That the commander found this conduct puzzling and more than a little curious went without saying. Their general manner was that of school kids sneaking a peek at a frog which had been smuggled into class, all the while wondering what the teacher would do when she discovered its presence. The trouble was, for the life of him he couldn't imagine what would inspire this behavior in his, own motley crew. Finally he gave up trying to speculate and sank into a chair at his butler's table.
"Good morning, Beeker," he said absently, still peering around the room. Were it not for his preoccupation, he might have noticed that his butler never glanced up from the Port-A-Brain he was bent over.
"Morning, sir."
"Tell me; Beek... the troops tell you things they won't tell me... if it isn't a breach of confidence, do you have any idea what has everybody wound up this morning?"
"I believe I could make a fairly accurate guess."
Phule broke off his surveillance and turned his gaze to Beeker, only to find himself studying the top of that notable's head.
"Well?" he prodded.
The butler tore his eyes from the computer screen to meet his employer's gaze with ill-concealed amusement.
"I believe it also explains the sizable donation Brandy made to the company fund... the one you found so puzzling."
"Look, Beek. Are you going to tell me or-"
"I believe it involves this... sir," Beeker-said deadpan as he swiveled the computer screen around to share with the commander.
The screen displayed a page from a magazine, but the reduced size did not affect the impact of the banner headlines superimposed on the picture:
HELL'S BELLES
THE GIRLS OF PHULE'S COMPANY COME IN
SMALL, MEDIUM, AND (VERY) LARGE!!
Sprawled across the page, in what might be politely referred to as their "natural splendor," were the all too recognizable figures of Brandy, Super Gnat, and... Mother!
Beeker watched his employer's face intently for any sign of surprise or alarm, but Phule's expression was as noncommittal as it was when reviewing the profit/loss statement of a company he was considering acquiring. The only clue that there was anything abnormal in his reaction was the length of time he spent studying the display, and it would require someone as familiar with his normal patterns as Beeker to spot even that. Phule was usually able to assimilate information and make decisions at a glance, yet in this situation he stared at the screen as if it was a busted flush he could change by willpower alone.
"I could download it and run an enlarged hard copy if you'd like... sir," the butler said at last, unable to restrain the urge to bait Phule out of his silence.
"I'm well aware of that, Beeker," was the calm reply as Phule continued to keep his eyes glued to the screen.
"It would be no trouble at all," Beeker pressed relentlessly. "I've already had several requests for just that from your Legionnaires, so one or two copies more or less wouldn't-"
"Is this local or interstellar?"
"What do you think... sir?"
Phule raised his eyes at last to stare sightlessly at the far wall for several moments before answering.
"I think..."
"Oh! You've seen it! Hi, Beeker!"
The butler rose politely to greet the company's first sergeant.
"Good morning, Brandy. Yes, the captain and I were just discussing it, as a matter of fact."
"Really? What do you think, sir? Not bad for an old girl, huh?"
"It's... you look good, Brandy," Phule managed through a strangely tight smile. "You all do."
"I think so, too." The sergeant beamed. "I'll admit I was a little worried at first, displaying this old heap side by side with the newer models"-she jiggled a little to illustrate her point "but the proofs turned out great, so I gave it my go-ahead."
The butler nodded sagely.
"Oh yes. The extra copies you asked for will be ready this afternoon." He smiled.
"That's swell! How much will I owe you for those?"
"Nothing. Consider it to be with my-or more accurately, with the captain's-compliments. After all, it's his printer I'm using. "
"Hey, thanks, Captain. Well, got to go... my public awaits. "
Phule finally broke his self-imposed silence.
"Ah... Brandy?"
"Yes, sir?"
He started to speak twice before managing to settle his mind on one question.
"How did you get Mother to go along with this?"
"Go along with it? It was her idea! Well... later!"
The two men watched as she strode off to join one of the huddles, waving merrily at the whistles and catcalls that erupted at her approach.
"It was Mother's idea... sir," Beeker repeated blandly.
Phule smiled vacantly at the room.
"Jesus wept!" he said, uttering through clenched teeth the closest thing to a profanity that had passed his lips in years. "Do you realize-"
The beeper on his wrist communicator interrupted him in midsentence-the shrill Emergency Page that's pitched to grate against the nerves of any intelligent being in the known universe. Phule silenced it the only way the circuits would allow, by opening communication.
"Yes, Mother?"
"I really do hate to interrupt you at breakfast, Big Daddy, but there's a Colonel Battleax on the holo from HQ. She wants to talk to you real bad."
"On the way," Phule said, rising from his seat. "Jester out."
"Like the lady said," Beeker quipped, "your public awaits!"
Following the pattern set during their penthouse HQ days, the communications equipment had been installed in a room next to the commander's office. The new location had not improved the quality of the holo projections received, however, or the content of their messages.
"What kind of a silly-ass stunt is this, Captain?"
The image of Colonel Battleax hovered a few feet above the carpet, though in her vibrant anger it might not have been an error in transmission. The disheveled condition of her uniform, even more than her distraught manner, was an indication that she was transmitting without her usual preliminary preparations.
"Silly-ass stunt?"
"Don't give me that, Jester! I'm talking about the pictorial on your girls in this god-awful T&A magazine!"
"Oh... that!" Phule said, mentally blessing the marvels of modern magazine distribution. "Yes, ma'am. What seems to be the problem?"
"What's the problem? Don't you realize what this does to the dignity of the Legion?"
"Excuse me, ma'am... dignity? Are we talking about the same Legion?"
"You know perfectly well what I mean, Jester!"
Years of experience in keeping a calm front in the face of disaster rose to Phule's assistance.
"I'm not at all sure I do. I believe it was the colonel herself who said in our last conversation that she was tired of reading media reports of my company in barroom brawls. More to the point, it's my understanding that the Legionnaires were off duty and on their own time for the photo session in question, and Legion regulations clearly limit the extent to which a commander can interfere with his troops during their off-duty hours... Articles 147 to 162, I believe."
The colonel's image glowered down on him.
"All right, Jester. If we're going to play those games, Article 181 specifically forbids Legionnaires from accepting wages, gratuities, or any other form of individual payment for employment or services while enlisted in the Legion-off duty or not!"
"But Article 214 expressly allows Legionnaires to perform work or service on their own hours, providing the proceeds from those labors are paid directly to or forwarded to their assigned company rather than retained as private gain. I can reassure the colonel that the payment for the Legionnaires' appearance in the magazine in question was duly surrendered to the company fund, as is required by the tenants of that article. "