Phule's Company Read online

  Realizing the nature of the individuals we had just relocated into the settlement, a visit by my employer to the local constabulary was a wise, if not necessary, move... one which I would normally applaud. In this specific instance, however, there was an easily anticipated problem with such a tactic: the current chief of police.

  The world of law enforcement is quite complex, but the individuals within it can usually be divided into two categories: administrators and policemen. The administrator of the local constabulary held the title of police commissioner as well as a seat on the Settlement Council. The chief of police, whom my employer chose to deal with, was responsible for coordinating and managing the day-to-day law enforcement on a "street" level, and was, by anyone's definition, "a cop."

  Much is made in literature of the instant camaraderie between two strong-willed men. In actuality, such a meeting is apt to produce the same results as attempting to add a second tiger to a hill: hatred on sight.

  Chief Goetz was a bull of a man who would look more at home pacing the sidelines of a football game than sprawled behind a desk. His hair was close-shaved, some said in an unsuccessful effort to hide his receding hairline, and only accented the squashed pumpkin shape of a head that seemed to grow directly out of his shoulders. The rolled-up sleeves of his wilted white shirt were tight around biceps that showed no trace of fat, and, as a lingering tribute to his time on the beat, he had "Miranda" tattooed across the knuckles of his beefy right hand. Even when he smiled, which was seldom, his scowl and clenched jaw failed to completely disappear... and he wasn't smiling now.

  If anything, his expression held all the warmth and affection one normally reserves for the deposit left on one's new carpet by a wormy dog, which would be a generous interpretation of his feelings for the slim figure in black who had come to roost in his office.

  "Let me see if I've got this straight, General..."

  "Captain," Phule corrected gently, but Goetz continued without acknowledging the interruption.

  "You've moved some two hundred of your soldier boys into the settlement while the barracks and grounds the Legion rented are being remodeled..."

  "That's right."

  "And in the meantime, they're going to be strutting and swaggering around my streets, in uniform, like trouble looking for a place to happen."

  "I wouldn't put it that way...

  "Well, I goddamn well would!" Goetz snarled, surging forward in his seat. "Those tin soldiers of yours are going to be like red flags in the face of every street-tough bull who wants to see how he stacks up against a genuine army type."

  Phule let the army label slide for the moment.

  "Really, Chief Goetz. My Legionnaires have been in town before. I don't see why there should be any difference now..."

  "The difference is that there weren't two goddamn hundred of them before!" the chief roared. "Before, they were outnumbered and stayed the hell away from rough-and-tumble with the locals! Now you've evened up the odds, so they're going to want to go anywhere and do anything they want, and you can bet your ass there's going to be trouble when they try."

  "I see." Phule- smiled thinly. "I guess I overestimated the control the police have of the streets. The information I had gave no indication that the settlement was a hotbed of crime ready to explode."

  The police chief's face puffed out with red-purple storm clouds, the sight of which in the past had sent many of the men under his command to the locker rooms for a change of trousers.

  "Now, just a goddamned minute!" he exploded. "We've got the lowest crime rate of any..."

  The storm blew over as quickly as it had appeared, leaving only a ruddy hue in its wake, and even that slowly faded as the police chief hung his head and stared at the files on his desk.

  Phule waited patiently.

  When Goetz raised his head again, his eyes shone darkly under heavy, suspicion-creased brows.

  "You nearly had me going there, General," he said through clenched teeth. "Any particular reason you want to pull my chain so hard?"

  "I just thought you should hear yourself, Chief." The Legionnaire shrugged. "By your own words, my troops haven't been able to go where they want or do what they want in the past. Since they have the same rights as any citizen to enjoy what the settlement has to offer, and their money is certainly welcome anywhere I know of in the settlement, I fail to see where my 'evening the odds' is anything I should apologize for or correct... And it's 'Captain,' not 'General.' "

  The police chief's lips pressed together in a tight grin.

  "Sorry," he said, without a hint of remorse in his voice. "I never did pay much mind to rank among you soldier boys. Fact is, I pretty much ignore 'em altogether... unless they step out of line. If they do... well, then I treat 'em like I would anyone else disturbing the peace or otherwise breaking the law. Is that fair enough for you?"

  "Well, Sergeant..."

  "That's Chief!"

  "Sorry." Phule showed his teeth. "I guess I assumed that since you didn't think rank was important..."

  He let the sentence hang in midair.

  Goetz glared at him for a moment.

  "All right, Captain, " he growled finally, "you've made your point. "

  "Good. Now then, Chief, as I was saying, I'm afraid that my troops aren't to be treated exactly like any other lawbreaker. I believe there's a specific law regarding that, that they are to be turned over to the local commander-in this case, me-for whatever discipline is necessary rather than being bound over for civil trial."

  "There is?"

  "Yes," the commander said firmly. "If you're not familiar with it, I could provide you with a copy of-"

  "Oh, I'm familiar with it," the chief said with a curt wave. "It's just that usually, when we've taken one of your wayward lambs into custody and called out to your base to ask someone to come pick him up, he's ended up sleeping it off in one of our cells. I'm just surprised at the sudden concern for proper procedure, is all."

  "Different commanders have different priorities," Phule said. "I'm sure the same thing is true in police work. All I can say is that while I'm in command of the Legionnaires stationed here, none of them are going to be left to rot in one of your cells... provided we're duly informed that they've been restrained, that is. I trust you'll see to it that word is passed to us on a timely basis?"

  "Don't worry, we'll let you know." Goetz smirked. "Of course, whether or not it's on a timely basis will probably depend on whether or not anyone's answering the phone at your end."

  "We're using the penthouse at the Plaza as our headquarters while we're in the settlement," Phule said, scribbling quickly on a page in his notebook, which he tore off and tossed onto the chief's desk. "That's the number, in case you don't have it already. If I'm not there to take your call, someone will who can relay the information to me immediately."

  Goetz made no move to pick the note up, but rather scowled at the Legionnaire.

  "Excuse me for pointing out the obvious, Captain," he said levelly, "but weren't you just telling me I wouldn't have any trouble out of your crew? If that's the case, why are you so all fired eager to be sure we know what to do when we arrest one of them?"

  "I believe I said I didn't expect there'd be any more trouble than usual," the commander corrected. "I'm not trying to kid you that there won't be any trouble, Chief. We both know there's bound to be some incidents once in a while. I'm just trying to establish a rapport between us to ease things when and if anything does happen."

  "Well, when and if anything happens, you can rest assured that..."

  The phone on the desk exploded with sound, interrupting the chief in midsentence. Frowning, he snatched up the receiver.

  "Goetz. What's the... I see. Well, put him on."

  The chief's eyes sought and held Phule's as he smiled into the phone.

  "Chief of police... Yes, sir... I see... Just a moment. "

  Covering the receiver with one hand, Goetz leaned back in his chair and smirked at the Legionnaire in
his office.

  "What do you know, Captain? It seems we have an incident, as you put it, already."

  "What is it?"

  "I've got the hotel manager of the Plaza on the line here. It seems a couple of your law-abiding troops are brawling in his lobby. Do you want to handle this, or should I send a few of my boys over to break it up?"

  The commander held out his hand for the phone, which the chief passed him after a moment's hesitation.

  "Phule here, Bombast. What seems to be the problem?"

  "That's Bom--- oh! Mr. Phule," came the hotel manager's voice through the receiver. "It's... ah... nothing really. "

  "If it's nothing, why are you bothering the police?"

  "I just... I didn't know how to reach you, sir, and a couple of your... troops are fighting in the lobby. Now, I'd like to be tolerant, but I have a responsibility to the owners if any damage is done, and my security can't...

  "Is one of them a woman?"

  "Sir?"

  "Come on, Bombast, you know the difference. Is one of them a woman... fairly short?"

  "As a matter of fact, yes."

  "Can you hold for a moment?"

  Phule covered the receiver with one hand while he counted slowly to ten.

  "Bombast?"

  "Yes, Mr. Phule?"

  "Are they still fighting?"

  "Well... no, sir. It seems to have stopped."

  "Then that's that. Oh, and Bombast?"

  "Yes, Mr. Phule?"

  "I don't think it's necessary to trouble the police with every little scuffle that occurs. If I'm not around, let one of the lieutenants or sergeants know and they'll handle it... and I'll personally guarantee any damages to the hotel. All right?"

  "Y-yes, Mr. Phule."

  "Fine. Goodbye now."

  Shaking his head, the commander returned the chief's phone to its cradle.

  "Sony about that, Chief Goetz. I think it's taken care of now. "

  "Nice of you to try so hard to keep our work load down."

  "Wasn't I supposed to handle that?" the Legionnaire said, raising his eyebrows. "I thought you asked-"

  "Now, what's all this 'fool' stuff?" the chief broke in. "I thought you said your name was Jester... excuse me, Captain Jester."

  "Captain Jester is my official name within the Space Legion," Phule clarified. "Unfortunately my credit cards are still in my civilian name, and I had to use that when I signed my company into the hotel."

  It was Chief Goetz's turn to raise his eyebrows.

  "Your credit cards? Then you weren't kidding about taking personal responsibility for any damage done to the hotel? I was wondering how a down-at-the-heels outfit like the Space Legion could afford to use the Plaza for temporary housing, but I'm starting to see the light. Just what is your background, Captain?"

  "In the Legion, it's generally considered poor manners to ask- that, Chief."

  Goetz bared his teeth in a wolfish grin.

  "Well, I don't happen to be in your Legion, Captain. I'm in charge of keeping order in this settlement, and that includes checking out suspicious characters who wander in... like people who start throwing around large hunks of credit with no visible income to explain it. That gives me the right to ask just about anything I damn well please, so I'm asking you again: What were you before the Legion dipped you in tar?"

  Phule shrugged. "The same as I am now. Wealthy. If you want to run a check, I'm sure you'll have no trouble confirming that my assets are legitimate. Incidentally that's spelled with a 'p-h'... P-h-u-l-e, as in Phule-Proof Munitions."

  "Oh now, that's just swell!" Goetz spat. "You know, Captain, if there's anything I hate more than soldiers who think they can bust up things without answering to civil law, it's rich boys who think they can buy their way out of anything. Well, let me tell you, mister, the law in this settlement isn't for sale. If your soldier boys keep their noses clean, they'll get no hassles from me or mine, but if they get out of line..."

  "You'll turn them over to me without a mark on them, as we discussed earlier," the Legionnaire finished. "That is what we were saying when the phone rang, isn't it, Chief?"

  "Oh, there won't be a scratch on them... unless, of course, they resist arrest."

  "If any of my troops get hurt resisting arrest," Phule said coldly, "I'll want to see the injuries done to the arresting officer... just to be sure they 'resisted' before they were cuffed. "

  Goetz's face purpled again.

  "My men don't rough up suspects after they've been handcuffed, if that's what you're trying to say."

  "Then there shouldn't be any problems between us." Phule smiled. "Really, Chief. I didn't come in here to pick a fight with you or to try to bribe you or anyone on your force for special considerations. If you'll recall, the subject of money didn't come up at all until that call came in from the Plaza, and even then only when you questioned me about it directly. I just wanted to let you know we had moved into town, and that my company will be willing to help the police on an auxiliary basis if any trouble should arise."

  The police chief cocked his head to one side.

  "If I understand you correctly, Captain, even though you're new, the troops under your command are the same ones who have been stationed here for the last year?"

  "That's right."

  "Then frankly I can't think of a situation desperate enough that I'd want to work with them"-he flashed his wolf's smile again-"but I do appreciate your offering to help us poor flatfeet out. Now, get out of my office and let me get some work done."

  Phule was irritated with himself as he retraced his path to the Plaza. That the interview with the police chief had not gone as he hoped was an understatement. It would seem that rather than reaching an understanding with that notable, Phule had succeeded only in pouring oil on the troubled waters and setting them ablaze.

  Reviewing the conversation, the commander tried to weigh which had contributed the most to his momentary loss of control: the chief's lack of regard for the Legionnaires, or the cheap shots that had been taken at his own "rich boy" status. While he liked to think the former had been the major cause of his irritation, Phule had to concede that the latter had also been a factor in his inability to deal effectively with Goetz. The accusation that he tended to solve his problems by buying his way out of them had hit a little too close to home for comfort.

  Pursing his lips, he set about once more shoring up his defenses to that particular line of attack. The speech he had made to the troops about being effective was a sincere attempt to pass along one of the few lessons he had embraced from his father's efforts to set him on "the right path." Results were what mattered, and it was only right that the individual use every tool and weapon at his or her disposal to obtain whatever results were deemed desirable or necessary in his or her life. Of course he used his money when it was effective to do so. That was no more unfair or unjust than athletes using their strength and coordination or attractive women using their beauty to their own advantage. The game of life was rough enough without forcing an extra handicap by deliberately turning one's back on the advantages one had been dealt by fate.

  "Psst! Captain! Over here!"

  Phule jerked his head up to find the company's supply sergeant beckoning to him urgently from the alley beside the hotel. He had been so engrossed in his thoughts that he hadn't even noticed Chocolate Harry's unmistakable bulk until specifically hailed. Now, however, he saw that there was a small gathering of Legionnaires nervously peering around the corner at the hotel entrance.

  They looked so much like a bunch of school kids hiding after a prank gone bad that Phule had to hide his smile as he veered his steps to join them. Then he remembered his recent head-butting with Goetz, and it was much easier to look concerned.

  "What's the trouble here, Harry? Is it the cops?"

  "Worse than that, Captain," the sergeant declared with a shake of his head, still craning his neck for a better view of the hotel door. "There's a reporter in the lobby lookin' to talk to anybod
y from the Legion. "

  The wave of relief that washed over Phule almost made him want to laugh. Immediately on its heels, however, came a feeling of genuine puzzlement. The presence of a reporter didn't seem to be much of a threat or a danger in itself, yet the Legionnaires around him displayed a concern that was too real for the commander to take lightly.

  "We shouldn't be bunched up like this," the commander said, taking command without having made a conscious decision. "We're more likely to draw the eye than to avoid notice the way we are."

  "The captain's right," Harry snarled loudly. "We don't all gotta see what's goin' on... especially when there's nothin' happenin'. You... and you! Stay here and keep an eye peeled. The rest of you get back down the alley before half the world starts wonderin' what we're up to."

  The sergeant paused for a moment to be sure the others were following his instructions before turning to Phule with a shake of his head.

  "Sorry 'bout that, Captain. Guess we're a little rattled, is all.

  Good thing we got at least one level head around to remind us how to lay low."

  "Don't mention it, C.H.," Phule said. "I'm missing something here, though. What's the big sweat about having a reporter nosing around?"

  Harry stiffened, his eyes narrowing for a moment. Then he shook his head and gave a humorless laugh.

  "Damn!" he exclaimed in a wondering tone. "It's real easy to forget that you're an officer, Captain. Let's just say that us enlisted types got some problems you brass hats don't and let it go at that."

  "Let's not," the commander countered grimly. "I told you before, C.H. we're all one crew, and what's a problem for some is a problem for all. Now, I may not be able to solve all the problems we're going to be up against, but I can't solve any unless I know what they are. So if you don't mind being tolerant for just a few minutes, I'd appreciate it if you'd take the time to explain to this dense officer exactly what the problem is here."