Robert Asprin - M.Y.T.H. Inc In Action

"You fight too good and shoot too good for someone who's supposed to be learnin' all this for the first time," Shu Flie sez.

". , . And you've got too many connections in high places," Spyder adds, "like with the Mob."

"... And with devils," Bee supplies.

"... And now with the general's girlfriend," Junebug finishes. "All we want to know is, what are you guys really doing in the army? I mean, I suppose it's none of our business, but as long as we're servin' together, what affects you affects us."

"Bee here thinks you're part of some secret investigation team," Hy Flie sez, "and if that's what's going on we'll try to help ... unless it's us you're supposed to be investigating."

"Well, guys," Nunzio sez, shakin' his head, "I guess you found us out. Bee's right. You see, the army wants us to ..."

"No," I sez, quiet-like.

Nunzio shoots me a look, but keeps goin'.

"What Guido means is we aren't supposed to talk about it, but since you've already ..."

"I said 'No,' Nunzio!" I sez, squarin' off with him. "The crew's been play in' it straight with us all along. I say it's time we told them the truth ... the real truth."

Nunzio hesitates, as he is not real eager to go head to head with me, then glances back and forth between me and the crew.

"Okay," he sez finally. "It's your funeral ... go ahead and tell them."

Then he leans against the desk with his arms folded while I fill the crew in on our assignment ... startin' with how the Boss's plan to keep Queen Hemlock from tryin' to take over the world fell apart when King Rodrick died, right up to our current plans to try to use our position in the supply depot to mess up the army's progress. They're all real quiet while I'm talkin', and even when I'm done no one sez anythin' for a long time.

"Well," sez Spyder, breakin' the silence, "the way I see it, we can't mess up every shipment or the army will just jerk us out of here. We'd better hold it down to one in five for a while."

"One in ten would be better," Junebug sez. "Otherwise ..."

"Wait a minute! Stop the music!" Nunzio explodes, interruptin' the conversation. "Are you guys sayin' you're willin' to help us screw things up?"

"Sure. Why not?" Shu Flie sez, puttin' a hand on my shoulder. "You and the Swatter here have been lookin' out for us since Basic. It's about time we did something for you for a change."

"Besides," his brother chimes in, "it's not like you're trying to bring down the kingdom or destroy the army. You're just out to slow things up a little ... and that's fine by us."

"What it boils down to," Spyder smiles, "is that after working with you two all this time, we know you well enough to trust you to not hurt us ... or anyone else for that matter ... unless it's absolutely necessary. I think I speak for all of us when I say we've got no problem putting our support behind any plan you think is right. Am I right, guys?"

There is a round of nods and affirmative grunts, but I am only half payin' attention. It is occurrin' to me that I am buildin' a better understandin' of what the Boss means when he sez he's nervous about commandin' more loyalty than he deserves. While the crew is sayin' they don't believe we would do anythin' to hurt them, I am thinkin' about how we set them up for the barroom fight in Twixt ... a detail I omitted when I was testifyin' about our recent activities. This makes me feel a little low, and while I am not about to refuse their help, I find it strengthens my resolve to avoid such leadership and decision makin' positions in the future.

"What about you. Bee?" Nunzio is sayin'. "You aren't lookin' too happy. You want out?"

"N ... No. It isn't that," Bee sez, quick-like. "I'm willing to help as much as I can. It's just that ... well, I was sort of looking forward to trying to get this place organized."

"You can still do that, Bee," Junebug sez, winkin' at him. "We still need to know what's going on, even if we only use the information to slow things up."

"It's just too bad we don't have our own teamsters," Shu Flie sez. "Then we could really mess things up."

"What was that, Shu?" Nunzio sez, suddenly lookin' real attentive.

"What? Oh. Well, I was thinking that if we could have our own drivers to do the delivering instead of using army wagons, we could scatter our shipments all across the kingdom."

"No ... I mean what did you say about teamsters?"

"Teamsters," Shu repeats. "You know. The guys that drive freight wagons ... at least, that's what we called 'em back on the farm."

I look at Nunzio and he looks at me, and I realize from our smiles we is thinkin' the same thing.

"Spyder," I sez, "you found the Mob once in Twixt ... do you think you could do it again?"

"Sure," she shrugs. "Why?"

"I got a message I want you to get to Don Bruce," I smiles. "I think we just found somethin' he can do to help us."

"Ya gotta speak the language."

-N. WEBSTER

"HEY, SWATTER." Shu Flie sez, lookin' out one of the warehouse windows, "do you know there are a buncha wagons and drivers sitting outside?"

"No," I sez, "but if you hum a couple bars, I'll fake it."

Okay, so it's an old joke. Like I've said before, the army runs on old jokes. Unfortuitously, this particular joke is apparently a little too old for our farm-raised colleague.

"Say what?" he sez, lookin' kinda puzzled.

"Strike that," I sez. "Are they army or civilian?"

While it is procedure to have army wagons and drivers take shipments out of the supply depot, deliveries from suppliers is done by the supplier's own transports, and are therefore civilian.

"Civilian," Shu sez.

"Are the wagons full or empty?"

"They look empty from here."

I look over at Nunzio.

"Think it might be the teamsters we're expectin'?"

"Easy enough to check," he shrugs. "Hey Shu! What are they doing?"

"Nothing," the Flie brother reports. "They're just sitting around and talking."

"Sounds like them," Nunzio smirks. "I think it's your deal, Junebug."

As you might be able to detect from this last comment, we're all occupied with our favorite pastime, which is to say, Dragon Poker.

"Shouldn't one of you go out and talk to them or something?" Shu sez, wanderin' over to our table.

"It wouldn't do any good," I sez, peekin' at my hole cards. "They'll talk to us when they're good and ready ... and not before. Pull up a chair and relax."

As it turns out, it is several hours before there is any contact with the drivers. When it finally comes, it takes the form of a big, potbellied individual with a tattoo on his arm who comes waddlin' through the door and over to our game.

"Hey, hey!" he snarls, "is somebody gonna talk to us or what?"

Now, just because Nunzio and me is big guys what get our way by tossin' our weight around does not mean we are particularly tolerant of anyone else who does the same thing.

"We figured you guys would talk to us when you were good and ready and not before," Nunzio sez, gettin' to his feet. "You got a problem with that?"

"Oh yeah?" the guy hollers, goin' nose to nose with Nunzio. "Well for your information, we'll talk when we're good and ... and ... oh. Yeah."

It takes a little doin', but I manage to hide my smile. This guy is already at a disadvantage in the negotiations, as my cousin has beaten him to his own punch line. Havin' lost the edge in the bluster department, he retreats to his secondary defense of indifference.

"We ... ah ... heard around that you guys was lookin' for some civilian transport, so we thought we'd drop by and see what the score was for ourselves."

"The stuff's over there on the loadin' dock." I sez, jerkin' a thumb in the appropriate direction. "And here's the list of where it's supposed to go. Bill us."