"Interesting," the governor murmured thoughtfully. He stared out the window, then shook his head.

"Nope. I can't do it. Since you've got a gun to my head, Captain, I might as well be honest with you. Normally I'd take your money, then get back to you with a message that I had been outmaneuvered. The way things are, though, you'd probably take it as a double cross and shit all over my loan application. The actual situation is that I can't help your boys, even enough to give them a chance. I've already signed the contract with the Regular Army for the job, and I can't get out of it if I wanted to."

"Oh, I expected that, Governor," Phule said easily. "I believe there is one loophole that you could wiggle out of... if you were so inclined, that is."

"What's that?"

"Why, the settlement ordinance that forbids the unilateral contracting of services without the review of competitive bids, of course."

"I'm sorry, I don't recall any such-"

"As a matter of fact, I happen to have a copy of the ordinance right here, sir."

The commander produced a sheet of paper from his pocket and set it on the desk in front of the governor.

"You'll notice that it's signed by the members on the Settlement Council and that it's dated a week before your contract with the Regular Army... sir."

Wingas made no move to pick up the document. Instead, he narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Phule.

"Captain... why do I find myself thinking that if I were to call for the original of this document, I'd find that some of the signatures on it would still be wet?"

"I believe I did mention that I had to make a couple extra stops before I called on you this evening," the commander pointed out levelly.

The governor threw up his hands in theatric surrender.

"All right! I give up! When the Army gets here, we'll set up a competition where you and your thugs will have a chance at the contract! Is that all, or do you want my dog, too? I don't have a daughter."

"That will be all, Governor Wingas," Phule said, rising and reclaiming the paper from the governor's desk. "Needless to say, I'm glad we had this little talk. I was sure we'd be able to work things out."

"Captain Jester!"

The governor's voice stopped him with his hand on the doorknob.

"Sir?"

"Have you ever considered running for public office?"

"Me, sir? No."

"Good. "

CHAPTER TWELVE

Journal #121

In reviewing my entries thus far, I notice they give the impression that my employer was always on top of things and anticipated every contingency. Such was not the case. He was certainly exceptional when it came to adapting quickly to situations or covering when surprised, but surprised he was... more often than he would ever care to admit.

I can state this unequivocally, as it was my privilege to be present on more than one occasion when he was clearly (to my eye) caught flat-footed.

The company's new facility, or The Club, as the Legionnaires took to calling it, was certainly no comedown from the comfort they had enjoyed during their stay at the Plaza. In addition to the already referenced confidence course and firing range, it had its own swimming pool and sauna, a moderate-sized gymnasium, and enough rooms to accommodate a small convention. As it evolved, however, the main gathering point for the Legionnaires was the combination dining hall, meeting room, and cocktail lounge. With its comfortable sofas and fireplaces amid the widely scattered tables, it proved to be ideal for socializing during off-duty hours, which in turn made it the pivotal point for dispensing or collecting information or gossip that wasn't available through normal channels.

Phule paused for a moment before seating himself for breakfast, surveying again the bustle of activity in the dining hall. To his eye, it was apparent that there was something afoot this morning. The Legionnaires were huddled together in groups at various tables around the room, their heads close together as they murmured back and forth while poring over something. Occasional snickers erupted, and more than a few speculative glances were directed his way... and there was obvious nudging with elbows as his presence was noted.

That the commander found this conduct puzzling and more than a little curious went without saying. Their general manner was that of school kids sneaking a peek at a frog which had been smuggled into class, all the while wondering what the teacher would do when she discovered its presence. The trouble was, for the life of him he couldn't imagine what would inspire this behavior in his, own motley crew. Finally he gave up trying to speculate and sank into a chair at his butler's table.

"Good morning, Beeker," he said absently, still peering around the room. Were it not for his preoccupation, he might have noticed that his butler never glanced up from the Port-A-Brain he was bent over.

"Morning, sir."

"Tell me; Beek... the troops tell you things they won't tell me... if it isn't a breach of confidence, do you have any idea what has everybody wound up this morning?"

"I believe I could make a fairly accurate guess."

Phule broke off his surveillance and turned his gaze to Beeker, only to find himself studying the top of that notable's head.

"Well?" he prodded.

The butler tore his eyes from the computer screen to meet his employer's gaze with ill-concealed amusement.

"I believe it also explains the sizable donation Brandy made to the company fund... the one you found so puzzling."

"Look, Beek. Are you going to tell me or-"

"I believe it involves this... sir," Beeker-said deadpan as he swiveled the computer screen around to share with the commander.

The screen displayed a page from a magazine, but the reduced size did not affect the impact of the banner headlines superimposed on the picture:

HELL'S BELLES

THE GIRLS OF PHULE'S COMPANY COME IN

SMALL, MEDIUM, AND (VERY) LARGE!!

Sprawled across the page, in what might be politely referred to as their "natural splendor," were the all too recognizable figures of Brandy, Super Gnat, and... Mother!

Beeker watched his employer's face intently for any sign of surprise or alarm, but Phule's expression was as noncommittal as it was when reviewing the profit/loss statement of a company he was considering acquiring. The only clue that there was anything abnormal in his reaction was the length of time he spent studying the display, and it would require someone as familiar with his normal patterns as Beeker to spot even that. Phule was usually able to assimilate information and make decisions at a glance, yet in this situation he stared at the screen as if it was a busted flush he could change by willpower alone.

"I could download it and run an enlarged hard copy if you'd like... sir," the butler said at last, unable to restrain the urge to bait Phule out of his silence.

"I'm well aware of that, Beeker," was the calm reply as Phule continued to keep his eyes glued to the screen.

"It would be no trouble at all," Beeker pressed relentlessly. "I've already had several requests for just that from your Legionnaires, so one or two copies more or less wouldn't-"

"Is this local or interstellar?"

"What do you think... sir?"

Phule raised his eyes at last to stare sightlessly at the far wall for several moments before answering.

"I think..."

"Oh! You've seen it! Hi, Beeker!"

The butler rose politely to greet the company's first sergeant.

"Good morning, Brandy. Yes, the captain and I were just discussing it, as a matter of fact."