Phule's Company Part 26

"I figure there's a wealth of new technology to be bartered for, but for this particular deal how does exclusive production and distribution rights on a new weapon sound to you?"

"How new?"

"We're talking a stun gun . . . easily portable power pack . . . effective range approximately three hundred meters. Law enforcement is the most obvious market, but I'm sure you can think of others."

"Sounds good so far. Who's their agent?"

The Legionnaires smiled along with their commander.

"That's the bad news, Dad. I am. Don't worry, though . . . I'm sure we can work something out."

"Yeah . . . sure. Just like last time. Well, give me a call when you're ready to squat down on the horse blankets and hammer out the details. Just do me a favor and don't ever tell me what your commission is. Okay?"

"It's a deal. Over and out."

Phule shut down his communicator, drawing his first deep breath since the initial call on the aliens had come in.

His commission. He hadn't even thought about that. Wonder if the Zen.o.bians had any need for the mineral rights to their swamps . . . here or within the territory they already controlled?

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

Journal #162

While it is difficult to clearly define where one segment of my employer's career ends and another begins, the first phase of his time with the s.p.a.ce Legion came to its climax, not with his encounter with the Zen.o.bians, but with a "visit" from certain high-ranking members of the Legion Headquarters staff.

It seems that, with the single-mindedness so typical of bureaucracies everywhere, they were less concerned with the results of my employer's actions than with the methods and procedures he utilized to achieve them.

The general public was usually apathetic regarding the movements of the s.p.a.ce Legion-even its high-ranking officers. As such, the party from Legion Headquarters was more than a little surprised at the crowd of civilians waiting for them when they disembarked from the shuttlecraft at the Haskin's Planet s.p.a.ceport. Most were curiosity seekers, to be sure, but there was at least a token attendance from the fifth estate, as the party was quick to discover.

"Jennie Higgens, Interstellar News Service," the reporter announced, blocking the path of the first Legionnaire in the party with her body, microphone, and camera crew. "Is it true that you're here to punish Captain Jester, the commander of the s.p.a.ce Legion company stationed here on Haskin's Planet, for his recent confrontation with the Zen.o.bians?"

"No comment," Colonel Battleax mumbled, trying to edge around the obstacle. Despite her criticisms of Phule's activity with the media, the truth was she herself only had limited experience in dealing with reporters, and those encounters had left her wary and guarded in their presence.

"But if Captain Jester is not going to be punished, why was he relieved of command and placed under house arrest right after that incident?" the reporter persisted.

"The s.p.a.ce Legion felt it was its obligation to the citizens of the civilized planets we serve to suspend Captain Jester's authority until an investigation could be conducted to determine the propriety, not to mention the legality, of his actions."

General Blitzkrieg was one of the three ranking officers who made up the board which governed the Legion. Though he was as startled as Battleax at their reception, he was also nearing retirement and quickly reached the decision that a little media exposure wouldn't hurt his efforts to obtain postretirement employment. If nothing else, it might increase his chances of finding a publisher for his memoirs.

"So your actual purpose here is to perform that investigation rather than to court-martial Captain Jester as rumored?" Jennie said, s.h.i.+fting her attention easily to the talker of the group.

"That is correct," the general said, "though we are prepared to convene a court-martial if the investigation warrants it."

Blitzkrieg had only meant to cover himself for when the antic.i.p.ated court-martial took place, but the reporter pounced on his implication.

"Could you tell our viewers why Captain Jester, who recently averted a potentially hostile alien invasion of the settlement here on Haskin's Planet, might be subject to court-martial and discipline by the s.p.a.ce Legion?"

The general leveled his best steely gaze at the reporter.

"Young lady," he said, "you are employed by the Interstellar News Service as a reporter . . . is that correct?"

"Yes, I am," Jennie answered firmly, though she was unsure where the question was leading.

"Do you feel that position authorizes you to negotiate a peace treaty with an alien race, such as the Zen.o.bians?"

"Of course not."

"Excuse me, Ms. Higgens," Colonel Battleax said, breaking her self-imposed silence, "but if, as a reporter-or in any other capacity-you were the first to make contact with a force of potentially hostile aliens, would you feel justified to do or say whatever was necessary to remove the immediate threat to yourself and others, regardless of your actual authority?"

"That will be enough, Colonel," Blitzkrieg snapped before the reporter could answer. "I believe this interview is over, Ms. Higgens. We will release a formal statement of the Legion's position upon the completion of our investigation."

Turning on his heel, he strode off toward the s.p.a.ceport terminal, with Battleax trailing along behind.

Bringing up the back of the party, Major Joshua made no effort to hide his grimace of distaste. He had been the silent witness to this argument between the colonel and the general for the entire trip here, and they seemed no closer to an agreement than when the voyage started. At least it would all be over soon, except that indications were that he would be placed in command of the Omega Company to oversee its dismantling and rea.s.signment after the court-martial . . . for the general was determined that there would be one. The major viewed both these occurrences with equal lack of enthusiasm, yet both seemed inevitable.

"'Saved the planet from an invasion by hostile aliens,'" Blitzkrieg fumed, mimicking the reporter's voice. "Do you believe this bulls.h.i.+t?"

"You must admit though, General, it's a pleasant change to have the Legion getting hero treatment by the media, isn't it?" Colonel Battleax said, unable to keep herself from twisting the knife a little.

"It would be nicer if it were justified," the General snarled irritably. "From the reports that were filed, the Zen.o.bians were scared to death and just wanted to get back off-planet with their hides intact. To my thinking, that's a far cry from an invasion."

Both the colonel and the major refrained from pointing out that the general himself had pa.s.sed up numerous opportunities to correct the mistaken impression created and maintained by the media. By unspoken agreement, the Headquarters delegation was united in its desire to keep the favorable publicity generated for the Legion by the stories of the Zen.o.bian "invasion." What divided them was the question of whether or not they retain that impression while punis.h.i.+ng the man who was at the focus of the incident. Battleax didn't think it could be done . . . not that she had any real desire to punish Phule in the first place.

The party was ensconced in one of the s.p.a.ceport's courtesy meeting rooms, the general having repeatedly rejected suggestions that they hold their proceedings at the facilities currently enjoyed by the Legion's company.

"Captain Jester does seem to have achieved a certain popularity locally," the colonel tried again. "Justified or not, he and his crew of cutthroats are currently the toast of the settlement. "

"All the more reason to get this over with and get him out of here as soon as possible," Blitzkrieg muttered, deliberately missing the point Battleax was trying to make. "What's the delay, anyway? Where is this Captain Jester?"

"He's waiting in the next room," Major Joshua supplied. "Has been since before we disembarked."

"Then what are we waiting for?"

"We're trying to locate the court recorder, sir. She seems to have wandered off."

"Shall we get started, anyway?" Battleax suggested casually. "At least with the inquiry?"

"Oh no," the general said. "I want everything legal and by the book when I nail this guy's hide to the wall . . . no 'procedural mistrial' loopholes for him to wiggle out of. Major, go out and see if you can find . . . What the h.e.l.l is that?"

There was a loud rumble of powerful engines outside. The sound had begun softly as they spoke but had slowly risen in volume until now it could no longer be ignored.

Joshua had moved to the window overlooking the shuttle pads and was staring at something outside the line of vision of the other officers.

"General," he said without turning away from his post, "I think you should look at this."

The sound was from a full dozen hover cycles, whose Legionnaire riders kept revving the engines noisily despite their slow pace. What was even more attention-getting, however, was the procession they were escorting.

The entire company of Legionnaires was marching into the area between the shuttle pads and the s.p.a.ceport. There were no flashy maneuvers such as the Red Eagles had performed during the intra-service compet.i.tion, yet something in the grim determination of their approach made them nonetheless impressive, if not intimidating, as they drew up in full formation. Of course, this image was enhanced by the fact that they were garbed in full combat uniform and gear, including what appeared to be loaded weapons.

At a barked command echoed by the sergeants, the formation halted and stood at attention. At the same time, the hover cycle riders shut down the engines of their vehicles, and for several moments the resulting silence seemed even louder than had the earlier noise.

"What are they doing out there?" the general said as the three officers stared at the display outside their window.

"If I had to guess, sir," Battleax murmured, not taking her eyes from the formation, "I'd say it was a demonstration of support for their commander."

"A demonstration? It looks like they're getting ready to a.s.sault the s.p.a.ceport."

"I didn't say it looked like a peaceful demonstration." The colonel smiled humorlessly.

"They've got clips of ammo in those weapons," Blitzkrieg noted. "Who authorized that? Whom did you put in temporary command when you relieved Jester?"

"Lieutenant Rembrandt had the most seniority," Battleax said. "That's her at the head of the formation. I believe that's the other lieutenant, Armstrong, standing beside her. Ummm . . . is it necessary for me to point out to you gentlemen that they're between us and the shuttle?"

"Do you want me to call the local police?" Joshua asked nervously.

"Those are supposed to be our troops out there, Major," the general retorted tersely. "We'd look pretty d.a.m.n silly asking the police to protect us from them, now, wouldn't we?"

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

"I want you to go out there and take command of that formation, Major Joshua. Break it up and tell them to return to their barracks and await further orders."

"Me, sir?"

Fortunately rescue appeared that moment in the form of the missing court recorder, who slipped into the room and took her position by her equipment, blissfully unaware of what was going on outside the s.p.a.ceport. She was one of those drab, horse-faced women who gave lie to the holo-movie stereotype of the s.e.xy secretary.

"Sorry I'm late, General," she said.

"Where the h.e.l.l have you been?" Blitzkrieg demanded, finding a focal point for his anger and nervousness.

"Begging the general's pardon," Battleax interceded, "but isn't it more important that we begin the proceedings . . . without further delay?"

"Oh! Yes . . . quite right. Thank you, Colonel. Someone tell Jester we're ready for him."

The trio of officers barely had time to settle into their seats before the captain entered. With careful precision, he strode to the center of the room and saluted crisply.

"Captain Jester . . . reporting as ordered, sir!"

General Blitzkrieg returned the salute with a sketchy wave of his hand as he looked over at the court recorder.

"Let the record show that a court of inquiry is convened to review the actions of Captain Jester. General Blitzkrieg presiding, Colonel Battleax and Major Joshua in attendance."

He turned his attention to the figure in front of him.

"Well, Captain," he said conversationally, "I a.s.sume you know why we're here."

"No, sir, I don't. I was told my actions were to be reviewed, but I am unaware of any activity on my part which might warrant such scrutiny."

Even Battleax was startled by this statement. She had been prepared to favorably review whatever defense Jester might have to offer, but it had never occurred to her that he would attempt to defend himself by arguing his innocence.

This was potentially disastrous. The captain might have been able to obtain special consideration by claiming that extenuating circ.u.mstances forced him to overstep his authority, but not acknowledging he was in error at all indicated a permanent, not a temporary, lapse in judgment.

The general sensed an easy victory, and his smile took on shark proportions as he pressed on.

"Captain Jester, do you feel that you, or anyone else in the s.p.a.ce Legion, has the authority to negotiate a peace treaty with a culture or society of aliens previously unknown to us?"

"No, sir. That power rests solely with the Alliance Council."

"Well, then . . .

"But I fail to see where the question has anything to do with me or anyone in my command . . . sir."

"You don't?" Blitzkrieg frowned.

"General . . . if I may?" Battleax broke in quickly. "Captain Jester, how would you describe your recent interaction with members of the Zen.o.bian Empire?"

"Well, sir, I was informed that there had been an altercation between a member of my company and what seemed to be a previously unknown alien race. After first taking measures to ensure the immediate safety of the miners we were contracted to protect, I established contact with the commander of that alien force to determine whether or not they const.i.tuted a threat to the settlement or the Alliance as a whole. In that conversation, it was discovered that the alien presence was due to equipment failure on their part rather than any premeditated plan or attack, and that the altercation had been caused by nervousness and ignorance on both sides. Apologies were extended and accepted."

"And . . ." the general prompted after several moments' silence had pa.s.sed.

"That was the total extent of my official exchange with the Zen.o.bians, sir, which I believe is well within the guidelines set down for a Legion officer."

"What about the agreement to trade swampland for weapons, Captain?"

Phule's expression was guileless.

"I did serve as a combination middleman and agent in such an agreement, sir. But that was at a later time while I was off duty. What is more, that agreement was a business deal between two individuals . . . specifically, Flight Leftenant Qual of the Zen.o.bian Exploratory Forces and my father. To the best of my knowledge, and I was involved in all exchanges surrounding that agreement, at no time was it stated or implied that the deal committed or involved either the Alliance as a whole or the Zen.o.bian Empire. As I said, it was simply a trade arrangement between two individuals, and my own part in the matter was permissible under Article-"

"We know the article in question, Captain," Battleax interrupted, fighting a smile. "It's referenced frequently in your file. "

General Blitzkrieg was shaking his head in amazement and confusion.

"Is it legal? Doing business with an alien race outside the Alliance, I mean."

"To the best of my knowledge," the captain answered smoothly, "there is no law specifically forbidding such an arrangement. If we were at war with the Zen.o.bians, it might be a different matter, but I don't believe there are any provisos for dealings with intelligent aliens that are not either in the Alliance or actively at war with us."

He paused to smile at the reviewing officers.

"I imagine the tax boys might try to find some basis to challenge the deal, but I suggest we leave that to the battery of lawyers Phule-Proof Munitions employs for just such disputes. Repeating my initial a.s.sertion, I see no reason why such a question of legality, if it arises at all, should involve the s.p.a.ce Legion . . . or, specifically, me or my command."

After the brief media conference where it was announced that Captain Jester of the s.p.a.ce Legion had not only been cleared of any charges of misconduct but decorated for his handling of the Zen.o.bian episode, that notable retired to the nearest bar, which happened to be in the s.p.a.ceport, for a quiet drink.

"I'll tell you, Beeker, that's a load off my mind. For a while I thought they were going to shoot me just out of general principles."