Rembrandt drew a slow, deep breath, then nodded.
"Well, I should probably admit that a lot of information I have, I got from talking to Brandy, the first sergeant. I... I'm still trying to get a handle on a lot of the troops myself, and I thought it would be a good starting point."
The commander nodded. "Sound thinking. The noncoms work the closest with the Legionnaires, so we should listen to what they have to say whenever they're willing to share their thoughts. Go ahead."
"Probably the best approach would be to start with some of our more unusual Legionnaires," Rembrandt began, starting to relax a bit. "It's my guess that we'll be spending a lot of time trying to figure out what to do with or about them, so we might as well start early."
She paused to flip through her notes, then settled on a page.
"Proceeding on that basis, the one I personally have the biggest problem getting a fix on is one of the wimps. She has-"
"One of the what?"
The words burst from Phule's lips before he actually had time to think. Both the lieutenants started visibly, and the commander mentally cursed himself. So much for a relaxed meeting.
"The... the wimps, sir. That's how Brandy refers to them, anyway. When we were talking, she separated the problem Legionnaires into two groups: the wimps and the hard cases. "
"I see."
The commander seesawed mentally for a few moments as the lieutenants watched him in silence. Finally he shook his head and sighed.
"It's tempting to let it go to keep the meeting relaxed," he said, "and I do want you both to feel comfortable speaking freely. You touched a nerve, though, Rembrandt, and I can't just ignore it. I don't want any of the company's leadership, officer or noncom, to fall into the habit of referring to the company or any subgroup in it by derogatory terms. It tends to influence our own views and attitudes, and even if we manage to resist that trap ourselves, anyone overhearing us will think, with some justification, that we hold the Legionnaires in contempt. I want you-both of you-to actively resist the temptation of forming that habit and to work at breaking whatever habits along those lines you've gotten into. Everyone in the company deserves our respect, and if we have trouble giving it, it's because we haven't studied them long enough, not because there's something wrong with them. Agreed?"
The lieutenants nodded slowly.
"Good. For that matter, Rembrandt, I want you to talk to Brandy about her speech patterns. She's probably the worst violator of all of us."
"Me, sir?" Rembrandt paled. It was clear she did not relish the thought of confronting the company's formidable first sergeant.
"I'll take care of it for you, Remmie," Armstrong volunteered, jotting a quick note on his pad.
"Thank you, Lieutenant Armstrong," Phule said levelly, "but I'd rather have Lieutenant Rembrandt handle it herself."
"Yes, sir. I understand."
Phule studied Armstrong's stiff posture, then shook his head.
"No, Lieutenant, I don't think you do. I said thank you and I meant it. I really do appreciate your offer. It shows that the two of you are starting to help each other out, and normally I'd encourage it."
He leaned forward earnestly.
"It's not that I don't think you could handle talking to Brandy, it's that I specifically think Rembrandt should do it... for two reasons. First, she was the one who mentioned the labels Brandy's using. If you-or I, for that matter-approach Brandy on something Rembrandt said, it leaves the impression that she's reporting things to us for disciplinary action, which would undermine her efforts to establish herself as an authority figure. I need two junior officers, not one junior officer and an informer. Second, Rembrandt, it's important to you to address these problems yourself. Sure, Brandy's intimidating and I don't think anyone in the room would relish the idea of butting heads with her, but if I let you hide behind either Armstrong or me, you're never going to grit your teeth and take the plunge yourself, which means you'll never build the confidence you need to be an effective officer. That's why I want you to be the one to talk to Brandy."
He made eye contact with the lieutenants one at a time, and they nodded their agreement.
"As to how to talk to Brandy, if you'll accept a little unasked for advice, I'd suggest that you simply avoid approaching it as a confrontation. Oh, I know you'll be nervous, but make it casual and conversational. It's my guess she'll go along with it without realizing her habits have been a subject for conversation among us. The less we have to resort to orders and threats, the smoother this company will run."
"I'll try, Captain."
"Good. " The commander nodded briskly. "Enough said on that subject. Now then, before I interrupted you, you were starting to say something about the Legionnaire you have the most trouble getting a fix on?"
"Oh. Right," Rembrandt said, rummaging in her notes again. "The one I was thinking of was Rose."
"Rose?" Armstrong snorted. "You mean Shrinking Violet."
"That's what the other Legionnaires call her," Rembrandt agreed.
Phule frowned. "I don't think I've met her yet."
"Not surprising," Rembrandt said. "If you had, you'd probably remember her. Rose, or Shrinking Violet, has to be the shyest person I've ever met in my life bar none. It's impossible to carry on a conversation with her. All she does is mumble and look the other way."
"I've given up trying to talk to her," Armstrong put in, "and from what I can see, so has everyone else in the company. I mean, she's a good-looking woman, and when she arrived a lot of the guys tried to get to know her better, but you get tired of being treated like you're Jack the Ripper."
"It's the same with the women," Rembrandt said. "Everybody seems to make her nervous. Heck, it's easier to deal with the nonhumans. At least they'll meet you halfway."
"Interesting," the commander murmured thoughtfully. "I'll have to try to talk with her myself."
Armstong grimaced. "Lots of luck, Captain. If you can get her to say half a dozen words, it'll be more than she's said since she arrived."
"Speaking of the nonhumans," Phule said, "I wanted to bounce a thought off the two of you. Specifically I want to split the two Sinthians when we assign team pairs. I figure it's hard for humans to relate to and interact with nonhumans. If we team the two of them, it will only make them that much harder to approach. The only problem is, I'm not sure how the Sinthians will react to being separated. What are your thoughts?"
"I don't think you have to worry about them complaining, Captain." Armstrong grinned, winking at Rembrandt. "Do you, Remmie?"
"Well," his partner replied in a mock drawl, "I don't expect it'll be a problem."
The commander glanced back and forth at the two of them.
"I get the feeling I'm missing a joke here."
"The truth is, Captain," Rembrandt supplied, "the two of them don't get along particularly well."
"They don't?"
"The way it is, sir," Armstrong said, "is that apparently there's a real class prejudice problem on their home world. Both of them headed off-world to get away from conditions."
"Their names kinda say it all," Rembrandt continued. "One of them, Spartacus, is a product of the lower class, while Louie, which I believe is short for Louis the XIV, is rooted in the aristocracy. Both of them joined the Legion thinking they would never have to deal with someone from the hated 'other class,' and you can imagine how overjoyed they were when they both got assigned to this outfit."
"I see. How much does their mutual dislike affect their performance?"
"Actually they're pretty civilized about it," Rembrandt said. "It's not like they get violent or anything. They just avoid each other when possible, and maybe glare and mutter a bit when they can't. At least, I think that's what they're doing. Between their eyestalks and the translators, it's a little hard to tell."