"Asprin, Robert - Phule 01 - Phule's Company" - читать интересную книгу автора (Asprin Robert)

"Have a seat, Brandy," the commander said, waving his top sergeant into one of the visitor chairs. "Sorry to keep you waiting, but for various reasons I wanted to save your interview for last."
"No problem, sir." The ranking noncom shrugged, sinking into the indicated seat. "If there's one thing I've learned in the military, it's how to wait for officers."
Phule ignored the blatant dig.
"Seeing as how it's late, and we're both tired, I'll try to keep this short and to the point." He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as if hugging himself. "Tell me, Brandy, in your opinion, what's the biggest problem facing me in this company?"
The top sergeant widened her eyes and raised her eyebrows as she pursed her lips in a silent whistle.
"That's a rough one," she said, shifting her sprawl to a different position. "I really don't know where to start. If you've got any smarts at all, you don't need me to tell you this company's the pits, from top to bottom, inside and out. As far as any one problem being bigger than the others . . ."
Her voice trailed off as she shook her head.
"To me, there's one problem that stands out like a beacon," Phule said firmly. "In fact, it's the only one I'm not sure I'll be able to handle."
"What's that, sir?"
"You."
Brandy pulled her head back, frowning.
"Me, sir?"
"That's right. Now, don't get me wrong. You're good, Brandy . . . head, shoulders, and waist above any of the other personnel I've inherited. From your record, and from my personal observations this last week, you're an excellent leader, easily as good or better than me."
The commander shook his head slightly.
"The problem is that you're a cynic. If you had been around when the Wright brothers were designing their first plane, you would have been the one saying, 'It'll never fly.' Then, as it passed overhead on its maiden flight, your only comment would've been, 'They'll never get it down!"'
A ghost of a smile flitted across the top sergeant's face.
"You got me there, Captain," she admitted.
Her smile wasn't returned.
"That's the one thing I can't have in this company . . . not in the top sergeant slot, anyway. I'm going to try to turn this company around, starting with getting every Legionnaire under my command to develop a better opinion of his or her self. I can't do that if the main leader for the enlisted personnel keeps telling them that they're dirt and there's no point in even trying. I'm already figuring on a two-front war: with Headquarters and with the Legionnaires themselves. I can't afford to open a third front by fighting with you as well."
The top sergeant gazed at him levelly. "Are we talking about a transfer, sir?"
Phule grimaced. "I'll admit the possibility has crossed my mind . . . and you're the only one I've seriously considered it for. I don't like it, though. It's too easy, too much like quitting without even trying. I admire your abilities, Brandy, as well as your leadership capacity. I'm hoping we can work together, work with each other, not in opposition. The only way I can see that, though, is if there are some major changes on your part."
Brandy bit her lip thoughtfully before answering.
"To be honest with you, sir, I'm not sure I could change even if I wanted to. Old habits are hard to break, and I've been the way I am for a long time."
"I'm not asking for any guarantees," the commander urged earnestly. "For the time being, I'd be content if you were willing to give it a try. You see, Brandy . . . geez! I hate playing amateur psychologist, but . . . well, most of the cynics I've dealt with in the past, the hard-core 'Who cares?' types, actually care a lot. It's just that at some point they've been hurt, and hurt bad. So bad, they won't let themselves even hope anymore for fear of being disappointed and hurt again. I don't know if that applies in your case, and don't really care. All that I'm asking is that you give things a chance before you shoot them down. Give the Legionnaires a chance . . . and give me a chance."
Silence hung in the air for a moment as they both felt the awkwardness of two people sharing a sudden and unexpected closeness. It was Phule who finally pulled back, breaking the tension.
"Well, think it over, Sergeant. If, in the end, you figure it's not even worth a try, let me know and I'll arrange for your transfer. "
"Thank you, sir," Brandy said, rising to her feet and saluting. "I'll think about it."
"And Brandy . . .
"Yes, sir?"
"Think about giving yourself a chance, too."

"Sir?"
Phule opened his eyes to find his butler standing in the doorway of his office.
"Yes, Beeker?"
"Excuse me for intruding, sir, but . . . what with the relocation scheduled for tomorrow . . . Well, sir, I thought you should try to get at least a few hours sleep."
The commander rose, yawning and stretching his cramped limbs.
"Right, as always, Beeker. What would I do without you?"
"I'm sure I don't know, sir. Did the meetings go well?"
Phule shrugged. "Not as well as I hoped . . . better than I feared. There were a few moments, though. Brandy-that's the top sergeant-actually saluted me before she left."
"Quite an achievement in itself, sir," Beeker said, gently steering his charge through the door.
"And Rembrandt-that's the lieutenant who wants to be an artist after my interview with her and Armstrong, she hung back for a moment and asked if I'd be willing to pose for her. I thought she meant for a portrait . . . took me a bit aback when I realized she wanted to do a nude study."
"I see. Did you accept?"
"I told her I'd think about it. It's rather flattering, in a way, considering the number of subjects she has to choose from. Besides, it might be a nice gesture to help her with her art career . . .

I really didn't think it was my place to inform my employer . . . Actually I didn't have the heart or the courage to tell him, and so left it for him to discover on his own. I had already had the opportunity to study Lieutenant Rembrandt's work, both finished paintings and works in progress. Without exception, she had devoted herself to landscapes . . . until now, that is.


CHAPTER FOUR
Journal File #019
Moving the company into the settlement so our normal quarters could be remodeled was an enormous undertaking. The Legionnaires themselves traveled light, as they had little personal gear to deal with. Packing and storing the company's gear, however, especially the kitchen, proved to be a time-consuming task, even with everyone pitching in. Thus it was that we did not begin our actual trek into the settlement until nearly noon.