The Guns of Two-Space (81 page)

"Aye," muttered Ulrich in agreement. "Kill 'em first. Damn straighkt! Kill 'em all! An' let God sort 'em out!"

"Heeeere, kittykittykitty!" agreed his parrotlet.

"And I'll be hanging around too, sir," said McAndrews from behind him, where the portly steward and his monkey were clearing the table. "'As the Lord liveth, and as thy soul lives, I shall not leave thee.' There's not a manjack aboard who'd leave you, Captain. And you sure as hell can't get rid of
me
that easily," he added with a grin.

Melville looked at this faithful man, who lived only to serve. Then at the two bodyguards who were ready to stop a bullet for him. Through his feet his Ship sent a message of loyalty and trust from hundreds of other steadfast souls. And he felt a lump in his throat.

Think where man's glory most begins and ends
And say my glory was I had such friends.
 

* * *
 

The
Fang
's first officer, as usual, was profoundly depressed at the prospect of danger. "You know, the fate of all mankind... the fate of the
galaxy
, is in our hands," said Fielder in the wardroom after the captain's dinner. "That is just... so... so..."

The wardroom chimed in to help complete his sentence.

"Scary?"

"Sad?"

"Pathetic?"

"Awesome!"

Fielder put his head in his hands and muttered, "God help us."

Fang
's large new batch of midshipmen, with a proper appreciation of the insignificance of their species, had come aboard with an awestricken, daunted hush.

Fielder and Asquith were watching as they were received aboard by Midshipman Jubal. The repairs to the Ship were complete, and the time had almost come to get underway.

"Are you coming with us?" Fielder ask the little earthling.

"Do I have a choice?" replied Asquith. "I've signed a contract in blood with my publisher. I'm going wherever the hell Thomas Melville and his crew of alien thugs goes. Lord help me!" he concluded with a weak grin.

"Hmm... Maybe. Maybe not. Have you considered the possibility that, amidst the tragic storm clouds of war there might have a small silver lining for you? That your publisher was probably killed and your contract nullified when the Guldur hit Earth?"

"Yes, I did. It made me feel lousy, thinking that all those people were killed and I got out of a contract that's probably going to get me killed just like them." Asquith sighed and shook his head. "I haven't quite grasped the fact that my whole planet is dead. I just can't... digest it. I think I'm going to have to see it before I really believe it...

"But I
can
adjust to the fact that publishers must be immortal! You've got to give him credit: Captain Ben James is a survivor. Turns out my publisher moved to the Moon, where low gravity combined with high-tech promises to keep him alive for another hundred years... probably just to torment me. He still has contacts though, since the letter from him got here on the most recent mail packet. Apparently the demise of Earth has turned my first book into an interstellar mega-bestseller, and there is no way that he's letting me off the hook."

Fielder commiserated in amused sympathy. "I guess we'll have the pleasure of your company for a while longer then. And it has all the makings of a
long
, desperate journey. Hmph. Traditionally, a suicide mission at least has the benefit of being brief."

"Life is sure strange," said Asquith despondently.

"As compared to what?" Fielder asked innocently.

"Well, dammit, I guess you've got me there."

"So, have you got your sequel written yet?"

Asquith snorted. "Hell, I've got two books for them. I sent the manuscript for everything that has happened so far, and now this forthcoming misadventure will be the third book in the series. That ought to keep my publisher happy. I can see it now:
The Further Adventures of Captain Melville and His Merry Band of Hooligans, Aliens, Cutthroats and Other Fun People: Complete With his Cheering Section in the Red Jerseys Led by Our Own Inimitable Mistress of Mayhem Herself
!"

"It's dangerous business, going out the door," said Fielder with an understanding nod. "You never know where the adventure will take you."

"I just wish I knew where we were going!"

"I know, but it's classified," replied Fielder, realizing full well that virtually every other soul aboard knew, and Asquith would find out soon enough. "If I told you I'd have to kill you."

"Do it, and put me out of my misery."

Fielder couldn't help but laugh. As always, he was pleased to find someone more miserable than himself when danger reared its ugly head. "Nope, it's best that you don't know," he replied. "That way, if we get captured, you can tell them that you're here against your will."

"I
am
here against my will!"

"Good job. Keep practicing."

The final preparations for departure were happening in a kaleidoscopic blur of activity. In the midst of everything else that needed to be done, a Ship arrived with that greatest of all delights to the sailor: letters from home. The
Fang
s had hoped that some mail would have caught up with them on Earth, or perhaps at Show Low, but those hopes had been in vain. Now many months worth of mail arrived in one batch, and activity about the
Fang
slowed to a crawl as everyone read their mail and posted their hasty responses to loved ones...

"Hmm," said Brother Theo, as he and the rest of the officers sat in the wardroom, quietly reading their mail and companionably exchanging tidbits of gossip, news, and information. "It seems that the monkeys have, indeed, appeared everywhere that
Fang
,
Gnasher
, and
Biter
have traveled, spreading spider monkeys like a virus. They're mostly attaching themselves to warriors. Not much more info. It'll be interesting to see how that develops. Methinks mankind has found a true friend."

"Look at this!" exclaimed Broadax holding up what looked for all the world like a large, misshapen rock. "Mah mum sent a loaf of Dwarrowdelf bread! Seems ta've survived the trip jist fine!" she added, as she started to beat a chunk off with the back of her ax.

"Hmm," added Fielder, holding up an amazingly similar lump of calcified matter. "My mother sent some of her fruitcake. After you're done hacking off a piece of your bread, I'd be obliged if you would apply the same technique to this."

"Damn! That does look good, doesn't it!" said Broadax, eying the fruitcake covetously.

"Huh!" said Westminster. "Ah got a letter from mah sister. Everyone's safe. The Guldur invasion was too far east to impact them. The big news is that there's trouble back in our church again. Apparently the finance committee refused to provide funds for the purchase of a chandelier, because none of the members know how to play one! She says that the new pastor asked Bubba to help take up the offering, and three guys and a gal stood up. Terrible confusion and bickering resulted from that little 'fox pass!'"

Up in the captain's cabin Melville was cherishing a letter from his betrothed, Princess Glaive. "My Knight, my Paladin," she wrote, "never doubt my love for thee, nor my faith that thou shalt return..."

"Aye," he whispered to the wind. "I'm coming." And he posted a reply. He and the letter were going around the galaxy in different directions. He wondered if he would arrive sooner than the letter, but he never doubted that he
would
arrive.

Early the next morning, the
Fang
and her new tender, the
Sting
, departed the Hero Cluster, headed due west, taking the long way home.

Before they left, Rear Admiral Middlemuss had given the
Fang
s a speech, exhorting and praising them, and quoting Churchill to say that he could "...promise nothing but blood, sweat, and tears!" to
everyone
in the Hero Cluster.

"Oh goodie," muttered Fielder. "We're going to take on several vast galactic empires with nothing but the admiral's personal bodily fluids."

The
Fang
made a proud sight, with her full panoply of sails, complete with Hans' prized royals and stuns'ls and her crew manning the rails in observance of old traditions as she exchanged salutes with the Ships remaining behind. The
Fang
's royals and stuns'ls would have made her stand out anywhere in the known galaxy. But her mainsail had a particularly singular appearance, with a section in the middle of the standard Navy sailcloth which appeared to be, well, glowing.

Captain Thomas Melville stood on his quarterdeck. Boye was next to him, front paws on the quarterdeck rail, barking with delirious doggy delight at the
Sting
sailing close beside them. The strange thing was how good he felt. It was
good
to be alive, and
good
to experience life with a double dose of the passion left in it.

Lord, he loved his job.

He loved his dear, betrothed Princess Glaive with as great and pure a love as any man could have for a women. But first and foremost he had to play a desperate game for mortal stake, for the future's sake. The game, his Duty, his job,
this
was his first love, and his first love was for this.

But yield who will to their separation,
My object in living is to unite
My avocation and my vocation
As my two eyes make one in sight.
Only where love and need are one,
and the work is play for mortal stakes,
Is the deed ever really done
For Heaven and the future's sakes.
 

* * *
 

Rear Admiral Middlemuss stood at the Pier watching the
Fang
as her sails sank into the west. Signal flags were sent from atop the bulwarks with a final message: "GOOD LUCK FANG. GOD SPEED."

A signal officer ran up to Admiral Middlemuss clutching a scrap of paper with Melville's response jotted down on it. "Sir," he said, "one last message from the
Fang
's signal halyard.

The admiral read the note and nodded.

It said three words: "BUT IF NOT."

Aboard his Ship (
his
Ship, by God!), Midshipman Anthony Hayl looked for the remnants of his former sadness, and found instead only an enormous joy. Something had broken inside, but the fissure didn't open up the usual well of sadness. Instead he discovered a fierce exultation that was all the more precious because it had been bought and paid in sweat and blood, stratagem and struggle, distress and discomfort, pain and torment, death and dismemberment.

Mr. Hans had helped him rig a topmast on the
Sting
, complete with a glowing topsail and Westerness-style rigging. This new sail was bringing the
Sting
up to completely new realms of speed, and his Crabs
and
his Ship loved it. She might just be the fastest Ship in the galaxy! And Mr. Hans was talking about adding stuns'ls!

The fate of the galaxy was hanging in the balance and they were sailing off into appalling danger, yet Hayl felt nothing but thrilled. Thrilled by what he was doing, and how very blessed and honored he was to be able to do it. The little bit of the
Fang
in his arm, and the
Sting
beneath his feet echoed and amplified his joy until he thought he would burst.

The Pier was sinking out of sight on the eastern horizon. It was just the two Ships out here together, and, dammit, he couldn't help himself.

"Quartermaster, take us on a lap around the
Fang
!"

"Aye, sir!" replied the crusty old sailor, feeling the boy's infectious elation.

There were six humans aboard
Sting
and all of them hooted with delight. Under his feet Hayl felt the
Sting's
joy, and through her he felt the reciprocal pleasure of his Crabs.

"Again! Take her in closer this time!"

Like a happy dog circling its master the
Sting
kept making laps and the
Fang
s hung over the railings and cheered them on.

Melville, Broadax, and Fielder were standing on the quarterdeck watching the
Sting
go past.

What a brave, splendid boy
, Melville thought, as the one-armed midshipman and his Ship came whipping past them. During their voyages the captain had watched Hayl metamorphose from a caterpillar boy, into a deadly, butterfly-bright warrior and a leader of warriors.

"Huh!" he said to Fielder. "These young officers. Give 'em their own Ship and they think they don't have to answer to authority any more. Assign Mr. Hayl a mission, if you please, Mr. Fielder. Send him out scouting in front of us, out there, somewhere," he concluded, waving to the westward.

"Aye, sir," replied the first officer, who was sinking into a deep funk.

Casting one last glance at the Pier as is sunk below the horizon Fielder muttered, "Good bye, fool world."

"Hoo-yah!" shouted Broadax, as she and her monkey waved jubilantly at Hayl, fiercely echoing his pleasure.

The little middie waved back from the
Sting
with such joy that Melville couldn't help but grin back.

* * *

I remember the black wharves and the slips,
And the sea-tides tossing free;
And the Spanish sailors with bearded lips,
And the beauty and mystery of the ships,
And the magic of the sea.
And the voice of that wayward song
Is singing and saying still:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."
 

Prologue:
 

To every man upon the earth...

"Horatius," Lord Macaulay

Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine...

"The Bride of Abydos," Lord Byron

Chapter 2:
 

Kipling's "Ballad of the Clampherdown" (parts of which are used at the beginning of this and several other chapters) was originally a satire on the armchair strategists of the early 1900s who felt that future naval actions would involve boarding actions. It was taken seriously and became quite popular, sohe kept his mouth shut. It was not until many years later that Kipling fessed up about it. Taken a bit out of context it works well for the purposes of this book, but the reader is encouraged to look at the complete poem in the proper historical light.