Free Exploits by Mike Resnick

began reappraising the situation when I came to a pile of bodies about ten miles later, and when I saw a Christian mission on fire a mile after that, I decided that General Ling Sen sounded so deeply in need of salvation that there wasn't no time to waste, so I took a hard right and started walking west.
    I'd gone maybe seven or eight miles when I heard a drunken voice singing “God Save the King", except when I got close enough to make out the words it was more like “God Save the Liverpool Ruggers Team", which truth to tell made a lot more sense, as the Liverpool Ruggers Team was in fifth place in the standings the last time I'd seen a paper in Macau, whereas the King didn't have no serious competition for the throne that I was aware of.
    I kept walking and came upon an English soldier, all dolled up in his parade best, with a bright red jacket and a pith helmet, sitting by the side of the road, drinking from a bottle of rice wine.
    “Come join me, friend,” he said when he looked up and saw me, and being the good-natured Christian that I am, I moseyed over and took a swig from his bottle.
    “Are we still in China?” he asked after a moment.
    “Unless they moved Peking when I wasn't looking, it's half a day's march from here,” I answered.
    “Damn!” he said. “I don't think the wine will hold out.” He lowered his voice, and pointed to a backpack full of wine bottles. “I'm drinking my way back to jolly old England.”
    “Ain't you attached to some army unit or other?” I asked.
    He shook his head unhappily. “They're all lost but me. I went out on a bit of a bender last month, and when I came back everyone was missing. So now I'm going back to England to report that my entire unit has gone A.W.O.L., and I alone am escaped to tell thee.” He reached his hand out. “Merriweather's the name,” he added. “Corporal Marmaduke Merriweather.”
    “The Right Reverend Doctor Lucifer Jones at your service,” I replied, shaking his hand.
    “Did you say doctor ?” he said. “I've got a boil on my back that could use lancing.”
    “I ain't that kind of doctor,” I answered. “I suppose I could recite some of Queen Sheba's racier amorous escapades over it, if you think that might help.”
    He considered it for a moment, then finally shook his head. “No, I think not. When all is said and done, it's the lot of the British soldier to suffer pain quietly and nobly.”
    “Well, you got the noble part down pat, Brother Merriweather, but I heard you singing from half a mile away.”
    “I keep hoping my army might hear me,” he responded glumly.
    Well, I took another drink just as a show of solidarity and sympathy, and then he took one, and before long we'd finished that bottle and another one, and then night fell and we slept beneath a tree alongside the road, and when morning came he decided to walk along with me until he came across his unit or England, whichever came first.
    “Well, that's right neighborly of you,” I said. “I always feel safer in the company of His Majesty's armed forces.”
    “And well you should,” he replied. “Of course, I traded my rifle for the wine, and I seem to have misplaced my ammunition, but still, it's my function in life to protect all things British.”
    “I don't want to cause you no serious moral consternation, Brother Merriweather,” I said, “but I ain't British.”
    “You speak British,” he said. “That's enough for me.” He paused for a moment. “By the way, Reverend Jones, I know where I'm going, but you haven't told me where you're heading yet.”
    “I'm seeking the headquarters of General Ling Sen,” I said, “to offer them poor beleaguered soldiers a fighting shot at spiritual atonement.”
    “If you will accept a gentle word of advice,” said Merriweather, “spiritual atonement probably does not rank very high up on General Ling Sen's list of priorities.”
    “Oh?” I said. “You know something about him?”
    He shook his head. “I know