"So ... what do you think so far?" he said, scanning the crowd. "Are you going to stick around or sit this one out?"
"Oh, I'm definitely going to work this one," Tiffany said. "As to the job itself ... unless these clowns loosen up a little, it could be a long tour, if you know what I mean."
"Hey. They're no different from us," chimed in a lanky individual who had just stepped up to the bar and overheard Tiffany's comment. "Think of them as a road troupe that have been working together for a long time. We're the new replacements, and they aren't going to cut us any slack until we've shown them what we can do."
"Hey, Doc!" Lex said, waving for him to join their conversation. "Didn't get a chance to say hi earlier. Was that your son with you?"
"Sure was." He raised his voice to call across the room. "Yo! Junior! Come over here a minute."
The gangly teenager Tiffany had noted before rose from the chair he had been holding down and began ambling toward them.
"He sure has grown," Lex said, making the obligatory observation.
"Sure has," the newcomer confirmed. "I'm thinking of maybe using him for a stand-in for me in some of the rougher gags."
Even though she didn't find the man particularly attractive, Tiffany found her curiosity piqued. Lex usually held himself aloof from his colleagues, and generally had no use for men at all, unless they were producers, directors, or someone else important enough to further his career. The latter possibility was enough to capture her undivided attention.
"I don't think we've met," she said, holding out her hand. "I'm Tiffany."
"I'm sorry," Lex said, slapping his forehead melodramatically with his palm. "I thought everybody knew Doc ... well, everybody who counts. Tiffany, this is Doc. Short for `Scene Doctor.' He's made me look real good the times we've worked together."
"How so?" Tiffany asked, then realized she was talking to the back of Doc's head.
That individual was craning his neck, trying to get a better look at the scene that was unfolding a few steps away where his son had been stopped by one of the Legionnaires waiting in line for a drink.
"You look pretty young to be a Legionnaire, sonny."
Unruffled, the youth shrugged.
"The casting director-I mean, the lieutenant-didn't seem to think so," he said easily.
"Oh yeah?" the Legionnaire sneered. "Tell me ... have you ever killed a man?"
"No," the youth admitted. "But I almost did once."
"Really?" his challenger said, clearly taken aback by the unexpected answer. "What happened?"
"I almost ran over him with a forklift."
There was a few seconds' pause, then the Legionnaire flushed a bright red.
"Are you trying to get cute with me, kid?"
"Take it easy there, hoss," Doc said, stepping forward to drape an arm around his son's shoulders. "He was just trying to answer your question truthfully. You don't have to worry about him pulling his own weight, either. He does his job as well as the next man, and better than most. Here, I'll show you."
With that, he made a fist with his free hand and suddenly launched an overhand punch into his son's face. There was a painful smack of flesh hitting flesh, and the youth went sprawling.
All conversation in the room ceased as abruptly as if it had been recorded background noise and someone pulled the plug.
"Jeez!" the wide-eyed Legionnaire gasped, staring at the figure on the floor. "What'd ya go and do that for? I was just-"
"Stand easy!"
At the barked command, the others in the room relaxed slightly and returned to their conversations, though many a curious and suspicious glance was directed at their group.
"Oh no," the Legionnaire said softly, almost in a groan.
The company commander was bearing down on them, his face set in a grim mask, while his junior officers and a few of his sergeants materialized out of the crowd to trail along casually in his wake.
The entourage halted before the offending group, and the commander swept them all, standing and prone, with a steely gaze before fixing his eyes on the distraught Legionnaire.
"Well? Should I ask?" he said in a tone as icy as the void outside the ship's hull.
"I didn't do anything! Really, Captain!" the Legionnaire protested desperately. "We were just standing here talking and-"
"It's no big deal, sir," Doc said, stepping forward. "My son and I were just giving the others here a little demonstration. Didn't think it would get everyone riled up."
"Demonstration?"
"That's right."
Doc extended a hand down to his son, who seized his wrist and bounced lightly to his feet, apparently unharmed.
"Guess you haven't had a chance to go over our files, Captain," Doc continued easily. "Junior and me are stuntmen."
"I see," the commander said, thawing slightly. "Well, I'd appreciate it if you'd refrain from any further `demonstrations.' Or at least give us a bit of warning. We try to discourage fighting, or even the appearance of fighting, at social gatherings."
"No problem ... sir." Doc shrugged. "Sorry, but we're still learning the ins and outs of this crew."
"You'll catch on," the commander said, relaxing into a smile. "In fact, if you're willing, I'd appreciate it if you'd give a demonstration for the whole company sometime, and maybe even a few lessons if you're ..." He broke off suddenly, his eyes narrowing with a passing thought. "By the way," he said with forced casualness, "before we get too far off the subject, may I ask what prompted this little demonstration just now?"
"I-I was saying that the k-the gentleman here seemed a bit young to be a Legionnaire, sir."
The commander ran a quick, appraising eye over the youth.
"Nonsense," he said firmly. "He may look young, soldier, but he's the same age you are. Isn't that right?"
"He is?"
"Isn't that right?"
"Oh ... yes, sir!"
"Because if he wasn't, he wouldn't be able to stand duty with us in a casino. Understood?"
"Yes, sir. Understood, sir."
"Very good." The commander nodded. "Be sure to spread the word to the others."
"Right away, sir." The Legionnaire saluted and fled to the cover of his original group.
"Sorry if that's a problem," Doc said, "but Junior here's been traveling with me ever since his mom died. We hire out as a team, sort of a package deal. The lieutenant there said she wasn't sure she could take us, but I thought she had cleared it with you before she gave us the final call."
Something flitted across the commander's face, but was gone before it really registered.
"Nothing we can't work out." He smiled. "Besides, he seems as solid as any of our regular troops, though that may not seem like a compliment to some. Anyway, glad to have him aboard ... and the same goes for all of you, for that matter. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to circulate a bit."
"Good luck, Captain," Tiffany chirped as he turned to leave.
"Thank you ... umm ..."
"Tiffany," she supplied with a smile, arching her back slightly.
The commander's eyes flickered over her, a bit more slowly than when he had been assessing Doc's son.
"Right," he said. "Well ... later."
"Wipe your chin, Tiffany," Lex said softly, nudging her as she watched the commander walk away. "Really. I thought you liked them a bit broader in the shoulder than that."
"He has other attractions," the actress purred, following the Captain with predator's eyes.
"Oh? Like what?"
She glanced at him in genuine surprise.
"You mean you really don't know?" she said. "My God, I spotted him as soon as he came in for the briefing. He even told us who he was."
Lex shrugged. "So he's rich. So what?"
"Rich doesn't start to cover it," Tiffany insisted. "That, gentlemen, is Willard Phule, the fourth richest man in the universe under forty-five who isn't gay or married and monogamous."