The Complete Phule’s Company Boxed Set

by Robert Asprin

  That verified, Victor Phule decided to indulge himself with a few moments’ conversation. “Luck doesn’t enter into it,” he said. “Beating these machines is easy, if you have a good system and stick to it.”

  “You must have a lot of faith in your system,” said the woman, eyeing the machine that Phule had just been playing. “Could you teach me how you play?”

  Victor Phule looked at her again, sizing her up. “You don’t look as if you have enough money to play on these machines,” he said. “They’re five thousand dollars minimum …”

  “Yes, that’s what convinced me you must have a good system,” said the woman. She paused, then said, “My name’s Lola, by the way.”

  Phule ignored her attempt to get his name. “You need to get a set of five machines and protect them from anyone else playing them until you’ve won your quota. So if you were thinking about putting a token in one of these, forget about it.”

  Lola smiled. “I’m afraid that even if I had your confidence, I don’t have your bankroll. If I like your system enough to try it, it’ll be on the five-dollar machines. But go ahead, Mr. …?”

  “Next thing is, you have to set yourself an amount you’re going to win, and once you win it, you stop for the day. Slot machines are calibrated to take a certain percentage of the bets made on them, so you have to resist the belief that you can hit the jackpot twice in a row.”

  “I see,” said Lola. “So you’re feeding your own bank of machines until they pay off, then quitting while you’re ahead.”

  “Yes, essentially that’s it,” said Victor Phule. “I’m betting that most of the players are too undisciplined to follow a system like mine. So their losses build the jackpot even bigger for me, you see.”

  “I guess so,” said Lola, nodding dubiously. “But what happens if …”

  But by then Victor Phule had decided that the young woman was interesting, but not enough so to distract him from his mission of breaking the bank at the Fat Chance Casino. He rubbed his palms together, a signal to the bodyguard, and said, “Well, Miss, it’s been a pleasure talking to you. But I really have to get back to work here.” And no sooner were the words out of his mouth than Eddie Grossman was there, gently taking the woman by the elbow and steering her toward the exit, talking quietly to her. Eddie was good at what he did—most likely, the young woman would never be aware that she’d been given the brush-off. If he wanted to renew the conversation, it would be as if nothing had ever broken it off.

  He put a token in the slot and pulled the lever …

  * * *

  Lola walked out of the High Rollers’ Lounge in the Fat Chance Casino burning with curiosity. Her first encounter with Victor Phule had been much stranger than she had expected. About the only thing that fit any predictable pattern was the bodyguard’s moving in gently to encourage her to end the conversation with his client. Phule must have flashed him some signal she’d missed. But that was all right—she’d actually gotten to talk to him much longer than she’d hoped to.

  Unfortunately, she hadn’t learned very much of use. Victor Phule’s explanations of why he was playing the casino’s quantum slots didn’t make any sense—and that set off all her alarms. She didn’t see any reason to point out that nobody else but the armaments tycoon was playing the five-thousand-dollar machines. Without the undisciplined players he depended on to build up the losses, his supposed “system” was nonsense. Besides, everybody but the most unthinking fish knew that the slots gave the worst odds in the whole casino. Obviously, nobody who could build a financial empire like Phule-Proof Industries could be so cavalier about throwing away his money. So there must be something else going on here.

  What was Victor Phule’s real game? Was his conspicuous high rolling nothing more than shilling, meant to encourage others to play recklessly? Was his so-called system just a way to convince players that the slots might not be the bad investment that every sensible gambler claimed they were? Or was something even deeper going on here? Lola did her best to keep her face cheerful, to keep Victor Phule talking. Whatever his game was, she intended to find out—and to be there to scam him out of a share of the proceeds, whenever it did pay off.

  It wasn’t going to be an easy job, Lola told herself. But it had a lot better chance of paying off than Victor Phule’s system for playing the slots. And whether or not he realized it, she had a lot more at stake than he did. She smiled again. Always bet on the hungry fighter, said the old gambler’s cliché. One thing for sure: she was a lot hungrier than Victor Phule. And she was going to get her bite out of him, one way or another.

  * * *

  Back at Zenobia Base, Willard Phule’s wrist intercom buzzed, then Mother’s voice came through the speaker.

  “Hate to wake you up, cutie pie, but we’ve detected an incoming ship. You might want to tidy up before they get here.”

  Phule, who had been wide-awake (it was midafternoon, after all) and working at his desk, grinned. “Thanks, Mother,” he said. “That must be the party of bigwigs we’ve got to entertain for Ambassador Gottesman. Try to hail them, and patch me in when they answer.”

  “Will do, sweetums,” purred Mother, and she broke the connection.

  “Do you plan to meet these, uh, bigwigs in person?” asked Beeker, looking up from the financial program he’d been running.

  “Sure, if it really is them,” said Phule. “I’m not going to go charging out to meet just anybody again. I learned my lesson with those AEIOU inspectors. I all but rolled out the red carpet for them, and they’ve been nothing but trouble ever since.”

  “That’s an understatement, sir,” said Beeker, sniffing faintly. “I found them an unpleasant company from the beginning. I am more and more convinced that they were dispatched here by one of your enemies and now need to find sufficient violations to justify the expense of shipping them to this planet.”

  “It does seem like the kind of thing General Blitzkrieg would try,” Phule said, musing. “Although it might even be a bit too subtle for him. He’s more the kind to try something direct, like sending Major Botchup to replace me in command. That’s the old Legion way, which is all Blitzkrieg seems to understand.”

  “I don’t think I’d use the term understand to describe the general’s mental processes,” said Beeker. “Still, I wouldn’t be so quick to overlook the possibility that he might from time to time come into the possession of competent advice and actually follow it. Even as you do on occasion, sir.”

  Phule stared at Beeker, trying to figure out whether or not the butler expected him to take offense at the comment. After a long moment, he shrugged, and said, “Well, I can’t deny the possibility. But now that they’re here, figuring out who sicced them on us is secondary to figuring out how to get them off the company’s back. I think we’re about as environment-friendly …”

  “A barbarous locution,” muttered Beeker.

  Phule hesitated one beat, then continued, “About as environmental-friendly as we can be and still carry out our mission,” he said. He was used by now to the butler’s correcting his grammar and diction on the fly, although he couldn’t always figure out exactly what Beeker was objecting to. Judging from Beeker’s sour expression, his attempt to correct himself hadn’t made things any better. “Besides, this is the Zenobians’ home world,” he added. “I’d think as long as they’re happy with the company’s performance, a bunch of Alliance bureaucrats don’t have much to say about it.”

  “Don’t be so sure of that, sir,” said Beeker. “Have you looked into the precise terms on which Zenobia joined the Alliance? I would be very surprised if the natives of a new world were allowed to come in without major concessions to the powers that be—of which the regulatory bureaucracy is a not insignificant constituent. Having gotten a toehold on this world, the AEIOU is bound to do all it can to increase its power and influence here. No sensible person could expect otherwise.”

  “Hmmm …” Phule frowned. “I think I’m going to send Chief Potentary Korg a
note about these people, emphasizing that they came without our being informed. From the way he acted when I told him about the hunting party, he’s pretty touchy about what off-worlders try to do on Zenobia …”

  Phule was interrupted by the buzz of his communicator. “Captain, we’ve made contact with the incoming ship,” said Mother. “Just as you thought—it’s those fat cats Ambassador Gottesman sent here. You want to talk to them, or shall I send them away?”

  “Oh, thanks, Mother,” said Phule. “Of course I’ll talk to them—put them through.” Then a new thought crossed his mind. “Umm … actually, give me a moment to think about where to have them land. I’d rather not have the AEIOU people notice them.”

  “It’ll be rather a challenge to keep someone from noticing a nearby shuttle landing, sir,” said Beeker. “At least, I can think of nothing short of having them alight on the opposite side of the planet, which hardly seems compatible with the ambassador’s orders to treat them as honored guests.”

  “You’re right,” muttered Phule. “Wait a moment! Why don’t we invite the AEIOU people to tour our base, show them all the latest environment-friendly features built into it …”

  “It’s still a barbarous locution,” said Beeker.

  “And while they’re indoors, the bigwigs’ shuttle can land without the AEIOU team noticing it,” Phule continued. He was grinning, now. “We just have to keep the two groups from noticing one another! Mother, you call the AEIOU team and extend the invitation—nicely, mind you! I’ll talk to the hunters and stall them while we get the environmentalists out of the way. If we play our cards right, we can keep them from ever knowing of each other’s presence. And maybe we can even persuade the AEIOU that we’re really nice guys, after all.”

  “It’s a really stupid idea, but it just might work,” said Mother. “I’ll do my best, sweetie. But if they bring Barky, all bets are off.”

  “I doubt we can get them to leave Barky behind,” said Phule. “Well, just warn everybody—particularly the non-humans in the company—that he’s coming, and that they might want to watch their step.”

  “In case Barky decides to drop a little pollution on his own?” asked Mother. Before Phule could answer, she said, “I’ll pass the word, sweetie-poo. Hold on, now—I’m patching the hunters through.” There was a light crackling sound from Phule’s wrist communicator, and a red LED glowed.

  “Hello!” said Phule. “This is Captain Jester of Omega Company. Welcome to Zenobia! I’ve got my people preparing a landing area for you, so I’m going to ask you to take one more orbit of the planet.”

  Beeker rolled his eyes. He knew, as surely as he knew Zenobia’s sun would rise the next morning, that there was going to be more trouble. And he knew perfectly well whose job it was going to be to get Phule out of it. He sighed. He’d taken the job with open eyes, and there was no point getting annoyed about it now. Still, the boy ought to have learned something by now …

  Chapter Eight

  Journal #688

  My employer, for all his dedication to the military life, was at bottom a businessman. In that, he resembled his father. He also resembled that gentleman in a firm conviction that his own view of the world was fundamentally accurate, and that others who did not share it were in need of correction. Unlike his father, he was at least willing to give those others sufficient data to arrive at such a correction. It did not occur to him that others might interpret the same data differently …

  It must have been some such motivation that induced him to invite the AEIOU inspection team to tour the Legion base camp. The fact that, to all appearances, they had come to the planet with the express purpose of shutting down that very camp seemed to carry no weight with him.

  Surely he can’t have been so foolish as to believe that an afternoon’s VIP tour would be enough to overcome the chief inspector’s evident belief that a military unit was by its very definition incapable of adhering to environmentally correct policies.

  * * *

  “Welcome to Zenobia Base,” said Lieutenant Rembrandt, smiling as she met Chief Inspector Snieff and her AEIOU team in the courtyard. Phule had chosen her and Sushi, who had the closest approximation of all his legionnaires to something resembling diplomatic temperament, to make up the greeting party.

  The three AEIOU inspectors, accompanied by Barky, the Environmental Dog, had walked from their camp to the Legion base. Phule had, of course, offered to send a hoverjeep for them, but Snieff had turned him down peremptorily. “Nonessential energy use is a crime against posterity,” she snarled. “The Legion should have a greater sense of its role in preserving precious resources.”

  Now Chief Inspector Snieff looked suspiciously at Omega Company’s modular base camp unit. “I see a great many artificial materials being used here,” she said. “That must have had a high energy cost.” She and her two assistants were wearing uniforms of some coarsely woven natural fiber.

  “We don’t have very much choice in a semiarid setting,” said Rembrandt. “The Zenobians insisted that we site our base camp here, so as not to use up territory they considered more valuable. As you may know …”

  “The Zenobians should consider all their territory untouchable,” said Inspector Slurry. “If the locals can’t recognize its value, it’s our mission to show them. We have already had ample occasion to marvel at the wildlife in this area …”

  “That’s funny,” said Sushi, with a broad smile. “I’ve had quite a few encounters with the wildlife out there. As best as I can recall, I was usually too busy trying to keep the little beasties from biting or stinging me to have much time left to marvel at them. Do you have some kind of secret vermin repellent, or do the local critters just respect your proper green attitude?”

  “Sushi!” said Rembrandt. Phule had instructed them to avoid antagonizing the visitors.

  “That’s all right, Lieutenant,” said Inspector Gardner, with a grin—apparently the only one the AEIOU team had brought with it. He turned to Sushi, and said, “We get our share of bites, too. The main trick to avoiding them is to learn when the various animals are actively feeding and stay out of their territory then. If we absolutely have to work in a certain area when the local bug equivalents are active, we wear protective clothing.”

  Snieff nodded. “After all, our blood could be poisonous to them—which means their bites would do them a lot more harm than us. This is their world, after all—we would be remiss if we exposed them to danger.”

  “I don’t know,” said Sushi. “I bet the other animals on the planet don’t think twice about squishing a bug that’s trying to bite them. Why, when we were traveling through the desert with Flight Leftenant Qual …”

  “Why don’t we take our visitors to meet the captain?” said Rembrandt, cutting Sushi off in midsentence. She’d already heard how Qual had used his stunner to clear annoying vermin from the legionnaires’ path during their desert mission a few months before, and she didn’t expect the AEIOU team would find the story enlightening. She was also under strict orders to get the inspectors inside the base before the hunting party’s shuttle began its landing approach. “I think you’ll be surprised at some of the environmentally friendly features built into the module,” she said, pointing toward the closest entrance. “If you’ll follow me inside …”

  “Woof!” said Barky. The Environmental Dog had been sitting politely nearby, generally ignoring the activity in the camp around him. Quickly, Rembrandt turned, hoping there wasn’t going to be trouble. Phule had warned everyone in Omega Company that the dog was coming to visit. That gave the nonhuman legionnaires, or anyone else to whom Barky seemed to have taken a particular dislike, the chance to make themselves scarce. That didn’t mean that Barky might not take a particular dislike to yet another member of the Omega Mob …

  There stood Mahatma, smiling his beatific smile at the Environmental Dog. “Hello,” said the little legionnaire. “It is not often that a famous animal star visits Omega Company.”

  Rembrandt t
ook a deep breath. So far, at least, Barky didn’t seem to be taking exception to Mahatma’s presence. But she knew Mahatma too well, especially his uncanny ability to find the single most unsettling question to ask in any given situation. That might not make Barky angry, but she couldn’t be sure that Chief Inspector Snieff wouldn’t sic the dog on him if she thought he was getting impertinent. And Mahatma could get very impertinent …

  “Mahatma,” said Lieutenant Rembrandt, “weren’t you supposed to be on perimeter guard duty just now?” Maybe he’d get the hint …

  But Mahatma wasn’t taking any hints. “I wonder why the inspectors risk bringing a genetically engineered animal to this world?”

  Rembrandt stepped forward, putting an arm around Mahatma’s shoulders. “Uh, I’m sure the inspectors know exactly what they’re doing …”

  “Oh, we can speak for ourselves, Lieutenant,” said Chief Inspector Snieff, with a predatory smile. “Of course Barky is genetically engineered,” she continued. “But since there are no other creatures of his species here, there is no chance of his passing on his genes, and therefore no threat to the Zenobian environment.”

  “On worlds with other dogs, we take additional precautions, naturally,” added Inspector Slurry.

  “Naturally,” said Mahatma, still smiling broadly.

  “Well, shall we go see the captain?” said Rembrandt, attempting to herd the environmental inspectors toward the entrance to the base module. It was only a matter of moments before Mahatma sprung his inevitable follow-up question, which was likely to be even more unsettling than the first one.

  She wasn’t fast enough. “Of course, there are other ways for those genes to get into the environment,” said Mahatma.

  Slurry looked at him quizzically. “I’m not sure what you mean …”