"Really?" The photographer started to look around, but Phule wasn't finished.

"And if they didn't shove your gear down your throat when you tried to take the pictures, I'd be inclined to take a personal interest in your career, as long as it lasted. Do we understand each other?"

Sidney met the commander's gaze, and what he saw there made him decide that this was not the time to extol the virtues of freedom of the press.

"Understood, Mr. Phule," he said, giving a quick salute that wasn't entirely mockery.

Phule paid only distant attention to the antics of the photo session. Instead, he found himself watching the neighborhood rat pack of kids who interrupted their glide-board frolicking to investigate the gathering. After the reporter shooed them away from the shooting for the fifth time, this time threatening to call the police, the kids resumed their normal games, perhaps more energetically because of the nearby holophotographer.

Though best on hard, flat surfaces like sidewalks, the glide boards could work on anything, and the kids prided themselves in demonstrating their expertise in the face of adversity. They rode them over the tops of the park benches and across the uneven grass. Their favorite maneuver was to skim down one particular slope into a dip, then use their momentum to jump their boards over the hedge, coincidentally landing in the fountain the photographer was using for his backdrop. The boards were even faster over water, however, and they had no difficulty in gliding across the fountain and disappearing before the news team could do more than raise their voices in protest.

Phule watched them intently for a while, then drifted over toward where they were gathering to plot their next move. The kids watched his approach, ready to bolt for the safety of the alleys, but he smiled and beckoned to them, so they held their ground until he was in talking distance.

"Whatcha want, mister?" the apparent leader challenged. "Looks like you could use a dip in the fountain yourself."

Phule grinned ruefully along with the titters of laughter. He hadn't had a chance to clean himself up yet, and if anything he looked worse than the urchins.

"I was just wondering if you could tell me a little about your boards," he said. "Are they hard to operate?"

The kids glanced at each other, torn between their love of their boards and the temptation to tease an adult. The boards won.

They're a little tricky at first," the spokesman admitted. "You've got to learn to keep your center of balance low or they'll toss you off."

"With a little practice..."

"With a lot of practice..."

"You can make 'em do just about anything..."

"You want to give it a try?"

"Once you get the hang of it..."

Now that the barrier was broken, the information came in a torrent as the kids all tried to talk about their passion at once. Phule listened for a few moments, then waved them into silence.

"What I really want to know," he said in a conspiratorial voice that brought the kids crowding closer, "is if you think you could teach a Sinthian to ride one of these things... Have any of you ever met a Sinthian?"

CHAPTER EIGHT

Journal #091

Their success on the confidence course, not to mention their pride in their new "uniforms," seemed to mark a turning point in the attitudes of the Legionnaires. As a whole and as individuals, the company began to embrace their new commander's belief that "we can do anything if we work together and are not too picky about how we do it!"

Like children looking for excuses to show off a new toy, the Legionnaires abandoned their previous habit of clinging to their home base during their off-duty hours, and instead were soon seen throughout the settlement looking for new challenges to apply their "togetherness" techniques to, whether it was called for or not! Many of the local citizens grew to believe that this extroverted crew was an entirely new force which had been imported, as most of their "projects" could be viewed as "good deeds" or "civic improvements." Unfortunately, however, not all of their pastimes fell on the proper side of legality, a fact which kept my employer quite busy intervening between them and the local authorities.

Aside from this, the bulk of his time was occupied in a sincere effort to get better acquainted with the individuals under his command in preparation for the assigning of the company into two-man teams. Of course, his efforts only revealed what I had suspected since he first received this assignment: that Legionnaires relegated to an Omega Company are not the easiest individuals in the universe to deal with.

"Mind if I join you?"

Super Gnat looked up from her breakfast to find the company commander standing over her table. With a shrug, she waved him into the facing chair.

The smallest member of the company was not unattractive, though no one would call her beautiful. An obvious band of freckles across her cheekbones and nose combined with her heart-shaped face and short brown hair to give an impression of a pixie-a robust young farm pixie, not the cuter, more sophisticated Tinker Bell variety.

Phule stirred his coffee slowly as he tried to organize his thoughts into words.

"I've been meaning to talk to you for some time," he began, but the Gnat stopped him, holding up a restraining hand while she finished chewing and swallowing her current mouthful.

"Let me save you a little time here, Captain. It's about my fightin'. Right?"

"Well... yes. You do seem to be involved in more than your share of... scuffles."

"Scuffles." The little Legionnaire sighed. "If I was bigger, they'd be called brawls. Oh well. Let me explain something to you, sir. "

She readdressed her food as she spoke.

"I was the littlest of nine kids in our family-not the youngest, the littlest. Our folks both worked and weren't around much, so us kids were left pretty much to sort things out for ourselves, and like most kids, we weren't big on democracy or diplomacy. If you didn't stand up for yourself, nobody else would and you ended up at the bottom of the heap. Of course, me bein' the smallest, I had to fight more than most just to keep my share of the grief and housework from getting too big. You know what it's like to have a sister five years younger than you try to push you around?"

Phule was caught flat-footed by the question and groped for an answer. Fortunately none seemed to be required; as Super Gnat continued.

"Anyway, I sort of got in the habit of going for anyone who tried to hassle me. You see, when you're my size, you can't wait for the other person to swing first, or it's all over before it starts. You gotta go for them first if you want to get your licks in. Even then it doesn't always work, but at least that way you've got a chance."

She paused to sip her coffee, then wiped her mouth decisively with the napkin.

"I guess what I'm saying, sir, is that what you sees is what you gets. I can appreciate that my fighting all the time is disruptive, but it's an old habit and I personally wouldn't make book on its changing. If it really bothers you, I could transfer out. Lord knows it won't be the first time."

Despite his poise, Phule was a bit taken aback by the frankness of this little Legionnaire. While he was concerned about the conduct of the company, he found himself warming to the Gnat.

"I... really don't think that will be necessary," he said, dismissing the possibility offhand. "Tell me, doesn't it bother you that you always get beaten? Why do you keep picking fights you can't win?"

For the first time since the start of their conversation, Super Gnat looked uncomfortable.