"Think about it, Gnat. Your partner, who never raised a hand in anger before, is getting into fights to protect you from your temper. If you can't control yourself for your own sake, you might think about him before you fly off the handle next time. "
A quiet knock at the door interrupted them. At Phule's summons, the company's first sergeant eased into the room.
"Evening, Captain. Hi, Gnat."
Super Gnat assumed the relaxed warmth of an icicle, but Phule was unruffled.
"Good evening, Top," he said. "I assume you're here about Tusk-anini?"
"Oh no... well, in a way, I guess. Actually I was looking for Super Gnat. The troops said she was headed this way. "
"You found me."
"Well, the way it is, Gnat, I think I owe you an apology."
"An apology?"
"Yeah. I've been thinking about what happened, and the truth of the matter is, I was out of line. Not that I meant any harm, mind you, but I guess I never stopped to consider how much the teasing really bothers you. Heck, if anyone should know what it's like to be needled about size, it's me. Anyway, I should know better, so I want to apologize. I'll try to watch it in the future."
"I appreciate that, Brandy. I really do. I think Tusk is the one you should be apologizing to, though."
Brandy flashed a quick grin.
"I was down there first. He kept insisting I owed you the apology, not him."
"Oh. "
"Anyway, I'm apologizing to you both. No hard feelings?"
Super Gnat accepted the extended hand and they both shook solemnly.
"Well, that's all I wanted. Maybe when you get done here you can come on down to my room, Gnat. I have a few tips on handling size jokes I'd like to share with you over a brew."
"I'm pretty much done here," the little Legionnaire said, raising her eyebrows in question at the commander.
"Just one more thing while you're here, Gnat. Sorry to jump subjects on you, but what's your opinion of Sergeant Escrima's classes on stick fighting?"
Super Gnat chewed her lip slightly before answering.
"Truth to tell, Captain, I don't think they're doin' much good at all. The sergeant knows his stuff, but he's not that good an instructor. He just plain goes too darn fast for most of the folks to figure out what he's doin'... 'cept the ones like me who have had some martial arts training before and are just watching for the variations."
"That's the way I see it, too," Phule said. "If you're agreeable, I'd like you to take over the classes."
"Me? Shoot, I don't know that much about stick forms."
"What I want you to do is to take private lessons from Escrima, then teach what you learn to the rest of the company. If nothing else, it might keep them from teasing you quite so much if they see what you can do in a formal class situation."
"I'll give it a try, Captain," the Gnat said doubtfully, then her face split in a quick grin. "Tell you what. I'll do it if you give me some private lessons in fencing. Deal?"
"Deal," the commander said. "Now, both of you get out of here and let me get some work done."
CHAPTER TEN
Journal #111
While the changes in the Legionnaires' views of themselves and each other were remarkable, the reversal of the attitudes toward the company on the part of the local citizens was as, or more, noteworthy. Perhaps the most radical change was on the part of the head of tire police, Chief Goetz.
"Really appreciate your stopping by, Chief," the company commander said, shaking that notable's hand crisply as they met in the Plaza lobby.
"Well, I figured if you were nice enough to invite me along for this special weapons demo you were getting, the least I could do was offer you a ride," Goetz said. "Oh, by the way, I never got around to thanking you for including me in that spread your chef cooked up. It was delicious... even if I'm not sure what I was eating half the time."
"To tell you the truth," Phule said, grinning, "neither did I. I figured it would be rude to ask, if not flat-out dangerous to your health. Escrima has a record of being more than a little touchy about his cooking. It did taste great, though, didn't it?"
"It certainly did," the chief agreed. "I was particularly fond of the roast pig. Of course, I was struck by the coincidence of the report that hit my desk of three pigs that turned up missing from the university's animal husbandry department the day before."
Phule cursed mentally. He hadn't found out until the day after the feast that Chocolate Harry had been more than a little loose in his acquisition of supplies for Escrima's efforts. If he had known, he would have refrained from inviting the chief of police, or at least insisted that the pigs be carved into less recognizable bits before serving. Until now, however, he had thought the dish had passed unnoticed.
"If you'll just give us a few days," he said stiffly, "I'm sure we can produce the receipts for those particular items."
"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."