Think it over ... talk it over. I'll be in my office if any of you want to be considered for the volunteer mission. That's all for now."

With that, he beat a hasty but dignified retreat from the meeting.

CHAPTER THREE.

Journal # 174.

It seemed that while my employer might have sorely underestimated the reaction of his Legionnaires to his plan, he also underestimated the fierce loyalty they felt toward him ... a loyalty, I might add, which appeared to be growing steadily.

If, by the way, it seems to you that these accounts always start with an apparently endless parade of meetings, both group and individual, I can only say that this happens to be my employer's particular style of management. Whenever possible, he likes to talk with those in his employment or under his command, both to keep them informed and to learn their reactions to his plans. If anything, I have tried to spare you the tedium of the meetings and discussions he had with the Legionnaires on a weekly and sometimes on a daily basis by omitting them from these journals. Those affecting major events, however, such as the ones in this section, must be included for completeness of my account.

I should also note, as it will become apparent in this section, that while my position still is an individual contractual arrangement with my employer rather than with the s.p.a.ce Legion, I did take a larger role in this a.s.signment than normal.

Beeker raised a speculative eyebrow as Phule stormed into the office.

"Difficult meeting, sir?"

"Difficult?" Phule snarled. "How does 'open revolt' sound?"

"Frankly, sir, it sounds unbelievable," the butler said, choosing to ignore the redundant nature of his employer's question. "While your troops may be occasionally unhappy with your orders, I seriously doubt they would ever challenge your position as their leader. Their respect for you borders on reverence."

Phule took a deep breath, then blew it all out, puffing his cheeks in a near-silent whistle.

"That's true," he said. "But they were unhappy."

"Forgive my asking, sir," Beeker continued mercilessly, "but wasn't that what you expected? Considering the effort you've put into building camaraderie and a sense of family within the company, it seems to me only natural that they would react with shock and panic when confronted with an a.s.signment which requires their splitting up."

Despite himself, Phule's face twisted into a wry smile as he c.o.c.ked his head at his butler.

"Are you trying to tell me I did too good a job, Beek?"

"Not exactly, sir," the butler returned blandly. "I am suggesting that you should keep doing your job. At the moment your company needs a leader to make firm decisions, however unpleasant ... not an overly sensitive debutante who worries about popularity polls ... sir."

"Ouch." Phule grimaced. "Ouch and touche. All right, Beek. I'll shut up and soldier. You don't mind if I whine once in a while, though? When the schedule permits?"

"That is your prerogative, sir. I shall let you know when and if I find it excessive."

"I'm sure you will." The commander laughed. "And Beeker? Thanks."

"Just doing my job, sir," the butler said. "If you have recovered from your ordeal, however, there is a matter I wish to discuss with you ... if you have a moment."

Reflexively Phule glanced at his watch. "Well, the volunteers don't seem to be beating down my door ... not yet, anyway. What do you have, Beek?"

"I believe I have a small amount of vacation time accrued, do I not, sir?"

"As a matter of fact, you have a lot of vacation time coming. Why do you ask?"

"I was thinking I might take some of it prior to our arrival on Lorelei ... if it's convenient, that is."

Phule frowned.

"I can't say it's really convenient," he said, "what with us getting ready for a major relocation. Still ... what's up, Beek? If you don't mind my asking."

"I believe your plans call for Lieutenant Rembrandt to depart early? To audition and select a group of actors and actresses to replace those Legionnaires who will be working under cover?"

Phule nodded. "That's correct." He had never asked how it was that his butler always seemed to know his plans and decisions without being told ... mostly because he wasn't sure he wanted to know how this miracle was performed.

"Well, sir, I was thinking I might accompany her on her mission. While I'm sure that she is more than capable of completing her a.s.signment on her own, it occurs to me that there will be a myriad of nonmilitary details and arrangements to be handled in connection with her work, things she may only have minimal experience in dealing with. While I would make arrangements to see to the packing and moving of our own gear before I left, I frankly think my services would be more valuable to her than to you in the upcoming weeks."

"I see," Phule said, pursing his lips. "I don't see where there would be any problem in letting you do that. Let me think about it and get back to you with my decision."

"Very good, sir. If I might add, however, I a.s.sume that Lieutenant Rembrandt will be in civilian garb for her mission?"

The commander nodded. "I hadn't thought about it, but you're right, Beeker. She'd have to be. Otherwise the media would catch wind of it and tip our hand before we even got started."

"Well, sir, I, for one, haven't see the lieutenant in anything except her Legionnaire wardrobe. While I have no reason to doubt the extent of her civilian wardrobe or her ability to supplement it as necessary, I have no basis to be confident of it, either."

"Point taken, Beeker. Like I say, let me think on it. Just remember ..."

They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Whoops! There's my first victim. Let them in, will you, Beek? On your way out?"

"Yes, sir ... but first, sir ..."

"Yes?"

"If I might draw your attention to the time?"

Again Phule glanced at his watch. "Okay. So?"

"It is my understanding that you're expecting to interview some fifty volunteers tonight?"

"If that many show up, yes."

"Might I point out, sir, that if each interview only takes ten minutes, it will take more than eight hours to finish them all?"

Phule sighed wearily. "I know, but it's important that I handle this as soon as possible ... as you yourself pointed out not too long ago."

"Of course, sir. I was merely suggesting that you might wish to make an effort to keep each individual interview as brief as possible considering the c.u.mulative time involved ... resist the temptation to try to settle details tonight that could be handled at leisure over the next few days. While I'm aware that it's my favorite lost cause, you do need to sleep occasionally ... sir."

The knocking came again, more insistent this time.

"I'll keep it in mind, Beek ... but no promises. Sometimes I have to go with the flow."

"I know, sir." The butler sighed. "But I felt I had to at least make the effort."

"Evenin', Cap'n."

Chocolate Harry, the company's supply sergeant, slouched against the door frame, casually shooting a salute at his commander with his index finger.

"I'll keep this short, 'cause it looks like you got quite a mob shapin' up out there. Just put me down as one of your scouts."

"All right, C. H." Phule nodded, jotting a note on his pad. "I'll admit I'm a little surprised, though. I didn't think you'd want to be separated from your inventory."

"I'll admit I'm not wild about it," Harry said, "but I figure most of it will be packed and stored anyway for this a.s.signment, and my boys can handle that easy enough. 'Sides, I don't think there's anyone in this outfit who can pa.s.s for a civilian as easy as me ... 'specially when it comes to movin' through the less legal portions of polite society."

He winked broadly at this. While it was normal in the Legion to keep one's pre-Legion life a secret, Harry was very open about the fact that when he joined up he had been on the run from a.s.sociates who, if not criminal, were at least outlaw.

The commander did not return the smile.

"That brings up an interesting point, C.H. Is it going to be safe for you to operate out of uniform?"

"I've given that some thought myself, Cap'n," the sergeant admitted. "There shouldn't be any special trouble for me on Lorelei ... or if it pops up, it won't be any more dangerous for me out of uniform than in."

Phule hesitated for a moment, then gave a curt nod.

"All right then. Check back with me in the next couple days and we'll start working up a cover for you."

"Oh, don't you worry none about that," Harry said, uncoiling from the door frame as he got ready to depart. "Except for maybe a little travelin' cash, I figure I'll do my own job huntin'. That way, if HQ wants to complain about it later, they can't get on your case as an accomplice."

"Sergeant Escrima ... reporting for volunteering."

Phule's smile came easily as he returned the ramrod-stiff salute. He had a genuine fondness for the company's feisty little mess sergeant, though perhaps "feisty" was a poor description. Escrima was easily the deadliest fighter in the company, especially with sticks or any cut-and-thrust weapon.

"Stand easy, Sergeant," he said. "I'll admit I'm glad to see you volunteering. I rather hoped you would."

"Mmmm ... Company stay in hotel, nothing for cook to do." Escrima shrugged, relaxing his pose only slightly.

"My thoughts exactly." The commander nodded, jotting another note on his pad."I a.s.sume you're interested in us finding you work in the restaurant kitchen?"

The cook gave a quick nod. "Things can go wrong in a kitchen-too many things. Need someone there to watch for"-he gestured with his hand slightly as he searched for the right word-"too many accidents. Bad for food ... bad for business."

Phule leaned back in his chair.

"Now, you realize that you probably won't be head cook or chef for the casino hotel ... that you'll probably have to report to someone else."

Escrima hesitated for a moment, then bobbed his head again.

"Good," he said, flashing a quick smile. "Sometimes it's good not to be in charge. Maybe ... how you say ... learn something new for a change."

The commander shook his head slightly. "I was thinking more in terms of possible trouble," he said. "Say, for example, if someone told you to do something you didn't want to ... or maybe even criticized your cooking techniques."

Escrima's dark eyes glittered for a moment. The cook's temper was legendary, and he was particularly sensitive to slights regarding his culinary skills. In fact, his presence in what was once the problem company of the Legion was due to several such spirited discussions ... which led to hospitalization of his critics.

"I promise, Captain. No trouble ... I never start trouble."

"Do you mind if we do this together, Captain? I think it will save time."

Phule could not keep the surprise off his face.

"Brandy ... Super Gnat. Certainly. Come in together if you wish."

The two women filed into the office, giving the sketchiest of salutes before seating themselves in front of their commander's desk. Though once standoffish toward each other, they had grown into a close friendship since the company was reorganized and reoriented.

"The reason we're both here," Brandy said, taking the lead, "is that we figure you'll have the same objection to either of us volunteering. This way, we only have to go over it once ... win or lose."

The commander nodded. "Very well. Proceed."

"The way we see it," the top sergeant continued, "you'll figure that we can't go under cover because of that pinup spread that we did with Mother-that we'd be recognized as part of the company."

"It's a factor I'd have to consider," Phule agreed. "Also, the fact that Super Gnat represented us in the fencing match with the Red Eagles, which was covered by the media."

"I was wearing a mask for most of that," Super Gnat said, waving a hand in vague dismissal.

"True, but you weren't wearing a mask for that photo session ... or much of anything else, as I recall."

"That's what we wanted to talk to you about," Brandy interrupted hastily. "We wanted to make the point that women can change their appearance dramatically with a change of hairstyle or color, or makeup, or wardrobe."

"Or just by putting our clothes on," Super Gnat added with a bawdy wink. "Tell me the truth, sir. When you look at one of those nudie photo spreads, how much time do you spend looking at the woman's face? Would you recognize her if you saw her on the street? Without a staple through her navel?"

"I ... I'll admit I never gave the subject much thought," Phule said. Though he tried not to show it, the conversation was making him uncomfortable ... just as the photo spread in question had when it first appeared. "If we accept for the moment that you can change your appearance sufficiently to avoid recognition, though, what would you do? Do you have any specific covers in mind?"

The Gnat shrugged. "No problem there. I used to do a little waitressing from time to time, both dinner and c.o.c.ktail. I'd probably prefer c.o.c.ktail waitressing, if given a choice. They circulate through the casino rather than stand duty just in the dining room, and the kind of action you're watching for will probably be going on at the tables, not over a meal. Besides, the tips are better from drinkers."

"I was thinking more in terms of working with the housekeeping staff," Brandy supplied. "That photo spread was fun, but I don't really see myself wearing one of those peek-a-boo outfits day in and day out. Having a legitimate excuse to be in and out of the guest rooms wouldn't be a bad idea, either."