The actors looked around as well, but there were no takers. "Very well." Phule nodded. "I'll be trying to spend some time with each of you, individually and informally, during the trip in an effort to get to know you better. In the meantime, if you'll follow Sergeant Moustache now, you'll be issued uniforms and given your teammate assignments. If you would, please change into your new uniforms and report back here in an hour."
He allowed a faint smile to flit across his face.
"I'm giving a cocktail party to introduce you to the rest of the company and welcome you to our ranks. It will be a good time for you all to start getting to know each other."
Despite my employer's good intentions, his cocktail party was something less than a roaring success.
While the regular Legionnaires had long since resigned themselves to the inevitability of their new assignment, and had even accepted the necessity of breaking up their established two person teams, the idea of "outsiders" standing duty with them as equals was still unpopular. Though they were careful to keep their feelings hidden from their commander, it was readily apparent to a careful observer that little warmth was spared on their new "colleagues."
This was particularly noticeable at the cocktail party ... though almost as interesting, if you are a confirmed people watcher like myself, were the opening gambits as the actors themselves began to jostle to establish a pecking order within their own numbers. Without blatant eavesdropping, the exact details of the various conversations remained a mystery, but the general content could often be distinguished simply by observing the body language of the individuals involved ...
Tiffany was not used to being ignored. Not that she was beautiful in the classic sense-surviving as an actress required a brutal honesty which forbade her that particular delusion-but her mane of auburn hair, slightly slanted cat eyes, and ample curves exuded an earthy sensuality that usually guaranteed that men would make room for her in any conversation. As such, she found herself growing increasingly vexed at feeling all but invisible in a room filled by a crowd which was predominantly male.
Fighting a frown (frowns cause wrinkles, darling), she surveyed the gathering again. The chairs from the earlier briefing had been pushed back against the walls, creating an open area in which the Legionnaires stood clustered about in small groups-small closed groups which seemed oblivious to all else in the room except those people they were talking to immediately.
After having eased up to a few of these groups, only to finally wander away again when no one acknowledged her presence, Tiffany was ready to try a new tactic. Moving in a controlled drift, she took up a station near the mini-bar which had been set up at one end of the room ... like any good predator, waiting for her prey near the water hole.
True to her observations, she didn't have long to wait. If nothing else, the actors had that in common with the Legionnaires. Neither group was likely to squander the opportunity of free drinks at an open bar.
One Legionnaire detached himself from his group and strode over to the bar.
"Scotch, double, rocks," he told the bartender in the universal shorthand of a confirmed lounge lizard.
Tiffany gulped the remainder of her existing drink in one swallow and stepped into line behind him.
"Hi there," she said brightly, flashing her best smile. "I'm Tiffany."
The Legionnaire glanced at her. "Hello."
Realizing the man was not about to supply his name, she switched quickly to another conversational ploy.
"So ... have you been in the Space Legion long?"
"Yes."
Again the abruptness of the response left her without anything to say.
"Well-"
"Your drink, sir," the bartender interrupted, pushing his offering across the bar.
To Tiffany's surprise, the Legionnaire reached into his pocket.
"You're paying?" she blurted. "I thought this was a free bar."
The man fixed her with a brief, level stare.
"It is," he said. "We still tip the bartender, though. Just because the captain's paying for the drinks is no reason to short the help for their work. Like the captain says: `You don't break someone else's rice bowl.'"
With that, he tossed a bill on the bar, gathered up his drink, and left to rejoin his group.
"Something for you, miss?" the bartender said pointedly.
"Hemlock, neat," she muttered, staring after her departed victim.
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing. Give me a rum and Coke. Heavy on the rum, no lime."
It was clear that "bright and friendly" wasn't working. Maybe she should change gears and see if the crowd was up for "sultry and a little horny."
"Chilly out tonight, isn't it?"
Tiffany glanced around.
"Lex! I thought that was you at the briefing. Let me tell you, darling, it's good to see a friendly face. I was starting to think I had grown another head-and an ugly one at that."
"It isn't just you," her savior assured her. "They seem to be unreceptive to any of us-even me!"
The "even me" tag line was, of course, typical of Lex. A male model turned actor, his success had heightened his already substantial opinion of himself. It had been noted more than once that the only thing bigger than his ego was, unfortunately, his talent. When he was "on," he had the gift of appearing to totally focus his attention, making whoever he was dealing with at the time feel that they were the most important, interesting person in the universe. This impression was conveyed even when the other "person" was a camera lens or the "third wall" of a stage, giving him the ability to affect an audience as few actors can. It was only when he was relaxed that his true disdain for others showed, encouraging most to maintain him as an acquaintance rather than as a friend.
Tiffany knew him only in passing from one production they had worked together, and normally would avoid his company. Even now, as desperate as she was for someone to talk to, she couldn't resist "zinging" him a little.
"Well, some of us seem to be doing okay," she said, pointing with her chin to a far corner where a petite young girl was engrossed in a conversation with a towering Legionnaire with a huge, warthog head.
Lex followed her gaze.
"Who? Her?" He managed to convey both disgust and dismissal by intonation alone. "She isn't really one of us. She's only done a few things, all amateur. In fact, this was her big try at breaking into professional acting."
Tiffany cocked an eyebrow at him.
"How do you know all that?"
"I talked to her earlier, after the briefing."
"And she wouldn't give you a tumble, eh?" she finished for him with a grin.
"Don't be a bitch, Tiffany," Lex said, unruffled. "Just because I didn't come after you first is no reason to be catty."
"Say ... what are you doing here, anyway?" she said, indulging in a small frown. "I thought they were looking for relative unknowns. Didn't I hear you landed a part in a holo-soap?"
"I didn't list that on my audition sheet," Lex said, glancing around nervously. "And I'd appreciate it if you'd keep it quiet. My part was canceled after a half dozen episodes, and it was only in planetary syndication, anyway. I guess our recruiter-in-disguise there doesn't watch the soaps ... which is just as well for me. Frankly, Tiff, I need the money. I went a little wild with my spending when I landed the part. Got so excited I didn't read the contract close enough. Missed the `character cancellation' clause completely."
"Gee, that's tough," Tiffany said sympathetically, and meant it. Though she might not like Lex as a person, he was still a fellow professional, arid she could understand how crushing it would be to think one had finally gotten their big break, only to have it jerked away from them. "Don't worry, I won't say anything."
Lex gave a quick smile of thanks, then turned his attention to the party again.