"Eleven." Phule drummed the pencil on the desktop for a moment; then, with a start, he put it down and clasped his hands together. "Well, that's a surprise," he said. "You seem to have been getting your message across very effectively, Rev."

The chaplain bowed his head. "I can't take much credit for it, Captain," he said with humility that seemed genuine enough. "My words have fallen on fertile ground, is all."

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Brandy, bristling.

"Easy, Sarge," said Rev. "No criticism implied. Why, all I mean is, the King's an inspiration for anybody what thinks they can better theirselves. I reckon that could be all of us, if we jes' look at it right."

"I don't want to look at it at all," said Brandy with a significant glance at the chaplain's profile. "Besides, you still haven't told me how I'm supposed to tell one of these eleven legionnaires from another when they all look the same."

"Oh, it ain't all that hard, Sarge," said Rev. "You jes' have to value each and everybody as an individual in their own right, you know? Once you get past the surface, there's all kinds of differences between folks. How tall somebody is, or the exact color of their eyes and hair, or the shape of their hands. You learn pretty soon, Sarge, believe me. I've got plenty experience at it."

"Well, that's good," said Phule, rubbing his hands. "I've been saying all along that we need to take advantage of the individual capabilities of our people, and this is a chance to learn even better what those capabilities are. And there may be advantages to having a group of legionnaires an outsider can't tell apart. I'm sure we'll think of a few now that we've got the capability, won't we, Sergeant?"

"I guess so," said Brandy, looking at Rev out of the corner of her eye. "Well, if that's how it's going to be, I guess I can handle it. I'll have the recruits wear extra-large name tags while I'm learning to spot all these subtle differences between them."

"Good thinking, Brandy," said Phule. "I knew we could solve this if we put our minds to it." His tone and manner made it clear that the matter was solved, as far as he was concerned, and the sergeant and chaplain quickly took the hint and left the office. And that, Phule thought, was the end of it.

Journal #497

The robot my employer had gotten to impersonate him at the Fat Chance Casino on Lorelei was a deluxe model from Andromatic, built to his specifications. Its range of behavior was limited but sufficient to convince people that my employer was still on the job. Generally, it would sit behind a desk and appear to be working. But it also walked around the casino, sat down for drinks with customers, carried on conversations-and broke off the minute the topic strayed beyond generalities. If anybody really needed to talk to Captain Jester, there was always the communicator.

What my employer left out of account was that his company had begun to attract attention in its own right. The success of the Landoor amusement parks-several lightyears away from Lorelei-had put his picture on holovid screens all over the Galaxy. While a certain amount could be explained by rapid travel, there was always the danger that somebody would realize that there had to be two Phules.

The danger had been pointed out to him, but of course he dismissed it. "Nobody takes the news seriously, " he had argued when demonstrating the robot to the Fat Chance's board of directors. "Half the time, they just use stock footage of public figures, and nobody notices. " What he left out of account was that his enemies were paying particularly close attention to him.

Two shadowy figures had been lurking in the corridor leading from the Fat Chance Casino's gourmet dining room back toward the Legion quarters for nearly an hour. Luckily for them, nobody had passed during the entire time. Or perhaps it was more than just luck; they'd scouted out the territory carefully in advance and knew the odds were in their favor when they decided to lay their ambush there. But it had been longer than they'd expected, and it was a definite relief when they finally heard footsteps approaching.

"Here he comes," whispered the shorter of the pair, peering out from under the potted plant behind which they were hiding.

"About farkin' time," grumbled her companion. "Any longer, and I was gonna hafta water this here fern."

"Shhh!" warned the other in a barely audible whisper. "We'll blow the whole plan if he hears us."

But their quarry showed no sign of having heard them. The footsteps came closer, neither hesitating nor deviating from their course. The two crouched in anticipation, frozen for a moment; then, as the footsteps came near the plant, the woman stepped quickly out into the corridor. "Captain, you have to help me!" she said.

The captain paused. "Excuse me, ma'am. What sort of help do you need?"

"A man's been following me," she said, looking behind her. The captain's glance followed hers, and as he was distracted, her partner emerged from the shadows behind him, holding a large sack in both hands. He raised his arms, preparing to place it over the captain's head and shoulders; but some slight noise must have given him away. The captain ducked and stepped to the left, and the would-be captor succeeding only in striking him on the shoulder. In an instant, the captain had turned and lashed out with a kick that the captor just barely eluded.

"That's him!" cried the woman, stepping back. The man with the sack cursed and stepped backward. He dropped the sack and turned to run. The captain took a step in pursuit, but then the woman gave out a little cry and collapsed in a heap on the floor. As the captain turned to help her, the attacker escaped around the corner.

"Are you all right, miss?" said the captain. He threw a brief glance over his shoulder to make sure the attacker had not returned, then turned his gaze on her again. Even in the dim lighting, her thick dark hair and flashing eyes would have made a strong impression on any man not entirely devoid of feeling.

"I think so," she said weakly. Her lashes fluttered, and she made a valiant attempt to sit up but slumped against his chest as her energy failed. "I think I'll be safe if you can just take me to my room."

"Yes, miss," he said. "I'll get you there, and I can have security keep tabs on you for the rest of your stay, if you'd like. We don't want our guests to feel unsafe in the Fat Chance. In fact, I feel I should apologize for what's happened so far."

"No apology necessary, Captain," she said. "If you could just help me up..."

Helping her get up and walking her to her room was a somewhat complicated process. The young woman was evidently weakened by her ordeal, since she continued to lean much of her weight on the captain as he led her down the corridor. At the door to her room, he waited while she found her key card and watched while she opened the door. "Do you need any more help, miss?" he asked.

"No, I should be all right," she said, smiling.

"Good," he said and took a step backward.

The young woman smiled bravely and began to close the door behind her, then suddenly said, "Oh!" and began to slump toward the floor again.

The captain stepped forward and caught her before the door closed. "Are you sure you're all right, miss?" he asked. "I can call the hotel doctor."

"I don't think I need a doctor," she said, leaning her weight on his chest. "But maybe you could help me get to my bed."

"Certainly, miss, and then I think I should call the doctor-just in case." He picked her up in his arms and carried her through the door to the side of the bed.

"Oh, you're so strong," she murmured, her lips close to his ear. Her arms twined around his neck.