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

range.
    Not surprisin’ly, the missile thwacks into the dummy’s right shoulder.
    “A bit lucky, but not bad,” Smiley sez, grudgin’ like. “You’d get better accuracy, though, if you shot from the shoulder instead of the hip. Trying to show off will only...”
    By the time he gets this far in his critique, I have re-cocked, reloaded, and loosed a second shot... again workin’ from the hip.
    This shot hisses into place not more than two finger widths from the first.
    The sergeant shuts his mouth so fast you can hear his teeth click together, which is fine by me, and watches in silence whilst I snap a third shot off that makes a neat triangle with the first two.
    “Pretty sloppy,” comes the sneerin’ squeak of Nunzio, as he joins our group, free of his disguise now. “I warned you that crushing stuff with your hands was gonna ruin your touch for a trigger!”
    “Izzat so!!??” I snaps, more than a little annoyed at havin’ my handiwork decried. “Let’s see you do better with this thing!”
    I lob the crossbow to him, which he catches with one hand, then squints at the bindings.
    “Government contractors,” he sez in the same tone he uses to announce he’s stepped in somethin’ organic and unpleasant. “It sure ain’t Iolo’s work!”
    “The quarrels are about as straight as a barroom pool cue, too,” I sez, givin’ him the rest of the bad news. “But like the Boss sez: ‘Ya does the best ya can with what ya got.’ Right?”
    He makes a face at me, then snaps off his three shots, also shootin’ from the hip. I notice that even though he works the dummy’s other shoulder to avoid confusion, his groupin’ is not a noticeable improvement over mine.
    “Okay, it’s the weapon... this time,” he admits, handin’ the crossbow back to Spyder. “If we were working a longer range, though, I still think...”
    “Just a minute, you two!”
    We turn our attention to the sergeant, both because he sounds upset over somethin’, and because we’ve been havin’ this particular argument for years, so it’s doubtful we would have resolved anythin’ even if we had continued the discussion uninterrupted.
    “What are you trying to pull, here?”
    “What’s wrong, Sergeant?” Nunzio sez, expressin’ the puzzlement we both is feelin’. “Two out of three hits qualifies, right?”
    “What’s wrong?” Smiley smiles, showin’ too many teeth for comfort. “Shot groupings like those mean you’ve both got excellent control of your weapons. Now, correct me if I’m mistaken, but doesn’t that also mean you could have put those groupings anywhere on the target you wanted?”
    “Well, sure... Sergeant.”
    “So how come you shot the dummy in the shoulders instead of in the head or chest?”
    “That would kill him,” I sez before I’ve had a chance to think it through.
    “YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO KILL HIM! THAT’S WHAT BEIN’ A SOLDIER IS ALL ABOUT!!!”
    Now, in hindsight I know I shoulda’ gone along with him, but he caught me by surprise and my old Mob-type habits cut in.
    “What kinda cheap barroom shooters do you take us for??’” I barks right back at him. “Me and Nunzio is professionals!! Any jerk can kill somebody, but it takes SKILL to leave ‘em in a condition where they can still pay protection... OR give you information... OR...”
    “What my cousin means to say,” Nunzio sez, steppin’ between us quick-like, “is that wounding an enemy takes three opponents out of the action instead of just one, since someone’s got to help him get back to...”
    It was a good try, but too late. The sergeant was still into takin’ me on.
    “Are you calling the trained soldiers of Possiltum jerks?” he hollers, steppin’ around Nunzio to come at me again. “ What are you? Some kind of PACIFIST?”
    “What... did... you... call... me...?” I sez in my softest voice, which I only use on special occasions.
    The trainin’ area around us suddenly got real quiet and still... except for