No Phule Like An Old Phule (38 page)

“Overruled?” Phule frowned. “I thought she was the leader of the mission.”

“Well, Snieff has the title, sure enough,” said Gardner, looking a bit embarrassed. “And she can get pretty literal minded about the rules, sometimes. That’s not always bad-if we need to shut down a real environmental threat, we need every tool in the box. When we first arrived here, we were all expecting a major environmental impact case, and the chief had us all fired up about stopping polluters. Like I said, she gets literal-minded. So Barky came here ready to beat up on the bad guys, and that probably had a lot to do with his hostile attitude when he first met everybody. And when one of your guys showed him there wasn’t really any problem, it took him a while to adjust… But when push came to shove, it was Barky that called the shots. He can’t be wasting his time someplace where there’s nothing to be found. He’s got his career to think about, after all.”

“Career? That pooch?” Armstrong looked at Gardner as if he’d been speaking a particularly obscure dialect of Zenobian. “What career- does he have besides biting legionnaires and chasing anybody who doesn’t look sufficiently human?” InspectorGardner shook his head, wearily... “Doesn’t look sufficiently human? Listen to yourself, Lieutenant. Yes, Barky’s genetically a dog, but don’t forget-he’s a trivee star- too. And it’s not just training-his intelligence measures just above human-average.”

Armstrong snorted. “Above average? On what scale?”

“The same one the Legion uses to assign recruits to various specialties,” said Gardner . “With the right training, Barky could probably do your job. In fact, he told me he’d like to give the Legion a try some time…”

“Told you?” Armstrong’s jaw fell. “You mean that pooch can talk?”

“Sure,” said Gardner , grinning. “That’s one of the modifications. Except it’s in a much higher register than our ears normally hear in-we have special implants so we can understand him. But some races can hear him just fine-your Lepoid legionnaire, for one. The little guy came out and tipped Barky off as to what those hunters were planning. Of course, he’d already learned that Barky could talk during that food fight in your cafeteria. They had quite a time of it, then.”

A large grin came to Sushi’s face. “That’s a major understatement,” he said. “I wish I had video of Barky chasing Thumper around the mess hall… it’d be worth millions!”

“Oh sure, I wouldn’t mind seeing that again myself.” said Gardner, chuckling. Then his face turned serious, and he added, “Of course, if you had something like that, you’d have to go negotiate rights with Barky’s agent. And that could be pretty tough-a big star like that doesn’t work for free, you know.”

“Of course not,” said Phule. “Neither do my legionnaires, if you want to get down to that. So if any such video should ever emerge, we’d expect our performers to be properly compensated. But we’re talking hypotheticals, I assume.” He smiled broadly.

“As far as I know, yeah,” said Inspector Gardner. “But hey, I almost forgot. Barky wanted to show you guys there’s no hard feelings, and to apologize for being a bit rough on everybody. He wants you to know he was just doing what he thought was his job.”

“Just doing his job?” said Beeker. “That’s all very well, sir, but one would think that if the little fellow wants to make his apologies, he could come do it himself instead of sending a substitute.” Gardner slapped his hand against his forehead. “Oh, I should have told you-he did come, but we thought he ought to wait until we’d found out what his reception would be before bringing him into your captain’s office. He’s waiting outside with the woman at the desk.”

“With Mother?” said Phule. He raised his comm to his wrist to hail her.

But before he could say anything into the wrist comm, his office door burst open, and a small furry missile came through, leapt to the top of his desk, and began vigorously licking his face.

Inspector Gardner chuckled. “See, Captain? I told you he wanted to show everybody there’s no hard feelings.” He pulled out a pocket camera and quickly snapped a picture of the pair. “That ought to look great on tri-vee,” said Gardner .

“Woof!” said Barky, the Environmental Dog, turning to show his best side to the camera.

“Damnit all!” shouted General Blitzkrieg, throwing the sheet of color printout toward the trash basket. It missed, and landed face up, showing a glossy image of Barky, the Environmental Dog, and the heroic Captain Jester of the Space Legion. That one image had ruined the general’s entire day. He turned to Major Sparrowhawk, who had just bought in the day’s news printouts for him. “Those AEIOU morons were supposed to bury Omega Company in red tape, not give them more favorable publicity. Why are Jester and that ugly mutt on the front page of my paper?”

“Cute sells papers,” said Sparrowhawk, resignedly. It was one of a large body of significant truths that were about as much use to General Blitzkrieg as a trombone to a porcupine. Just for starters, it required the ability to recognize Captain Jester as cute, a perception for which the general was seriously unsuited.

The general snorted. “To hell with cute,” he growled. “I don’t have any use for those green-nosed ecofreaks to begin with-all they know how to do is come in where they aren’t wanted and tie a man’s hands with so many regulations he can’t do his job. So why the hell do they suddenly make like best buddies with Jester and his pack of blithering incompetents? You can’t tell me they’re not violating every regulation ever written. That’s why they ended up in Omega Company, damnit.”

“Well, General, now that you mention it, I did some research and found out something you may not know about the AEIOU team that went to Zenobia. Their leader is Chief Inspector Snieff…”

“Sure, Senator Snieff’s sister.” said the general, nodding.

“Bit of a sourpuss, unless she’s changed since I met her. And a full-bore nutcase on the environment I’ll give her one thing, though-she takes her job seriously. My God, she takes it seriously. I wouldn’t think the likes of Jester could sweet-talk her out of throwing the book at him.”

“Exactly right, sir,” said Sparrowhawk. “The senator got her the job, of course, and nobody’s got the guts to stand in her way, even though she’s a bit extreme even for the agency.”

“‘A bit extreme’ is one hell of an understatement,” said General Blitzkrieg. “I met her at a dinner party in the senator’s home, and the poor fellow who had to sit next to her looked like he wanted to go home and snort some insecticide. I think he must have done something to piss off the senator…”

“Yes, sir.” said Sparrowhawk, wondering (not for the first time) who she’d managed to piss off to get the assignment as Blitzkrieg’s adjutant. “As it happens, sir, there’s a bit more to the story. Inspector Snieff happens to affect the higher-ups in her own agency the same way as she does everyone else.”

“And serves ‘em right,” growled the general. Then his brow raised a fraction of an inch. “You mean she’s too screwy even for the damned tree huggers? I’m surprised they can tell the difference!”

Sparrowhawk patiently explained. “General, the higher ups in the AEIOU may be officially required to act as if they care about other planets’ environments, but they quite naturally care a good bit more about their own careers. Most of them are political appointees. And generating terabytes of bad will because of literal-minded enforcement of unpopular policies isn’t good for anybody’s career. Letting Chief Inspector Snieff run around the galaxy unchecked would be a recipe for disaster.“

“Anybody can see that,” snorted Blitzkrieg. Then his eyes opened wide, and he said, “Wait a minute. This is starting to sound familiar. She’s too crazy to give any real responsibility, and too well connected to kick out…”

“Yes, sir, just like Captain Jester,” said Sparrowhawk. “So they put her in charge of a special team, with a couple of levelheaded veterans to make sure she can’t do anything irreversible, and with Barky, the Environmental Dog, their biggest media star, to give the team a positive PR profile. In a sense, it’s their version of Omega Company. And while she’s nominally the commander, it’s just a sham. And the system seems to work. That Barky is apparently every bit as smart as he is cute.”

“God save me from cute,” said the general, with a groan. He pounded a fist on the comer of his desk.

“Between Omega Company and the Snieff woman, the Zenobia operation should have been declared an environmental disaster. And now it’s a photo op, with Jester and that fleabag hamming it up. If I see any more cute for a week, I swear I’m going to be sick.”

“Yes, sir,” said Sparrowhawk. “Shall I send in your morning appointments?”

“You might as well, though I’ll be damned if I’m in much of a mood for it,” said Blitzkrieg. “Who’s on the list?”

Sparrowhawk looked at her clipboard. “Mrs. Biffwycke-Snerty, for the Retired Officers‘, Refugees’, and Orphans’ Relief Organization. She wants you to give a speech at their fund-raising affair.”

“Fine, send her in,” said Blitzkrieg. “Always glad to help out the good old veterans.”

And never reluctant to spout off in front of a captive audience, thought Sparrowhawk. She nodded and left the office.

A moment later the door opened to admit a portly matron, a familiar figure at charity balls. “Oh, General, I do hope you’ll be able to address the RORORO fund-raiser next month,” she warbled, in a voice at least an octave above her natural range. “We have such a wonderful program planned, and you would be just the perfect one to speak for the Legion.”

“Why, I’d be delighted,” said the general, rising to extend a hand. “There’s nothing closer to my heart than the welfare of the retired officers. I’ll tell my adjutant to make it a firm date.”

“Oh, I’m so pleased,” said Mrs. Biffwycke-Snerty.

“Now we have something for all our clients. You for the officers, and Mr. Vodoh-Deo, who’s done just so much for the Jivan refugees-and you’ll never guess whom we’ve persuaded to come for the orphans!”

“I haven’t a clue,” said Blitzkrieg, already mildly annoyed that he wasn’t to be the sole attraction.

“It was such a coup!” said the socialite. “Priscilla Ann - Hoglinton just happens to know the executive producer of the IGT network, and I told her we just had to have someone for the poor children, and she went in and talked to him, and you know how tough these producers can be, but sure enough, Priscilla Ann just prevailed upon him, I swear I don’t know how, and he said he’d do everything he could for RORORO. And now we’ve got just the perfect celebrity to make this the best fund-raiser ever!”

“And who would that be?” said Blitzkrieg, throwing caution to the winds.

“Why, Barky, the Environmental Dog, of course! He’s just so cute…” Mrs. Biffwycke-Snerty chirped.

General Blitzkrieg’s wounded bellow was audible three buildings away.