MYTH-Interpretations: The Worlds of Robert Asprin

by Robert Asprin

  Tidwell frowned, but kept his voice respectful.

  "Message received. Might I ask why?"

  "You are not to move against the enemy until we have determined who the enemy is."

  "What the hell . . ."

  "Shut up, Clancy. Please clarify, Mr. Yamada."

  "At the moment there is a cease fire in effect on the war. The government of the United States has chosen to intervene."

  CORPORATION WARS CHARGED

  A federal grand jury was appointed today to investigate alleged involvement of several major corporations in open warfare with each other. The Corporations have refused to comment on charges that they have been maintaining armies of mercenaries on their payrolls for the express purpose of waging war on each other. Included on the list of corporations charged were several major oil conglomerates as well as communications and fishing concerns. The repercussions may be international as some of the corporations involved (continued on pg. 28)

  CORPORATIONS DEFY ORDERS

  In a joint press release issued this afternoon, the corporations under investigation for involvement in the alleged Corporate Wars flatly refused to comply with government directives to cease all hostilities toward each other of a warlike nature and refrain from any future activities. They openly challenge the government's authority to intervene in these conflicts, pointing out that the wars are not currently being conducted within the boundaries of the US or its territories. They have asked the media to relay to the American people their counter-charges that the government is trying to pressure them into submission by threatening to move against the corporations' US holdings. They refer to those threats as "blatant extortion" being carried on in the name of justice, pointing out the widespread chaos which would be caused if their services to the nation were interrupted. (continued pg. 18)

  AFRICANS JOIN CORPORATE OPPOSITION

  The League of African nations added their support to the rapidly growing list of countries seeking to control the multinational corporations. With the addition of these new allies virtually all major nations of the Free World are united in their opposition to the combined corporate powers. Plans are currently being formulated for a united armed intervention if the corporations continue to defy (continued pg. 12)

  WORLDWIDE PROTESTS SCHEDULED

  Protest demonstrations are scheduled for noon tomorrow in every major city across the globe as citizen groups from all walks of life band together to voice their displeasure of the proposed governmental armed forces intervention in the Corporate Wars. War is perhaps the least popular endeavor governments embark on, and it is usually sold to the populace as a step necessary to ensure national security, a reason which many feel does not apply in this situation. Groups not usually prone to voicing protest have joined the movement, including several policemen's unions and civil service organizations. Government officials (cont. pg. 8)

  COURT MARTIALS THREATENED

  Armed Forces officials announced today that any military personnel taking part in the planned demonstrations will be arrested and tried for taking part in a political rally whether or not they are in uniform.

  GOVERNMENT—CORPORATE

  TALKS SUSPENDED

  Negotiation sessions seeking peaceful settlement between the Combined Corporations and the United Free World Governments came to an abrupt halt today when several government negotiators walked out of the sessions. Informed sources say that the eruption occurred as a result of an appeal on the part of the corporations to the governments to "call off a situation involving needless bloodshed which the government troops could not hope to win." It is believed that what they were alluding to were their alleged "superweapons" which the governments continue to discount. "A weapon is only as good as the man behind it" a high-ranked U.S. Army officer is quoted as saying. "And we have the best troops in the world." With scant hours remaining before the deadline (continued pg. 7)

  Lieutenant Worthington, US Army, was relieved as the convoy pulled into the outskirts of town. He only wished his shoulders would relax. They were still tense to the point of aching.

  He tried to listen to the voices of the enlisted men riding in the back of the truck as they joked and sang, but shrugged it off in irritation.

  The bloody fools. Didn't they know they had been in danger for the last hour? They were here to fight mercenaries, hardened professional killers. There had been at least a dozen places along the road through the jungle that seemed to be designed for an ambush, but the men chatted and laughed, seemingly oblivious to the fact the rifles on their laps were empty.

  The lieutenant shook his head. That was one Army policy to which he took violent exception. He knew that only issuing ammunition when the troops were moving into a combat zone reduced accidents and fatal arguments, but damn it for all intents and purposed the whole country was a combat zone. It was fine and dandy to make policies when you're sitting safe and secure at the Pentagon desk looking at charts and statistics, but it wasn't reassuring when you're riding through potential ambush country with an empty weapon.

  He shot a guilty sidelong glance at the driver. He wondered if the driver had noticed Worthington had a live clip in his pistol—probably not. He had smuggled it along and switched the clips in the john before they got on the trucks. Hell, even if he had noticed he probably wouldn't report him. He was probably glad that someone in the truck had a loaded weapon along.

  The were in town now. The soldiers in back were whooping and shouting crude comments at the women on the sidewalk. Worthington glanced out the window, idly studying the buildings as they rolled past. Suddenly he stiffened.

  There, at a table of a sidewalk café, were two mercenaries in the now famous kill-suits leisurely sipping drinks and chatting with two other men in civilian dress. The lieutenant reacted instantly.

  "Stop the truck!"

  "But sir . . ."

  "Stop the truck, damn it!"

  Worthington was out of the truck even before it screeched to a halt, fumbling his pistol from its holster. He ignored the angry shouts behind him as the men in back were tossed about by the sudden braking action and leveled his pistol at the mercenaries.

  "Don't move, either of you!"

  Still they ignored him. Worthington was starting to feel foolish, aware of the driver peering out the door behind him. He was about to repeat himself when one of the mercenaries noticed him. He tapped the other one on the arm, and the whole table craned their necks to look at the figure by the truck.

  "You are to consider yourselves my prisoners. Put your hands on your head and face the wall!"

  They listened to him, heads cocked in alert interest. When he was done, one of the mercenaries replied with a rude gesture of international significance. The others at the table rocked with laughter, then they returned to their conversation.

  Worthington suddenly found himself ignored again. Reason vanished in a wave of anger and humiliation. Those bastards!

  The gun barked and roared in his hand, startling him back to his senses. He had not intended to fire. His hand must have tightened nervously and . . .

  Wait a minute! Where were the mercenaries? He shot a nervous glance around. The table was deserted, but he could see the two men in civilian clothes lying on the floor covering their heads with their arms. Neither seemed to be injured. Thank God for that! There would have been hell to pay if he shot a civilian. But where were the mercenaries?

  The men were starting to pile out of the truck behind him, clamoring to know what was going on. One thing was sure, he couldn't go hunting mercenaries with a platoon of men with empty rifles. Suddenly a voice rang out from the far side of the street.

  "Anybody hurt over there?"

  "Clean miss!" rang out another voice from the darkened depths of the café.

  The lieutenant squinted, but couldn't make out anyone.

  "Are they wearing kill-suits?" came a third voice from further down the street.

  "As a matter of fact they aren't!" shouted another voice from th
e alley along side the café.

  "That was live ammo?"

  "I believe it was."

  The men by the truck were milling about craning their necks at the unseen voices. Worthington suddenly realized he was sweating.

  "You hear that, boys? Live ammo!"

  "Fine by us!"

  The lieutenant opened his mouth, shouted something, anything, but it was too late. His voice was drowned out by the first ragged barrage. He had time to register with horror that it was not even a solid hail of bullets that swept their convoy. It was a vicious barrage of snipers, massed marksmen. One bullet, one soldier. Then a grenade went off under the truck next to him and he stopped registering things.

  There was no doubts in anyone's mind as to the unfortunate nature of the incident. For one thing, one of the men in civilian clothes sharing a drink with the mercenaries was an Italian officer with the Combined Government Troops who corroborated the Corporation's claim the action was in response to an unprovoked attack by the convoy.

  The fourth man was a civilian, a reporter with an international news service. His syndicated account of the affair heaped more fuel on an already raging fire of protest on the home fronts against the troops' intervention in the Corporate Wars.

  Even so, the Corporations issued a formal note of apology to the Government Forces for the massacre. They further suggested that the government troops be more carefully instructed as to the niceties of off-hours behavior to avoid similar incidents in the future.

  An angry flurry of memos did the rounds of the Government Forces trying vainly to find someone responsible for issuing the live ammo.

  The mayor of the town was more direct and to the point. He withdrew the permission for the American troops to be quartered in the town, forcing them to bivouac outside the city limits. Further, he signed into law an ordinance forbidding the Americans from coming into town with any form of firearm, loaded or not, on their person.

  This ordinance was rigidly enforced, and American soldiers in town were constantly subject to being stopped and searched by the local constables, to the delight of the mercenaries who frequently swaggered about with loaded firearms worn openly on their hips.

  Had Lieutenant Worthington not been killed in the original incident, he would have doubtlessly been done in by the troops under him, then definitely by his superiors.

  The sniper raised his head a moment to check the scene below before settling in behind the sights of his rifle.

  The layout was as it had been described to him. The speaker stood at a microphone on a raised wooden platform in the square below him. The building behind him was a perfect backdrop. With the soft hollow-point bullets he was using there would be no ricochets to endanger innocent bystanders in the small crowd which had assembled.

  Again he lowered his head behind the scope and prepared for his shot. Suddenly, there was the sound of a "tunggg" and he felt the rifle vibrate slightly. He snapped his head upright and blinked in disbelief at what he saw. The barrel of his rifle was gone, seared cleanly by some unseen force.

  He rolled over to look behind him and froze. Three men stood on the roof behind him. He hadn't heard them approach. Two were ordinary looking, perhaps in better shape than the average person. The third was Oriental. It was the last man who commanded the sniper's attention. This was because of the long sword, bright in the sun, which the man was holding an inch in front of the sniper's throat.

  The man behind the Oriental spoke.

  "Hi guy! We've been expecting you."

  The speaker was becoming redundant. The crowd was getting a little restless. Why did the man insist on repeating himself for the third and fourth time, not even bother to change his phrasing much?

  Suddenly there was a stir at the outer edge of the crowd. Four men were approaching the podium with a purposeful stride, three men shoving the fourth as they came.

  They bounded onto the platform, one taking the microphone over the speaker's protests.

  "Sorry, Senator, but part of the political tradition is allowing equal time to opposing points of view."

  He turned to the crowd.

  "Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen. You've been very patient with the last speaker, so I'll try to keep this brief. I represent the Corporations the Senator here has been attacking so vehemently."

  The crowd stirred slightly, but remained in place, their curiosity piqued.

  "Now, you may be impressed with the senator's courage, attacking us so often publicly as he has been doing lately when it's known we have teams of assassins roaming the streets. We were impressed, too. We were also a bit curious. It seemed to us he was almost inviting an assassination attempt. However, we ignored him, trusting the judgment of the general public to see him as the loudmouthed slanderer he is."

  The senator started forward angrily, but the man at the mike froze him with a glare.

  "Then he changed. He switched from his pattern of half-truths and distortions that are a politician's stock and trade and moved into the realm of outright lies."

  "This worried us a bit. It occurred to us that if someone did take a shot at him, that it would be blamed on us and give –credence to all his lies. Because of this, we've been keeping a force of men on hand to guard him whenever he speaks to make sure nothing happened to him."

  He paused and nodded to one of his colleagues. The man put his fingers in his mouth and whistled shrilly.

  Immediately on the rooftops and in the windows of the buildings surrounding the square, groups of men and women stepped into view. They were all dressed in civilian clothes, but the timeliness of their appearance, as well as the uniform coldness with which they stared down at the crowd left no doubt that they were all part of the same team.

  The man whistled again, and the figures disappeared. The man at the mike continued.

  "So we kept watching the senator, and finally today we caught something. This gentleman has a rather interesting story to tell."

  The sniper was suddenly thrust forward.

  "What were you doing here today?"

  "I want a lawyer. You can't . . ."

  The Oriental twitched. His fist was a blur as it flashed forward to strike the sniper's arm. The man screamed, but through it the crowd heard the bone break.

  "What were you doing here today?" The questioner's voice was calm, as if nothing had happened.

  "I . . ."

  "Louder!"

  "I was supposed to shoot at the senator."

  "Were you supposed to hit him?"

  "No," the man was swaying slightly from the pain in his arm.

  "Who hired you?"

  The man shook his head. The Oriental's fist lashed out again.

  "The senator!" The man screamed.

  A murmur ran through the crowd. The senator stepped hurriedly to the front of the platform.

  "It's a lie!" he screamed. "They're trying to discredit me. They're faking it. That's one of their own men they're hitting. It's a fake."

  The man with the microphone ignored him. Instead he pointed to a policeman in the crowd.

  "Officer! There's usually a standing order about guarding political candidates. Why wasn't there anyone from the police watching those rooftops?"

  The officer cupped his hands to shout back. "The senator insisted on minimum guards. He pulled rank on the chief."

  The crowd stared at the senator who shrank back before their gaze. the man with the mike continued.

  "One of the senator's claims is that the Corporations would do away with free speech. I feel we have proved this afternoon that that statement is a lie. However, our business like any business depends on public support, and we will move to protect it. As you all know, there's a war on."

  He turned to glare at the senator.

  "It is my personal opinion that we should make war on the warmakers. Our targets should be the people who send others out to fight. However, that is only my personal opinion. The only targets in my jurisdiction are front-line soldiers."

 
He looked out over the crowd again.

  "Are there any reporters here? Good. When this man took money to discredit the Corporations, he became a mercenary, the same as us. As such he falls under the rules of war. I would appreciate it if you would print this story as a warning to any other two-bit punks who think it would be a good idea to pose as a Corporate mercenary."

  He nodded to his colleagues on the platform. One of the men gave the sniper a violent shove that sent him sprawling off the platform, drew a pistol from under his jacket, and shot him.

  The policeman was suspended for allowing the mercenaries to leave unchallenged, a suspension that caused a major walk-off on the police force.

  The senator was defeated in the next election.

  The young Oriental couple ceased their conversation abruptly when they saw the group of soldiers, at least a dozen, on the sidewalk ahead of them. Without even consulting each other they crossed the street to avoid the potential trouble. Unfortunately, the soldiers had also spotted them and also crossed the street to block their progress. The couple turned to retrace their steps, but the soldiers, shouting now, ran to catch them.

  Viewed up close, it was clear the men had been drinking. They pinned the couple in a half circle, backing them against a wall, where the two politely inquired as to what the soldiers wanted.

  The soldiers admitted it was the lady who was the reason for their attention and invited her to accompany them as they continued on their spree.

  The lady politely declined, pointing out that she already had an escort.

  The soldiers waxed eloquent, pointing out the numerous and obvious shortcomings of the lady's escort, physically and probably financially. They allowed as how the fourteen of them would be better able to protect the lady from the numerous gentlemen of dubious intent she was bound to encounter on the street. Furthermore, they pointed out that even though their finances were admittedly depleted by their drinking, that by pooling their money they could doubtless top any price her current escort had offered for her favors.