"I've got an appointment to see the governor next week," the commander informed her. "In the meantime, I've got to try to come up with some kind of leverage to make him see things our way. "
"Got it. Thanks, Captain. Sorry to interrupt."
The distraction dealt with, Phule turned back to the situation at hand. Sushi was looking into the distance with the studied inscrutable expression of the Orient, while Do-Wop was staring at him with something akin to awe.
"All right. Listen up, now. Both of you. I didn't just pull names out of a hat when I made you two partners. The way I see it, you can both learn from each other.
"Sushi, you need to loosen up a little, and Do-Wop here is just the man to show you how to do things for the fun of it. And Do-Wop, maybe working with Sushi will help you to... raise your goals in life a little. Anyway, I'd appreciate it if you'd both give this partnership a try for a while before deciding it won't work."
"Hey! Are you saying you think I'm a thief, Captain?" Do-Wop bristled.
The commander fixed him with his coolest stare.
"I haven't wanted to mention it, Do-Wop, but there have been a number of reports of missing personal items in the company. "
"You can't blame that on me! The locks in this hotel are the pits! I could go through any of 'em without breaking a stride."
"Really?" The commander seemed suddenly interested. "Do you think you could teach the other Legionnaires how to do that?"
"Piece of cake." The Legionnaire beamed. "Like I said, anyone could do it."
"Fine," Phule said. "Then I'll make an announcement and have any interested parties report to you for lessons tomorrow. "
"My pleasure, Captain."
"Outside your room. "
Do-Wop blanched.
"My room?"
"That's right. I want you to teach them how to handle a variety of locks-doors, suitcases, the works-and you can use the locks on your room and personal effects to do it."
"But..."
"Of course, if there's anything in your gear that might have 'strayed' in over the last few weeks, it might be advisable to have it 'stray' right back to its owners before you begin the lessons. Don't you agree?"
Do-Wop opened and shut his mouth several times like a beached fish, but no words came out.
"Come on, partner." Sushi laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. "I think we've been outflanked on this round. Looks like we'd better do a little lost-and-found work this afternoon."
Not all the pairings were turbulent, but some were notably unusual. Perhaps the strangest of all came about after one particular off-duty incident in the hotel cocktail lounge.
While the Legionnaires tended to dominate the watering hole, there was always a smattering of civilians in attendance. Some were drawn by the media coverage the company had been getting and came to covertly gawk at the troops, while others were surprised to find so many uniforms in what they thought was a civilized lounge and simply refused to yield ground. For the most part, however, the two groups tended to steadfastly ignore each other.
Not that the Legionnaires were unaware of the civilians, mind you. Much of the loud banter and all of the roughhousing that had been developing within the group lately was left upstairs when they came in to drink. They were all still harboring painful memories of not being allowed in the premises before Phule's arrival and their subsequent relocation into the Plaza, and by unspoken agreement were on their best behavior when relaxing in the hotel lounge.
This particular evening, however, there was trouble in the air. A trio of civilian males were perched at the bar, and seemed to have their minds set on causing a disturbance. They were at that awkward age: too young to be responsible, but too big not to be taken seriously. The best guess was that they were students, possibly athletes, from the university on the other side of the settlement. Their clothes marked them as that, being too expensive for your average street tough. Then again, street toughs usually have a certain survival instinct, however loud they might appear at times. Long before reaching maturity they have lost any childhood belief in their own invulnerability and trust to their wits to avoid situations clearly hazardous to their health. Not so with the threesome in question.
They were into the forced hilarity so easily recognized in a group looking for attention trouble, or both. They would put their heads together and whisper, all the while keeping their eyes on a specific table or person, then suddenly explode into gales of laughter, unnaturally loud so as to set them rocking dangerously back and forth on their stools. When no one came over to them to demand "What's so funny?" they'd settle on another victim and repeat the process, a little louder this time.
The Legionnaires steadfastly ignored the theatrics, but without exchanging words all knew that something was going to have to be done about the interlopers. The problem was, no one seemed willing to make the first move. Not that they were afraid of the youths. While the noisemakers were healthy enough specimens that they might have given the Legionnaires a run for their money in a one-to-one tussle, the company had them outnumbered sufficiently that it would have been an easy matter to simply overwhelm them and toss them out onto the street... and serious consideration was being given to doing just that. Unfortunately none of the Legionnaires was eager to start the ball.
To gang up on the troublemakers, particularly with other civilians looking on, could only draw criticism on the company. If they challenged the intruders with even numbers, the age and "military experience" of the Legionnaires would still cast them as the bullies of the situation, and if, in that situation, they lost the brawl, the loss of face would be untenable. What was worse, the company commander and his butler were in the lounge, holed up at a back table as they pored over their pocket computers. While the Legionnaires were reluctant to start a fight in front of civilians, they definitely didn't want to be the perpetrators of a military-civilian brawl under the appraising eyes of their own superior officer.
Consequently the company tightened their grips on their drinks and refused to acknowledge the taunting from the bar, all the while hoping that the management or the captain himself would intercede before things got too bad. Unfortunately the latter was in huddled conversation with Beeker, and both seemed oblivious to what was going on at the other end of the room.
Then Super Gnat walked in.
For a moment, the Legionnaires were frozen in silent terror. If it had been a western, someone would have shouted, "Somebody fetch the marshal! There's gonna be trouble!" Since it was real life, however, they did the next best thing.
"Hey, Super Gnat!"
"Over here, Gnat!"
"Got an open chair here!"
The little Legionnaire stopped in her tracks, startled by the sudden eruption of invitations as her teammates tried desperately to head off the inevitable. Of course, it was all in vain.
"HELL, I'D BUY HER A DRINK, BUT SHE'S NOT TALL ENOUGH TO REACH THE TOP OF THE BAR!"
"HAW! HAW! HAW!"
Silence hung heavy in the room as the Gnat slowly turned her head to look in the direction of the noise.
"OH, LOOK! NOW SHE'S MAD! WHATCHA GONNA DO ABOUT IT, RUNT?"
The company was torn as the little Legionnaire's head sank into her shoulders and she began to stalk grimly across the room toward her tormentors. There was a tradition of not interfering in someone else's fight, but, for all her comic fierceness, Super Gnat was family, and no one wanted to stand by and watch her get hurt. There was no doubt in anyone's mind what the outcome of the brawl would be, since it was doubtful that the Gnat could take any one of the loudmouths, much less all three, as was clearly her intent.