"A few days?" Goetz's eyebrows shot up. "That supply sergeant of yours must be slipping if it'd take him more than a couple hours to crank out some forged sales slips."
"Now, look, Chief...
"Relax, Captain," the policeman said with a sudden, impish grin. "I'm just pulling your chain a little. Those university students liberate enough stuff from the settlement for their fraternity initiations and scavenger hunts and what all, I'm sure it would take more than a couple of pigs to even up the score. I just wanted you to know we weren't totally... What in the hell is that?"
Phule looked where the chief was pointing and flashed a sudden smile.
"That? Oh, that's just one of our mobilization experiments. It's working out surprisingly well."
The object of their attention was Spartacus. The blue-collared Sinthian was poised on his glide board at the top of the long, curved flight of stairs that led from the Plaza's mezzanine to the main lobby. As they watched, he shifted his weight forward, plunging the board down the stairs. Neither the curve of his course nor the frightening acceleration seemed to bother the Sinthian as he rode the glide board down a level and across the lobby, skillfully weaving it around a group of Legionnaires who were standing there in conversation. The Legionnaires didn't bother to look around as he swept past, ignoring him, as did the hotel staff at the main desk.
"Seems like folks are pretty used to these goings-on," Goetz said dryly, noting the lack of reaction in the lobby.
"If we encourage him, he just starts showing off," Phule said. "When that happens, things usually get broken. He's really very good on that thing, though... practically lives on it. I'm surprised you haven't seen him before. He's usually in the park across the street every evening matching stunts with the kids that hang out there.
"Excuse me, Captain?"
Phule glanced around, then drew himself up and returned the smart salute being given him by the company's supply sergeant, who had managed to approach unnoticed.
"Good morning, C.H. We were just talking about you a second ago. What's the problem?"
"No problem, Captain. It's getting on toward time for the weapons demo, and I thought I'd offer you a lift on my hawg. "
"Not this time, Sergeant. Chief Goetz here is already giving me a ride... Oh, excuse me. You two have met, haven't you?"
Harry's eyes slid sideways to meet the policeman's stare.
"I... I've sure heard about Chief Goetz."
"And I've heard about you, Sergeant," Goetz returned with a tight-lipped smile. "Don't let us keep you. I'm sure you and I will be... talking someday."
"Harry does have a point, though," Phule interceded quickly. "We should get going ourselves."
The new facilities for the Legionnaires were nearing completion, and everyone was looking forward to moving back in with eager anticipation. One of the first things to be completed, after the confidence course, that is, was the firing range, and that was where the company assembled for the demonstration.
The sales rep from Phule-Proof Munitions had an impressive array of weaponry, and a snappy line of patter to go with it, as he worked his way down the display. Aside from his tendency to refer to the company commander as "Willie," a practice which invariably caused Phule to wince and everyone else, particularly the chief of police, to smile, the salesman's knowledge and skills of his little bundles of death quickly earned the attention and respect of the entire assemblage.
The high point of the demonstration came when the Legionnaires were invited to come down from their bleachers and try some of the weapons themselves. For a while, the sergeants had their hands full keeping the troops' enthusiasm from turning them into a mob, but eventually things got sorted out and soon the air was filled with the crack and boom of firing as the Legionnaires gleefully shredded and blew apart assorted targets.
"Quite an assortment," Chief Goetz said, plopping down on a bleacher seat next to the commander.
"Yes. I thought you'd find it interesting. Especially some of the plastic and rubber 'Mercy Loads' they've been developing. "
The policeman grimaced. "Of course, it's nice if the suspect is wearing some kind of eye protection when you open up on him. If I had my way, we'd stick with either holding our fire or shooting for keeps rather than trying to kid ourselves that we can hit someone without hurting them. I've noticed my troops shoot a lot better on the range than they do on the street. Truth is, under pressure they're almost as bad shots as your crew seem to be normally."
It was apparent that the Legionnaires were far from crack shots. Whatever damage was being done to the targets was more the result of the massive amount of firepower being launched downrange than from any degree of precision in its placement.
Now it was Phule's turn to grimace.
"I've seen worse, though it's hard to recall offhand anytime I've seen more lousy shots gathered in one place. More important, I've taught worse marksmen how to shoot. I almost canceled this demonstration until I had more time to work with the troops, but this is one of Phule-Proof's touring demos, and it was either nail it when it was available or wait a couple months until another one was in the area. Now it's going to be a pain to keep the troops away from the full automatics and laser sights long enough to drum the basics into their heads."
Goetz nodded, not taking his eyes off the firing line.
"Sounds like we're in agreement there, Captain. If you don't teach 'em right to start with, they'll always rely on firepower and gimmicks instead of learning how to shoot."
The commander cranked his head around and stared at the police chief for several moments.
"Maybe I shouldn't ask this, Chief," he said at last, "but I can't help but notice that your attitude toward me and my Legionnaires has mellowed considerably since our first meeting."
"Well, I'll tell you, Mr. Phule. I may be hardheaded from time to time, but mostly I try to keep an open mind. Most of my beat patrolmen have been pretty open with their praise for your troops. It seems that somebody in your outfit has taken to monitoring the police band, and a few of your boys have shown up at some of the stickier calls we've had over the last few weeks. The way I hear it, they don't interfere or get in the way, but we both know there are times when having a couple extra uniforms around, no matter what color they are, goes a long way toward keeping a crowd from getting too rambunctious."
"That fits," the commander said. "I've always felt that most people have a basically good self-image. Once my troops are convinced that they can make a difference, it's not surprising that they try to make a difference for the better."
The chief held up a restraining hand.
"Now, don't get me wrong. Nobody's kidding anybody that your crew was in the choir over the stable at the first Christmas, but they've earned enough goodwill in the department to have me cut them-and you-a little bit of slack."
"Not enough slack, I notice, to keep you from filing reports with Legion Headquarters every time one of my crew puts on a command performance at the station," Phule observed wryly.
Goetz sighed and shrugged.
"That's the result of a direct request from your Headquarters, son. Came in about the same time you arrived. I don't mean to butt into your business, but it would appear that somebody in the Legion's upper echelons doesn't like you much. Leastwise, they're watching real close for you to make a mistake."
The commander frowned. "I didn't realize that. Appreciate the warning, though."
"Warning?" The chief's face was a picture of innocence. "I was just responding to an official request for information from one of the residents in the community I am sworn to serve and protect."
"Got it." Phule nodded. "Thanks, anyway... unofficially. I wonder if it would be possible for you to-"