"Then I guess it's up to us to work the company until they're ready to take on all comers. If nothing else, we can field more firepower than most. Now all we have to do is coach the troops to keep it pointed downrange."

Phule meant his comment as a joke, but instead of laughing, Harry nodded slowly.

"That'd be good for a start," he said slowly. "Won't be easy, though. Tell you what, Cap'n. If that offer is still open, I think I'll join you and that reporter for a drink. Maybe we can talk for a bit afterward."

"Fine by me, C.H., but I thought you were nervous about being around a reporter."

The sergeant nodded. "I am, but what you said back in the alley made sense. Eventually the crew that's lookin' for me is gonna find me, and thinkin' about that makes me thirsty enough to ignore any reporter. 'Sides, how much can go wrong in one interview? Huh?"

"Sir?... Wake up, sir!"

Phule struggled up from the depths of slumber at the insistent sound of his butler's voice.

"I'm... awake," he managed with some difficulty. "God! What time is it, Beek? I feel like I just closed my eyes."

"Actually, sir, it's been a little over two hours since you retired. "

"Really? Two whole hours." Phule grimaced, forcing himself upright in bed. "Can't imagine why I still feel sluggish."

"It might have something to do with the quantity of alcohol you consumed before retiring, sir," the butler supplied helpfully. "You were more cheerful than usual when you came in."

Like most guardians of dignity, Beeker did not approve of his charge drinking at all, and he made no effort to keep the edge of reprimand out of his voice.

"Chocolate Harry and I had a couple more rounds after the reporter left," the commander said defensively, rubbing his forehead with the fingertips of both hands. "I would have called it quits earlier, but Brandy rolled in and-"

"Excuse me for interrupting, sir," the butler interrupted, "but there's a call waiting for you in the other room."

"A call?"

"Yes. On the holophone. It's from Legion Headquarters, which is why I deemed it necessary to wake you rather than simply taking a message."

"Oh, swell. Just what I need first thing in the morning. Just a second while I get dressed."

"If I might point out, sir, you're still dressed from last night. I commented on it when you retired, but you seemed rather eager to get to sleep."

Sure enough, Phule found that he was still fully clothed. What's more, his uniform seemed to give less indication of the abuse it had suffered than did his mind and digestive tract. Running his hand quickly over his chin and upper lip, he decided that he would go without a shave rather than keep Headquarters waiting any more than they had, though he longed for the extra wake-up time that ritual would have given him.

"Well, I guess there's no point stalling," he said, starting for the next room. "Any clue as to what's up, Beek?"

"None... aside from the obvious indications that they seem to be a bit distraught." The butler shrugged. Then his natural concern asserted itself, and he added, "You should be aware, sir, that it was necessary for me to leave the line open when I came to rouse you, so you will be 'on camera' as soon as you enter the room."

Phule paused with his hand on the doorknob and grimaced.

"Terrific," he said. "Thanks for the warning, Beek."

"I thought you'd like to know, sir. You're inclined toward rude gestures when surprised, especially early in the morning."

The holophone was a device which projected a three-dimensional image of the caller into the room with the recipient, and sent one in return. While it was a disturbingly effective way to communicate, it was also expensive to operate, which was why the Legion usually relied on the more conventional com-type system for the routine sending of messages and reports. Com-type allowed data to be stored and sent in quick bursts during slack periods of interstellar communications, incoming messages being stored electronically by computer for review or printout at the recipient's discretion. The holophone was reserved for emergency use, when the sender wanted to be sure the recipient got the message, or wanted to interface directly with the person on the other end, like, say, for a reprimand or dressing-down. Consequently holophone calls were generally received with the same enthusiasm normally reserved for plagues or tax audits.

"Yes, Colonel Battleax," Phule said, recognizing the projected figure in the room. "What can I do for you this morning?"

The Legion's holophone equipment was a discontinued line purchased as surplus. With no service support for what was originally a dubious design, its performance was usually less than stellar, and today's transmission was no exception. The image had a tendency to double and/or fuzz, an effect which did nothing to improve Phule's disposition as he tried to maintain a pleasant air while focusing bleary eyes on the elusive phantom. If he had hoped his demeanor would be reciprocated, however, he could have spared himself the effort.

"Well, Captain Jester," the colonel began without greeting or preamble, "you could start by explaining the article in today's news."

"Article?" The commander frowned. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, ma'am. It's still very early here and I haven't had a chance to see today's news."

He shot a glance at his butler, who had slipped into the room behind him. Beeker nodded in understanding and reached for his pocket com unit to call up the article in question.

"No? Well, let me read you some of the highlights... specifically the same highlights my commanding officer read me when bringing it to my attention."

Battleax brought a notepad into view, bending her head to refer to it.

"Let's see... We'll start with the headline, which reads: 'Playboy General?' And under that, the byline elaborates: 'Munitions Heir Willard Phule to Lead Elite Force on Haskin's Planet.' The article itself goes downhill from there."

Off camera, Beeker paused in his efforts to roll his eyes in exaggerated exasperation. Phule ignored him with some effort, focusing instead on the thought of holding the reporter's throat in his hands.

"Yes. I can see where you'd be upset, ma'am. Let me assure the colonel, however, that at no time during the interview did I state or imply that I held the rank of general. I can only assume the reporter either misunderstood or was exaggerating for effect. I'll take it on myself to see that a correction is issued noting my correct rank as well as an apology to all generals, past, present, and future, for the error."

"Oh, don't stop there, Captain. I'm dying to hear your explanation of the rest of the article."

"The rest of what, ma'am?" Phule said, studying the screen of the hand com unit Beeker had passed him. "I have the article in front of me now, and I'm not sure what else the colonel requires comment on."

"Are you serious? For openers, why did you issue a press release at all?"

"That's easy." The commander smiled. "I didn't. It seems someone on the hotel staff leaked the word to the media when we checked in, and a reporter showed up looking for an interview. I don't know how much experience the colonel has had with the media, but I've always found that once the media is looking for a story, it's best to give them one. Otherwise, they're inclined to invent one of their own. If one volunteers a story, they'll only get some of the facts wrong-like my rank-rather than publishing a yarn that's all wrong. Realizing the rather spotty background of the Legionnaires I've been assigned to, I thought it would be wisest if the interview centered on myself rather than allow it to wander into areas we'd just as soon not have publicized."

"Wait a minute. Let's get back to something you said a second ago, about the hotel staff alerting the media that you had arrived. Why did you give the reporter your real name instead of your Legion name?"