The Complete Phule’s Company Boxed Set

by Robert Asprin

  Phule leaned closer and lowered his voice. “There’s a new top-secret operation starting up,” he said. He put his hand on the supply sergeant’s elbow. “In fact, it’s a good thing I ran into you here. We need a man with a good head on his shoulders, and I think you’re right for it. Can you keep this completely to yourself?”

  “Top-secret?” echoed Chocolate Harry. He looked over his shoulder, then nodded. “You know I can keep things quiet, Cap’n,” he rasped. “What’s the poop?”

  Phule looked around with an exaggerated air of conspiracy. “You know that Beeker and I were away from the base, talking to the Zenobian leaders,” he said. “Well, the Zenobians have got a lot of advanced military gear the Alliance hadn’t known about before, and we were trying to get an agreement to try it out—just like the stun rays, you know.”

  “Cool,” said Harry, nodding eagerly. The Zenobian stun rays had made a big impression on him. And, as supply sergeant, he’d be the first to get his hands on any new goodies coming to the company. “What kind of stuff are we getting?”

  “That’s the secret part,” said Phule, still whispering. “I left Beeker behind to make arrangements for the delivery, and now he’s finished with that part. But we can’t let anybody see him returning to camp, or the enemy is likely to guess that something big is about to happen. You know what I mean …” He let his voice trail off.

  “I get it,” said the supply sergeant eagerly. “We got to smuggle him in so nobody spots him. Ain’t no need to ask twice. If that’s your business, Chocolate Harry’s your man! What you want me to do, Cap’n?”

  “Here’s the plan,” said Phule, and he whispered into Chocolate Harry’s ear.

  After a few moments, the supply sergeant began to nod enthusiastically. By the time Phule was finished, he was grinning from ear to ear. “You got it, Cap’n,” he said. “You got every bit of it.”

  “Good,” said Phule. “Now, let’s go do it!”

  * * *

  Major Botchup’s first reaction upon being wakened from a sound sleep by the Klaxon was annoyance. I didn’t schedule another drill, he thought to himself. Snipe’s going to pay for this. Then he heard another noise under the racket of the horn: the beep of his wrist communicator’s alarm, a few feet away on his nightstand. Something was going on.

  He sat up and grabbed the communicator. “Botchup here,” he growled. “What’s going on?”

  “Trouble, sir,” came Lieutenant Snipe’s whining voice.

  “I know that, you twit!” roared Botchup. “What kind of trouble?”

  “We’ve got an alarm in Sector Blue, sir,” said Snipe, whining even more annoyingly. “The guards on that part of the perimeter aren’t responding to signals. Considering that we’re in hostile territory, I’ve called a full alert, just to be on the safe side. What are your orders, sir?”

  Botchup nodded; he’d been expecting something like this. “Stay on top of it, Snipe,” he barked. “Keep me informed of anything that happens—anything at all. I’m on my way to the command center.” He cut the connection before Snipe could answer.

  The MBC’s command center was, logically enough, immediately adjacent to the CO’s sleeping quarters, a setup that Botchup would have been surprised to learn had been designed by Phule himself. But it showed in the details: the soundproofing between the work area and the sleeping area and the quick and easy access to every part of the encampment. Unlikely as it was that the CO’s personal presence was required at a given point on the perimeter, he could get there in under five minutes if he was seriously determined to do so.

  Botchup pulled on his uniform, ran a comb through his hair, and quickly ducked through the metal sliding door into the command area. A legionnaire was already on duty, a young human with long sideburns and a hint of a smart-assed expression. There was something about him that Botchup instinctively didn’t like, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Was there a hint of insolence, perhaps, in that little half smile?

  “You,” said Botchup. “What’s the situation?”

  “Uh, we have a possible intruder, sir,” said the legionnaire. From the voice it might have been a woman, thought the Major, though he could have sworn this legionnaire was male. Those sideburns certainly gave that impression.

  The answer would just have to wait, he decided; there were more important problems right now. “Where’s the encroachment, and what’s being done about it?” he snapped, leaning over to peer at the readout the legionnaire had been consulting.

  “Uh, it was over behind Chocolate Harry’s, sir,” said the legionnaire, gesturing vaguely.

  “Was?” said Botchup. “Was? Are you telling me that it’s already over?”

  “Uh, no, sir,” said the legionnaire. “It’s just that—”

  He was interrupted by a cheerful new voice. “Good evening, how’s everybody doing? Is everybody feeling lucky tonight?” It was Captain Jester, wearing a freshly ironed tuxedo. A broad smile was on his face as he sauntered into the command center, and he swirled a martini glass in his left hand.

  “Jester! Are you out of your mind?” barked the major. “The base is under attack—”

  “Security will take care of it,” said Jester, dismissing it with a wave of his hand. “Why don’t we let them handle it? It’s nothing you need to worry about, is it? You’re here to forget your worries. And you’ve come to the right place, let me tell you.” He lifted the martini glass in a salute, then lifted it to his lips.

  “Damn you!” shouted Botchup, and took a swipe at the glass, trying to dash it from Jester’s hand. “You’re drunk! And out of uniform! I’ll have you cashiered from the Legion—”

  “The cashiers are on the first floor, right by the casino entrance,” said Jester, nimbly protecting the glass from Botchup’s clumsy swing. “Remember, you’re here to forget your troubles. Have a drink, play a few games, and you’ll find yourself looking at the world with a new attitude. Remember, though, play with your head, not over it. Well, got to move along. The place is really jumping tonight!” He spun around and was out the door without waiting for an answer.

  Botchup was still trying to make sense of what Captain Jester had just said, and coming up short, when the legionnaire on duty said, “Uh, Major, you’ve got a call from Lieutenant Snipe.”

  The major snatched the comm set from the legionnaire’s hand. “Snipe! What the hell is going on in this crazy place?”

  “Excuse me, sir?” said Snipe. “As I reported before, we’ve had an alarm in Blue Sector—”

  “I know that, you nincompoop,” said Botchup. “Have you sent anybody out to see what’s actually going on there?”

  To Snipe’s credit, he only stammered for a moment before answering, “Uh, sir, I’ll take care of it at once, sir.”

  “If it takes any longer, the damned base is going to be overrun,” barked the major. “I needed that report five minutes ago, you understand? Now do it!”

  “Yes, s—” Botchup cut the connection before Snipe could finish and turned to the command center’s sensors to try to make sense of them. As he quickly discovered, that was a lot easier to try than to accomplish.

  * * *

  The camp was full of black-uniformed legionnaires running headlong toward positions on the defensive perimeter. Jennie Higgins stopped to try to get her bearings; without the night vision goggles the legionnaires would be wearing, it was hard to make out details. She ought to ask the captain for a pair. No, she wouldn’t. She’d accepted her last favor from him.

  “Where do you want me to set up, Jen?” asked a familiar voice nearby. It was her cameraman, Sydney, ready for action despite being rousted out of bed on a moment’s notice; there was a dark mass perched on his right shoulder that had to be his holo equipment.

  Jennie looked around. “I’m not sure yet, Sydney,” she said. “Can you get anything in this light?”

  “Light? There’s light out here?”

  “OK, that answers the question,” said Jennie resignedly. “I d
on’t think the Legion would appreciate your turning on a floodlight just to get a few action shots. In fact, if there’s really an attack under way, I might not appreciate it.”

  “I wasn’t about to offer, if you want to know the truth,” said Sydney. “Maybe we should just wait and see if there’s any action. Maybe there’ll be a few explosions. That’d make good footage, I think.”

  “I like good footage as much as anybody, but if there are any explosions, I hope they’re way out in the desert,” said Jennie. “I’ve got a lot of friends here in the camp.”

  “Hey, I didn’t say I wanted close-ups of explosions,” protested Sydney. “Out in the desert’s fine with me.”

  Jennie said, “Good. Let’s see what we can find out, then. This whole scramble might be just a drill, in which case I want to go back and get some sleep. Maybe one of the officers will let us in on the scoop.”

  “OK, just don’t hold your breath expecting the time of day from Major Botchup,” said Sydney. “He’s about as helpful as snot on a doorknob.”

  “If that,” agreed Jennie. “Let’s see if they’ll let us into Comm Central. Somebody there’ll know what’s happening. And if something is going on, there’ll be enough light there for you to get some footage.” She turned and headed toward the MBC with Sydney close behind.

  * * *

  “Yo, Mother!” Chocolate Harry burst into Comm Central, sweeping past the startled Lieutenant Snipe as if he were invisible. “Cap’n needs a message sent.”

  “Sergeant, aren’t you forgetting something?” said Snipe, frowning. He drew himself up to his full height, still nearly a foot shorter than the supply sergeant and not even in the same arm of the bell curve in terms of sheer bulk.

  “No, man, it’s cool. I got it all,” said Chocolate Harry, paying about as much deference to the lieutenant as a battle cruiser would to a garbage scow. “Now listen, Mother, here’s the deal—”

  “Sergeant, this base is in a state of emergency,” Snipe said, in a nagging tone of voice. “The equipment has to be reserved for essential military communications, and as officer on duty, that is my decision to make.”

  “Look here, the cap’n told me to send this,” said Harry, turning for the first time to face Snipe. “You got a problem, go talk to him, OK? Better yet, go—”

  Before Harry could complete the sentence, the door burst open again, and in came Jennie Higgins and her holocam operator. “Hi!” said Jennie, with her best professional smile. “Can anybody tell me whether this is a drill or not? If it’s the real thing, I’ve got to put together a story.”

  “Honey, this is some serious shit goin’ down,” said Chocolate Harry with a wink. “I can’t tell you nothin’ now, but you come talk to me when it’s over, and I’ll tell you stuff make your hair curl.”

  “Her hair already curling,” said Tusk-anini, looking up from his book.

  Lieutenant Snipe raised his voice. “I want this area cleared at once,” he shouted. “The major has put the base on full alert status—”

  “He didn’t do that,” interrupted Tusk-anini. “You do that, just a few minutes ago.”

  “Can I get your statement?” said Jennie, stepping up to the lieutenant and turning on her microphone. Sydney hovered behind her, his holocam humming almost inaudibly. “I’m speaking to Lieutenant Erwin Snipe of Omega Company. Can you tell my viewers whether the base is under attack?”

  “Yo, Jennie, don’t go botherin’ Snipe with questions,” said Chocolate Harry, waving his hand. “You’ll just get him worse confused. Nobody tells baby lieutenants what’s happenin’.”

  “That’s not true!” said Snipe, his voice going up an octave. “I have reports from the front line—”

  He was interrupted again as the door swung open and a new voice boomed out, “Hi, it looks as if I’ve finally found the party!” It was Phule, wearing a perfectly tailored tuxedo and holding a martini glass in one hand.

  “Cap’n!” said Chocolate Harry. “I thought you was goin’—”

  “Change of plans,” said Phule with a wink. “You know, there’s very little in life that’s so important that a fellow can’t afford to stop and smell the roses, is there?”

  “Captain, I have reason to believe that this base is under attack!” said Lieutenant Snipe. “If I could get the comm center clear of unauthorized personnel …”

  Jennie stepped forward. “Captain, can you confirm the lieutenant’s rumor of an attack?”

  Snipe tried again, a little bit louder. “All unauthorized personnel will leave the comm room at once, or I will have security clear it!”

  “Oh, man, will you get off that jive?”

  “Tgfrblt …”

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m going to go attack the free lunch buffet over by the dollar slots. It’s the best deal in the casino!”

  “Captain, can you confirm or deny the rumor?”

  “Tgfrblt!”

  “I’m calling security right now, do you hear me?”

  “Who you calling security?”

  “Come on, let’s go see the action at the roulette tables!”

  “Will everybody please shut up for one freaking minute?” The voice booming through the loudspeaker behind the comm console made everyone in the room jump and turn to look. There was Mother, standing at the console with a mic in her hand, glaring at the room. Suddenly realizing that six pairs of eyes and one Galaxy-wide network holocam were pointing at her, she gave a little shriek and ducked back behind the console almost as if someone had grabbed the collar of her jumpsuit and yanked her down.

  In the silence came Phule’s voice: “Well, time to go see about that free lunch,” and before anyone could respond, he was out the door. Not that anyone was paying particular attention to anything except Mother’s uncharacteristic outburst.

  “Uh, did you wanna say somethin’, Mother?” said Chocolate Harry very sheepishly.

  “She say it already, but people weren’t listening,” said Tusk-anini, shrugging. “Now it too late.”

  “Too late for what?” said Lieutenant Snipe, making one more try to control the rapidly deteriorating situation.

  “Yes, too late for what?” said Phule, slipping quietly into the room. He was wearing a legion jumpsuit that, for the first time in anyone’s memory, seemed not to have been cleaned and pressed within the last twenty-four hours.

  “Cap’n!” said Chocolate Harry. He stared for a moment, then shook his head. “That’s two of the fastest clothes changes I’ve ever seen, dude. You gonna have to tell me how you did that.”

  “Oh, good, you back,” said Tusk-anini. “Mother have message for you from Beeker, but she thought you gone already.”

  “From Beeker!” said Phule, surprise on his face. He lifted up his communicator and pressed a button. “If Beeker’s breaking comm silence, it’s got to be a serious emergency. Patch him through on a secure channel, Mother. I’m ready to receive him.” He lifted the communicator close to his ear.

  Silence reigned in Comm Central as everyone present strained to hear what Beeker was saying, but with Phule holding his wrist communicator inches from his ear, only an undifferentiated buzz was audible.

  Phule’s replies were singularly unhelpful: “Yes?” “Really!” “I’ll get someone on that at once,” and “Good man, Beeker!”

  When he lowered the communicator, every pair of eyes in the room was staring at him. He looked back at them and grinned. “Well, I guess we’ve all got jobs to do, don’t we?” he said, and turned and went out the door again.

  It was Chocolate Harry who broke the silence. “Man, he flies lower than any dude I ever seen.” Then he shook his head and turned to Mother. “That reminds me. Orders from the Cap’n—he didn’t say nothin’ to change ’em, so get this out to all personnel ASAP.”

  “Excuse me, Sergeant,” said Lieutenant Snipe. “We are in an emergency situation, and I am the OD. I am responsible for all communications until further notice.”

  Chocolate Harry stared at him
for a long moment. “Dude, you just got further notice. Mother, send this out, and if any jive-ass Lieutenant wants to put his mark on it, he’s gonna have to do it on the fly.”

  “Chocolate Harry right,” said Tusk-anini, and he folded his arms, adding his stare to Chocolate Harry’s. After a moment, Snipe blinked. He stood up hastily and made a rapid exit from Comm Central. Nobody watching had any doubt where he was going, but nobody bothered to stop him. The only question was whether he and the major had any way to stop them.

  * * *

  “Hey, Brandy, is this a drill or not?” said one of the legionnaires in the trenches looking out into the night. “I got a nice, soft bunk back in the air-conditioning if we ain’t doin’ anything in particular out here.”

  “You think I’m out here trying to get a date?” said Brandy. “All I know is, if this ain’t a drill, some nasty BEM’s likely to hear you jawin’ and put a laser hole through your butt. And if the BEM don’t do it, you got a top sergeant right here that’ll kick it halfway back to Lorelei. Either way, you lose. So maybe you ought to act like it’s the real thing and keep your mouth shut.”

  “Aw, gimme a break, Brandy,” said the legionnaire, but he kept his voice low and his eyes toward the desert beyond the perimeter. If anything was happening out there, it was too subtle to be visible, even with the help of night vision goggles. But Brandy wasn’t in the habit of issuing idle threats, and if she wanted the troops to treat the situation as a genuine emergency, that was what she’d get. After an indeterminate length of time, Brandy’s wrist communicator buzzed. She sighed and reached out to touch the miniature control that would let her hear the incoming message, undoubtedly the recall signal, ending tonight’s drill. Another pointless exercise. That seemed to be Major Botchup’s stock in trade. At least Captain Jester’s exercises usually had some objective she could understand. It wasn’t until she realized that she had also heard the buzz from all the other communicators within earshot that she began to wonder whether this might be something other than an ordinary drill after all.