Phule was irritated with himself as he retraced his path to the Plaza. That the interview with the police chief had not gone as he hoped was an understatement. It would seem that rather than reaching an understanding with that notable, Phule had succeeded only in pouring oil on the troubled waters and setting them ablaze.
Reviewing the conversation, the commander tried to weigh which had contributed the most to his momentary loss of controclass="underline" the chief's lack of regard for the Legionnaires, or the cheap shots that had been taken at his own "rich boy" status. While he liked to think the former had been the major cause of his irritation, Phule had to concede that the latter had also been a factor in his inability to deal effectively with Goetz. The accusation that he tended to solve his problems by buying his way out of them had hit a little too close to home for comfort.
Pursing his lips, he set about once more shoring up his defenses to that particular line of attack. The speech he had made to the troops about being effective was a sincere attempt to pass along one of the few lessons he had embraced from his father's efforts to set him on "the right path." Results were what mattered, and it was only right that the individual use every tool and weapon at his or her disposal to obtain whatever results were deemed desirable or necessary in his or her life. Of course he used his money when it was effective to do so. That was no more unfair or unjust than athletes using their strength and coordination or attractive women using their beauty to their own advantage. The game of life was rough enough without forcing an extra handicap by deliberately turning one's back on the advantages one had been dealt by fate.
"Psst! Captain! Over here!"
Phule jerked his head up to find the company's supply sergeant beckoning to him urgently from the alley beside the hotel. He had been so engrossed in his thoughts that he hadn't even noticed Chocolate Harry's unmistakable bulk until specifically hailed. Now, however, he saw that there was a small gathering of Legionnaires nervously peering around the corner at the hotel entrance.
They looked so much like a bunch of school kids hiding after a prank gone bad that Phule had to hide his smile as he veered his steps to join them. Then he remembered his recent head-butting with Goetz, and it was much easier to look concerned.
"What's the trouble here, Harry? Is it the cops?"
"Worse than that, Captain," the sergeant declared with a shake of his head, still craning his neck for a better view of the hotel door. "There's a reporter in the lobby lookin' to talk to anybody from the Legion. "
The wave of relief that washed over Phule almost made him want to laugh. Immediately on its heels, however, came a feeling of genuine puzzlement. The presence of a reporter didn't seem to be much of a threat or a danger in itself, yet the Legionnaires around him displayed a concern that was too real for the commander to take lightly.
"We shouldn't be bunched up like this," the commander said, taking command without having made a conscious decision. "We're more likely to draw the eye than to avoid notice the way we are."
"The captain's right," Harry snarled loudly. "We don't all gotta see what's goin' on... especially when there's nothin' happenin'. You... and you! Stay here and keep an eye peeled. The rest of you get back down the alley before half the world starts wonderin' what we're up to."
The sergeant paused for a moment to be sure the others were following his instructions before turning to Phule with a shake of his head.
"Sorry 'bout that, Captain. Guess we're a little rattled, is all.
Good thing we got at least one level head around to remind us how to lay low."
"Don't mention it, C.H.," Phule said. "I'm missing something here, though. What's the big sweat about having a reporter nosing around?"
Harry stiffened, his eyes narrowing for a moment. Then he shook his head and gave a humorless laugh.
"Damn!" he exclaimed in a wondering tone. "It's real easy to forget that you're an officer, Captain. Let's just say that us enlisted types got some problems you brass hats don't and let it go at that."
"Let's not," the commander countered grimly. "I told you before, C.H. we're all one crew, and what's a problem for some is a problem for all. Now, I may not be able to solve all the problems we're going to be up against, but I can't solve any unless I know what they are. So if you don't mind being tolerant for just a few minutes, I'd appreciate it if you'd take the time to explain to this dense officer exactly what the problem is here."
The supply sergeant blinked in surprise, then shot one more nervous glance toward the hotel entrance before answering.
"Well, you see, Captain, you officers may come from pretty clean backgrounds, but for a lot of us, we joined the Legion to get away from some pretty rough situations. Some of us still have folks lookin' for us-folks who want real bad to get a piece of our hides. The last thing we want is-to have some reporter puttin' out write-ups or pictures as to where we are now and what we're doing. You follow me? It's like hangin' a bull's-eye on our backs and hollerin', 'Come and get 'em."'
"I see," Phule said thoughtfully.
"That's the way it is, Cap'n," Harry finished with an expansive shrug. "Sometimes we just gotta back off..."
The commander's head came up with a snap.
"Don't say that, Sergeant," he intoned coldly. "The one thing you don't ever gotta do while you're under my command is back off."
He turned away from the sergeant, raising his voice to address the group huddled at the far end of the alley.
"Legionnaires! Assemble on me... Now! Lookouts too! All of you... Right now!"
The fugitives eased forward, exchanging confused glances as they tried to puzzle out their commander's apparent bad mood.
"It's been brought to my attention that reporters make you nervous... that you're afraid your various pasts might catch up with you if word gets out as to your whereabouts. First of all, I'm telling you here and now, Get used to reporters. They're going to be around because a lot of what we're going to do will be news. Don't hide from them, learn how to talk with them so they report what you want them to report. Now that I'm aware of the problem, I'll be sure that there's opportunity for you to learn how to give and control interviews. In the meantime, just say 'No comment' and refer them to one of the officers. What you don't do is let them or anyone else drive you away from your own area, whether it's a barracks or a hotel."
He paused to sweep the assemblage with his eyes before continuing.
"That brings us to the second point. It seems that the group here thought I was talking to someone else when I gave my speech last night. Well, I wasn't. Some of you were running from people or a situation when you joined the Legion. I know that. Everyone in the company knows that. My reaction is as follows: So what? If a reporter pinpoints your new identity and location, or if any other slipup happens and your past comes looking for you, so what? You're part of the company now, and anyone who wants to get at you is going to have to come through all of us. That's what being in this company is all about. We're all family now, and that means that none of you ever have to face your problems alone again. Got that?"
There was a ripple of nods and mumbled "Yes, sirs."
"I can't hear you!"
"YES, SIR!"
Phule grinned at the shouted response.
"That's better. Now, let's go back to our hotel. I'll be talking to this reporter in the cocktail lounge, if any of you want to listen in. Haven't met a reporter or a Legionnaire yet who'd pass up a free drink."
Scattered shouts of approval and mutual encouragement met this, as the Legionnaires abandoned their hiding post in the alley and headed for the hotel. Much of the banter had the overloud, overexuberant flair of individuals who weren't really sure of themselves and were drawing on each other for courage, but they were moving, and moving as a unit.