The Guns of Two-Space (46 page)

As Fielder started to retort, Gunny Von Rito stuck his bald head in the wardroom. "Excuse me, sirs. Ma'am," he added, nodding to Broadax. "Cap'n said to remind you to report to the armory in the Westerness governor's compound first. The Marines are gonna fit us out from the 'emergency supplies.'"

Then the gunny looked at Broadax and added with a grin, "And, Lieutenant, they say they've got somethin' even a Dwarrowdelf can do some good with! So cap'n said you need to go too!"

Broadax growled as she stroked the ax strapped to her chest. Her monkey gave a derisive "Eek!" as it looked over the top of her head to meet her eye to eye, then
eek
ed again and yanked its head down tight to its torso. Apparently even her monkey wasn't immune to the glare from an angry Dwarrowdelf.

Fielder nodded. "Gunny, how about the sailors? Is there sufficient stock of .45s for the men who are pistol qualified?"

Von Rito nodded. "Aye, sir. The petty officers and sergeants have all made sure the men are buddied up with our people who are qualified and carrying .45s, and everybody's got their knife with 'em too. The marines here say they got plenty of emergency supplies an' they're making sure we know what's what here. I guess this can be a pretty rough port call, and the local boys don't want to have to be pulling nobody's chestnuts out of the fire. If you know what I mean, sir?"

Show Low's marine armory was a surprise. Melville and his officers had expected the standard armory: a small room or building designed to withstand almost anything man or nature could throw against it, with a selection of firearms and sharp pointy objects to thrill the heart of any warrior.

"It's a damned warehouse," breathed Fielder in awe.

Their expectations were right in one way—it
was
a blockhouse, solidly built, and well-lit by gaslights and skylights. In every other way, it far exceeded their expectations.

"Aye," Melville agreed, looking around at the neatly arranged crates stacked up to the ceiling. "I would say that the marines here have had time to build up their supply."

"You know, Captain," said Brother Theo as he gazed around and fingered the crates with a professional eye, "the Roman legions of ancient Earth ran workshops which manufactured most of their weapons. One papyrus of the second or third century A.D. from Egypt shows small groups of men working in the workshop of the Second Legion, Traiana, on a whole range of weapons including bows, shields, broadswords and catapults. Somehow I imagine it must have felt a lot like this."

The monk's pontification was interrupted by a big marine officer in working uniform, who walked up and saluted Melville.

A navy captain was considerably higher in rank than a marine captain, but Melville was
not
a captain. By courtesy he was referred to as "captain" aboard his Ship, but he wore the one epaulet of a lieutenant on his right shoulder, indicating that he was a lieutenant in command of a Ship. Thus there was no real requirement for a marine captain to salute him. But there was something about this salute that said it came from the heart, and Melville returned the salute with a flush of pleasure. It felt good to have the respect of fellow warriors like this.

"Captain Melville, I'm Captain Muhn Koluvitz," said the big marine, "commanding the Westerness governor's marine forces here. Welcome to Show Low. The sector's crown governor, Sir Geoffery Chudloss, asked me to extend his warmest welcome to you and your officers." He paused and waved a hand at the warehouse. "As you can see, my marines have had time and resources to prepare a stockpile of emergency supplies for future use, and some of my boys have proven themselves to be quite skillful. And the governor agreed that it would be useful for you to be properly equipped for your visit here." He chuckled. "Although our idea of proper equipage might be different from that of the Admiralty's!"

Melville cocked an eyebrow at him in inquiry. "How so, Captain? I would think that we were a bit below the Admiralty's notice out here."

"To be honest, sir, I would have thought so too. Governor Chudloss and I had a little heart-to-heart chat a few days ago. A heart-to-heart with the governor isn't something a lowly marine really hankers after, if you know my meaning." He shuddered slightly, with a grin.

Broadax snickered and her monkey
eek
ed along with her. "I think wat yer sayin', Cap'n, is ye ain't real keen on comin' ta the attention of the politicians and boo-ree-crats that done infested da higher regions o' our fine milit'ry org'nization, eh?"

Captain Koluvitz replied thoughtfully, "Well, Lieutenant, coming to their attention doesn't bother me near as much as what their attention on
you
and your Ship does to my sensibilities. Captain Melville, the governor asked me to pass on an informal message from him, in two parts. Would you like to hear it here with your officers, or in private?"

"Right here will be fine," said Melville.

"I get the feeling," scowled Fielder, "that we're
persona non grata
again, and the governor isn't going to be seeing us any time soon."

Captain Koluvitz replied with a sigh, "You are right, and wrong, but probably not for the reasons you think. The first part of the message is that the governor has received a letter from the Secretary for Colonization which passed on a request from the Admiralty. Taking out all the flowery parts, it basically says we are to expedite your arrival and departure, with emphasis on the departure, with a subtly worded hint that interaction with you would
not
be a 'good thing.' However, through private channels, the governor has also received a copy of the formal declaration of support from the King of Osgil, the Stolsh Ambassador to Osgil, and the Dwarrowdelf Ambassador to Osgil."

Then the marine captain added, "Oh, and did I mention the governor also knew the late, unlamented, Sir Percival Incessant, the former Westerness Ambassador to Osgil? I won't bore you with his feelings for Sir Percy, which are apparently shared by many others, but being an enemy of Sir Percy has definitely made some friends for you."

He smiled openly as he continued. "In any case, the governor will certainly comply with the Admiralty's guidance in this matter. However, in light of the repairs and refit necessary for your Ship (which he noted he has not yet received the request for) the governor has found it acceptable to grant your request for shore leave and liberty for your crew. And while the governor shall not receive you, Sir Geoffery Chudloss, in his private capacity, is hoping you will honor him with your presence at dinner tonight. Those of your wardroom who are able to attend are also invited. This includes your monkeys as well, since he's heard of them and is interested in meeting them."

Melville and his officers grinned in response to this, while their monkeys lifted their heads high and
eek
ed happily.

"Is it true that the baby monkeys appear from nowhere? If your monkey is killed, a new one appears that has the same personality and memories as your first monkey? And if their master dies they just disappear?" asked Koluvitz, eyeing the little creatures in wonder.

"Aye," said Melville with a shrug. "
And
the little buggers can do some amazing things for you in a battle. Just try not to think about it too hard, it'll only give you a headache. And the second part of Sir Geoffery's message, Captain?"

The big marine captain sobered quickly, but the merriment in his eyes didn't stay away for long. "Watch your back, sir. Watch your back. Show Low is a dangerous, lawless place at the best of times. Sir Geoffery was sent to do some housecleaning here, but he's just getting started. Every criminal and gunslinger in the sector has been hanging out on this planet. They're all here. You name it, we've got it. Rustlers, cutthroats, murderers, bounty hunters, desperadoes and mugs, pugs, thugs, nitwits, half-wits, dimwits, vipers, snipers, con men, aliens, alien agents, muggers, buggerers, bushwhackers, hornswagglers, horse thieves, bull doggers, train robbers, bank robbers, ass kickers, cow punchers, and Methodists!"

"Damn," said Melville. "Could you repeat that?"

"Hmph," grunted Fielder scornfully. "With all due respect, I think you've both been watching too many Old Earth westerns."

"So," continued Koluvitz with a wink, "it is best to
always
watch your 'six' on Show Low. But in your case there are some strong rumors floating around. We haven't been able to track them down, which is another reason that the marines are making sure you are properly fitted out for the current fashion in evening wear." He grinned again. "Wholly on our own authority, as standard SOP, mind you."

Melville nodded. "We are truly in your debt."

"Think nothing of it, sir. The industrial base here is strong enough that our initial sales of .45s to law enforcement types and rangers brought in enough to purchase a steam engine. With the steam engine and a few metal bits which had been enhanced in two-space we were able to improve our capacity, which let us build our own nitrocellulose plant. In other words, we ended up building our own firearms and ammunition plant."

He looked embarrassed. "In all honesty, it was unintentional overkill. The men were under utilized and the project just took on a life of its own, so we expanded out and built the warehouse and firing ranges. Overall, though, not too bad for a short company!" He gazed around proudly as he escorted them to the armory's office.

Brother Theo coughed politely. When that didn't attract the big marine officer's attention, his monkey
eep
ed loudly which quickly caught their host's attention.

"Your pardon, Captain, but what do you do with this abundance of 'emergency supplies'?" Brother Theo asked curiously.

Captain Koluvitz walked back to him, looking at the monkey curiously. He replied absently, "Not much, Padre, mostly clean and maintain them, and shoot them—a lot!" He chuckled, sharing his joy at having an almost unlimited supply of warrior toys to play with. "Our pistol and rifle teams have done well in inter-sector competitions for many years now. We also sell some to law enforcement organizations, maintain a partial loadout for the local militia and their training, and whatever's left over—well, that's why they call them emergency supplies."

Then he turned grim as he continued. "And we saw the complete report on your Ambergris exploits. The one from the King of Osgil, not the one from the Admiralty. And 'exploits' they were! I talked with Corporal Petrico as well when he was function-checking all the weapons for issue. As a result of this information the governor has decided to authorize a new warehouse, and some additional workshops as well, out of the sector trading funds. We want to have enough BARs and .45s to equip a few battalions, at least. Eventually, we hope to do something similar with the other planets in our sector.

"By God," he continued grimly, "if anyone ever hits us like they hit the Stolsh, they'll have one hell of a surprise waiting for them."

"My friend," said Melville quietly, "after what we saw on Ambergris, that strikes me as a very good idea."

"Aye, sir," replied their host. "I heard it was bad..." After an uncomfortable pause he continued, "There is also a group in town who makes and sells firearms. I don't know if you have heard of them? The 'Revolvers'? The 'Church of the Six-Gun'? They are the ones who are trying to have the neo-pope declare Samuel Colt as a saint?"

Fielder snorted. "Right, the ones who swear that the six-gun was given to Samuel Colt as a divine revelation to make all men equal? The true 'God's Gun'?"

"You've heard of them, then!" Koluvitz laughed. "Well, the governor thinks they are full of..." He looked over at Mrs. Vodi and blushed. "Full of, ummm..."

Vodi laughed and said, "Stand easy, Captain. As a medico I've had a lot of experience with the substance you're referring to!"

"I'll bet you have!" replied Koluvitz. "By the way, I heard that you have a Sylvan surgeon. Doesn't she need a pistol?"

"She's more of a knife person," replied Vodi, "and she's real handy with a couple of little single-barreled pistols of hers, but she's not a large-bore person so she didn't need to come. But
I'll
happily take one of your .45's, and I'll try to watch her six."

"So anyway," interjected Melville, "I take it you think the Revolvers are wrong in their beliefs."

"Well, not really," Koluvitz replied thoughtfully. "The classic peacemaker design is wonderful, ergonomically speaking, even if you can only carry five rounds safely, but it really isn't too effective after the first shot, in my opinion. Training lets you cock as you draw, slap it into a good two-handed grip, aim, and squeeze gently away—but then you have to shift a hand, re-cock, re-aim, slowly squeeze, and repeat as necessary, then fiddle with a damned loading gate, popping out hulls and feeding fresh food..."

Melville waited patiently as the marine captain continued with almost religious fervor. After all, they were in this man's debt.

"Maybe it is just me," their host continued, "but I immensely like the idea of drawing an M-1911 .45, while thumbing down the safety, evaluating, squeezing, timing the slide so it locks down as you bear down on target, squeeze and repeat as needed."

The
Fang
s looked at each other and smiled indulgently as Koluvitz continued.

"So, I will be fair and say that, although the six-gun is a good gun, the works of Saint John Browning and the 1911 and its variants... Ahhh, now there is a lovely, reliable, acceptably accurate, (did I say reliable?) pistol. We believe that production of his M-1911 pistol, and his Browning Automatic Rifle or 'BAR' gave us the most bang for our production buck, as it were. And since we mostly limit our sales to military and law enforcement types, sales from the 'Church of the Six-Gun' go generally to the public. Which, overall, is a good thing. I think it was Heinlein who said, 'An armed society is a polite society.' By that standard, Show Low is a
very
courteous society!"

Fielder looked at him thoughtfully. "If I had to guess, I'd say that you've been trained by the monks on Gunsite Planet."