No Phule Like an Old Phule

18

Journal #751

While I have never been attracted to a military career, my employer's tenure in the Space Legion has given me ample opportunity to assess the qualities requisite for- success in that branch of life. I do not think I flatter myself excessively if I state that I might have done better than most, had I been placed in such circumstances. Many of the necessary qualities of a gentleman's gentleman would serve, with little need for adaptation.

In fact, I doubt one officer in ten could match the average butler in the ability to tell when one's position has so grievously deteriorated that nothing remains but to make one's escape without undue regard for one's dignity. Indeed, in my experience, the higher one rises in the military rank, the more conspicuous is the lack of this invaluable quality.

On the other hand, the hunters from Tejas, whom 1 had never before observed to be in the possession of any outstanding virtue, proved to be quite sensible when it came to mounting a timely retreat. Indeed, they did it every bit as well as any general could have, and with a good bit less fuss.

Phule's hoverjeep pulled up to the hunters', camp just as Euston O'Better dashed out of his tent carrying a huge duffel bag. Ignoring the captain-and Beeker, who sat observing the scene with raised eyebrows-O'Better rushed breathlessly over to the shuttle and tossed the bundle through the cargo hatch. Then he turned and headed back to the tent.

"Good morning," said Phule, in a conversational tone.

0'Better jumped as if someone had set off a small explosive in his near vicinity. He landed facing the hoverjeep, at which point his mind apparently managed to process it as something not likely to eat him, and he snapped, "Durn it, you oughtn't sneak up on a fellow that way." Then, realizing there was no immediate threat, he relaxed, and said, "Sorry, Captain, but we've had a bit of a scare. Your planet's got some mighty ferocious critters on it, y'know?"

"Well, it's not really my planet," said Phule. "And I can't say I've really had time to do a proper survey of the local wildlife. Of course, the Zenobians do tell stories..."

"They don't do the critters justice," said O'Better, closing his eyes and shuddering. "Not even close... but I'm sorry, Captain. I guess you didn't come here just to chitchat, and to tell you the truth, I don't have a lot of time myself. What brings you out this way, Captain?" No sooner had he finished speaking than Austen Tay Shun and L. P. Asho dashed out of their tents, each carrying a large bundle that they proceeded to stow in the cargo hold of the shuttle. They turned, then, noticing the hoverjeep, lined up behind 0'Better, staring at Phule and Beeker, with unmistakably unfriendly expressions.

The silence built for a long moment before Phule broke it. "I'm sorry, Mr. O'Better," he said, scratching his head. "It looks as if I'm interrupting something. Were you gentlemen getting ready to move out?" He stepped out of the jeep, peering casually around the campsite. Sure enough, much of the fancy equipment that had been visible on his previous visit was out of sight-presumably packed up and stowed away in the shuttle.

O'Better grimaced, then said, "What the hell-there's no point telling anything but the truth. What happened is, me and the boys went out in the sticks with your local guide, plannin' to get those big trophies we'd come here lookin' for.

So, naturally enough, we asked the native boy to take us where the really big critters were. And when he did, we found out we were in way over our heads-that's all, Captain. Way over our heads. I don't know how the natives manage to keep from being eaten right up by some of the critters we seen. We brought some pretty serious weaponry with us, but I'll tell you this-I don't reckon there's anything short of siege artillery that'll bring one of those monsters down."

"Monsters?" said Phule. "I grant I haven't spent much time researching local fauna, but I'd think Flight Leftenant Qual would've warned us of anything really dangerous. I hope they aren't going to become a nuisance to the camp."

"Well, if they do, your boys are goin' to find out just what your weapons can and can't do," said L. P. Asho, sullenly. "Ain't nobody payin' me to stand and get chewed up like a light snack, but maybe the Legion is willin' to give it a try. You're welcome to it. As for us-we're gettin' the hell out while we still can."

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that," Phule began.

Asho cut him off. "You damn well ought to be. We come here not just for a little huntin' and recreation, but to look into this planet's mineral development ,potential, which I reckon it has a lot of. But there ain't nobody goin' to sink his money into a place where his people are goin' to get et up by Godziller if they make a wrong step."

"Godziller?" said Phule.

"You heard the man." said 0'Better. "If the Legion takes matters in its own hands and exterminates the monsters, there may be some room for investors to move in and develop the place good and proper. But short of that, I'm keeping my money in my pocket. Now, Captain, if you'll pardon us, we'd like to get loaded and lift off before the creatures come looking for us." He and the others turned and went back into the tent.

"Creatures?" said Phule. He looked at Beeker. "Exterminate ?"

"I'm sure I don't know what they're talking about, either, sir," said Beeker. "I have a strong suspicion who will know, though. If I may be so bold, shall we return to camp and speak to Mr. Qual?"

"Qual!" said Phule. "I think you're right, Beeker. Let's go see if we can get to the bottom of this. For starters, I think we're going to talk to Sushi." He hopped back into the hoverjeep, just as Asho and Tay-Shun began to strike the tents. By the time the hoverjeep was over the hill, they'd already gotten the first one folded and ready to pack into the shuttle.

"So all those funny lights in the desert are Qual's doing," said Phule, bemused.

"Yes, sir," said Sushi. He leaned forward, both his hands placed casually on Phule's desk. "That big machine of theirs, the sklern, is a hologram projector, programmable in real time, that they invented for psychological warfare. They were using our camp to test it, figuring this might be a useful base for it if the Nanoids ever became a hostile force."

"I ought to be annoyed that he didn't bother to tell me what he was doing, especially considering the trouble it got some of our people into," said Phule.

"I'd guess he was under orders not to," said Armstrong, the officer on duty. His rigid posture was the exact opposite of Sushi's. "Even allies have secrets from each other, you know. I wouldn't be at all surprised to learn that Legion HQ has a detailed plan for invading Zenobia if our friendship suddenly falls apart at the seams." He looked at Phule, who sat staring back at him without saying anything. After a moment, Armstrong looked away. "But I suppose that's none of my business until the situation arises," he added, lamely.

"Which none of us expects to happen," said Phule, quietly. He turned back to Sushi. "You've put me in something of an embarrassing spot, as well, you know," he said, wagging a pointed finger. "Spying on Qual could sour relations between us and the Zenobians. Even if Qual doesn't take it as hostile, his superiors might. Now we have to figure out what to do if Qual finds out about it."

"More importantly, we have to figure out how to prevent him from finding out about it," said Armstrong. "If they don't know that we know about their secret project, they can't hold it against us that we found it out by spying on them, if you follow my logic."

"I don't think so, Captain," said Sushi. "Qual wouldn't have set the thing up right in our faces if he was trying to keep it secret-let alone using it to help us get rid of those so-called hunters. That'd require a good bit of conscious duplicity, and I don't think the Zenobians think that way."

"If you've figured out how the Zenobians think, you're a couple of steps ahead of the rest of us," said Armstrong. "Half the time, I can't even figure out the plain sense of what they're saying, let along what might be behind it."

"Well, that's something we found out from the project Rev's been running," said Sushi. "Or rather, the project he recruited me to run for him, more or less, trying to find out about the Zenobians' legend of 'L'VlZ. Well, you saw yesterday what that came to--I thought Rev was going to be disappointed when he realized it was just a delayed copy of something he already knew about. He managed to turn it his own way, though. But that's not the whole story. Along the way, I've found out some very interesting things on my own. Things about the Zenobians' language, which is a lot weirder than I expected."

"I'm not surprised," said Phule. "I've probably spoken to as many of the natives as any human alive, and even with translators I wouldn't rate the communication as very fluent. A lot of the time what they say has nothing to do with what I've been saying. It's as if we're carrying on two separate conversations."

Sushi grinned. "Believe it or not, a lot of conversations between one Zenobian and another seem to be like that, as well. I know-I've been listening to quite a few of them talking. Their society doesn't seem to have a common language in the same sense that ours does."

"In light of certain locutions I've heard from the members of this company, I would consider it a debatable proposition that we have a common language," said Beeker. "Why, just this morning I heard one of the legionnaires say..." Phule's intercom buzzed. "Hold on a second, Beeks," he said, and lifted his wrist to his mouth. "What is it, Mother?" he asked.

"Flight Leftenant Qual wants to see you, cutie," said the saucy voice of Comm Central. "Ordinarily I'd have just sent him down, but seeing as how you have people in your office..."

"Ah, perfect! Send him in, Mother," said Phule. "No problem. In fact, I think he can clear up a few questions for us."

"Just make sure he's answering the same questions you're asking, lovey," said Mother. "I'm sending him down."

"Great," said Phule, and he broke the connection, smiling.

"I sure hope so, Captain," said Lieutenant Armstrong. He was definitely not smiling.

A few moments later, Flight Leftenant Qual entered. For the first time any of the legionnaires could remember, he was in mufti-a ragged outfit, half camouflage and half what looked like homemade garments. A straw hat that might have been stolen from an out-of-work farmhand completed the ensemble.

"Greetings, Captain Clown!" he said. "Acting on the advice of your legionnaire Thumper and the famous Environmental Dog, we have completed a worthy mission this day."

"So I hear," said Phule. "Uh, why don't you tell us about it, Qual, so we can get your viewpoint on the whole thing?"

"Of a certainty," said Qual. "The entire business began when Rawfish approached me as my team was calibrating the sklern. At first, I could not understand his purpose, although I believed it had to do with learning our secrets."

Sushi blushed. "Oh, no, that was totally the farthest thing from my mind," he said.

"Don't put yourself in a binder, Rawfish," said Qual. "The sklern is not a secret project, or we doubtlessly never would have come to your base to set it up."

"Not a secret?" Phule looked puzzled. "Your crew acted really evasive every time I or one of my people tried to ask what it was and why you were testing it here."

"Oh, I see what the problem was," said Sushi. "It's what I've been telling you about the Zenobian language, Captain. No two Zenobians speak exactly the same way, so our translators -don't work the way they're designed to. With most other sophonts, the differences between one speaker and another are pretty minimal, but if I've understood what Qual says, Zenobians vary all over the chart."

"And if the Zenobian gentleman is so hard to understand, how do you know that you do understand him?" asked Beeker. Everyone ignored him.

Armstrong wrinkled his brow. "You know-this could have security implications, Captain," he said.

"You're right, Armstrong," said Phule. He was grinning, now. "And I think I've got just the way to make use of that phenomenon."

"Make use of it?" Armstrong's eyes opened wide. "How in the world can we make use of an inability to communicate?"

"You're not thinking big enough," said Phule. "Modern industry and business need secure communication. Every businessman in the galaxy would give his eyeteeth for a really secure code. But as Sushi has shown us more than once, modem computers-in the right hands, and with a little bit of time-can break any code that's been devised."

"Well, maybe not everything," said Sushi, shrugging. "But I'd be willing to promise a pretty good success rate against most of the commercial stuff I've run across."

"From what I've seen, I'd rate you a lot better than pretty good," said Phule.

"Yes, Rawfish is a most intelligent human," agreed Qual, wagging his tail.

Phule grinned. "I'm sure he appreciates the endorsement. But here's my point, Sushi-how well would you do with an encrypted signal when the clear text was two Zenobians speaking in their own language?" Sushi looked at Phule a long moment, then said, "It'd slow me down a lot. I mean, in most communication you assume the two sides are speaking the same language, and with two Zenobians that's only mostly true. If you run it through an encryption circuit, on top of all that-I can't say my equipment would never figure it out, but it could sure make things tougher."

"Exactly what I thought," said Phule. He turned to Beeker. "I think we're sitting on a dilithium mine here, Beeks. Remind me to look into it-I've been looking for another high-yield investment, and this just might be it. I'm sure we can figure out ways to structure it to benefit the company, as well."

"Yes, sir," said the butler. "I've already thought of a few useful directions to explore."

"And do I correctly speculate that there will be benefits for the local sophonts, as well?" asked Qual, showing his teeth in a fearsome reptilian grin.

"Absolutely," said Phule. "We can't neglect the people that make the whole thing possible. Besides; I owe you a real debt of thanks-getting those hunters off-planet is going to save me all kinds of headaches."

"It is but a smallness, Captain Clown," said Qual. "When Famous Barky and I learned from Thumper the true purpose behind their excursion, it was much to my pleasure to frighten them away. They scare very easy. I use image of my own egg-mother, exploded fifty diameters and made uglier. She glad to help, but thinks it makes her look fat. Best of all, it provided muchly useful training with the sklern for my subordinates."

Phule chuckled. "I'll bet it did," he said. "And thank your mom for me. Now if we could just figure out some excuse to send a few scary critters over to the AEIOU inspectors' camp..." He was interrupted by the buzz of his communicator.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," he said, lifting his wrist to speak. "Yes, Mother, what's the story?"

"Another visitor, sweetie," said Mother. "One of those AEIOU snoops. Shall I have him sit here for a couple of hours?"

"No, as it happens, we were just talking about the inspectors," said Phule. "Why don't you send him in?"

"OK, silly boy," said the saucy voice from his wrist speaker. "But it's your funeral," she concluded, and cut the connection.

"Hello, Captain," said the AEIOU inspector. Phule looked up in surprise. Chief Inspector Snieff had -been the spokesperson for the AEIOU team in all their meetings. But now Inspector Gardner had come to visit. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything," he said.

"Your whole team's been interrupting things ever since you arrived," muttered Armstrong.

Phule ignored him. "Not really," he said. "What can we do for you, Inspector?"

"Actually, I just came to tell you that we've finished our investigation," said Gardner. "We'll be packing up and leaving as soon as we can get a launch window."

"Finished?" said Beeker. "Excuse me, sir, but you've hardly had enough time to build any kind of case against us."

"Yes," said Phule. "In fact, I was under the distinct feeling that Chief Inspector Snieff was under orders to uncover as many violations as she could."

"Well, given the info we had coming in here, she was ready to shut down the whole camp and sic Barky on anybody who didn't like it," said Gardner. "But when we got a close look at things, it was pretty clear that we weren't going to find anything beyond token violations. You've basically got a clean report, Captain-I'd call that pretty impressive, considering the business you're in. Military bases and good environmental practices aren't often found under the same roof, but I have to admit you've done it."

"Hmff," said Beeker. "Exactly how did you arrive at that conclusion, if I may ask? I must say, it appeared as the chief inspector was determined to see everything in the worst possible light."

"I guess she was," said Gardner. "But she got overruled, and that's that."

"Overruled?" Phule frowned. "I thought she was the leader of the mission."

"Well, Snieff has the title, sure enough," said Gardner, looking a bit embarrassed. "And she can get pretty literal minded about the rules, sometimes. That's not always bad-if we need to shut down a real environmental threat, we need every tool in. the box. When we first arrived here, we were all expecting a major environmental impact case, and the chief had us all fired up about stopping polluters. Like I said, she gets literal-minded. So Barky came here ready to beat up on the bad guys, and that probably had a lot to do with his hostile attitude when he first met everybody. And when one of your guys showed him there wasn't really any problem, it took him a while to adjust... But when push came to shove, it was Barky that called the shots. He can't be wasting his time someplace where there's nothing to be found. He's got his career to think about, after all."

"Career? That pooch?" Armstrong looked at Gardner as if he'd been speaking a particularly obscure dialect of Zenobian. "What career- does he have besides biting legionnaires and chasing anybody who doesn't look sufficiently human?" Inspector Gardner shook his head, wearily.. "Doesn't look sufficiently human? Listen to yourself, Lieutenant. Yes, Barky's genetically a dog; but don't forget-he's a trivee star,- too. And it's not just training-his intelligence measures just above human-average."

Armstrong snorted. "Above average? On what scale?"

"The same one the Legion uses to assign recruits to various specialties," said Gardner. "With the right training, Barky could probably do your job. In fact, he told me he'd like to give the Legion a try some time..."

"Told you?" Armstrong's jaw fell. "You mean that pooch can talk?"

"Sure," said Gardner, grinning. "That's one of the modifications. Except it's in a much higher register than our ears normally hear in-we have special implants so we can understand him. But some races can hear him just fine-your Lepoid legionnaire, for one. The little guy came out and tipped Barky off as to what those- hunters were planning. Of course, he'd already learned that Barky could talk during that food fight in your cafeteria. They had quite a time of it, then."

A large grin came to Sushi's face. "That's a major understatement," he said. "I wish I had video of Barky chasing Thumper around the mess hall... it'd be worth millions!"

"Oh, sure, I wouldn't mind seeing that again myself." said Gardner, chuckling. Then his face turned serious, and he added, "Of course, if you had something like that, you'd have to go negotiate rights with Barky's agent. And that could be pretty tough-a big star like that doesn't work for free, you know."

"Of course not," said Phule. "Neither do my legionnaires, if you want to get down to that. So if any such video should ever emerge, we'd expect our performers to be properly compensated. But we're talking hypotheticals, I assume." He smiled broadly.

"As far as I know, yeah," said Inspector Gardner. "But hey, I almost forgot. Barky wanted to show you guys there's no hard feelings, and to apologize for being a bit rough on everybody. He wants you to know he was just doing what he thought was his job."

"Just doing his job?" said Beeker. "That's all very well, sir, but one would think that if the little fellow wants to make his apologies, he could come do it himself instead of sending a substitute." Gardner slapped his hand against his forehead. "Oh, I should have told you-he did come, but we thought he ought to wait until we'd found out what his reception would be before bringing him into your captain's office. He's waiting outside with the woman at the desk."

"With Mother?" said Phule. He raised his comm to his wrist, to hail her.

But before he could say anything into the wrist comm, his office door burst open, and a small furry missile came through, leapt to the top of his desk, and began vigorously licking his face.

Inspector Gardner chuckled. "See, Captain? I told you he wanted to show everybody there's no hard feelings." He pulled out a pocket camera and quickly snapped a picture of the pair. "That ought to look great on tri-vee," said Gardner.

"Woof!" said Barky, the Environmental Dog, turning to show his best side to the camera.

Epilogue

"Damnit all!" shouted General Blitzkrieg, throwing the sheet of color printout toward the trash basket. It missed, and landed face up, showing a glossy image of Barky, the Environmental Dog, and the heroic Captain Jester of the Space Legion. That one image had ruined the general's entire day. He turned to Major Sparrowhawk, who had just bought in the day's news printouts for him. "Those AEIOU morons were supposed to bury Omega Company in red tape, not give them more favorable publicity. Why are Jester and that ugly mutt on the front page of my paper?"

"Cute sells papers," said Sparrowhawk, resignedly. It was one of a large body of significant truths that were about as much use to General Blitzkrieg as a trombone to a porcupine. Just for starters, it required the ability to recognize Captain Jester as cute, a perception for which the general was seriously unsuited.

The general snorted. "To hell with cute," he growled. "I don't have any use for those green-nosed ecofreaks to begin with-all they know how to do is come in where they aren't wanted and tie a man's hands with so many regulations he can't do his job. So why the hell do they suddenly make like best buddies with Jester and his pack of blithering incompetents? You can't tell me they're not violating every regulation ever written. That's why they ended up in Omega Company, damnit."

"Well, General, now that you mention it, I did some research and found out something you may not know about the AEIOU team that went to Zenobia. Their leader is Chief Inspector Snieff..."

"Sure, Senator Snieff's sister." said the general, nodding.

"Bit of a sourpuss, unless she's changed since I met her. And a full-bore nutcase on the environment I'll give her one thing, though-she takes her job seriously. My God, she takes it seriously. I wouldn't think the likes of Jester could sweet-talk her out of throwing the book at him."

"Exactly right, sir," said Sparrowhawk. "The senator got her the job, of course, and nobody's got the guts to stand in her way, even though she's a bit extreme even for the agency."

"'A bit extreme' is one hell of an understatement," said General Blitzkrieg. "I met her at a dinner party in the senator's home, and the poor fellow who had to sit next to her looked like he wanted to go home and snort some insecticide. I think he must have done something to piss off the senator..."

"Yes, sir." said Sparrowhawk, wondering (not for the first time) who she'd managed to piss off to get the assignment as Blitzkrieg's adjutant. "As it happens, sir, there's a bit more to the story. Inspector Snieff happens to affect the higher-ups in her own agency the same way as she does everyone else."

"And serves 'em right," growled the general. Then his brow raised a fraction of an inch. "You mean she's too screwy even for the damned tree huggers? I'm surprised they can tell the difference!"

Sparrowhawk patiently explained. "General, the higher ups in the AEIOU may be officially required to act as if they care about other planets' environments, but they quite naturally care a good bit more about their own careers.

Most of them are political appointees. And generating terabytes of bad will because of literal-minded enforcement of unpopular policies isn't good for anybody's career. Letting Chief Inspector Snieff run around the galaxy unchecked would be a recipe for disaster."

"Anybody can see that," snorted Blitzkrieg. Then his eyes opened wide, and he said, "Wait a minute. This is starting to sound familiar. She's too crazy to give any real responsibility, and too well connected to kick out..."

"Yes, sir, just like Captain Jester," said Sparrowhawk. "So they put her in charge of a special team, with a couple of levelheaded veterans to make sure she can't do anything irreversible, and with Barky, the Environmental Dog, their biggest media star, to give the team a positive PR profile. In a sense, it's their version of Omega Company. And while she's nominally the commander, it's just a sham. And the system seems to work. That Barky is apparently every bit as smart as he is cute."

"God save me from cute," said the general, with a groan. He pounded a fist on the comer of his desk. "Between Omega Company and the Snieff woman, the Zenobia operation should have been declared an environmental disaster. And now it's a photo op, with Jester and that fleabag hamming it up. If I see any more cute for a week, I swear I'm going to be sick."

"Yes, sir," said Sparrowhawk. "Shall I send in your morning appointments?"

"You might as well, though I'll be damned if I'm in much of a mood for it," said Blitzkrieg. "Who's on the list?"

Sparrowhawk looked at her clipboard. "Mrs. Biffwycke-Snerty, for the Retired Officers', Refugees', and Orphans' Relief Organization. She wants you to give a speech at their fund-raising affair."

"Fine, send her in," said Blitzkrieg. "Always glad to help out the good old veterans."

And never reluctant to spout off in front of a captive audience, thought Sparrowhawk. She nodded and left the office.

A moment later the door opened to admit a portly matron, a familiar figure at charity balls. "Oh, General, 1 do hope you'll be able to address the RORORO fund-raiser next month," she warbled, in a voice at least an octave above her natural range. "We have such a wonderful program planned, and you would be just the perfect one to speak for the Legion."

"Why, I'd be delighted," said the general, rising to extend a hand. "There's nothing closer to my heart than the welfare of the retired officers. I'll tell my adjutant to make it a firm date."

"Oh, I'm so pleased," said Mrs. Biffwycke-Snerty.

"Now we have something for all our clients. You for the officers, and Mr. Vodoh-Deo, who's done just so much for the Jivan refugees-and you'll never guess whom we've persuaded to come for the orphans!"

"I haven't a clue," said Blitzkrieg, already mildly annoyed that he wasn't to be the sole attraction.

"It was such a coup!" said the socialite. "Priscilla Ann - Hoglinton just happens to know the executive producer of the IGT network, and I told her we just had to have someone for the poor children, and she went in and talked to him, and you know how tough these producers can be, but sure enough, Priscilla Ann just prevailed upon him, I swear I don't know how, and he said he'd do everything he could for RORORO. And now we've got just the perfect celebrity to make this the best fund-raiser ever!"

"And who would that be?" said Blitzkrieg, throwing caution to the winds.

"Why, Barky, the Environmental Dog, of course! He's just so cute..." Mrs. Biffwycke-Snerty chirped.

General Blitzkrieg's wounded bellow was audible three buildings away.