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Farmer, Philip Jose – Riverworld 06 – ( Shorts) Tales of Riverworld

Robin held no false illusions about himself or the task at hand: he knew it would be difficult, that the fighting would probably be bloody and violent, that some of his men—perhaps even he himself—would die as a result. But he also knew Capone needed to be removed from power, and that he was the one man capable of carrying it off successfully.

The next day, Claude de Ves gave Robin and his men a tour of the riverboat. They saw the steam engines driving the paddlewheels and the huge bins where they kept wood for fuel; they saw the pilothouse and the luxurious salons; they saw the cabins and the empty cargo holds.

The riverboat had tremendous potential, Robin decided, but they wouldn’t be able to use it in then’ attack. It was too large and too obvious—Capone would have too much time to prepare for a fight if he saw it coming. Besides, Verne and his men would be easily overwhelmed by Capone’s superior forces. No, Robin decided, given the odds against them, they would have to rely on then* wits to gain the upper hand.

The riverboat paddled up-River for three weeks, crossing hundreds of miles, passing thousands of different cultures. Aztecs, Minoans, modern Japanese, seventeenth-century Indians… the sheer volume of people was staggering.

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John Gregory Betancourt

During that time Robin drilled his men and Verne’s mercilessly in the art of the longbow. They made straw targets in the shape of men and shot them again and again behind the pilothouse. The pilothouse’s back wall became filled with chips and holes from being hit by countless arrowheads.

In the evenings Robin and his men worked on making more bows and arrows, aided by Verne’s crew. Eventually every man and woman on board had two longbows and two dozen arrows. Robin felt certain—and Little John tended to agree—that they would need everyone aboard to retake New Chicago.

When they were a week’s walk from New Chicago, the Belle Dame slowed and once again put in to shore. This time Robin was the only one to leave. The riverboat would return in three weeks’ time to pick him up; in the meantime it would wait far down-River, where Little John and Will Scarlet and the others would continue to drill Verne’s men in archery.

Robin’s mission was simple: he would scout the land, see New Chicago, get an estimate of Capone’s strength, and return.

The trip to New Chicago proved disappointingly uneventful. The native populations along the River were sparse—most, Robin learned, had migrated to New Chicago during its early days. Since Al Capone’s rise to power, the remaining people had migrated down-River … rumors of slave camps, spread by a few escapees, did the trick.

As he walked, every possible plan for taking Chicago ran through Robin’s head. Storming the walls… poisoning

THE MERRY MEN OF RIVERWORLD

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Capone’s food… leading a slave revolt… all seemed equally mad, and equally improbable.

One day out from the New Chicago, he blundered into a patrol of Capone’s thugs: six men, all armed with swords and shields. They ringed Robin at once, weapons drawn.

“Throw down your weapons,” their leader said with a cruel sneer, “and we may let you live.”

Robin stood with his back to a tree, his bow drawn, an arrow nocked and ready to fire.

“Not a chance,” Robin said. “Another step and you’re a dead man.” His arrow targeted the man’s chest. “An arrow will go through that shield you’re holding like a hot knife through butter.”

The man shifted a bit uneasily. “Here now,” he began. “You can’t—”

“I heard there’s a city ahead where men with certain skills can find a good life,” Robin went on. “Is that true, or not?”

“What skills do you have?”

“I make weapons.”

“What sort?”

“Everything from bows to guns.”

“Guns, you say?”

“That’s right.”

Grinning, the man stepped back and sheathed his sword. “Why didn’t you say so, friend? We’ve had problems with the natives around here, so we can’t be too careful. You’ll be welcome in New Chicago, all right— the boss always has a place for another man with useful skills.”

Robin lowered his bow. “I should think so,” he said.

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