know what I mean," said the Environmental Dog.
"Sure," said Thumper. "But we aren't here fighting a war. In fact, I don't think there's a war anywhere in Alliance space we could be going to fight. So we've got to do other jobs. If the other guys are telling me the truth, what we're doing here is keeping a war from getting started."
"I'm sure that is very wonderful," said Barky. "You will no doubt be able to tell me how bringing more soldiers and weapons to a place where there is no war is going to keep one from starting."
"Some of the other guys can answer that better than I can," said Thumper. "I came out here to talk about something else, though. Answer me this: Your job is to fight pollution, but is it better to fight it, or to prevent it from happening at all?"