M.Y.T.H. Inc in Action

by Robert Asprin

  I start feelin’ anxious again. This does not sound so encouragin’, and after a career unblemished by a single conviction, I am not eager to spend time in an army stockade. I wonder if it is too late to withdraw our confession . . . and whether the MPs are still outside.

  “Very well,” the captain sez finally, lookin’ up from our files. “Consider yourselves disciplined.”

  We wait for him to say more, then realize that’s all there is.

  “Sir?”

  The captain gives a tight little smile at our reactions.

  “Do you men know what an army that’s growing as fast as ours needs the most?”

  I experience a sinkin’ feelin’ in my stomach, as I have heard this speech before. Nunzio, however, was not present the last time it was run past me.

  “A better tailor,” he sez.

  The captain blinks in surprise, then erupts in a quick bark of laughter.

  “That’s pretty good,” he sez. “A better tailor. You’ve got a point there, Corporal Nunzio . . . but that wasn’t what I was referring to.”

  He drops his grin and gets back on track.

  “What we need are leaders. You can train men to shoot, but you can’t train them to lead. Not really. We can show them the procedures and tell them the principles so they can at least go through the motions, but real leadership . . . the charisma to inspire loyalty and the guts to act in a crisis . . . that can’t be taught.”

  He picks up the report and tosses it back down careless-like.

  “Now, publicly we have to discourage our soldiers from fighting with civilians, whatever the provocation. Any other position would endanger our welcome in the community . . . such as it is. We are aware, however, that there are those who try to exploit our men at any opportunity, and many who frankly resent us ... though I never could understand why.”

  I am willin’ to let this pass, but Nunzio doesn’t.

  “Maybe it’s because the army is the major recipient of their tax money,” he sez.

  “But their taxes are being lowered, not increased by our campaigns,” the captain frowns.

  Just as it did the first time I heard it, this statement strikes an impure note in my mind. Again, however, I am not allowed time to pursue it.

  “Whatever,” the captain sez, shakin’ his head. “The truth of the matter is, that while we cannot publicly condone incidents such as the one you were involved in, there are far worse things in the army’s eyes than to be willing to fight for your men and the Military Code. The fact that you were willing to take this stand against civilians, police even . . . and after only three weeks in the army too . . . Tell me, have you men given any thought to going Career? Of making the army your permanent occupation?”

  This takes us a little aback, as we have given this idea about the same consideration we would give pokin’ ourselves in the eye with a sharp stick.

  “Ummm ... to be honest with you, sir,” I manage at last, “we was gonna see how things worked out in our first tour of duty before tryin’ to reach any decision.”

  This struck me as a diplomatic answer, as it is not wise to tell a man you think his career choice stinks on ice ... especially when he is in a position of control over your immediate future. For some reason, however, the captain seems to take my response as an encouragin’ sign.

  “Perhaps I can make the decision a little easier for you,” he sez, startin’ to scribble in our files. “I’m promoting you both. Nunzio, you’re a sergeant now . . . and Guido, you’re getting another stripe. Of course, we can’t have you wandering around town now ... or your squad either, for that matter. It might get our civilian hosts upset. Tell you what. I’m going to transfer you and your squad to Headquarters Staff. There’s always opportunity for advancement there. That’s all, men. You can go now . . . and congratulations!”

  I would like nothin’ more than a little time to think over this latest development, but it is not to be. Nunzio barely waits until we are clear of the commander’s office before he starts on me.

  “Guido,” he sez, “am I crazy, or is the army?”

  “Probably both,” I sez, “though I’ll admit I think the army has an edge on you in the ‘foo-foo land’ department.”

  “I don’t get it. I just don’t get it,” he continues like I hadn’t said anythin’. “I mean, we disobeyed standing orders . . . even roughed up the cops for cryin’ out loud. And we get promoted for that”!”

  “It would seem,” I sez carefully, “that we’re bein’ rewarded for ‘action against the enemy.’ I guess we just miscalculated who the army sees as ‘the enemy’ is all.”

  We walk on in silence for a few, each of us reflectin’ on what has occurred.

  “I guess there is a good side to this,” I sez at last. “If we are gonna continue our attempts to disrupt the army, headquarters is probably the best place to do it from.”

  “True enough,” Nunzio sighs. “Well, Guido, let me be the first to congratulate you.”

  “On what?”

  “Why, on your promotion, of course,” he sez, glancin’ sideways at me. “I know exactly how much it means to you.”

  I think of hittin’ him, but he has deliberately stepped out of range as he lays this on me.

  “Nunzio,” I sez, “let us not forget your own . . .”

  “Hey guys!! Wait up!!”

  We look around to find Spyder comin’ up behind us.

  “Oh, hi Spyder.”

  “So what happened?” she sez, tryin’ to get her wind back as she catches up to us.

  “Well, there was a bit of a fight after you left, and . . .”

  “I know that,” she interrupts. “I heard. Sorry I missed it. I meant afterward. Are you guys in trouble?”

  “Naw,” Nunzio shrugs casual-like. “In fact, we’re all being transferred to Headquarters Staff ... oh yeah, and Guido and me got promoted.”

  He sez this real easy, expectin’ her to be as surprised as we was. Strangely enough, however, she lets it skate on by her.

  “What about the civilian authorities? What are you gonna do about them?”

  “Nothin’,” I sez. “Why should we?”

  “Are you kidding? The way I heard it you punched out a cop! They aren’t gonna just ignore that!”

  “They’re gonna have to,” I shrugs. “As soldiers, we are subject to discipline by the military, not civilian courts.”

  “We are?” she frowns, stoppin’ in her tracks.

  “Sure. Don’t you remember? They told us about that back in Basic.”

  “I told you you should pay attention to the Military Law lectures,” Nunzio sez, grinnin’ at her.

  “Gee,” she sez, chewin’ her lip. “Then I guess you don’t need the help I brought you.”

  “Help? What help?”

  “Well, I thought you were gonna be in trouble with the civilian authorities, and since I knew you guys was connected, I figured I should find somebody to pass the word to so . . .”

  Until now I had only been listenin’ casually. As Spyder spoke, however, a loud alarm began to sound in the back of my mind ... a very loud alarm.

  “Connected?” I sez, interruptin’. “You mean like with the Mob?”

  “Of course,” she sez.

  “You went lookin’ for the Mob?” Nunzio sez, catchin’ on at last.

  “That’s right. Found ‘em too.”

  “Wait a minute,” I frowns. “When youse said you ‘brought back help,’ were you sayin’ you’ve got somebody along now?”

  “That’s right,” she sez, lookin’ around. “He was with me when I spotted you a second ago. I may have gotten a little ahead of him, but he should ...”

  “Hello Guido . . . Nunzio . . . long time no see.”

  The owner of this new voice melts out of the shadows close to us ... too close.

  “Hello, Snake,” I sez, edgin’ a little away from Nunzio so we both have lots of room for whatever is gonna happen next.

  “You remember me!” he sez, though h
is mockin’ smile makes it clear he is not surprised. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

  I don’t think anyone would have trouble rememberin’ Snake . . . except for maybe, witnesses . . . as he is what you would call highly memorable. He is tall and real thin, and has a habit of dressin’ all in black like he is now, which is why he was able to ease up on us in the shadows.

  “You guys know each other?” Spyder sez, hesitant-like lookin’ back and forth between us.

  “Oh, we’re old friends,” Snake sez in that smooth, purrin’ voice of his.

  “Actually, it’s more like ‘associates,’” Nunzio corrects, easin’ even further apart from me.

  While both Nunzio and me know Snake, we have never pretended to like him. He is one of the top enforcers for the Mob, but tends to like his work a little too much for our tastes. You have perhaps noticed that when the occasion calls for it, neither Nunzio nor me are adverse to the judicious application of violence, but as it goes against our delicate natures we have trained ourselves to terminate such encounters in the briefest possible time. Snake, on the other hand, likes to prolong and drag out his work as much as possible . . . and he works with a knife. He can be as fast as his moniker when the situation calls for it, however, and though Nunzio and me had been confident about roustin’ a room full of normal people earlier this evening, there is a serious question in my mind as to whether both of us workin’ together can take Snake if things get ugly.

  “Why don’t you head on back to the barracks, Spyder,” I sez, not takin’ my eyes off Snake. “Our colleague here probably has some things he wants to discuss with us ... privately.”

  “Not me!” Snake says, holdin’ up his hands palms out in what to my eye is an exaggerated show of innocence. “. . . Though I’ll admit I think a conversation between us would be ... interesting. No, I’m just here to escort you to another old friend.”

  “And who would that be?” Nunzio sez.

  Snake’s smile slips away and his voice drops a dozen degrees.

  “Don Bruce wants to talk to you ... he wants to talk to you real bad.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “You countermanded me on whose authority?”

  Pope John

  “THAT’S QUITE SOME babe you got there.”

  I shoot a sideways glance at Snake when he sez this, but his manner seems as respectful as his tone, so I decide he is sincere and not tryin’ to be sarcastic.

  “She’s okay.” I sez, noncommittal-like.

  Realizin’ we are in trouble with the Mob, it does not seem like the best idea to seem too close to Spyder.

  “So what happened to her hair?”

  “I think she likes it that way,” I shrugs. “Who knows with broads. Of course, it looked better before the army cropped it short.”

  “That reminds me of a joke I heard once,” Nunzio sez. “It seems this guy takes an alligator, then cuts off its nose and tail, and paints it yellow ...”

  “You know,” Snake interrupts, “while we were looking for you, she was asking me about joining the Mob after her enlistment is over.”

  I realize now why Snake is bein’ so talkative. He is checkin’ politely to see if either Nunzio or me has any claim on Spyder . . . professionally or personally. This is understandable, for while I do not think he is afraid of us, every guy knows that messin’ with another guy’s moll—or, in the Mob, his recruit—is apt to be considered a challenge, so it is wisest to check things out carefully before proceedin’. While it is not exactly gettin’ permission, havin’ the courtesy to ask is a good way to avoid blunderin’ into somethin’; thereby avertin’ hurt feelin’s, not to mention needless bloodshed.

  “She’s got her own mind,” I sez cautious-like. “Of course, she was askin’ me and Nunzio the same thing a week ago, so we was kinda figurin’ to sponsor her if it came to that.”

  “Okay, got it,” Snake nods. “Of course, that depends on where you guys are going to be in the future.”

  He sez this easy enough, but it is a cold reminder of the realities of our situational. He is actin’ friendly, like has no grudge against us other than, perhaps, professional rivalry. There is no doubt in our minds, however, that if Don Bruce gives him the word to whack us, he will do his best to carry out that order.

  “Speaking of our future,” Nunzio sez, “where are we going?”

  I have a pretty good idea of the answer from the direction we have been walkin’, and Snake confirms it.

  “Back to Abdul’s Sushi Bar and Bait Shop,” he sez. “Or, as Guido here would say, the scene of the perpetration.”

  “Snake,” I sez, drawin’ myself up a little, “are you tryin’ to make fun of the way I talk?”

  “Me?” he sez, all innocent-like. “Heavens no. I’ve always admired your command of the language, Guido, as does everyone else in the Mob I know. Besides . . .”

  We have reached the doorway of our goal, but he pauses briefly to finish his sentence.

  “I ... certainly wouldn’t want to offend anyone as tough as you ... or you either, Nunzio. By the way, I love your new outfits. They really show off your legs, know what I mean?”

  Now, I have been expectin’ some kinda wisecrack about our uniforms ever since Snake stepped out of the shadows. It is oblivious to me, however, why he has waited until now to mouth off, as it allows him to duck through the door before we can reply by beatin’ his head in ... which is exactly what he does, leavin’ us little choice but to follow him in.

  “There they are now. Come in, boys! Come in!”

  The scene which greets us can be taken in at a glance, but what that glance shows is none too promisin’.

  The place is a wreck, with overturned and broken tables and chairs scattered everywhere. I had known we made a bit of a mess in the course of the altercation I mentioned earlier, but whilst it was in progress my attention was much more occupied with inflictin’ damage on people whilst avoidin’ receivin’ damage from the same, so I had not been takin’ close note of what was happenin’ to the place itself. Lookin’ at it now without the distractin’ activity, however, it is clear that housekeepin’ is gonna have their work cut out for them.

  Don Bruce is leanin’ against the bar drinkin’ wine from one of the few remainin’ bottles . . . drinkin’ directly from the bottle as there are no unbroken glasses remainin’ that I can see. Though his greetin’ was real friendly, there is no pretendin’ that this is a social call, as scattered around the room, leanin’ against the wall in the absence of chairs, is no less than half a dozen Mob goons.

  “Hi guys! Come join us!”

  This comes from Tananda who is standin’ on one side of Don Bruce. She has dumped her disguise for the occasion, but is wrapped in Don Bruce’s lavender coat. While he maybe doesn’t care for females the way Nunzio and me do, Don Bruce is always the finest of gentlemen when it comes to dealin’ with them. Standin’ next to him on the other side, is ...

  “That’s the ones! Those are the guys that busted up the place! I thought I was paying you for protection!!”

  Frumple is there. For a minute I think he’s dropped his disguise as well, but then I realize that he’s still disguised as a local and that his face is bright red ‘cause he’s hoppin’ mad.

  “All right, all right!” Don Bruce sez, soundin’ a little annoyed. “We’ll consider that a firm identification. Just get your place fixed up and send us the bill . . • better still, give us a list of what you need in supplies and repairs. We can maybe get you some discounts from the distributors and contractors . . . know what I mean?”

  “I should think so,” Frumple snorts, reachin’ for the wine bottle.

  “In the meantime,” Don Bruce sez, movin’ the bottle out of his reach, “why don’t you take a little walk or something. There are a few things I want to discuss with the boys here.”

  The Deveel hesitates for a second, then nods his agreement.

  “All right,” he sez, but he shoots us a black look as he starts for the door. “I should ha
ve known that double-crossing Skeeve was behind you two ... I suspected it from the start. Him and this floozie of his ...”

  “Hold it!!”

  Don Bruce’s voice cracked through the place like a whip, and I knew Frumple had made a mistake ... a bad mistake.

  “What did you just say about Skeeve? . . . And Miss Tananda here?”

  The goons have come off the wall and are startin’ to drift forward.

  “I ... um . . . that is . . .” the Deveel sez, lookin’ around desperate-like.

  “Perhaps you should consider being a bit more careful in your selection of words when describing an associate of mine ... or a lady who is a personal friend and present at the time.”

  “Well . . . you see . . .” Frumple tries, but the Don isn’t finished yet.

  “I’ve reconsidered my settlement offer,” he sez. “I don’t think that fixin’ this place up again will do ... considering the damage to your reputation. I think we’ll have to set you up in a whole new place.”

  This confuses the Deveel, but he is scared enough to remember his manners.

  “That’s nice of you,” he sez. “But I don’t think . . .”

  “. . . On Deva!” Don Bruce sez, droppin’ the other shoe.

  For a second Frumple’s eyes snap wide open. Then he turns on us like a cornered rat.

  “You . . . you gave me your word!” he screeches. “You said you wouldn’t tell anyone . . .”

  “They didn’t have to tell me nothin’.” Don Bruce snaps. “I got ears in a lot of places . . . includin’ the Bazaar.”

  “But I can’t go back there!”

  “I know that, too,” Don Bruce sez cold-like. “Still, that’s our offer. Either we set you up on Deva ... or you stay right here and pay for your own repairs. Take it or leave it.”

  Now, I hadn’t known that Don Bruce knew that Frumple was a Deveel, just like I was unaware that the Deveel was unwelcome in his own dimension for some reason. My surprise, however, was nothin’ compared to Frumple’s reaction. He looks like he’s in shock.