Phule Me Twice by Robert Asprin, Peter J. Heck Page B
Authors: Robert Asprin, Peter J. Heck
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, Fantasy fiction, SF, Space Opera, Life on other planets, Robots, Phule's Company (Fictitious characters), Phule; Willard (Fictitious character)
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#505
It did not take long for word of the company's impending move to filter down to the rank and file. Indeed, within a few short hours of Phule's conversation with the ambassador, the tables at the Landoor Plaza's Poolside Bar were buzzing with speculation. As a rule, the better a position a person was in to know what was really likely to happen, the less they were willing to say about it. However, this rule could definitely be modified in the case of Chocolate Harry.
Chocolate Harry stared at Do-Wop and shook his head sadly. "Man, if you knew half as much as you think you know, you'd be a mortal danger."
"He's a mortal danger already," said Super-Gnat, deadpan. "Just ask any woman who's gone on a date with him."
"Ahh, I got girls lined up ten deep waitin' for the chance to go out with me," said Do-Wop, swelling up his chest and making a perfunctory grab at Gnat, who ducked away and stuck out her tongue at him. Frustrated in his effort to demonstrate his appeal, he turned back to the supply sergeant. "But I can't let you get away with that, C. H. I got inside info as good as anybody in the company. You don't know who I been talkin' to."
"Don't matter who you talk to, you wouldn't understand it if they told you two and two is four," said Chocolate Harry. "You'd figure it was six, and by the time you got done tellin' the rest of us, it'd be fifteen or twenty."
"And worth absolutely nothin'," added Slammer, one of the new recruits who'd been assigned to the supply depot under Harry's supervision. He'd quickly picked up the supply sergeant's conversational style: half humorous insults, half bragging, and half plain lies. That's three halves, but those who knew Harry were willing to make allowances for a good bit of surplus.
Carefully choosing his target-the whole company knew better than to try to beat C. H. at his own game-Do-Wop looked at Slammer and said, "Hey, Slammer, I been meaning to ask you-did you get that name because that's where you belong, or because people slam doors in your face?"
"It's because if anybody messes with me, that's what I do to 'em," said Slammer, not taking particular offense.
"That's no problem, nobody wants to mess with you," said Super-Gnat with a grin that suggested she intended more than one meaning. "Besides, I want to hear where Harry thinks we're going and why. What's the word, Sarge?"
"I don't think, Gnat, I know," said Chocolate Harry. "We goin' to Barriere to take on the renegade robots there. They got a big problem with those bots. And the reason they pick us is because they know of C. H. has got the know-how when it comes to fixin' robots. Hell, a man that can customize a hawg the way I have ain't gonna have any problem with a hot."
"This is the first I heard about any renegade robots," said Sushi, leaning his elbows on the table. "How long's that been going on?"
"Man, you ain't got my inside sources, that's all," said Harry, with a self-congratulatory grin. He took a deep swig of his beer and sighed in satisfaction. "Thing a lot of folks don't realize, the supply lines are what the Legion runs on. Supply don't do its job, you gonna have a bunch of people sittin' on some bare asteroid, SOL."
"What means SOL?" asked Tusk-anini, squinting behind his dark glasses.
"Somebody's Obviously Loony," said Super-Gnat with a sly grin. Her partner's command of human slang was tenuous at best, and she enjoyed ribbing him about it. From her, at least, he usually took it in good nature. He wasn't without a sense of humor, although it sometimes seemed very strange to his human companions.
"Nah, it means Salad Oil Liberation," said Do-Wop, horning in on the game.
Tusk-anini's squint narrowed into a frown. "I don't think Do-Wop tells me right," he said. "Salad oil is no part of it. Am I right, Gnat?"
"Hey, do you want to hear what's goin' on or not?" said Chocolate Harry, sensing his audience slipping away.
"We don't wanna hear no crap about renegade robots," said Do-Wop. "Everybody
It did not take long for word of the company's impending move to filter down to the rank and file. Indeed, within a few short hours of Phule's conversation with the ambassador, the tables at the Landoor Plaza's Poolside Bar were buzzing with speculation. As a rule, the better a position a person was in to know what was really likely to happen, the less they were willing to say about it. However, this rule could definitely be modified in the case of Chocolate Harry.
Chocolate Harry stared at Do-Wop and shook his head sadly. "Man, if you knew half as much as you think you know, you'd be a mortal danger."
"He's a mortal danger already," said Super-Gnat, deadpan. "Just ask any woman who's gone on a date with him."
"Ahh, I got girls lined up ten deep waitin' for the chance to go out with me," said Do-Wop, swelling up his chest and making a perfunctory grab at Gnat, who ducked away and stuck out her tongue at him. Frustrated in his effort to demonstrate his appeal, he turned back to the supply sergeant. "But I can't let you get away with that, C. H. I got inside info as good as anybody in the company. You don't know who I been talkin' to."
"Don't matter who you talk to, you wouldn't understand it if they told you two and two is four," said Chocolate Harry. "You'd figure it was six, and by the time you got done tellin' the rest of us, it'd be fifteen or twenty."
"And worth absolutely nothin'," added Slammer, one of the new recruits who'd been assigned to the supply depot under Harry's supervision. He'd quickly picked up the supply sergeant's conversational style: half humorous insults, half bragging, and half plain lies. That's three halves, but those who knew Harry were willing to make allowances for a good bit of surplus.
Carefully choosing his target-the whole company knew better than to try to beat C. H. at his own game-Do-Wop looked at Slammer and said, "Hey, Slammer, I been meaning to ask you-did you get that name because that's where you belong, or because people slam doors in your face?"
"It's because if anybody messes with me, that's what I do to 'em," said Slammer, not taking particular offense.
"That's no problem, nobody wants to mess with you," said Super-Gnat with a grin that suggested she intended more than one meaning. "Besides, I want to hear where Harry thinks we're going and why. What's the word, Sarge?"
"I don't think, Gnat, I know," said Chocolate Harry. "We goin' to Barriere to take on the renegade robots there. They got a big problem with those bots. And the reason they pick us is because they know of C. H. has got the know-how when it comes to fixin' robots. Hell, a man that can customize a hawg the way I have ain't gonna have any problem with a hot."
"This is the first I heard about any renegade robots," said Sushi, leaning his elbows on the table. "How long's that been going on?"
"Man, you ain't got my inside sources, that's all," said Harry, with a self-congratulatory grin. He took a deep swig of his beer and sighed in satisfaction. "Thing a lot of folks don't realize, the supply lines are what the Legion runs on. Supply don't do its job, you gonna have a bunch of people sittin' on some bare asteroid, SOL."
"What means SOL?" asked Tusk-anini, squinting behind his dark glasses.
"Somebody's Obviously Loony," said Super-Gnat with a sly grin. Her partner's command of human slang was tenuous at best, and she enjoyed ribbing him about it. From her, at least, he usually took it in good nature. He wasn't without a sense of humor, although it sometimes seemed very strange to his human companions.
"Nah, it means Salad Oil Liberation," said Do-Wop, horning in on the game.
Tusk-anini's squint narrowed into a frown. "I don't think Do-Wop tells me right," he said. "Salad oil is no part of it. Am I right, Gnat?"
"Hey, do you want to hear what's goin' on or not?" said Chocolate Harry, sensing his audience slipping away.
"We don't wanna hear no crap about renegade robots," said Do-Wop. "Everybody
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