“Infer whatever you like,” said Laverna, with a look that might have meant anything.
Beeker was having nothing to do with that gambit. “Actually, I’d like a direct answer,” he said, spreading his hands apart, palms up. “Hints and guesses are all very well in their place, mind you, but there comes a point when one needs to know what the other person is really trying to say. If you were expecting me to read your mind, I fear you’re in for a disappointment.”
Laverna looked at him over one shoulder. “Funny, I thought butlers were good at that kind of thing.”
“It’s often a professional advantage to give one’s master that impression,“ said Beeker. ”You may have found yourself in a similar position with
“Uh-huh,” said Laverna. “I’ve looked down the barrel of
There was a longish silence while Laverna glared at Beeker. At last, the butler shrugged, and said, “We appear to be back where we began. I could venture a guess at what you mean, but it appears highly likely that, unless I were to stumble upon the correct answer at once, it’d be a mark against me. So I’ll simply have to take the coward’s way out. I’m afraid you’re going to have to tell me, my dear.”
Laverna wrinkled her nose, opened her mouth, then shut it again. Slowly a broad grin spread over her face. “I happen to know you have some vacation time coming,” she said. “Guess where you’re taking me?”
Thumper lay back in his bunk, pleased with himself. He had to his credit one definite success at being a pain in the ass. On the negative side, the last couple of times he’d crossed paths with Chocolate Harry, the Supply sergeant had given him a withering look; but Mahatma had explained that being a pain in the ass wasn’t going to bring easy popularity with it. It was a duty, and sometimes duties weren’t really fun for those who had to perform them.
Thumper could understand that. He’d spent most of Legion Basic being the most unpopular recruit in his unit. But he knew it was more important to work hard and become a good legionnaire than to be popular with the guys. Looking back, he realized that even then, he’d been a pain in the ass. It was good to know that he’d found his niche in the Legion.
But who should he practice on next? He didn’t get much chance to interact with the command structure of Omega Company; mostly he dealt with First Sergeant Brandy, who led his training squad. And Mahatma was already making sure that Brandy stayed on her toes. He saw a good deal of Mess Sergeant Escrima; but it was clear that the volatile Escrima wasn’t a case for a rank beginner like himself. Even Mahatma tended to tread softly around the volatile mess sergeant. As for the officers, he saw them mostly at a distance; he couldn’t really dream up a good excuse for striking up a conversation with Lieutenant Armstrong or Lieutenant Rembrandt-let alone Captain Jester.
As far as his fellow legionnaire recruits, he could see that most of them were having enough trouble without anyone trying to “give them a little eye-opener,” as Mahatma liked to describe his endless questioning and probing. Oh, every now and then one of them would get too cocky, and display the need for some instant deflation; but most of the time the entire squad would make it a point to apply the corrective, and if they missed the chance, Brandy was an expert at giving a recruit a quick lesson in the way things worked in the real world of Omega Company. So Thumper’s talents probably weren’t needed there, either.
Thumper sat up in his bunk; he had a good half hour left on his break. If he was serious about his new mission, he shouldn’t just wait for an opportunity to come his way.
Time to go out and find one! He pulled on his Legion boots, custom-made to fit a Lepoid’s feet, and bounced out the door into Zenobia Base’s spacious parade ground.
As usual, the area was full of activity. To one side, Gears had his head under the hood of a hoverjeep, fine- tuning the engine. To another, several off-duty legionnaires were throwing around a quarble, laughing and joking as it erratically changed course just as one of them thought he’d put himself in position to catch it. In the center of the area, Brandy sat under an open-sided tent, catching up on paperwork. Beyond her, a team with shovels was digging a shallow trench, sweating and griping in the warm desert sun. No obvious opportunities there.
Then Thumper’s eyes lit on two figures he’d often seen together: Sushi and Do-Wop. Like himself and Mahatma, they were partners. And like many of the long-term members of the Omega Mob, they had perfected the technique of always seeming to be busy, while doing as little actual work as possible. There, he thought, were two likely customers for his newfound specialty. He smoothed down his whiskers and hopped over to the two legionnaires. “Hello,” he said. “You are two experienced legionnaires. May a new recruit ask you a question?”
“Ya just did,” said Do-Wop, with a grin.
“That does put everybody in a bind,” said Sushi. “If we said
Thumper hadn’t been prepared for that kind of response. He could see that being a pain was going to be tougher than he thought. Thinking quickly, he said, “Refusing me the chance to ask one question doesn’t automatically mean I can’t ask other, different ones. To stop that, you’d have to say I can’t ask you any questions at all.”
“You’re right, kid,” said Do-Wop. “Now go away.”
“Hang on, partner,” said Sushi. “I’d like to find out what the new guy wants-your name’s Thumper, right?”
“That’s right,” said Thumper. “And now you’ve asked me two questions, both of which I’ve already answered. If we’re going to be fair, you should be willing to answer mine in return.”
“Who said we’re supposed to be fair?” said Do-Wop. “This is the farkin‘ Space Legion.”
“That’s three questions,” said Thumper, calmly. Now he was beginning to hit his stride. “I’ll answer the last one if you’ll answer mine.”
That, at last, seemed to have exceeded Do-Wop’s ability to parse. He shook his head and rolled his eyes, while saying nothing-at least, nothing articulate.
But before Thumper could relish the taste of victory, Sushi took up the slack. “OK, new guy, it’s a deal. You may not ask us any questions. Now, you tell us who said we were supposed to be fair.”
Since Thumper hadn’t even considered the question as having a real answer, that left him as speechless as Do-Wop. Sushi laughed, and said, “Looks like we’re even, Thumper.” And with that, he took Do-Wop by the collar and led him off, leaving Thumper to wonder whether he might not need a few more lessons from Mahatma.
“Beeks? Beeks, where are you?” Phule peered around his office, a puzzled expression on his face. He wasn’t used to having to look for his butler. It was much more frequently the case that Beeker would appear, unasked for, at exactly-the time when his services were most useful.
Fortunately, there was a way to contact the butler even when he was out of earshot. Phule punched the intercom button on his wrist communicator and heard the answering buzz from the unit on the other end. Phule waited for the butler to acknowledge the call; undoubtedly Beeker had just gotten involved in some routine housekeeping task, and time had slipped away from him.
The buzz repeated. Phule stared at the comm unit in annoyance. This was starting to be a nuisance. It was too late in the day to assume that the butler might have removed the wrist comm for a short while to take a shower. (In fact, the comm was designed for all-weather operation, and its manufacturer touted it as capable of withstanding up to six hours of unprotected immersion in twenty fathoms of salt water. Even so, there were times when it was more convenient just to take it off-and this was far from an emergency.)
Phule pushed another button on the comm. “Mother- do you have any idea where Beeker is? I’ve been trying to raise him, and he doesn’t answer.”
“Well, honey, if you don’t know what he’s up to, what makes you think I’m gonna tell?” said the impertinent
