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

"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."
The supply sergeant blinked in surprise, then shot one more nervous glance toward the hotel entrance before answering.
"Well, you see, Captain, you officers may come from pretty clean backgrounds, but for a lot of us, we joined the Legion to get away from some pretty rough situations. Some of us still have folks lookin' for us-folks who want real bad to get a piece of our hides. The last thing we want is-to have some reporter puttin' out write-ups or pictures as to where we are now and what we're doing. You follow me? It's like hangin' a bull's-eye on our backs and hollerin', 'Come and get 'em."'
"I see," Phule said thoughtfully.
"That's the way it is, Cap'n," Harry finished with an expansive shrug. "Sometimes we just gotta back off . . ."
The commander's head came up with a snap.
"Don't say that, Sergeant," he intoned coldly. "The one thing you don't ever gotta do while you're under my command is back off."
He turned away from the sergeant, raising his voice to address the group huddled at the far end of the alley.
"Legionnaires! Assemble on me . . . Now! Lookouts too! All of you . . . Right now!"
The fugitives eased forward, exchanging confused glances as they tried to puzzle out their commander's apparent bad mood.
"It's been brought to my attention that reporters make you nervous . . . that you're afraid your various pasts might catch up with you if word gets out as to your whereabouts. First of all, I'm telling you here and now, Get used to reporters. They're going to be around because a lot of what we're going to do will be news. Don't hide from them, learn how to talk with them so they report what you want them to report. Now that I'm aware of the problem, I'll be sure that there's opportunity for you to learn how to give and control interviews. In the meantime, just say 'No comment' and refer them to one of the officers. What you don't do is let them or anyone else drive you away from your own area, whether it's a barracks or a hotel."
He paused to sweep the assemblage with his eyes before continuing.
"That brings us to the second point. It seems that the group here thought I was talking to someone else when I gave my speech last night. Well, I wasn't. Some of you were running from people or a situation when you joined the Legion. I know that. Everyone in the company knows that. My reaction is as follows: So what? If a reporter pinpoints your new identity and location, or if any other slipup happens and your past comes looking for you, so what? You're part of the company now, and anyone who wants to get at you is going to have to come through all of us. That's what being in this company is all about. We're all family now, and that means that none of you ever have to face your problems alone again. Got that?"
There was a ripple of nods and mumbled "Yes, sirs."
"I can't hear you!"
"YES, SIR!"
Phule grinned at the shouted response.
"That's better. Now, let's go back to our hotel. I'll be talking to this reporter in the cocktail lounge, if any of you want to listen in. Haven't met a reporter or a Legionnaire yet who'd pass up a free drink."
Scattered shouts of approval and mutual encouragement met this, as the Legionnaires abandoned their hiding post in the alley and headed for the hotel. Much of the banter had the overloud, overexuberant flair of individuals who weren't really sure of themselves and were drawing on each other for courage, but they were moving, and moving as a unit.
Phule waited until most of them had filed out of the alley before following, falling in step beside the supply sergeant.
"Well, C.H. What do you think now?"
"I dunno, Cap'n," Harry answered with a slow shake of his head. "What you say sounds well and good on paper, but I don't think you know what kinda hard cases some of us have nosin' around our trails. Truth to tell, I wouldn't bet much on our crew's chances if we really have to tangle with 'em someday. I mean, I'm probably one of the best in the company when it comes to mixin' it up, and I was the weak sister of my old ga-my old club."
The commander politely ignored the inadvertent reference to the supply sergeant's past. He had suspected since meeting him that Harry had never been a lone wolf.
"Then I guess it's up to us to work the company until they're ready to take on all comers. If nothing else, we can field more firepower than most. Now all we have to do is coach the troops to keep it pointed downrange."
Phule meant his comment as a joke, but instead of laughing, Harry nodded slowly.
"That'd be good for a start," he said slowly. "Won't be easy, though. Tell you what, Cap'n. If that offer is still open, I think I'll join you and that reporter for a drink. Maybe we can talk for a bit afterward."
"Fine by me, C.H., but I thought you were nervous about being around a reporter."
The sergeant nodded. "I am, but what you said back in the alley made sense. Eventually the crew that's lookin' for me is gonna find me, and thinkin' about that makes me thirsty enough to ignore any reporter. 'Sides, how much can go wrong in one interview? Huh?"

"Sir? . . . Wake up, sir!"
Phule struggled up from the depths of slumber at the insistent sound of his butler's voice.
"I'm . . . awake," he managed with some difficulty. "God! What time is it, Beek? I feel like I just closed my eyes."
"Actually, sir, it's been a little over two hours since you retired. "
"Really? Two whole hours." Phule grimaced, forcing himself upright in bed. "Can't imagine why I still feel sluggish."
"It might have something to do with the quantity of alcohol you consumed before retiring, sir," the butler supplied helpfully. "You were more cheerful than usual when you came in."
Like most guardians of dignity, Beeker did not approve of his charge drinking at all, and he made no effort to keep the edge of reprimand out of his voice.
"Chocolate Harry and I had a couple more rounds after the reporter left," the commander said defensively, rubbing his forehead with the fingertips of both hands. "I would have called it quits earlier, but Brandy rolled in and-"
"Excuse me for interrupting, sir," the butler interrupted, "but there's a call waiting for you in the other room."
"A call?"
"Yes. On the holophone. It's from Legion Headquarters, which is why I deemed it necessary to wake you rather than simply taking a message."
"Oh, swell. Just what I need first thing in the morning. Just a second while I get dressed."
"If I might point out, sir, you're still dressed from last night. I commented on it when you retired, but you seemed rather eager to get to sleep."
Sure enough, Phule found that he was still fully clothed. What's more, his uniform seemed to give less indication of the abuse it had suffered than did his mind and digestive tract. Running his hand quickly over his chin and upper lip, he decided that he would go without a shave rather than keep Headquarters waiting any more than they had, though he longed for the extra wake-up time that ritual would have given him.