The Guns of Two-Space

by Dave Grossman

  "Ya know, yer gettink purdy good at haulink out yer piskol when yer surprisked!" Ulrich praised him. "Jist 'member when yer shootink yer fair game fer me from now on!" he chortled as he sidled back toward his personal empire of laundry piles and pigeon coops.

  "I tell you, the man is absolutely bug-nuts crazy!" Asquith whispered to his monkey as he turned back toward his target. The monkey eeked fervently in agreement.

  He glanced around and made sure Ulrich was nowhere in sight.

  The pistol rose again to the target < "Crack!" <> "Crack!" followed by a resounding Whack! and an "Eek!" from his monkey.

  "Damn it," muttered Asquith, not even bothering to look, "this is going to take some getting used to." His monkey muttered quietly in agreement. Where was that crazy coxswain? He glanced around again, still not seeing the man or his monkey.

  The rest of the morning continued on in the same way, punctuated by the sound of gunfire, resounding Whacks! and the occasional "Owww!" followed by an apologetic "Eep."

  As Asquith could attest, the acquisition of a new skill, no matter how laudable, could involve considerable pain, not to mention the odd knot on the head!

  "What doesn't kill us makes us stronger, huh?" he muttered resentfully. <> "Crack!" <> "Crack!"

  "That man is nuts!"

  "Eep!" replied his monkey in fervent agreement.

  A typical visit was their stop at DunFoundIt!

  DunFoundit! was the dull runt of a sickly litter of ports. The capital city was DunDidIt! and (according to the port guide) the local cemetery was named DunLostIt! The local citizenry were very insistent that the proper pronunciation and spelling did include the exclamation point.

  As they approached the Pier a one-masted lugger, laying proud claim to a solitary 12-pounder and crewed by militia men, approached in a somewhat uncertain fashion.

  "Personally, I think they're drunk!" Fielder said in a musing tone.

  "Drunk, hmmm? Truth to tell, I think I'd prefer that to what I fear is the real culprit," Melville responded sadly.

  "Incompetence combined with lack of practice?" Fielder hazarded a guess.

  A sigh. "I do believe so," Melville responded glumly. "I know they're focused on survival and making the planet's development profitable, but is it too much to ask for them to at least spend some time drilling in two-space? Or at least to find someone reasonably competent to drive the boat?"

  Initially, Melville, Fielder, Westminster, Valandil, Lady Elphinstone, Brother Theo, and Asquith would be the only members of the crew going down to the surface of DunFoundIt! (The rest of the Fangs would take their liberty after this advance party had made the necessary coordination.) Brother Theo and Asquith went as the representatives of the mercantile elements, while Fielder and Melville were the embodiment of the political and military forces. The rangers were responsible for groundside security of the team, and for coordination with the local representatives of the Corps of Rangers. And Elphinstone had to certify the medical safety of the port before the crew was released for their liberty.

  All were armed with black powder, muzzle-loading pistols and the rangers had their double-barreled rifles—which were the most complex weapons that could be transported in two-space. Everyone but the Sylvan surgeon carried a straight-bladed sword, with the edge enhanced by two-space conditions. While they didn't expect problems, they always tried to foresee potential difficulties and have a solution handy. And one problem that mankind has managed to bring with him, wherever he went, was mankind himself. Humanity had in itself the seeds for both the noble and the criminal, and grew great quantities of each wherever it was planted.

  Their monkeys rode comfortably on their shoulders, with the exception of Brother Theo's monkey, who liked to ride in the hood of his robe, stretching out its neck so that it appeared to be a natural extension off to the side of the monk's head. For some reason, this innocent pastime tended to have an extremely disconcerting effect upon persons negotiating with Brother Theo.

  When Piers were established from two-space, they almost always came out on high ground. In this case, as they came down the ladder from two-space the party found themselves atop a large, sparsely wooded hill that provided a vast, arid panorama in every direction.

  The jaded sailors may have yearned for something more exciting than an endless series of one-Pier worlds, but even the most world-weary soul always felt a flush of exhilaration upon landing on a new world. This was a whole world, with endless possibilities! Around every corner or over the next hill there might be alien civilizations, ancient ruins, deposits of gold or unknown gems, exotic animals, and wonders of nature that no man had ever seen. And there was nothing but horseback and a man's own hind-legs available to travel across the uncharted distances of an entire planet. It would not be completely explored for centuries, and sometimes the urge to strike out into the unknown was almost overwhelming.

  The port was built around the Pier. Despite being an apparently busy place, there were exactly eight buildings in sight, complete with one road that came up out of the woods, dead-ending in front of the largest structure, a warehouse of some sort. The port master, also the postmaster, manager of the general store and apparently also the local publisher, mayor, librarian, bartender, and chronic overachiever was named Jack Beech. He was happy to see them, and delighted to receive the latest news and magazines. He was also overjoyed at the chance to purchase a copy of Asquith's book and the publishing rights thereof.

  Business was quickly concluded and a bag of letters was passed on to the postmaster, who promptly cried out to the crowd of locals, "We DunGotMail!" Then the contingent from the Fang departed to ensure cargo was transferred smoothly, liberty was administered fairly, and revictualing and rewatering were completed before getting underway to the next little one-Pier world.

  The transfer of goods up and down the Pier could have been expedited by using Fangs instead of the idlers who appeared around the dock area once the announcement of an inbound Ship had spread, but that would have been bad for relations, and maintaining good relations with frontier worlds was the whole purpose of their visit. Thus, locals were used for all groundside tasks, under the supervision of harried Fangs.

  One of the keys to the long-term success of Westerness was providing properly trained, maintained, and led military personnel to establish a stable and loyal presence in each newly acquired region. Much of this occurred at the officer level, with Westerness Naval Academy graduates like Flavius Cerialis, who commanded DunFoundIt!'s solitary, one-masted, two-space Ship. Flavius exemplified the acculturation of the elites of the frontier fringe regions who had much to gain from acceptance and compliance with Westerness' suzerainty.

  Flavius and his wife, Susanna, hosted Melville, his first officer, and his surgeon for dinner. This provided an opportunity for the Fang's leaders to partake of local delicacies (such as they were) and exchange information at a social level. The local naval officer also served as the Westerness planetary agent, and he had one lonely marine corporal to help him out. The corporal and his wife also joined them at dinner.

  Flavius was a much harried and harassed officer who was profoundly embarrassed by his Ship's performance during the exchange of salutes. In the course of their conversation he took the opportunity to explain that it was currently the prime season for hunting the local musk deer, which was a key source of meat and hides, and a major export product. His regular crew of DunFoundit! reservists had all taken leave during this time, and he was trying to train some members of a backup crew.

  Ordinarily Flavius' little Ship would be bouncing back and forth between the local planets, working in concert with the one Ship that every other Pier could boast locally, in order to provide communication and trade between the local planets and their nearest hub-world, Podkayne. But Flavius had no intention of going anywhere with his current crew, so he was able to extend the courtesy of his home to the visitors. The rest of the Fangs had an opportunity to purchase home-cooked meal
s while they were dirtside, but it was usually a bit of a slop-house conducted on a large scale by local wives, and few would enjoy the pleasure of a leisurely meal like this.

  Flavius and his wife were excited to know that the Fang had brought in Asquith's book along with the latest magazines—bestsellers usually being slow to arrive. Literature and culture were vitally important to the infinitely diverse and wildly varied worlds of Westerness.

  They also leaned heavily on the local library of classic science fiction that was provided by the government. A wise man once said that, "Books are the compasses and telescopes and sextants and charts which other men have prepared to help us navigate the dangerous seas of human life." And science fiction was the instrument that had been specifically prepared to navigate the dangerous seas and distant planets of two-space.

  "Every planet has its own brand of challenges," said Flavius, "and over every hill or across every river there is a chance that we will run into something new. The old sci-fi books tried to consider every possibility and provide possible solutions. They don't so much tell you what to do. They tell you how to think! And believe me, that's more important. And there are lots of other great nuggets to mine from these old classics.

  "For example," continued Flavius excitedly, "many arid frontier worlds like this one have established farms based on a model presented by one of the ancient science fiction masters. On worlds like this, hardwood is extremely rare and expensive. But land is cheap and irrigation can be done if you are willing to work hard. So, many settlers dream big and plan for the generations.

  "You see this table we're sitting at? This is real cherry wood. It's worth six months' pay for the average person here. A local rancher paid his taxes with this table! The price of hardwood is fabulous, since it takes decades to grow."

  "So, you plant forests?" asked Melville.

  "Yep. But not just any forest, sir!" They were both lieutenants, and Melville was actually junior in time-in-grade as a lieutenant, but the local officer insisted on calling Melville "sir." "This is a forest that will pay for itself as it grows. Drip irrigation is the best way to wet down a forest in a desert. You run a thin line to each tree, and give it just the right amount of water to thrive. Not only does it use less water than other methods, but it's cheaper to install and it stops the development of undergrowth, which pretty much ends the danger of forest fires.

  "But these are very special, well planned forests. You see, most temperate hardwoods produce fruits, nuts, or edible seeds. What's more, they usually produce more edible calories per hectare per year than the same land would produce if it was sown with wheat or corn. Some fruits come in the spring time, like cherries. Others ripen in the summer and others, like apples and acorns, drop in the fall. By carefully selecting the type and number of trees, just the right amount of food is falling all the time to feed and raise five pigs per hectare per year within about seven years. Many more than that as the forest gets mature. And they do 'fall' when they are good and ripe. You don't have to pick anything except some of the fruit that you might want for yourself. Hogs are slaughtered in the fall, leaving a prize boar and enough older sows around to get the herd going for the next year. Pigs reproduce quickly, and are ready for the butcher in half a year if you feed them well. You see? It's all automatic and self-sustaining, except for having to feed your winter stock."

  "So, thou hast found the sure path to easy living!" said Lady Elphinstone with a knowing smile.

  "No, milady," replied Flavius, returning her smile shyly. "As I'm sure you know, 'There ain't no such thing as a free lunch.' Except for paradise worlds, you have to work and work hard for your food. This is just a clever way to get the most payoff for your efforts, and to leave a legacy of incredibly valuable hardwood to your grandchildren. In addition to maintaining the irrigation, you have to worry about predators, insect infestation, bird flocks, and a dozen other things that can go wrong. Of course the predator pelts are worth good money when you kill them, and you can usually eat the birds you have to kill, so there's always an upside for a hard working, straight shooting, brave, industrious pioneer.

  "Another example of culture drawn from the classics is our plan for property tax assessment. On planets using this law every land owner is required to figure out what he thinks his land is worth, and submit that figure to the Land Index. Then he is taxed, based on his own evaluation. Then, if somebody makes an honest offer to buy the land at that price, he either has to sell it, or to increase his evaluation by at least five percent. The great thing about this system is that it completely eliminates the need for government appraisers, and all of the expense, fraud, and corruption that they naturally entail.

  "Every single piece of property, from buildings to wilderness land, and everything in between, has a description written up on it in the index, which is maintained at the real estate brokers' expense. Failing to pay your taxes for three years results in your land being automatically sold to the highest bidder. That saves the government the cost of a lot of tax collectors."

  "Ha!" said Fielder, raising his glass. "I'm all for that. The least government is the best government as far as I'm concerned."

  "Amen to that," replied their host. "But you always need someone like me and my boys to deal with the two-legged predators here in the town and the port. And you need people like our Corps of Rangers who deal with all kinds of predators, and ever'thing else, out in the outback."

  Along with the Westerness Navy and the Army's Corps of Discovery, the Corps of Rangers was the third and perhaps the most elite arm of Westerness' armed forces. (The marines were considered to be a "department" of the Navy. The "men's department," as the marines would say.) The Navy, the Corps of Discovery and the rangers worked together to create the desire, and they helped to satisfy the desire, of a "westering kingdom."

  On DunFoundIt! the rangers were personified by Nathaniel Bumper and his partner, John Foy, who had invited the Fang's two rangers, and any guests they wanted to bring, to a local farmhouse for dinner.

  The rangers' weathered faces were tanned to mahogany and their hair was bleached from forgotten suns. They were trainers, county extension agents, protectors, marshals, leaders, and legends. Westminster and Valandil had invited Brother Theo and Asquith to accompany them. They had also invited several of the middies to join them, because telling tall tales and expostulating wisely was much more fun when there were young folks to hear and admire it all.

  After a good meal provided by a local farmer and his wife, the four rangers, Brother Theo, Asquith, the midshipmen, and their hosts sat back to enjoy cigars and sip some of the local hard cider. The conversation naturally turned to worlds they had seen.

  "Some are rich, with great natural wealth," said Ranger Foy. "And some are barren and rocky. Take Union, where oil flows plentifully from their native soil to go forth and feed the wheels of industry. On the other hand we have Borax, where bare rocks stare insolently at the arriving colonist with an almost spoken dare, 'Get a living from these stones, if you can!'"

  "Yep," said old Natty Bumper. "One thing all worlds have in common, though. If there's life, there's a food chain. An' where there's a food chain, there's an alpha predator that humans have ta fight. Always there's the battle for survival. An' we humans are the greatest survivors the universe has ever seen!" Then he added with a leathery old grin, "With the possible exception of the cockroach, of course."

  "Aye," said Brother Theo. "As our captain would put it:

  "And life is colour and warmth and light,

  And a striving evermore for these;

  And he is dead who will not fight;

  And who dies fighting has increase.

  "The fighting man shall take from the sun

  Take warmth, and life from the glowing earth;

  Speed with the light-foot winds to run,

  And with the trees to newer birth;

  And find, when fighting shall be done,

  Great rest, and fullness after dearth.

 
"The blackbirds sing to him, 'Brother, brother,

  If this be the last song you shall sing,

  Sing well, for you may not sing another;

  Brother, sing.'"

  "Hooah! Well said," responded Foy with a nod.

  "So, Natty," asked Westminster, "are you having any luck getting these farmers and pioneers to maintain the warrior spirit?"

  "It's always a battle," replied the old ranger. You know, jist last week I heard someone say they was a vegetarian!" Looking over at Midshipman Hayl, the grizzled old ranger asked, "Do you know what a vegetarian is, son?" As the boy was opening his mouth to answer the ranger said, "It's an old American Indian word that means 'bad hunter!' Next thing ya know, we'll have vegans here! Tha's another old Indian word. It means, 'useless bastard can't even milk a cow!'"

  Natty smiled and joined in the laughter, and then he got deadly serious.

  "Complacency is always the greatest predator. It kills off the two-legged grass-eaters ever' time. No sooner do ya clear out most of the werebeasts and jackwolves, an' some damned fool will stop carryin' 'is rifle, an' next thing ya know he's dead. I guess it's a good thing there's always somethin' to play Darwin an' take the stupid ones outa the gene pool. God knows how bad it will git when we kill off all the predators and the sheepeople begin to thrive. 'At's when I'll be movin' on to the next world."

  "Aye," said Brother Theo. "Cogito, ergo armatum sum: I think, therefore I am armed."

  There was a mixed chorus of "Amen" and "Hooah!" in response to that, as the monk continued.

  "It's always been that way. Take the case of Massachusetts. In 1636 an exasperated General Court of the Massachusetts Bay Colony unanimously passed an ordinance that said..." Then the monk took a sip of his drink and began to recite from memory.