The actors, seated in auditorium formation at one end of the transport’s ballroom, exchanged looks for a few moments. Since the company leaders appeared before them in the unexpected black uniforms to start the briefing, silence had reigned, and even now everyone seemed reluctant to speak.
“Mr. Phule?”
“That’s ‘Captain Jester’ or just ‘Captain’ for the duration.” The commander smiled gently. “Yes? You have a question?”
“You said that we were free to withdraw if we wanted to, now that we’ve heard the whole story. How would that work, exactly? I mean, now that we’ve lifted off and are en route, wouldn’t it be kind of hard for us to get back to Jewell?”
“You would be provided with a return ticket to Jewell—at our expense, of course—after we had completed our assignment,” Phule explained. “In the meantime, you would be held incommunicado on Lorelei. While you were our guests, all expenses would be paid as well as a small stipend, but it should be noted that your earnings would be substantially less than what will be paid if you honor your contracts and stand duty with us.”
There was some mumbling in the assemblage at this announcement, but Phule held up his hand for silence.
“Believe me, I regret having to take this position, but we can’t run the risk of having too many people wandering around who know about the substitution we’re attempting. It would be dangerous to our undercover members, as well as to those of you who do stand duty, if information is leaked that not all the Legionnaires guarding the casino are combat-trained. I cannot stress enough the need for secrecy on this assignment. Now, obviously, we’d rather you all agreed to stick around, but it will be understood if you choose to withdraw at this time. I can only apologize that the situation required that we kept you in the dark as long as we have. Take your time and think it over, but I’d appreciate it if you’d let me know as soon as you’ve made up your minds so we can try to arrange for replacements if necessary.”
“Just how dangerous will standing duty be, Captain?”
“Minimal,” the commander said firmly. “We haven’t worked together before, so you have no way of knowing my personal style. Let me assure you, however, that if I thought there was even an average chance of physical danger, I wouldn’t be putting you in this spot. All we have so far is a rumor, unconfirmed, that there may be an attempt to take over the casino by organized crime. Even if it’s true, I’m expecting more of a financial attack than any kind of physical harassment. That chance does exist, however, so it would be less than honest of me to withhold the information while you were making up your minds, though I’ll admit the pay scale you were offered to lure you into this position was inflated, in part, to compensate for the potential hazard. Also, rest assured that we are not entirely without plans if things do get a little rough. I say specifically a little rough since it is my understanding that organized crime has long since abandoned armed confrontation due to the legalities and publicity involved. Each of you is being teamed with an experienced Legionnaire, and I suggest that in event of trouble, you step back and let them handle it as they have been trained to do. Also, if any of you are still nervous, hand-to-hand combat training will be available during the trip, and while it might not make you experts, it should provide you with the basic skills necessary to get you out of any awkward situation which may arise. Frankly, we’re hiring you as decoys, not as combat troops. If things do take a turn for the worse, you have my personal guarantee that your contracts will be ‘terminated with cause’ from our end, and you will be free to leave.”
He swept the assemblage with his eyes.
“Any other questions?”
The actors looked around as well, but there were no takers.
“Very well.” Phule nodded. “I’ll be trying to spend some time with each of you, individually and informally, during the trip in an effort to get to know you better. In the meantime, if you’ll follow Sergeant Moustache now, you’ll be issued uniforms and given your teammate assignments. If you would, please change into your new uniforms and report back here in an hour.”
He allowed a faint smile to flit across his face.
“I’m giving a cocktail party to introduce you to the rest of the company and welcome you to our ranks. It will be a good time for you all to start getting to know each other.”
* * *
Despite my employer’s good intentions, his cocktail party was something less than a roaring success.
While the regular Legionnaires had long since resigned themselves to the inevitability of their new assignment, and had even accepted the necessity of breaking up their established two-person teams, the idea of “outsiders” standing duty with them as equals was still unpopular. Though they were careful to keep their feelings hidden from their commander, it was readily apparent to a careful observer that little warmth was spared on their new “colleagues.”
This was particularly noticeable at the cocktail party … though almost as interesting, if you are a confirmed people watcher like myself, were the opening gambits as the actors themselves began to jostle to establish a pecking order within their own numbers. Without blatant eavesdropping, the exact details of the various conversations remained a mystery, but the general content could often be distinguished simply by observing the body language of the individuals involved …
* * *
Tiffany was not used to being ignored. Not that she was beautiful in the classic sense—surviving as an actress required a brutal honesty which forbade her that particular delusion—but her mane of auburn hair, slightly slanted cat eyes, and ample curves exuded an earthy sensuality that usually guaranteed that men would make room for her in any conversation. As such, she found herself growing increasingly vexed at feeling all but invisible in a room filled by a crowd that was predominantly male.
Fighting a frown (frowns cause wrinkles, darling), she surveyed the gathering again. The chairs from the earlier briefing had been pushed back against the walls, creating an open area in which the Legionnaires stood clustered about in small groups—small closed groups, which seemed oblivious to all else in the room except those people they were talking to immediately.
After having eased up to a few of these groups only to finally wander away again when no one acknowledged her presence, Tiffany was ready to try a new tactic. Moving in a controlled drift, she took up a station near the minibar that had been set up at one end of the room … like any good predator, waiting for her prey near the water hole.
True to her observations, she didn’t have long to wait. If nothing else, the actors had that in common with the Legionnaires. Neither group was likely to squander the opportunity of free drinks at an open bar.
One Legionnaire detached himself from his group and strode over to the bar.
“Scotch, double, rocks,” he told the bartender in the universal shorthand of a confirmed lounge lizard.
Tiffany gulped the remainder of her existing drink in one swallow and stepped into line behind him.
“Hi there,” she said brightly, flashing her best smile. “I’m Tiffany.”
The Legionnaire glanced at her. “Hello.”
Realizing the man was not about to supply his name, she switched quickly to another conversational ploy.
“So … have you been in the Space Legion long?”
“Yes.”
Again the abruptness of the response left her without anything to say.
“Well—”
“Your drink, sir,” the bartender interrupted, pushing his offering across the bar.
To Tiffany’s surprise, the Legionnaire reached into his pocket.
“You’re paying?” she blurted. “I thought this was a free bar.”
The man fixed her with a brief, level stare.
“It is,” he said. “We still tip the bartender, though. Just because the captain’s paying for the drinks is no reason to short the help for their work. Like the captain says: ‘You don’t break someone else’s rice bowl.’”
Wit
h that, he tossed a bill on the bar, gathered up his drink, and left to rejoin his group.
“Something for you, miss?” the bartender said pointedly.
“Hemlock, neat,” she muttered, staring after her departed victim.
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing. Give me a rum and Coke. Heavy on the rum, no lime.”
It was clear that “bright and friendly” wasn’t working. Maybe she should change gears and see if the crowd was up for “sultry and a little horny.”
“Chilly out tonight, isn’t it?”
Tiffany glanced around.
“Lex! I thought that was you at the briefing. Let me tell you, darling, it’s good to see a friendly face. I was starting to think I had grown another head—and an ugly one at that.”
“It isn’t just you,” her savior assured her. “They seem to be unreceptive to any of us—even me!”
The “even me” tagline was, of course, typical of Lex. A male model turned actor, his success had heightened his already substantial opinion of himself. It had been noted more than once that the only thing bigger than his ego was, unfortunately, his talent. When he was “on,” he had the gift of appearing to totally focus his attention, making whoever he was dealing with at the time feel that they were the most important, interesting person in the universe. This impression was conveyed even when the other “person” was a camera lens or the “fourth wall” of a stage, giving him the ability to affect an audience as few actors can. It was only when he was relaxed that his true disdain for others showed, encouraging most to maintain him as an acquaintance rather than as a friend.
Tiffany knew him only in passing from one production they had worked together, and normally would avoid his company. Even now, as desperate as she was for someone to talk to, she couldn’t resist “zinging” him a little.
“Well, some of us seem to be doing okay,” she said, pointing with her chin to a far corner where a petite young girl was engrossed in a conversation with a towering Legionnaire with a huge warthog head.
Lex followed her gaze.
“Who? Her?” He managed to convey both disgust and dismissal by intonation alone. “She isn’t really one of us. She’s only done a few things, all amateur. In fact, this was her big try at breaking into professional acting.”
Tiffany cocked an eyebrow at him.
“How do you know all that?”
“I talked to her earlier, after the briefing.”
“And she wouldn’t give you a tumble, eh?” she finished for him with a grin.
“Don’t be a bitch, Tiffany,” Lex said, unruffled. “Just because I didn’t come after you first is no reason to be catty.”
“Say … what are you doing here anyway?” she said, indulging in a small frown. “I thought they were looking for relative unknowns. Didn’t I hear you landed a part in a holo-soap?”
“I didn’t list that on my audition sheet,” Lex said, glancing around nervously. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d keep it quiet. My part was canceled after a half dozen episodes, and it was only in planetary syndication anyway. I guess our recruiter-in-disguise there doesn’t watch the soaps … which is just as well for me. Frankly, Tiff, I need the money. I went a little wild with my spending when I landed the part. Got so excited I didn’t read the contract close enough. Missed the ‘character cancellation’ clause completely.”
“Gee, that’s tough,” Tiffany said sympathetically, and meant it. Though she might not like Lex as a person, he was still a fellow professional, and she could understand how crushing it would be to think one had finally gotten their big break, only to have it jerked away from them. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.”
Lex gave a quick smile of thanks, then turned his attention to the party again.
“So … what do you think so far?” he said, scanning the crowd. “Are you going to stick around or sit this one out?”
“Oh, I’m definitely going to work this one,” Tiffany said. “As to the job itself … unless these clowns loosen up a little, it could be a long tour, if you know what I mean.”
“Hey. They’re no different from us,” chimed in a lanky individual who had just stepped up to the bar and overheard Tiffany’s comment. “Think of them as a road troupe that have been working together for a long time. We’re the new replacements, and they aren’t going to cut us any slack until we’ve shown them what we can do.”
“Hey, Doc!” Lex said, waving for him to join their conversation. “Didn’t get a chance to say hi earlier. Was that your son with you?”
“Sure was.” He raised his voice to call across the room. “Yo! Junior! Come over here a minute.”
The gangly teenager Tiffany had noted before rose from the chair he had been holding down and began ambling toward them.
“He sure has grown,” Lex said, making the obligatory observation.
“Sure has,” the newcomer confirmed. “I’m thinking of maybe using him for a stand-in for me in some of the rougher gags.”
Even though she didn’t find the man particularly attractive, Tiffany found her curiosity piqued. Lex usually held himself aloof from his colleagues, and generally had no use for men at all, unless they were producers, directors, or someone else important enough to further his career. The latter possibility was enough to capture her undivided attention.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” she said, holding out her hand. “I’m Tiffany.”
“I’m sorry,” Lex said, slapping his forehead melodramatically with his palm. “I thought everybody knew Doc … well, everybody who counts. Tiffany, this is Doc. Short for ‘Scene Doctor.’ He’s made me look real good the times we’ve worked together.”
“How so?” Tiffany asked, then realized she was talking to the back of Doc’s head.
That individual was craning his neck, trying to get a better look at the scene that was unfolding a few steps away, where his son had been stopped by one of the Legionnaires waiting in line for a drink.
“You look pretty young to be a Legionnaire, sonny.”
Unruffled, the youth shrugged.
“The casting director—I mean, the lieutenant—didn’t seem to think so,” he said easily.
“Oh yeah?” the Legionnaire sneered. “Tell me … have you ever killed a man?”
“No,” the youth admitted. “But I almost did once.”
“Really?” his challenger said, clearly taken aback by the unexpected answer. “What happened?”
“I almost ran over him with a forklift.”
There was a few seconds’ pause, then the Legionnaire flushed a bright red.
“Are you trying to get cute with me, kid?”
“Take it easy there, hoss,” Doc said, stepping forward to drape an arm around his son’s shoulders. “He was just trying to answer your question truthfully. You don’t have to worry about him pulling his own weight, either. He does his job as well as the next man, and better than most. Here, I’ll show you.”
With that, he made a fist with his free hand and suddenly launched an overhand punch into his son’s face. There was a painful smack of flesh hitting flesh, and the youth went sprawling.
All conversation in the room ceased as abruptly as if it had been recorded background noise and someone pulled the plug.
“Jeez!” the wide-eyed Legionnaire gasped, staring at the figure on the floor. “What’d ya go and do that for? I was just—”
“Stand easy!”
At the barked command, the others in the room relaxed slightly and returned to their conversations, though many a curious and suspicious glance was directed at their group.
“Oh no,” the Legionnaire said softly, almost in a groan.
The company commander was bearing down on them, his face set in a grim mask, while his junior officers and a few of his sergeants materialized out of the crowd to trail along casually in his wake.
The entourage halted before the offending group, and the commander swept them all, standing and prone, with a steely gaze before fixing hi
s eyes on the distraught Legionnaire.
“Well? Should I ask?” he said in a tone as icy as the void outside the ship’s hull.
“I didn’t do anything! Really, Captain!” the Legionnaire protested desperately. “We were just standing here talking and—”
“It’s no big deal, sir,” Doc said, stepping forward. “My son and I were just giving the others here a little demonstration. Didn’t think it would get everyone riled up.”
“Demonstration?”
“That’s right.”
Doc extended a hand down to his son, who seized his wrist and bounced lightly to his feet, apparently unharmed.
“Guess you haven’t had a chance to go over our files, Captain,” Doc continued easily. “Junior and me are stuntmen.”
“I see,” the commander said, thawing slightly. “Well, I’d appreciate it if you’d refrain from any further ‘demonstrations.’ Or at least give us a bit of warning. We try to discourage fighting, or even the appearance of fighting, at social gatherings.”
“No problem … sir.” Doc shrugged. “Sorry, but we’re still learning the ins and outs of this crew.”
“You’ll catch on,” the commander said, relaxing into a smile. “In fact, if you’re willing, I’d appreciate it if you’d give a demonstration for the whole company sometime, and maybe even a few lessons if you’re …” He broke off suddenly, his eyes narrowing with a passing thought. “By the way,” he said with forced casualness, “before we get too far off the subject, may I ask what prompted this little demonstration just now?”
“I—I was saying that the k—the gentleman here seemed a bit young to be a Legionnaire, sir.”
The commander ran a quick, appraising eye over the youth.
“Nonsense,” he said firmly. “He may look young, soldier, but he’s the same age you are. Isn’t that right?”
“He is?”
“Isn’t that right?”
“Oh … yes, sir!”
“Because if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t be able to stand duty with us in a casino. Understood?”
“Yes, sir. Understood, sir.”
“Very good.” The commander nodded. “Be sure to spread the word to the others.”
The Complete Phule’s Company Boxed Set Page 32
