Phule nodded and took up an extra notch in his safety belt. "Yes, and I'll try to raise the base on the comm." He touched the On button on his wrist communicator and lifted it closer to his mouth. "Mother, come in. This is Jester with a priority call. Mother, come in." The communicator emitted aloud burst of white noise but nothing resembling a coherent signal. "Mayday, Mayday, Mother, can you hear me?"
Beeker turned around to look at him. "Sir, if I may make a suggestion, perhaps you should continue to transmit, on the chance that she can hear you but cannot reply. Tell them our position, and perhaps they can send someone to aid us. I will attempt to regain control of the vehicle."
"Good plan," said Phule. "If you can just get the thing stopped, at least we won't have to worry about hitting anything."
"That is what I have been attempting, sir," said Beeker. He returned his attention to the controls. After a few moments he said, "We are veering off course, sir. The vehicle appears to be under external control. Should we abandon it?"
Phule looked at the boulder-strewn ground passing beneath the jeep and shook his head. "We're still moving too fast," he said. "I think we're better off riding it out-unless something happens to make staying aboard worse than jumping. If we do get stranded out here, we'll probably need the jeep's emergency kit."
"Yes, sir," said Beeker, reaching up to hold his hat.
"The power readout's still dropping, sir. I don't think we've slowed down, though."
If anything, it felt as if they'd picked up speed. The jeep was headed almost at right angles to its original. course, now, and none of Beeker's efforts made any apparent difference. In the usual course of things, if power failed, the grav units would've lowered the hoverjeep gently to the ground-but at this speed, there would have been nothing gentle about it. The only thing to do was hold on and hope the crash protection was up to its job if they hit anything too solid.
As the jeep sped onward, Phule kept sending his Mayday message, while Beeker kept a lookout for any sign of imminent collision or other danger. But neither the jeep's built-in comm unit nor Phule's wrist communicator showed any sign that it was in contact with the base. Phule was still trying to give Mother (who might or might not have been able to hear him) his best guess of where they were and what was happening, when the jeep suddenly lost speed and came slowly to the ground.
Chapter 10
Journal #550
Second Lieutenant Snipe was almost instantly dubbed "Lieutenant Sneak" by the Omega Mob. He was, if possible, more cordially hated by most of the enlisted legionnaires than even his superior, Major Botchup. And while the two other lieutenants were more or less forced to tolerate him, they were unable to find even the smallest ground for camaraderie with him.
This no doubt derived in large part from their having seen the transformation of Omega Company, under my employer's guidance, from the least desirable billet in the Legion into a place where one might build a career. Botchup and Snipe had not been part of that transformation; instead, they were seen (quite accurately) as being sent to tear down everything that Captain Jester had built.
Neither the callow major nor his smirking subaltern-and certainly none of the brass who had sent them on their mission-quite understood that before they could persuade the newly liberated genie to return to its bottle, they would have to reconstruct the original bottle, which had long since been broken into a million fragments.
"Well, Snipe, what do you think of this outfit?" said Maor Botchup. He was firmly established in Phule's office, which was specially set up as a command center in the event of military action. A thick stack of Omega Company personnel dossiers was on his desk, and the screen of the major's computer was already filled with his notes.
Snipe twisted his mouth. "A very poor excuse for a combat unit, sir," he said. "It's even worse than I expected. There's no sign of proper discipline, not even among the officers. Half the personnel is totally unsuited or the jobs they're doing. Believe it or not, the woman running communications can barely speak a coherent sentence. I suspect we'll want a psychological evaluation here, sir. The supply sergeant is grossly out of shape and its around reading hovercycle magazines. The enlisted personnel have no respect at all; there's a Volton who insulted me directly and tried to browbeat me when I nailed him on it."
"We can't allow that," said Botchup. "Give me a written report with the details, and I'll take care of it. Just looking at these files, I can see that Jester has let them run amok." He shook his head. "They're lucky they've lever had to deal with any real threats."
"Yes, sir," said Snipe. "It's a good thing General Blitzkrieg assigned you to set them right, sir. Captain Jester has let the company go completely to seed."
"I've been going over Jester's file in particular," said Botchup. He pointed toward a shipping box sitting on a hair by the door. The box was marked Captain Jester: Personal. It had been brought from Phule's office in the Company's Landoor headquarters. Now that the CO's office belonged to Botchup, these personal effects would normally be removed to Phule's quarters, but the sealing tape was cut and the top lay open. "No warm laser crystals yet, but with all you've told me, it's just a matter of time before I find something big enough to have him booted out of the Legion entirely."
"None too soon, sir, to judge from what I've seen," said Snipe, nodding vigorously. "I suspect their combat readiness is as pathetic as everything else Jester's had a hand in. It's appalling that Omega company was given a mission as crucial as this one."
"Chalk that up to Jester's being in bed with the politicos," said Botchup. "He pulled the wool over some ambassador's eyes and talked him into backing this company for Zenobia. I'm surprised he wanted it. Really-you'd think he'd have been happier with a soft billet like Landoor."
"Sir, perhaps Jester's angling for a political career after he leaves the Legion," said Snipe. "There's nothing quite like leading a unit in battle to convince the voters you're leadership material. They never ask how many casualties your unit took."
"That's the way of it," said Botchup. "The dilettantes get all the credit, while the real legionnaires do the dirty work. Well, this time, the real legionnaires are going to take back command of the company before the dilettantes know what hit 'em. And if I have to put half the company in the stockade to turn it around, that's what I'll do."
"Starting with the captain, sir?" Snipe grinned maliciously.
"Starting with the captain," agreed Botchup. "As soon as he gets back from his little junket to the native capital, he's going to have a lot of explaining to do."
"Very good, sir," said Snipe. After a moment's thought, he asked, "Should we order him back to base, sir? I'd think the sooner you can make him an example, the sooner this company will toe the line."
"No, I want time to build my case against him," said Botchup. "Besides, there's nothing he can do from a distance, and by the time he gets back, I'll have gone a long way toward establishing my own authority."
Snipe leaned forward and spoke in a quiet voice. "Should we take any steps to prevent the other officers from warning him, sir?"
"No," said Botchup with a nasty smile. "Let them yell their heads off, Snipe. If Jester realizes just what's in store for him, he may just cut and run. That's the usual way with his kind, and it'd suit me fine. Then I could get down to the business of turning this company around without any interference from him-or his cronies."