"Captain!"
There was no denying the urgency in the voice that hailed him.
"Excuse me, Chief. What is it, Tusk-anini?"
"Spartacus going to shoot gun!"
A quick glance at the firing line was sufficient to confirm the information. The Sinthian was perched on his glide board, a shotgun tucked under his spindly arm, as Chocolate Harry explained the weapon to him with vastly exaggerated gestures.
"So I see," the commander said. "It seems, however, that the situation is being handled by-"
"Not know Newton's third law physics?"
Phule frowned. "What law?"
"Isn't that the one that..." Chief Goetz started, but the sentence was never finished.
KA-BOOM!
The Sinthian's skill on his glide board was such that instead of being knocked off the device by the shotgun's recoil, he spun violently around and around like a top... though, if asked, those in the near vicinity might have preferred the former option. Anyone who had not recent occasion to refer to or recall Newton's third law of physics was now graphically reminded that, indeed, for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction! Educated or not, good marksmen or not, there was nothing wrong with the Legionnaires' sense of survival, and in a twinkling everyone present was either crouched behind cover or flat on the ground, including the observers in the bleachers.
Fortunately Spartacus was only firing single loads while testing the shotgun, so the mayhem was more comical than anything. Had he been utilizing the belt-feed auto-loader option, the results might not have been so humorous.
"Seems to me," Chief Goetz drawled, raising his head to look at Phule, "the kick on that weapon's a tad strong for that fellah-at least while he's standing on that board, anyway. "
"The same thing just occurred to me," the commander said, peering over the bleacher seat he was flattened behind. "It's a problem, though. The Sinthians' eyestalks keep them from using a weapon with enough accuracy to be effective. That's why we were trying them on shotguns. I'd say to hell with it and issue them fully automatic weapons, but I'm afraid that would only compound the recoil problem."
"What you need is something that doesn't have much of a kick." Goetz frowned. "Have you thought of trying them on splat guns?"
"Splat guns?"
"Compressed-air guns that shoot little paint balls. Some of the guys in the department use 'em in a weekend war-game club they belong to."
"Oh. Those things." Phule shook his head. "I always thought they were more expensive toys than weapons."
"Some of those 'toys' are fully automatic and have a muzzle velocity of over four hundred feet per second," the chief informed him.
"Really?" The commander raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I didn't know that. Still, I'm not sure what good it would do to hit someone with a paint ball in combat, no matter how fast it was going."
"Well-" Goetz grinned wolfishly, easing himself back onto his bleacher seat "I just might be able to run down a source for some HE paint ball loads."
"High explosives?" Phule was definitely interested now. "Are those legal?"
"It may come as a surprise to you, Mr. Phule, but every so often the police are aware of items available that do not conform exactly to the letter of the law."
"Uh-huh. And what is this information going to cost me?"
"Consider it a favor," the chief said. "Of course, it might be nice if you did me a little favor in return-like, say, maybe loaning the department that cook of yours for our annual banquet that's coming up next month?"
"I think we could clear that under Community Relations." The commander grinned. "In the meantime, I want to see if there isn't some way we can get those completely legal shotguns to work for us."
"If you don't mind," Goetz said, sliding off the seat to lie prone once more, "I'll watch your experiments from here."
As it turned out, Spartacus declined to make a second attempt at handling the weapon, preferring to stay with his beloved glide board rather than abandon it for firepower.
Undaunted, Chocolate Harry pressed the shotgun on Louie, the aristocratic Sinthian. Unable to match Spartacus' expertise on the glide board, Louie had long since abandoned his efforts to master the device, claiming it was beneath him, so the unstable footing provided by that vehicle did not present a problem. Anchored firmly on the ground, or, eventually, in the sidecar of Harry's hawg, he was more than able to control the weapon, or at least approximate control sufficiently for Phule to allow him to continue using it.
As a crowning touch, one of the Legionnaires found an antique German helmet and cut holes in the top for Louie's eyestalks. The picture they presented, Chocolate Harry astride his massive hover cycle with Louie perched in the sidecar, eyestalks protruding from the top of an old helmet and clutching his belt-fed shotgun, made more than one citizen stop in their tracks for a second look. In fact, Chief Goetz commented at one point that the appearance of that particular team at the scene of a crime was a greater deterrent than an entire squad of patrolmen.
Strangely enough, his new acceptance by the company seemed to ease Louie's distaste for his lower-class fellow Sinthian, to a point where he actually entered into a business partnership with Spartacus to introduce the glide boards to their home planet. Spartacus recorded a series of demonstration and instructional tapes, while Louie used his family's contacts and influence to cut red tape for the necessary licenses and business permits. The entire company chipped in for the start-up funding, a gesture nobody regretted as it was to earn them profits in the future far in excess to their initial investment.
As the teams and partnerships among the Legionnaires solidified, so, too, did their acceptance of themselves and each other. Countless feuds and disagreements were set aside as a new feeling of unity flourished within the company. Simply put, as each individual conquered his or her own feelings of inferiority or inadequacy, he or she in turn grew more tolerant of the shortcomings of the others.
For some, however, acceptance did not come so easily, occasionally pushing them to extreme measures.
It was the company's last night at the Plaza. The construction on their new facilities was complete, and orders had been passed to pack in preparation for relocation in the morning. By unspoken agreement, as they completed their packing most of the Legionnaires gathered in the Plaza lounge for a minor going-away celebration. Of course, there were not enough seats to accommodate the whole company at once, but the mood was jovial and most of the individuals were content to lean against the walls or sit on the floor in groups, or wander casually from conversation to conversation. As is common in such social, military gatherings, more than a few conversations turned into one-downmanship competitions as individual Legionnaires complained and bragged about who had stood the worst duty in the course of their careers.
"... you think swamps are bad?" Brandy grinned, gesturing for attention with her drink. "Listen, once I was assigned to a crew that had to guard-get this-a bloody iceberg! Never did find out why, but it was impossible to stay warm with the gear we were issued, unless you found someone to be real close to, if you get my drift. After a few weeks of freezing your tutu off, I'll tell you, some of the ugliest Legionnaires started looking pretty good!"
The knot of Legionnaires laughed appreciatively but briefly, as each leaned forward in eagerness to be next.
"Talk about hard duty," Super Gnat proclaimed, beating the others off the line. "My second assignment or was it my third?... whatever! Anyway, the CO had a real thing against short people, and, of course, the only way I get to play basketball is if they use me for the ball. So she calls me into her office one day and says-"