"Okay now," the CO said, motioning for those in the front rows to kneel down so those behind could see and hear, "I told you before, we're a team. All of us. The first mistake was that you were trying to run this course as individuals. There are obstacles out there, as well as in anything we'll ever want to do, that can flat out beat any one of us. But together, working as a team to help each other and to think out any problem, there's nothing we can't do. Nothing! Accept that as a given. Burn it into your minds and hearts that we can do anything. Then all that remains is working out the how, and that's where the team comes in."

The company was hanging on his words, caught up in his certainty and wanting him to be right.

"Let's get down to some specifics here and see how this works. The three-meter wall is a problem."

He pointed at the offending obstacle, and the Legionnaires nodded, a few grimacing wryly.

"It's obvious just from looking at it that if you've got the height and the strength, you can go over it. But if you don't, you're stuck. That may be true for a pack of individuals, but we're not. We're a team, and we don't leave teammates behind or let them get stuck just because they aren't tall. Forget getting you over it and start thinking about getting us over it. If someone was to get on top and stay there to give a hand up to those coming after him, everyone could get over a lot easier. Better still, if some of you heavyweights were to make a staircase with your shoulders, we could go over this thing without breaking stride. Again, the idea is to maximize what you can do, not to let yourself get defeated by what you can't do."

There were smiles in the ranks now. The irrepressible energy of the captain was having its effect, and the Legionnaires were starting to believe they could beat the system.

"Another example," Phule continued. "Some of you are slower than others. The Sinthians in particular are not built for speed. Well, being slow is nothing to be ashamed of, especially when it's a factor of your physical build. They should no more have to suffer from not being fast than the rest of us have to be embarrassed by not being able to fly. It's a problem to be dealt with. We help them deal with it because they're our teammates. If there's a situation like this course, where time is important and we don't want them to fall behind, help them along. Carry them if you have to, even if it means doubling up on some of the field packs. Remember, our goal is to be efficient, and we'll do whatever is necessary to get the job done. Now, let's take a look at some of these other obstacles..."

He strode off in the direction of the series of obstacles commonly referred to as "The Pits," with the rest of the company crowding along behind him. Reaching the first station, he turned back to the Legionnaires, and this time the front ranks dropped down without his signaling to them.

The obstacle consisted of a trench about four meters across filled nearly to the top with an evil-looking mixture of slime, algae, and muddy water. There was a framework constructed over the trench from which three heavy ropes hung. The Legionnaires were to swing across the trench on the ropes and continue on their way, a maneuver which was, in reality, much more difficult than it looked.

"I noticed that there was always a bottleneck at this station," Phule said. "While some of you had the right idea in giving your buddies a push to get their swing started, the real problem is that three ropes aren't enough to keep the traffic moving."

He paused and peered into the trench at the water.

"Now, I know you're all proud of your new uniforms, but these are supposed to be combat conditions, and combat is no time to worry about keeping your clothes clean. Does anyone know how deep this trench is?"

The Legionnaires looked at each other, but the CO didn't bother waiting for an answer.

"The most valuable thing in combat besides initiative is information. Intelligence. "Sergeant Brandy!"

"Sir?"

"Would you demonstrate for the company the fastest way to find out how deep this trench is?"

The company blinked in astonishment at the captain's audacity, but the much-feared top sergeant only hesitated the barest heartbeat before springing into action. Crisp uniform, spit-shined boots; and all, she took one long stride and leaped boldly into the trench. Then, finding that the muck barely reached the bottoms of her substantial breasts, she waded to the far side with as much dignity as she could muster, looking not unlike the Bismarck coming into port.

Lieutenant Armstrong, who had always envied the top sergeant's poise, did not bother to hide his grin as he elbowed Rembrandt in glee. Unfortunately Phule noticed the exchange.

"Lieutenants?"

"Sir?"

The junior officers cringed inside as their commander nodded pointedly at the trench, but they were compelled to match the sergeant's example. Two sets of officer's uniforms hit the muck as the company looked on with delight.

"As you can see," the CO commented calmly, "it's actually quicker to simply wade through this obstacle than to stand in line for a rope. Now, if you'll follow me, we'll take a look at the next problem. Remember how deep this is and lend a hand to your shorter teammates."

With that, he turned and stepped off the edge of the trench himself, accepting a hand up from Brandy as he reached the other side. The company charged into the trench like lemmings behind him, eager to see what else their commander had up his sleeve.

The next station was much like the last, except that the trench was wider and spanned by three logs. This time, Phule didn't hesitate, but hopped immediately onto one of the logs and crossed to the far side, beckoning for the waterlogged Armstrong to join him.

"This one isn't too difficult," he called from the other side, "if you're reasonably agile. Of course, some of us aren't reasonably agile, and even for those that are, keeping your balance takes time. So again, we simply modify the world to fit our needs... Tusk-anini! Could you get the other end of this?"

At nearly seven feet, the big Volton was easily the strongest, most imposing figure among the Legionnaires, even if his stringy dark hair, protruding tusks, and misshapen head didn't give him the appearance of a cross between a warthog and Frankenstein's monster. Stepping forward, he grasped one end of the log as Phule and Armstrong got the other, and together they rolled it sideways until it rested against the center span. A few more moments, and the third log was shoved into place next to the others.

"This is easier to cross," Phule declared, walking out to the center of the makeshift bridge and jiggling it with his feet to check its steadiness, "but it's still a little wobbly if we're all going to cross it in a hurry. Anyone have any rope in your packs?"

Nobody did.

"Well, I know you all have knives. They were issued to you, and while they aren't the best-quality cutlery, they'll do for the moment. Do-Wop?"

Here, Captain!"

"Grab a partner and go get us some rope to tie these logs together with."

"Sir?"

"Think, soldier! I believe you'll find some back at the last station. That is, of course, if you don't feel it will compromise your well-known principles to stoop to liberating something for the company's benefit."

Whoops and cheers went up from the Legionnaires at this, as Do-Wop could normally be relied on to requisition anything that wasn't nailed down solidly-and chained, to boot.

"While we're waiting," Phule called, waving them into grinning silence, "let's kick around some ideas of how to beat the next obstacle. Anyone have any ideas?"

As fate would have it, Bombest was not only on duty but in the lobby when the company blew into the hotel after their bout with the confidence course.