"I appreciate the advice, Beeker," Phule said, "but for your information the crowd I'm accustomed to playing with has little regard for civilized law. I have not succeeded in the past by underestimating an opponent ... nor by underestimating myself."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

"Enough of that," the commander said. "It's time we got to work. I hope your fingers are rested, Beek, 'cause there's a bit of non-Legion business I want you to take care of for me. We're going to be doing some hiring, and I'd like you to do the initial screening and have your recommendations on my desk by noon tomorrow."

"Very well, sir." The butler was not fazed by the sudden change in mood and topic, nor by the request. The two men had worked together for a long time. "And our requirements are ... ?"

"First, I need a solid casino security man-someone with experience and unquestionable references. Top dollar for the right man. Also, I want at least half a dozen instructors who can teach the table games. Check with the dealer's schools-buy one if you have to-but I need them all here. Charter a ship, too, before our replacements arrive. Offer them all a half year's wages, but we'll only need them from the hiring date until our transport hits the last big port before Lorelei ...What would that be?"

"Port Lowe, sir."

"Right. Next ..." Phule allowed himself a small smile. "This may be a little out of the ordinary for you, Beek, but I need to set up a cattle call."

"Sir?"

"An audition. Find out what our first stop is after we leave here, then use the computer to pull up data on available actors and actresses at that location-bit players only. We don't need any recognizable faces."

"Very well, sir. May I ask what you'll be doing in the meantime ... in case I need to confer with you on any of this?"

"Me?" The commander smiled. "I'll be doing my homework ... seeing what I can learn about organized crime. I think I'll drop into the settlement and pay a visit to our old friend Chief Goetz."

"That won't be necessary, sir."

"Excuse me, Beek?"

"I believe you'll find Chief Goetz at poolside here at The Club. He gave me a lift back from the settlement, and he rarely passes on the opportunity to mix with your troops."

"You got the chief of police to play taxi driver for you?" Phule seemed genuinely impressed.

"Actually, sir, he offered. I was at his home at the time."

"His home?"

"Yes, sir. I've been tutoring his son in algebra on my days off."

The commander laughed and shook his head.

"Beeker," he said, "what would I do without you?"

The butler smiled. "I'm sure I don't know, sir."

Journal #173

As I have both noted and chronicled before, though he is more than effective on an overall basis, my employer is far from infallible. Not only do circumstances occasionally catch him off guard, there are times when his judgment turns out to be shortsighted or simply incorrect.

Such was the case in his estimation of how the Legionnaires under his command would respond to their new assignment.

As was our normal procedure, I was excluded from the actual briefing session, not being a member of the Legion. Of course, as was my normal procedure, I elected to keep informed of my employer's activities by listening in on the meeting through The Club's two-way paging/intercom system ...

There was an air of excitement and anticipation as the company gathered in The Club's combination dining hall and lounge for their briefing. Speculation as to the exact nature of their new assignment was, of course, the subject of much of the scattered discussion, but it was secondary to the main thrust of their emotions. Almost without exception, the Legionnaires were eager for the chance to put their new skills, honed by hundreds of hours of practice, to use. While no real protest had been made, they had been feeling for some time that they were ready for something more challenging than guarding the planet's swamp miners once a week, and it looked as if the Legion was finally in agreement with them.

Of course, not everyone was enthusiastic.

"It'll be great to get off this rock and see some real fighting, won't it, C.H.?"

Chocolate Harry, the company's massive, pear-shaped supply sergeant, turned his head with regal slowness to survey the Legionnaire who had addressed him through his pop-bottle-thick glasses. One of the few blacks in the company, Harry would be an imposing figure even if he didn't favor a fierce bristly beard to offset his close-cropped hair, or wear his uniform tunic with the sleeves ripped off to display his thick arms, but as it was, the cold stare he leveled was enough to dampen the enthusiasm of his questioner even before he spoke.

"I suppose," he said slowly at last. "Personally, though, I'm not lookin' forward to having to move my whole inventory to another location ... especially since I seriously doubt our new facilities will be as lavish as where we are right now."

The Legionnaire being addressed suddenly glanced around the room fearfully as if it were about to vanish as they spoke. Until now, he hadn't stopped to think that a new assignment would mean leaving the company's beloved Club behind.

"Then again," Harry continued, "there's one big problem with `real fighting,' as you call it. Unlike the targets you all have been shootin' to shreds, in real fightin', the targets shoot back. How many of these folks do you think have ever been shot at before? Let me tell you, troop, it's no fun."

The Legionnaire who had started the conversation licked his lips and swallowed hard. The truth was he had never been shot at before, and, now that he found himself seriously considering the possibility, his earlier enthusiasm for real combat was fading fast.

"Well, I've been shot at before," Brandy said, stepping into the conversation, "both as a civilian and in the Legion, and as far as I'm concerned it's a lot better when you can shoot back ... especially if you've got superior firepower and teammates you trust guarding your back."

The supply sergeant gave a quick bark of laughter in spite of his earlier gloominess.

"You got that right, Top. You sure do."

He clapped the now-relieved Legionnaire on the shoulder with a friendly hand.

"Don't you worry none, little buddy. Odds are, they'll ignore you completely, what with two big easy targets like the Top and me around. Just stick close to one of us, and they'll never even see you."

The Legionnaire gave him a nod and a weak smile before wandering off to find another, less nerve-wracking conversation.

"Quit scaring the troops, C.H.," the top sergeant said softly. "At least ease up a bit until we find out for sure what we're getting dropped into. Our captain's done a pretty good job of looking out for us so far. Let's give him the benefit of the doubt for a while-at least until we hear something for sure."

It was a tribute to Phule's personnel management techniques that Brandy, who was once the biggest cynic in the company if not the entire Space Legion, was now a major advocate of optimism, however cautious.

"Oh, you don't have to worry about me backin' him up, Top," Harry assured her. "The cap'n's done all right by me so far, and I ain't one to forget someone who's given me a hand up any more'n I'm likely to forget someone who kicked me when I was down. I just get a little intolerant when kids with no scars start tellin' me how great flghtin' is."

Brandy shrugged. "They'll learn soon enough. Besides, if too many of 'em wise up too quick, then we end up out front when the shooting starts."

"Lord have mercy!" C.H. exclaimed, rolling his eyes in exaggerated horror, then laughed again. "I never thought of it that way. All right, Brandy, you win. I'll keep my mouth off the troops until they've seen the light all by themselves."