The commander nodded his understanding, so wrapped up in Rose's tale he didn't pause to think that she couldn't see his reaction.
"Anyway, finally somebody got around to running some tests on me. They slapped some earphones on my head and turned up the tone until I couldn't hear myself talk, and you know what? Like that, I could talk as normal as anybody! It seemed the problem was that I was scared of the sound of my own voice! Once I found that out, things got a bit better, but I still had trouble talking in front of other people. So what I did was I got me a job in a little-bitty radio station, and let me tell you, I did everything. I was the DJ, the news and weather person, the ad person. Mostly, though, I did phone-in conversations with the listeners. Everything was fine, just as long as I didn't have to talk to folks face-to-face. I practically lived at that station for five years... until it got bought out and the new owner automated the whole shebang and fired me."
"And so you joined the Legion," Phule finished for her thoughtfully.
"Well, there were a few things I did first, but that's about the size of it. Now, don't you go feeling sorry for me, Big Daddy. I'm a grown girl now and I made up my own mind to join."
"Actually," the commander said, "I was thinking seriously of offering you permanent duty at Com Central-that is, if you can forgo the pleasure of standing duty in the swamp."
"Now, that's a thought. Let me mull it over and get back to you on that one. Meantime, I believe you were going to get some sleep? Seems to me I recall someone making me a promise to that effect a little while back."
"Okay. I'll do it." Phule grinned. "Nice chatting with you... Mother. Jester out."
Clicking off his communicator, the commander rose, stretched, and headed for the bed. All in all, it had been a pretty good day. It looked like he had found himself a new clerk and a communications specialist. If things worked out, he'd have to see about getting them each an extra stripe.
It wasn't until he had disrobed down to his shorts that he remembered that he never had gotten anything to eat.
CHAPTER NINE
Journal #104
The assigning of partners within the company was a milestone event. Though it actually occurred over the space of several weeks, the effects were apparent almost immediately.
While great care had been taken in deciding who would be paired with whom, and for the most part the choices accepted by the Legionnaires, it was expected that there would be some complaints and protests. Needless to say, in this, at least, my employer was not to be disappointed.
"Excuse me, Captain. Have you got a minute?"
Phule glanced up from his coffee to find two of his Legionnaires, Do-Wop and Sushi, fidgeting at his table. It seemed that his relaxing morning cup of coffee was not going to be so peaceful.
"Certainly. Would you like to have a seat?"
"This shouldn't take long," Do-Wop said, shaking his head. He was of medium height and weight, with a coarse complexion and black curly hair that always looked like it needed washing. "We were wondering if it was possible to be assigned different partners. I mean, there are still some of the crew who haven't been assigned..."
"Both of you feel this way?" the commander interrupted.
"That is correct, Captain," Sushi confirmed crisply. A full head shorter than Do-Wop, he was a slightly built Oriental who dressed and held himself with meticulous precision. "Our personalities and values are incompatible. I'm afraid that any permanent association between the two of us would prove to be detrimental to the smooth operation of the company."
"I see." Phule nodded grimly. "Sit down, both of you."
This time, it was a command, not an invitation, that was voiced, and the Legionnaires grudgingly selected chairs.
"Now then, tell me more about these incompatible values you're experiencing."
The two men glanced at each other, each apparently reluctant to be the first to voice his complaints. It was Do-Wop who finally took the plunge.
"He's always talkin' down to me," came the complaint. "Just because he knows a lot of big words..."
The commander held up a restraining hand.
"I really don't think that the size of your partner's vocabulary should be a factor here."
"It's not just that," Do-Wop said, flushing slightly. "He called me a crook-to my face!"
"I said you were a petty thief-and you are!" Sushi corrected sharply. "Anyone who would jeopardize the unity of the company for nickel-and-dime-"
"There! You see?" the other appealed to his commander. "How am I supposed to team up with someone who-"
"Just a moment!"
Phule's voice cracked like a whip, cutting through the argument and cowing both men into silence. He waited for a moment until they had leaned back in their chairs, then turned to Sushi.
"I'd like a little clarification here," he said. "How exactly would you define a petty thief?"
The Oriental glanced at the captain, then turned his gaze toward the ceiling.
"A petty thief is one who, in his criminal activities, takes risks disproportionate to the potential rewards."
"Criminal activities!"
"Sit down, Do-Wop," Phule ordered, keeping his eyes on Sushi. "If you can keep your mouth shut and listen, you just might learn something."
The curly-haired Legionnaire sank slowly back into his chair, and the commander continued his line of questioning.
"If I understand you correctly, Sushi, your objection to Do-Wop is not the fact that he steals, but rather the scale he operates on."
A faint smile played across Sushi's lips.
"That's right, Captain."
"So tell us, what kind of reward do you figure would justify... what was that phrase? Oh yes... criminal activity?"
"Not less than a quarter of a million," the Oriental said firmly and without hesitation.
Do-Wop's head came up like a shot.
"A quarter of a... Oh bullshit!"
The other two men ignored him.
"Of course," Phule said levelly, "eight or nine million would be even better."
"Of course." Sushi nodded, locking gazes with his commander.
Do-Wop's head swiveled back and forth as he frowned at each of them in turn.
"What the hell are you guys talking about?" he demanded at last.
The Oriental broke off the staring match, shaking his head with a sigh.
"What Captain Jester is speaking of with polite circuitousness is something he has been careful not to acknowledge since he took command of our unit. Specifically that he and I have met prior to our enlistment... under social business situations. "
"You two know each other?"
"What is more," Sushi continued, "he is leaving it up to me whether or not to mention that I left the business community under a cloud of suspicion-a matter of embezzlement involving several million dollars. "
"It was never proven," Phule said.
The Oriental smiled. "Computers are marvelous devices, aren't they?"
"Wait a minute!" Do-Wop exploded. "Are you trying to tell me you got nine million dollars?"
"I don't actually have it." Sushi grimaced. "It was eaten up by a series of... shall we say, bad investments."
"Bad investments?"
"It's another term for gambling debts," Phule informed him.
"Excuse me. Captain?"
The company's first sergeant had approached the table during their discussion.
"Uh... can it wait, Brandy?" Phule said, leaning back from the conversation. "We're kind of in the middle of something here."
"It'll just take a second," the sergeant assured him, plowing on. "Some of the troops were asking about that honor guard job, and I was wondering if there was any kind of an update."