Phules Paradise

He paused, then nodded at his employer.

"Now, sir."

"Oh," Phule responded dutifully.

Silence hung in the air as Beeker waited respectfully for his employer to digest this information.

At last, Phule let out a sigh.

"Okay," he said. "I can see where that will have to be addressed. Any other jewels of insight?"

The question was meant facetiously, but that was always a danger in the company Phule kept.

"As a matter of fact, sir," Beeker said, "it occurs to me that you might also want to arrange for some sort of audit or backup system for the front desk of the hotel."

"The front desk?"

"I believe the computer is utilized rather heavily for both the reservations and the billings for the hotel, and aside from the a

"And there are a lot of tour groups who are supposed to have reservations for the opening," Phule finished grimly.

The commander produced his Port-A-Brain minicomputer from his pocket and pulled up a chair next to the room's holophone.

"Get on the horn and order us some coffee," he said. "We've got a lot of work to do. And Beek?"

"Yes, sir?"

"I don't want to hear any grumbling about my not getting enough sleep. Not for a while, at least."

That Lawrence Bombest was surprised to receive a holo call from Willard Phule was an understatement. While he had formed a grudging respect for the job Phule had done in upgrading the attitudes of his down-at-the-heels Space Legion company while they were temporarily housed at the Plaza, Bombest would not in his wildest dreams fantasize that the two of them were at all close.

In his position of manager of the Plaza Hotel, one of the oldest, most respected on Haskin's Planet, it had been his duty to act as guardian of those stately facilities, and while the Legio

"I know we're both busy, Bombest," the ghostly holo-image said, "so I'll cut right to the chase. Would you be willing to take a brief sabbatical from the Plaza to manage a hotel here on Lorelei? Say, for about a month?"

"I ... I'd have to think about it, Mr. Phule," the manager stammered, caught totally unprepared by the question.

"Unfortunately we don't have a lot of time," the image said, shaking its head. "Yes or no?"

"In that case, I'm afraid the answer would have to be no," Bombest said. "If nothing else, my commitment here would forbid it. I'd have to apply for the necessary leave time, and arrange for a replacement ..."

"I'm afraid you're underestimating me again, Bombest," Phule broke in. "That's already been handled. I cleared it with Reggie Page ... you remember the name? The CEO of the Webber Combine that owns the chain? Anyway, I've explained the situation to him, and he's agreed to give you the time off, with pay, of course, and to arrange for a replacement until you return. By the way, I hope it goes without saying that you'll be generously compensated for your work here, as well as having an expense account, so that your combined income for the period will be substantial."

"So this was all done in advance?" Bombest said.

"There was no point in asking you if you weren't going to be available," the image said, "and, no offense, Bombest, I figured I had a better chance of getting through to Reggie and getting a timely answer than you did. Anyway, the question isn't whether or not you can do it, it's whether you will do it. You're the only one who can answer that."

"I see. If you don't mind my asking, Mr. Phule, why me? Forgive me, but I was under the impression that we didn't particularly get along while you were staying here."

"Oh, I don't pretend that I like you, Bombest," Phule said with a tight smile, "and I don't expect that you particularly care for me as a person. Our styles are far too different for us to ever be `good buddies.' You are, however, the best I've seen at what you do, which is handling problems at a hotel, and I happen to be in a jam right now where I need that talent. The question isn't if we are or will be friends, but if you're willing to work with me."

Bombest pursed his lips. "I don't suppose you've checked the availability of flights from Haskin's to Lorelei, along with your other inquiries?"

"Actually I've gone a bit further than that," the image responded. "When-excuse me, if-you're ready to go, you'll find the governor's military ship standing by at the spaceport to bring you directly here. As I said, we're on a tight timetable."

This bit of information spoke volumes to Bombest. While there had been no love lost between himself and Phule, their relationship was positively rosy if compared to the Legio

"Very well, Mr. Phule," the manager said, making up his mind. "I'll do it. There are a few matters I have to clear up before I go, but they shouldn't take more than an hour or two. Then I'll be on my way."

The image smiled. "Excellent. Welcome aboard, Bombest. I'll be looking forward to seeing you."

After the co

To his surprise, he realized that the money being offered had not been the major factor in his decision, though it had paved the way. The real deciding point was that he had been flattered at the lengths to which the Legio

For the first time, Bombest began to understand exactly how it was that Phule was able to get zealous loyalty where others were hard-pressed to get obedience.

CHAPTER TEN

Journal #227

To say the final days before the casino's grand opening were a study in freneticism would be like saying Genghis Khan dabbled in real estate.

There were a myriad details to be handled, and my employer, with his customary tendency to position himself in the heart of things, managed to involve himself with most of them.

Of course, they all had to be dealt with immediately.

"I was told I could find Captain Jester here?"

"He here ... but in meeting. Not to be disturbed."

"We'll see about that!"

The verbal exchange was conducted at sufficient volume that it penetrated the room's door, and the Legio

Tusk-anini had specifically been chosen to stand guard on the meeting, as his sheer presence was enough to intimidate most would-be intruders. Unfortunately intimidation alone was not enough to deter the petite bundle of energy which now burst through the door. Though dressed casually in jeans and a sweater, she carried herself as regally as a queen-or, to be more accurate, a spoiled princess throwing a snit fit. The sight of a dozen black-clad Legio