The manager did not even try to keep the look of horror off his face this time. If it hadn't spoken, Bombest would never have recognized the mud-encrusted figure before him as Phule. His mind flatly refused to accept that anyone of Phule's social standing and training would stoop to wallowing in the muck with the common troops.
"The pool?" he echoed weakly, unable to tear his eyes away from the commander's soiled condition.
Phule caught his look, but misinterpreted it.
"Don't worry, Bombest." He grinned. "I'm sure everyone will shower before hitting the pool." He gestured at the newspaper-littered lobby. "If they're too cheap to pay to have the carpet vacuumed, they sure aren't about to spring to have a ring around the pool scrubbed off."
"I suppose not."
"Oh, and could you have room service send about three trolleys of beer to each of our floors? On my bill, of course."
"It's all on your bill, Mr. Phule," Bombest commented, beginning to recover his composure.
The commander had been starting to turn away, but instead he leaned on the desk, chatty in his enthusiasm.
"I know, Bombest, but this is special. Be sure they're told that it's with the commander's compliments. I'll tell you, I wish you could have seen them today. I'll have to check on it, but I don't think any outfit has run the confidence course in less time than they did."
"They do seem to be in high spirits," the manager agreed, wishing to maintain the friendly tone of the conversation.
"They should be. Do you know we ran that course over a dozen times today? They'd still be going at it if I hadn't called it a day."
"Why did you do that? I mean... it is still fairly early."
"The course has to be rebuilt first," Phule said proudly, his grin flashing through the dirt on his face. "That reminds me. I've got to call the construction crew and see if they can get someone out there today to get started on it."
"It... sounds like they're doing well."
"That they are. I am worried about the Sinthians, though. They're just not able to keep up without help. I've got to come up with some way to help them move faster before they get completely dispirited."
Bombest was groping for an appropriate answer when he noticed two figures approaching their conversation.
"Willard? Is that you?"
Phule turned, smiling as he recognized the reporter whose interview had resulted in the call from Headquarters. She was barely into her twenties with soft, curly brown hair and a curvaceous body that even the conservative lines of her office suit couldn't hide.
"Hi, Jennie. Surprised you recognized me like this."
"I almost didn't, but Sidney here said he thought it was you. It's not that easy to fool a holophotographer. " The reporter grinned, gesturing at her partner. "He specializes in spotting celebrities that are trying to travel in disguise."
"Yes. I can see where that would be a handy skill," the commander said, forcing a smile. He had never been that fond of the sharp-eyed holophotographers that flocked around public figures like vultures around a staggering animal. In particular, he found he disliked the easy, broad-shouldered, wavy-haired good looks of the photographer who stood so close to Jennie. He exuded a relaxed air that intense people such as Phule always envied but could never hope to master. "Pleased to meet you, Sidney."
He bared his teeth as they shook hands.
"So. What can I do for you today, Jennie? I don't think we can top that last article you wrote until we learn to walk on water."
Any sarcasm hidden in his question was lost in the reporter's enthusiasm.
"Well, our editor has assigned us to do a series of weekly articles on you, complete with pictures... if you're willing, that is. I was hoping we could talk with you and get a few shots, or set a time at your convenience."
"I see. Unfortunately I'm not really presentable at the moment." Phule gestured pointedly at his soiled condition. "We've been running the confidence course today..."
"Really? That could make a good lead right there... "
"... and besides," the commander continued, "I'd rather you did a few stories on the company itself. I'm sure the public would find it more interesting than a series on me alone."
"I... suppose," the reporter said hesitantly, seemingly reluctant to pass up her chance to spend time with the commander. "We could try putting in some stuff about how other people view you and your activities."
"Fine. Then it's settled. We'll see what we can do about lining you up with... Do-Wop! Brandy!"
He waved at the two figures en route from the elevator to the lounge, and they wandered over to join the conversation.
"These two are interested in doing a story on our confidence course training session," he explained. "I was wondering if the two of you would be willing to fill them in."
"With holos?" Do-Wop exclaimed, spotting the holophotographer's equipment. "Hey, neat! Sure thing, Captain."
"Um... the trouble here is that they don't look like they've been through anything," the reporter commented tactfully.
The two Legionnaires had already showered and changed, and except for their damp hair there was no trace of their recent ordeal.
"No problem," Do-Wop insisted hastily. "We can just duck up and change back into our other uniforms and-"
"Better still," Brandy said levelly, eyeing the holophotographer, whose good looks had not escaped her notice, "we could just go across the street to the park and take a quick dip in the fountain to wet ourselves down. I'm not sure the public wants to see how really dirty we get on the course."
The holophotographer ran an appraising look over the top sergeant's generous figure and nudged the reporter with his elbow.
"That'll do just fine," he declared. "Shall we go?"
As the group headed out of the hotel, Phule snagged the photographer and drew him aside.
"Umm... Sidney? We both know that Jennie there has enough enthusiasm to carry a whole brigade along with her once she gets rolling. I'm counting on you to keep a bit more level head on your shoulders."
"What do you mean... ?"
"Let's just say it would be wise for you to check with the various Legionnaires before taking, much less publishing, holos of them. Some of them joined the Legion to leave their past behind them."
"Really?" The photographer started to look around, but Phule wasn't finished.
"And if they didn't shove your gear down your throat when you tried to take the pictures, I'd be inclined to take a personal interest in your career, as long as it lasted. Do we understand each other?"
Sidney met the commander's gaze, and what he saw there made him decide that this was not the time to extol the virtues of freedom of the press.
"Understood, Mr. Phule," he said, giving a quick salute that wasn't entirely mockery.
Phule paid only distant attention to the antics of the photo session. Instead, he found himself watching the neighborhood rat pack of kids who interrupted their glide-board frolicking to investigate the gathering. After the reporter shooed them away from the shooting for the fifth time, this time threatening to call the police, the kids resumed their normal games, perhaps more energetically because of the nearby holophotographer.
Though best on hard, flat surfaces like sidewalks, the glide boards could work on anything, and the kids prided themselves in demonstrating their expertise in the face of adversity. They rode them over the tops of the park benches and across the uneven grass. Their favorite maneuver was to skim down one particular slope into a dip, then use their momentum to jump their boards over the hedge, coincidentally landing in the fountain the photographer was using for his backdrop. The boards were even faster over water, however, and they had no difficulty in gliding across the fountain and disappearing before the news team could do more than raise their voices in protest.