MA09 Myth Inc in Action by Robert Asprin Read Free Book Online

shoulder and begins to talk to him in an earnest-type fashion, all the while leadin’ him casually behind the weapon storage tent and out of general sight. After what seems like an intolerably long time, Bee reemerges, walkin’ in a rollin’ stride that is very familiar to me, and I know the power of reason and logic has triumphed again. I wait until he is steppin’ up to the firin’ line for yet another try, then commence to create a diversion.
    “You’re tryin’ too hard, Spyder,” I sez, loud-like, steppin’ up behind that notable where she is standin’ at the far end of the firin’ line from “Bee.”
    Both Spyder and Junebug are sporadic in their marksmanship, keepin’ their shots in the vicinity of the target, but only hittin’ it occasionally.
    “You’re keepin’ your left arm way too tense... you gotta loosen up a little and just cradle the weapon in your hand. Ease up on the trigger, too. Just use the tip of your finger instead of tryin to wrap it all the way around the trigger. Otherwise, you’ll pull your shot off to the left every time you squeeze off a round.”
    “Like this?”
    “Yeah, only...”
    “WHAT THE HECK YA THINK YOU’RE DOIN??!!”
    It should have been gratifying to know that I was correct in my appraisal of Sergeant Smiley’s boilin’ point. Up until now, Nunzio and me have been real careful to do our coachin’ of the other recruits out of his sight and hearin’, so’s not to conflict with the authority-type image he is workin’ so hard to maintain. I figure that this open display will not sit well with him and this figurin’ proves to be dead on target. I should be glad, but as he comes stompin’ toward me I have to fight off the sneakin’ feelin’ that this has not been the wisest tactic to pursue.
    “Guido was just giving me some pointers on handling this thing, Sergeant,” Spyder sez, innocent-like, her polite manners a testimony to her hard learned lessons that Smiley is not someone to hassle unnecessarily.
    “Oh, so now the Bug Swatter’s an expert on crossbows, is he?” the sergeant snarls, puttin’ the cross hairs on me. “Thinks he’s better’n me or the range instructors at teaching marksmanship, does he?”
    While trackin’ this with great attention, I nonetheless see over his shoulder that Nunzio, disguised as Bee, is firin’ his qualifyin’ round... right under the nose of the corporal, who is more interested in watchin’ the sergeant and me than in payin’ attention to what’s happenin’ at his end of the range.
    “Why don’t you just show us how good you are with this weapon, acting Squad Leader Guido,” Smiley sez, snatchin’ the crossbow away from Spyder and thrustin’ it at me. “If you can qualify, then maybe I won’t bust you back into the ranks.”
    Now I have been threatened by experts... literally... so this effort by the sergeant fails to generate in me the obviously desired nervousness. If anything, I am tempted to deliberately blow these shots, thereby gettin’ myself off the leadership-type hook which, as I have noted earlier, I am not particularly happy to be danglin’ from. Still, my professional abilities have been openly challenged... and in front of a skirt, even if it’s just Spyder. Besides, Nunzio has now finished qualifyin’ for Bee, so there is no incentive to prolong this diversion any longer.
    I spare the crossbow no more than a cursory glance, havin’ a weak stomach when it comes to substandard weapons. It is obviously the work of government contractors, and bears the same resemblance to the custom weapons from Iolo that I normally use that a plow horse bears to a thoroughbred. Ignorin’ this, I holds a quarrel in my mouth while cockin’ the cross-bow by puttin’ the butt in my stomach and jerkin’ the string back with both hands (which is quicker’n usin’ the foot stirrup to do the same thing), drop the quarrel into the groove ahead of the drawn string, and squeeze off a quick shot down