A Phule and His Money by Robert Asprin, Peter J. Heck Page B
Authors: Robert Asprin, Peter J. Heck
Tags: Fiction, General, Suspense, Science-Fiction, Action & Adventure, SF, Space Opera, Life on other planets, Science fiction; American, Robots, Phule's Company (Fictitious characters)
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sergeant by one arm and began to turn so as to flip him over his hip. What happened next was hard to follow, but it ended with Slammer falling flat on his back from what seemed a considerable height, with an impressive thud. Escrima pounced on him like a hawk, one knee across a biceps, one hand on Stammer's throat, and the other poised in a fist in front of his face.
"Third part of the lesson," Brandy said to the other recruits, who stared in awe at their fallen comrade. "Never take an opponent for granted. You go into combat, there's no such thing as a fair fight. No rules, no refs, no timeouts, and no points for style. Stammer tried to get fancy with Escrima, and look where it got him."
Escrima let Slammer get up, and the recruit returned to his place in the formation, rubbing his biceps where the sergeant had kneeled on it. "OK, now you're going to break up into pairs and try the move I showed you. Stick with the lesson, and we'll show you all more moves as soon as everybody's had a chance to practice this one."
The recruits broke up into pairs, spreading around the mats and trying the technique Brandy had shown them. Inevitably, a few of them had trouble even with something this elementary-and others tried to show off, attempting more complicated moves. It was about as typical a training session as Brandy had ever seen.
Except for the Gambolts. Their feline anatomy put an entirely new twist on everything. Pushed backward, even with a leg confined, they would simply do a backfiip and land back on their feet, quicker than any human athlete. Once again, the Gambolts were simply leagues beyond their human counterparts. The other recruits had noticed by now, and there was muttering among them. When the exercise was finished, there was a distinct look of resignation on a number of the recruits' faces.
As the training session progressed, there were more and more discouraged faces. The Gambolts made everything look easy, and the humans were rapidly coming to realize that they were outclassed by three recruits as fresh out of civilian life as they were. Normally, Brandy would have known what to do with a recruit so clearly superior. After all, a sergeant had the benefit of years of training-and a willingness to play whatever trick was needed to bring a recruit into line. A few quick falls with someone like Escrima, and even a fairly advanced martial arts student would be properly humbled.
But the Gambolts were so good, she wasn't sure even Escrima could put them in their place. It didn't take much foresight to see that this was going to be a real problem...
"Those Renegades are still snooping around, Captain," said Lieutenant Rembrandt. "I'd like to find some way to get rid of them."
"I take it they haven't done anything we can use as grounds for barring them from the casino?" said Phule, tapping a pencil on his desk. For the second or third day in a row, the daily officer's briefing was shaping up as a series of unsolved problems. He didn't like that, but for the moment, the problems remained intractable.
"Not unless we do it for general obnoxiousness," said Lieutenant Armstrong. "That's within our rights. From what I can tell, anything a casino owner wants to do-up to and possibly including outright murder-is legal here on Lorelei. "
"That's one of the few benefits of the mob having made the rules for so long," said Rembrandt, nodding. "We can bar anyone from the Fat Chance for any reason we concoct. But I don't think we can expel them from the station unless we catch them cheating at the tables, or damaging casino property, or running some kind of credit fraud. And the Renegades have been careful not to do that."
"Where are they staying?" asked Beeker. "Perhaps you could call in a favor from one of your fellow casino owners."
"They're at the Tumbling Dice," said Rembrandt, a sour look on her face. "That's Maxine Pruett's home base. Not much chance of calling in a favor from her."
"No indeed," said Phule, glumly. "In
"Third part of the lesson," Brandy said to the other recruits, who stared in awe at their fallen comrade. "Never take an opponent for granted. You go into combat, there's no such thing as a fair fight. No rules, no refs, no timeouts, and no points for style. Stammer tried to get fancy with Escrima, and look where it got him."
Escrima let Slammer get up, and the recruit returned to his place in the formation, rubbing his biceps where the sergeant had kneeled on it. "OK, now you're going to break up into pairs and try the move I showed you. Stick with the lesson, and we'll show you all more moves as soon as everybody's had a chance to practice this one."
The recruits broke up into pairs, spreading around the mats and trying the technique Brandy had shown them. Inevitably, a few of them had trouble even with something this elementary-and others tried to show off, attempting more complicated moves. It was about as typical a training session as Brandy had ever seen.
Except for the Gambolts. Their feline anatomy put an entirely new twist on everything. Pushed backward, even with a leg confined, they would simply do a backfiip and land back on their feet, quicker than any human athlete. Once again, the Gambolts were simply leagues beyond their human counterparts. The other recruits had noticed by now, and there was muttering among them. When the exercise was finished, there was a distinct look of resignation on a number of the recruits' faces.
As the training session progressed, there were more and more discouraged faces. The Gambolts made everything look easy, and the humans were rapidly coming to realize that they were outclassed by three recruits as fresh out of civilian life as they were. Normally, Brandy would have known what to do with a recruit so clearly superior. After all, a sergeant had the benefit of years of training-and a willingness to play whatever trick was needed to bring a recruit into line. A few quick falls with someone like Escrima, and even a fairly advanced martial arts student would be properly humbled.
But the Gambolts were so good, she wasn't sure even Escrima could put them in their place. It didn't take much foresight to see that this was going to be a real problem...
"Those Renegades are still snooping around, Captain," said Lieutenant Rembrandt. "I'd like to find some way to get rid of them."
"I take it they haven't done anything we can use as grounds for barring them from the casino?" said Phule, tapping a pencil on his desk. For the second or third day in a row, the daily officer's briefing was shaping up as a series of unsolved problems. He didn't like that, but for the moment, the problems remained intractable.
"Not unless we do it for general obnoxiousness," said Lieutenant Armstrong. "That's within our rights. From what I can tell, anything a casino owner wants to do-up to and possibly including outright murder-is legal here on Lorelei. "
"That's one of the few benefits of the mob having made the rules for so long," said Rembrandt, nodding. "We can bar anyone from the Fat Chance for any reason we concoct. But I don't think we can expel them from the station unless we catch them cheating at the tables, or damaging casino property, or running some kind of credit fraud. And the Renegades have been careful not to do that."
"Where are they staying?" asked Beeker. "Perhaps you could call in a favor from one of your fellow casino owners."
"They're at the Tumbling Dice," said Rembrandt, a sour look on her face. "That's Maxine Pruett's home base. Not much chance of calling in a favor from her."
"No indeed," said Phule, glumly. "In
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