The Rival Rigelians

Watson looked down at his reports. “This gang should’ve been ready for campaigning a couple of weeks ago. They should be in the field by now.”

Stevens said defensively, “I’m not as up on this as you are, Barry. It’s not my line.”

“It’s not my line, either. Only out of books. We’re all playing it more or less by ear. We’re lucky we’re not trying to train really well drilled men. The phalanx was originally conceived to take peasants, arm them simply and send them into action with a minimum of training.”

“Well, if all this is what you call a minimum of training, I’d hate to have to go through getting them into real trim.”

Barry chuckled. “Well, things have developed. A Theban named Epaminondas figured out some new departures. His innovations were so acute that they were continued and utilized as late as Frederick the Great.”

“I thought this was all based on the Greeks,” Stevens said, not really interested.

“The Macedonians. Philip came along, learned all that the Thebans knew about the phalanx and added some contributions of his own, particularly the use of cavalry in conjunction with the foot.”

Stevens snorted. “You want to know something? Back at the university, they used to call me the last of the pacifists.”

Barry Watson looked at him.

Stevens chuckled. “We used to have debates on whether or not the military should be tolerated on the newly opening planets.”

“And what did you decide?”

“Nothing. What’s ever decided by debating?”

Barry Watson turned to one of the drill sergeants. “Let’s put them through open phalanx to tortuga, sergeant.”

The non-com Tulan came to the salute. “Yes, sir.” He wheeled about sharply and barked out an order.

The men snapped to attention. For the next few minutes, Barry watched them, narrow eyed. They went into ranks six deep. They wheeled, they turned about, they marched this way and that, and back again.

“Tortuga,” Barry Watson snapped to the sergeant. The non-com rasped.

Of a sudden, ranks closed tight. The first file lowered its shields, the second, crowded behind, extended their own over the heads of the first rank so that their drill shields topped the others. Behind, the third rank, and fourth held their shields above their heads, horizontally. The fifth and sixth ranks had about faced sharply and duplicated the shield wall. They were a living war tank.

Barry grunted unhappily, tugging at his right ear. He said to Stevens, “That’s a Roman maneuver, actually. These cloddies aren’t doing it any too well.”

He turned to one of the drill sergeants. “That man at the end of the third file, sergeant.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have him over here.” The sergeant barked commands. Terry Stevens said, “What’s the matter?”

“Is that recruit a new man or something?”

“No,” Stevens said uncomfortably. “He’s got family troubles. He’s got a lot on his mind.”

Barry looked at him. “Haven’t we all? Who told him he had a mind? He’s a phalanx man.”

The cohort had ground to a halt again. In a moment, the footman in question approached at the double. He faced the two Earthmen and came to a half-hearted salute. His lack of enthusiasm wasn’t lost on Barry Watson.

Watson looked at him for a long moment. “You don’t seem to have your heart in this, spearman.” The other said nothing.

The Earthman said, “The whole theory is that every man moves exactly so. Just one man doesn’t and the whole thing falls apart. In combat, that’s a matter of life and death. Let those nomad funkers break your ranks, and you’ve all had it. You should know all this. Answer me!”

The footman said, his voice surly, “I should be working in the fields. This is not the season for war. It is the season to plant and hoe. It is not fitting that the strongest should be playing at war, with spears without points and shields made of cloth, while the women and children are in the fields.”

“I see,” Barry Watson said, his voice very level. “Then let me tell you this, spearman. You are not needed in the fields with your hoe. Specialist MacBride has succeeded in exploiting the islands off the coast. Technician Hawkins has introduced your people to the plow and reaper. The women and the new war prisoners are capable of producing more in the fields than was ever done before when you were breaking your back with your hoe. You are needed to defend the State against the nomads and rebels.”

“The nomads were no danger until…” the footman began, his voice low still.

Barry Watson turned to the sergeant. “Flog this man,” he snapped. “If he is able to move in less than a week, you answer for it.”

“Yes, sir!”

Barry looked at another of the non-coms. The man’s face was stolid and empty. They were good men, drawn from the ranks of the Khan’s standing bodyguard. They were warriors born, and Barry Watson knew they were heart and soul behind the innovations he was making. Nothing succeeds like success, he knew, and these professionals knew success when they saw it. So far as,the drill sergeants were concerned, there was no resentment against this instructor from space.