It didn’t take much to find my recruits—all I had to do was follow the racket. It was just good-humored guffawing and loud voices, punctuated by Grudy’s shrilling. It was coming from the dojo, so I swung in and felt right at home.
“Yes, it is necessary for you to wear hose.” The poor old lady was beginning to wear thin. “Now do be good boys and pull them on! I’ve a costume of my own to don, you know.”
“ ’S all right, love—we’ll be there on time,” said a cheerful basso that had dropped a few down its gullet. “Why the tin hat?”
I stepped over, trying not to grin too hard. “Barry wants to start running in fifteen minutes, Grudy!”
“Oh! Ramou! Thank heaven!”
“No, thank Horace. He just assigned me to take care of this mob.”
“Oh, izzsat so, mate?” the basso said, not so cheerful any more.
I turned toward the voice and found myself staring at an acre of chest. I followed it up to the hard grin and said, “Yeah. I’m supposed to tell you guys where to go.”
“Suppose we tell you where to go first, eh, Jack?” said a shorter version of the same with a low baritone and a hard face. Hard arms and shoulders, too—since he didn’t have his shirt on, it wasn’t hard to tell.
“Don’t think you know your way around,” I said cheerfully.
“Know our way around!” a high baritone bleated, coming in on the giant’s other side. “Who went to this flaming high school and who didn’t, eh?”
“It’s not a high school now,” I said. “It’s a theater.”
“Yeah, and we’re being paid to walk into our old gym and look like an army.” Chovy stepped up beside me, turning to face Tall and Wide. “This’s Ramou, Bolo. Don’t give him a hard time—he’s got trouble enough, trying to ride herd on us lot.”
“Does he now?” Bolo said easily. He didn’t want to let it go.
Neither did I, but Barry needed us in fifteen. “Hey, I didn’t ask for the job,” I said. “I know, don’t tell me— neither did you. But you took it, so …” I raised my voice. “… everybody into costume, okay?”
Bolo didn’t budge. “After you.”
“Good idea.” I turned to Grudy, who was looking very nervous. “Got my costume, Grudy?”
“Yes, dear.” She pulled a hanger off a rack.
“You’ll look ver-r-r-y pret-ty in it, ‘dear,’ ” Bolo mimicked.
I felt the frisson of anger tingling all over my skin—but I remembered the rules Sensei taught me, so I let it wash over me and dwindle away.
Grudy handed me the costume. “Suspenders for the hose, and wrap the thongs from the sandals around your legs in diagonals that crisscross.”
“Will do. Don’t they need you in the ladies’ now?”
“Why … yes, thank you, Ramou.” And she moved toward the door, glancing back at me anxiously.
She didn’t need to worry. “Okay.” I turned back to Bolo and kicked off my trousers. “You pull the hose on all the way, but don’t let ’em bind your toes too tight.” I’d been through this yesterday, fortunately, when the company had run a dress rehearsal aboard ship.
“Stockings, eh?” Bolo said. “Pretty, pretty.”
“Glad you think so. Try ’em on.”
“Me wear stockings? Don’t make me laugh, chum!”
“I didn’t know you could,” I said, and reached up to clap him on the shoulder. “Look, Bolo, it’s really simple—you put on the hose, or you’re fired.”
His grin turned nasty, and he knocked my hand off—or would have, if I hadn’t seen it coming and yanked it away. “If you fire me, chum, you’d better not step outside.”
“You’re fired.” I headed for the door. “I’m stepping outside.”
The extras whooped and followed along.
But Bolo didn’t. “Why bother?” he called. “We’re right here in a dojo.”
I turned on my heel and came right back. “Good point. Step back, folks—give us room.”
Where was Chovy all this time? Leaning back against the wall and looking interested, that’s where. Fine friend he was—to either of us.
“Watch out, Bolo,” somebody said. “He’s the one threw every kid in karate class the other day.”
“Yeah, you told me,” Bolo said. “But how is he on street fighting?”
I managed to keep the laugh down. You don’t get very far in martial arts before you learn not to boast about it— and Bolo obviously didn’t know much about karate, if he could even ask the question. Of course, he didn’t know about my scurrilous past, either.
I know. A black belt isn’t supposed to let himself get pushed into a fight if he can walk away from it. But Bolo had just made it clear I couldn’t walk—and besides, this wasn’t a real fight, just a social one.
So it behooved me to put it on that basis. I stepped onto the red rug, paced over to the far side, turned back, and beckoned to him. He grinned, shucked his jacket, and leaped onto the mat.
I bowed.
He threw back his head and laughed.
Well, I’d made the terms clear. But I didn’t fall into guard stance, I just ambled two steps closer to him—all the time remembering that Barry wanted these apes onstage in fifteen minutes. Ten, now. I didn’t have time for a long, drawn-out bout—but I couldn’t embarrass Bolo too badly, either. It would be a tough balancing act.
Bolo stepped a little closer and taunted, “Why don’t you throw a punch, big black belt?”
“Because,” I said, “I’m not the challenger here. You get first kick.”
He didn’t bite. “Oh, no, after you!”
Well, at least he knew something. “No, I insist.”
“Be my guest.”
“Fine.” I spun on my heel and headed for the costume racks. “Since we’re not going to fight, let’s get into costume.”
“Hold on there,” Bolo snarled. I heard his feet pounding up behind me, and whirled about just as he reached for my shoulder. He hesitated, disconcerted to see my face again, then snarled and jabbed with his left.
I took the punch on my shoulder, rolling with it. It hurt, but not enough to complain about, so I just grinned and said, “Thanks.”
“Thanks?” His face was a study in consternation.
“For making it self-defense.”
He stared at me, wondering if it was a joke, realized it wasn’t, snarled, and jabbed again.
I caught it, spun, locked his elbow, and pressed down just enough to make him squawk with surprise. Then I released the hold and leaped back. “So that’s street fighting, huh?”
He bellowed and came in, foot and fist.
I ducked the fist, let the foot glance off my hip as I was stepping back, then kept on stepping, faster and faster. He followed, jabbing with that left; I took it on the shoulder, on the arm, on the chest, but I wouldn’t let him hit the face, and he knew it was a matter of what I would and wouldn’t allow, too. Knew that I wasn’t letting him get that right fist in—and he was getting frustrated and very angry. “Stand still, Chicken Little!”
When he was going fast enough, I paused just long enough for him to follow up with that right, fast and hard. But I wasn’t there anymore, I was catching that right wrist and whirling in to throw him over my shoulder. He was just the right size for it, and he landed with a very satisfying thump. No damage, of course—I pulled up on his arm just enough to cushion his fall—but he looked very disoriented for a minute.
The onlookers howled.
Since he was down anyway, I locked his elbow against my leg and pushed back—again, just enough to let him know I could have broken his arm if I’d wanted to, and to weaken his right a little; now both arms were under strength. Then I let go and jumped back.
It had been fun at first, but I was beginning to feel bad now. It was too easy, and I was cursing myself for a bully. Never mind that Bolo had picked the fight, or that the rest of them had probably put him up to it, one way or another—I was so far past him in ability that it was really unfair.
>
But I had to let him save face, which would maybe also salve my conscience. He clambered to his feet, shaking his head and glaring at me, hunched over like a bull, fists in close to his chest.
Then, suddenly, he charged me.
Maybe it made sense, in a way—using his bulk to flatten me. But he was too easy to dodge …
So I didn’t.
Well, I did move a little—I had to make it look good. But I made sure I was slow, just slow enough so that he hit me a glancing blow, and I went flying. Okay, I jumped a little. I rolled to my feet right away, of course, to see him bearing down on me again.
Then it came to me in a flash. I stepped aside just enough to punch him in the head as he went by. An instant later, his shoulder caught me, and I went flying again. I rolled and came up, and Bolo was coming back cautiously, shaking his head to try to clear it, hunched over, guard up. He stepped in and let go with both fists at my midriff, like trip-hammers. I gave way just enough to keep it from hurting too badly, and slammed my right into his face.
He straightened up, fast, his eyes glazing.
He really didn’t need it, but I stepped in and let him have a shot in the chin.
The crowd was going mad.
Bolo toppled like a pine tree—it was all I could do to keep from yelling, “Tiiimmberrrr! ”—straight into the arms of his backup group. While they worked him over with a towel and a bucket, Chovy stepped up to me with an approving nod. “Nicely done, Ramou, nicely done!”
“Thanks,” I said sourly. “They were laying for me, huh?”
Chovy shrugged. “They figured you’d be the one sent to ride herd on them. How’d you guess?”
“Because they brought a bucket, sponge, and towel.” I turned away so he wouldn’t see my face work.
Not quite fast enough, though. “No fun?” he said softly. I shook my head, straightening up before I turned back to him. “The tough ones on New Venus just aren’t up to the tough ones on Terra, Chovy. Sorry, but that’s the way it is.”
“’S all right, mate,” he said, with an appraising gleam in his eye. “I told ’em it was right bad manners—and it was, considering you lot are our guests. But there’s some as won’t listen to the voice of experience, eh?”
“I take it Bolo graduated a few years behind you?”
“Right, except ‘graduated’ wouldn’t quite be the term I’d use.” He reached out to touch my cheek with a thumb. “Nice bruise coming there.”
“That’s all right, I’ll be wearing makeup.” At his look of alarm, I said, “No, not you guys. I’ve just got a couple of lines, that’s all. Even I’m not dumb enough to try to tell these apes to put on lipstick:”
“Never seen an ape,” Chovy said slowly, “just pictures— but I’ll take it as a compliment.”
“It is, in its way,” I said.
Chovy nodded. “Well, then, tell ’em what you will, mate. I don’t think they’ll give you any argument now.”
I nodded, took a deep breath, and stepped out.
I went over to Bolo. His friends looked up in alarm and tried to close ranks around him, but I was already right next to him. He was on his feet, very groggy, but he recognized me, and his face went blank.
“You’re a tough one,” I said. “Gave me a rough time, I don’t mind telling you.”
His face thawed a little.
“Wish I could ask you out for a drink right now,” I said, “but we’re due on stage in five minutes. Think you can get into costume?”
Bolo nodded slowly, then smiled just a little. “Yeah. Sure, mate. Costume it is. Which one’s mine?”
I met Marty coming down the stairs as I was coming up. “At last!” he said. “Barry’s getting antsy, Ramou. What kept you?” Then he got a good look at my face and said, “Oh.” And, “No time for makeup, huh?”
“Not yet,” I said. “Go tell Barry we’ll be right there, okay?”
“Sure.” He turned away, then glanced back at me uncertainly. “You sure you’re okay, Ramou?”
“Oh, yeah,” I said. “Just had to establish my authority, like Horace said to do. Takes a little time, though. Go tell Barry, huh?”
Marty grinned. “Wish I had your talent, Ramou.” Then he turned and was gone, while I wondered what he meant.
I led my troops out onto the gym floor into the middle of the set. They stared at the platforms and stairs, making noises like, “Hey, superlative!” and “This is amazing!” Not quite in those words, of course.
All except Bolo. He was staring around the rest of the gym through his bruises, with a faraway look in his eye. Something about him plucked at my empathy. I sidled over to him and murmured, “Lot of great memories, huh?”
He nodded, eyes still on the bleachers and the equipment. “Best part of my life, mate. Best part of my life. All downhill from there. Ruddy bastards! To build us up so high, then drop us down so hard!”
Something connected. “They didn’t kick you out after tenth grade.”
“Oh, they let us stay in school, right enough—’cause we were the best at air hockey, and they wanted to see us play. So they led us up to thinking there was a future for us, then gave us a piece of paper, a pat on the head, and a job pumping oil!”
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s outrageous for the best years of your life to be over before you’re twenty-one.”
“What’ve I got to look forward to now?” he growled.
“It’s not that far to Terra,” I said. “Save your money. Don’t get married. Buy your ticket to where there’s some opportunity.”
He finally realized who was talking to him and looked down, amazed. Then his face darkened. “What business of yours is it, anyway?”
“None,” I said, “and all. Everyone’s pain is mine, and mine is theirs—because I’m human.”
“You won’t last long that way,” he snorted.
I nodded. “I know. Bad habit—I should break it. So should you. Make yourself a chance.”
“Did you?” he sneered.
“No,” I said. “I lucked into it—after I got to New York.”
He shook his head impatiently. “I don’t need New York. New Venus is enough—if I didn’t have to be a pump-humper!”
“Then get that ticket to Terra,” I said, “and go to college. Come back in management.”
He stared at me. Then he said, “I wanted to be an air-hockey champ, bo!”
“Then be it,” I said. “Start a team. Get the other men who used to be BMOCs. Do it through the Company—they must have a recreation program. But even if you don’t, at least you had your days of glory. I didn’t. You were lucky.”
He gave me a long, brooding look. Then he said, “Might be as you’re the lucky one, mate. Happen as your days of glory could be ahead.”
I smiled. “Thanks. I hope so. I’m sure as hell going to work at it.”
He finally smiled, too. “You’ve got the shoulders for it, bo.”
“Come on,” I said. “Time for work.”
“If you can call this work,” he snorted, but he turned back and came along with me—and do you know, I never had another bit of trouble out of him. Or any of the other extras, either. Funny thing about that.
We strolled up as Horace was trying to call the boys to order and getting red in the face about it. “Gentlemen, gentlemen! Will you come to order, please? We really must give you your blocking! Ramou? Has anyone seen Ramou?”
“Right here, Horace.” I held up a hand. “Where do we go first?”
“Ramou! Thank heavens!” Horace sighed. “Take them around stage left, will you? You know the blocking.”
I nodded and headed stage left, beckoning my little army. “Come on, guys.”
I watched Ramou and his squadron troop off, then turned to call to Barry, “We can begin now!”
“Very good.” Barry looked around at the whole company. “Pay attention, please, friends. This will be our dress rehearsal. Mind you, we will still have a runthrough with principals tomorrow, and time to work th
rough a few trouble spots, but this will be our only opportunity for a full rehearsal with all the extras—they have jobs, from which the Company has graciously not released them—so they have to be at work tomorrow and cannot stay with us past midnight. Therefore, this will be the last chance to run the full show in this space. So do your best, and if you blow a line or two, just cover for one another, will you? I know it’s been horrible having to prepare this play in so short a time, but you’ve all been splendid about it, and I want to thank you deeply.”
“We have not all been splendid,” I muttered to Winston. “There are one or two among us who have been protesting every inch of the way.”
“Well, Horace, you know that, and I know that,” Winston answered, equally low-voiced, “but I’m sure Mamie and Larry do not.”
“Let us begin, then!” Barry cried. “Merlo, the heath, please?”
Before our eyes, the castle changed to a blasted heath with a huge rock outcropping. I heard some murmurs of amazement from the far side of the stage, where Ramou and his extras watched.
“Very good!” Barry turned away toward the wings, calling, “Grudy?”
Grudy came out on top of the rock—or perhaps I should say that the first witch did. She looked so ugly and malevolent that I could scarcely believe it was my old friend. I reflected, not for the first time, that Grudy had not chosen the branch of the field best suited to her talents.
“When shall we three meet again?” she shrilled, and we were off.
It was a disaster. I mean, it was the first play I’d ever been in, and even I could tell it was a disaster. Susanne and Lacey stumbled over their lines—they got them, but they stumbled—Banquo and Macbeth came on from opposite sides when they were supposed to be together, I was running around onstage correcting my extras and trying to herd them more or less in the same direction, and Larry dropped so many lines I almost tripped over them. Chovy’s kid brother got his lines right as MacDuff Junior, but when the murderers came after him, he resisted so well that Charlie went around hopping on a wounded shin and I took a black eye before I finally hissed, “Look, kid, we’re supposed to win this one, get it?”
“I thought I was supposed to fight back,” he whispered.
“Yeah, but not for real. Now lie down and play dead, or I’ll tell that big old guy with the crown to come sit on you.”
We Open on Venus - Starship Troupers 2 Page 25
