"I'm familiar with that article as well, Jester," Battleax shot back, "and I'm somehow not surprised you have it memorized. To my recollection, however, the rest of that article goes on to state that the approval of the company commander is required for such off-duty activity. Are you telling me that you approved this appearance?"
Phule started to cross his fingers behind his back, then recalled the requirement of not lying, or at least not saying anything that might later be proved a lie. With that in mind, he uncrossed his fingers and phrased his answer very carefully.
"Colonel Battleax... ma'am... frankly it's their bodies. I don't feel I have the right to order them not to display them, any more than it would be my right to order them to display them."
The colonel's image pursed its lips for a moment, then seemed to deflate with a long exhale.
"I see. All right, Captain. You're off the hook again. I hope you realize though, exactly how much I'm going to enjoy explaining this here at HQ."
"I realize that, ma'am," Phule replied, stoically repressing a smile at the mental image, "and I'd like to say that I and the rest of the company appreciate the colonel's efforts in our behalf. "
"Well, you can tell that menagerie of yours for me that they can show their appreciation by trying to give me a few less items to explain. Okay?"
"Yes, ma'am. I'll definitely pass that along."
"Very well. Battleax out."
The transmission did not break off immediately, and for a moment Phule thought he saw a grin flash across the colonel's face as her image vanished.
Perhaps the most puzzling thing to me has always been that successful people invariably seem surprised by their own success. As a case in point, my employer had taken over the Omega Company with the express idea of building it into an effective unit. He planned to do this by raising the Legionnaires' self-esteem, and worked ceaselessly toward that goal. When his labor finally began to bear fruit, however, it seemed to take him totally unawares.
Of course, the speed of the company's development was a bit unnerving. In hindsight, I guess it's apparent that there is nothing quite as fanatically loyal as a stray that's found a home. At the time, however, the Legionnaires' sudden enthusiasm was more than a little unsettling.
"... and finally, I am pleased to report that the holdings in the company portfolio have increased substantially since my last report. I'll have a detailed report available for those interested, but cutting through to the bottom line, we're currently up by eight, which is to say every dollar invested in our fund at the last report is now worth eight."
A low murmur rippled through the assemblage at this announcement, with some Legionnaires whispering excitedly at what they could do with their increased wealth while others groaned and grumbled over the profits they had lost by pulling all or part of their money out after the last reported increases. The entire company was gathered for one of Phule's periodic informal debriefings. Whether it was items too minor to warrant announcement by wrist communicators, but too important to trust to a general notice posted on the bulletin board, or issues he wished to discuss with the Legionnaires face-to-face, the commander felt it was important to keep this line of exchange open, and the company had responded with diligent attendance whenever word was passed of an assembly. After waiting several moments for the reactions to run their course, he held up a hand for silence.
"All right," he said. "That pretty much wraps up the old business for now. Are there any questions or comments before I move on to new business?"
"Yes, sir!"
Lieutenant Armstrong was on his feet, face rigid, in the classic position of attention. The captain noticed that several of the Legionnaires were grinning and nudging each other, but dismissed it as their normal amusement at Armstrong's Regular Army practices.
"Yes, Lieutenant? What is it?"
Instead of replying, the lieutenant literally marched to the front of the room, squaring his corners with parade-ground precision. Coming to a halt directly in front of the commander, he drew himself up with a crisp salute, which he held until Phule, puzzled by his antics, returned.
"Sir! The company has asked me to speak for them in voicing a complaint... sir!"
As he spoke, all the Legionnaires in attendance rose silently to their feet and assumed stances approximating Armstrong's textbook pose.
The commander avoided looking at them directly, but was both aware of and taken aback by their actions. Whatever was coming, it seemed to be unanimous. What the hell could it be?
"At ease, Lieutenant... and the rest of you, too. These are supposed to be informal meetings. Now then, what seems to be the problem?"
"Well, sir... the company is unhappy with the uniforms you've provided them with."
"I see. Which uniform specifically?"
"All of them, sir. We feel they lack color."
"Color?"
Phule couldn't keep himself from glancing at the assemblage. To a man, they were grinning at him.
"I don't think I understand. Black is the designated color of all Space Legion uniforms. While it may be unimaginative, I don't see any reason to change that, even if we could get approval from Headquarters... which I doubt."
"We don't want to change the color of the uniforms, sir... just request permission to add something for accent. Specifically..."
The lieutenant removed something from his pocket and held it out to Phule. "... we request the captain's permission to adopt and wear this flash patch as a designation for our unit... sir!"
The patch was a bright red, diamond-shaped piece of cloth. Embroidered on it, in black, was a skull wearing a belled jester's cap at a jaunty angle.
Phule studied it for a full minute as silence hung thick in the room. Then, still not trusting his voice, he removed the paper from the patch's adhesive backing and pressed it onto the sleeve of his uniform with his palm. With slow precision, he assumed the position of attention himself and raised his hand to salute the company.
As one, the Legionnaires returned his salute... then the room exploded in cheers and celebration.
"How do you like it, Captain?"
"Lieutenant Rembrandt did the art! Isn't it a beaut?"
"We all chipped in..."
As they crowded around him, the Legionnaires took time from babbling and slapping each other on the back to assist each other in installing the new patches on their sleeves. From the speed with which the decorations materialized, it was clear to the commander that the patches had been distributed in advance, with everyone carefully keeping them out of sight until they could spring the surprise on him together.
Phule was sitting alone in his room, staring at the patch on his just removed uniform, when his butler let himself in.
"Have you seen this, Beeker?"
"Yes, sir. If you'll look in your closet, you'll find that it has been added to all your uniforms."
"So you were in on it, too, eh?"
"I was asked to keep it confidential, sir. They wanted it to be a surprise."
The commander shook his head in amazement.
"It certainly was. I never dreamed they were cooking up anything like this."
I think you should take it as a compliment. It's my impression that they wish to show their appreciation for your efforts on their behalf, as well as pledging their support."
"I know. It's just... I didn't know what to say, Beek. Still don't, for that matter. I had to sneak out of the party early before I made a fool of myself trying to find a way to say thanks. "