The Guns of Two-Space

by Dave Grossman

  In a blur of activity the little eight-limbed creature grabbed the muzzle end of the pistol with one hand, quickly flicked a bullet into each barrel with another, rammed them in with two more hands, and shoved the pistol away to signify it was reloaded. Then it smugly screeched, "Eep!" with its arms crossed in front of its chest and its head extended out in front of Kobbsven's.

  Asquith called out, "Corporal, I do believe your friend was just getting your attention so he could reload your pistol for you." He struggled to keep from laughing out loud at the outraged expression on Kobbsven's face.

  "Yah, yah, but yah din't haf to hit so hard!" Kobbsven said aggrievedly to his monkey, who glared back, and began to tap its belaying pin into its hand.

  "Yah, yah, okay. I gots it. Yah, yew betcha," Kobbsven muttered.

  Fielder leaned over to Asquith and whispered, "Bert, let me know how many belaying pins the monkey has to go through to get an idea into Kobbsven's head. I have to admit I've always been curious if pounding an idea into someone's head actually works!"

  Asquith winced in mental pain and nodded.

  Cuddles decided that the damned mold had to go. Enough was enough. After all, it was decimating his harem, and something had to be done!

  Thus he concluded that it was time to take the matter to the head human. Cuddles had tried to tell Mrs. Vodi and Lady Elphinstone, but they were too preoccupied with finding the source of the poison and treating the dying cats to pay much attention to one more yowling, complaining cat.

  Cuddles had a general sense that dogs did this kind of thing all the time. Your basic, "Quick, come see! Timmy fell into the well!" role was something that the proud, independent cats of two-space had gotten away from. It was thoroughly beneath their dignity. If their ancestors ever had the ability to do it, it was gone now. But Cuddles felt that it ought to be pretty simple.

  Melville was not a cat person. No cats were permitted in his cabins, and when one tried to enter it was rapidly and ignominiously evacuated by McAndrews.

  But in this case McAndrews was not handy. So when Cuddles wandered in, the captain gave the mission to Ulrich, who was whittling on a piece of dried salt pork.

  "Ulrich, get rid of the cat," said the captain.

  "Aye, Capkin!" replied the coxswain.

  "Eek!" and "Eep!" echoed his monkey and bird.

  Ulrich had caused his ubiquitous dagger to disappear, but his monkey was flipping its little dirk in one of its upper hands with calculated menace.

  Cuddles took one look at Ulrich coming toward him and immediately panicked. This was terror incarnate, thought Cuddles. This was the most pitiless aspect of the savage wilderness hunting him down. This was the reason why cats sought shelter with fat dumb humans in the first place. Humans were supposed to protect cats from creatures like this!

  Ulrich was inhumanly fast, but he was not quite able to catch the deranged cat as it scampered around the room in abject terror. Boye joined joyfully into the spirit of the chase, leaping and barking happily with his monkey eeking from his neck, egged on by cries of, "Heeere kittykittykitty!" and "I taste like chicken!" from Spike the parrotlet.

  Then Ulrich snarled in frustration, flipped out his dagger, and cocked his arm to throw. His actions were mimicked perfectly by his monkey with its own tiny dirk. Ulrich figured cats were a constant threat to his beloved pigeons, and here was a chance for some preemptive psychopathic payback.

  Melville had a vision of Cuddles being pinned to the deck by twin blades. The cats were being decimated by this mysterious malady, and Elphinstone and Vodi had been crushed by every death. The captain didn't like cats and couldn't find it in himself to worry if they all died. In the end he was convinced that the cats were parasites who contributed very little to the Ship. But he did care about the surgeon and her lob-lolly girl. They were dear friends and formidable women, and he had a sudden vision of trying to explain himself to them if Ulrich killed this cat.

  Besides, it would make a terrible mess. All that blood. And McAndrews would give him hell for it.

  Melville's mental computer clicked and whirred and came up with the results in a millisecond: killing the cat was Not A Good Idea.

  "Belay the knife! Damn it, don't kill the cat, Ulrich!"

  Ulrich froze, his mind spinning. Then he said, "I'll jisk pink 'isk tail to da deck den!" and his arm reared back again as he chased the cat out from under Melville's writing desk.

  Once more Melville had The Vision. Still there would be a mess. Plus, there would be a wounded martyr that the medicos would patch up and fuss over, and he would once again be the villain. It might be even worse this way.

  "Belay that!" ordered the captain.

  Luckily, McAndrews came in at that moment.

  "McAndrews, damnit, get rid of this cat," said Melville.

  "Heeere, pusspuss," said the steward, crouching down and making the foolish face that only cat people make for their cats.

  Safety! Succor! Salvation! thought Cuddles. This was the fat stupid human they had first joined around the campfire!

  Cuddles leapt into McAndrews' arms, shuddering with fear. "Mwrow!" cried the cat, issuing his complaint to the management as he looked into the steward's round face.

  "WoofWoof!" added Boye eagerly, which was basic dog-speak for "And stay out!"

  Then, danger gone, as he was being carried outside the cabin, Cuddles looked up in the steward's kindly face and wondered if the stupid fat human had any food.

  Food? Got food? No? Then to hell with you, he said, with a flip of his tail as McAndrews set him down. There were only two kinds of humans. The smart, dangerous ones who didn't trust cats, and the dumb, friendly ones who fed them.

  "Cats. They love me, you know," said McAndrews. "They're great judges of character."

  Brutus, in his battle for the alpha male position, finally appeared to have overcome the ninja slime mold. By eating it.

  The mold had made a desperate attempt to escape the water barrel while the cats' leader was gone—which was Brutus' opportunity to put his plan into action. After he devoured the enemy, he intended to regurgitate or defecate the creature over the side of the Ship.

  The thing tasted terrible, but a cat's gotta do what a cat's gotta do.

  The cats were selfish, self-centered little beasts (quite similar to Fielder except he wasn't little), but they did have their pride, and Brutus was determined that he wasn't going to be defeated by a mobile patch of mold. This bold act would also, once and for all, establish Brutus as the alpha male.

  This tactic had worked before, but Brutus had failed to observe something that Cuddles had instinctively understood: after the first two times, the mold had adapted and it was now able to poison any cat that came into contact with it.

  So the tactic didn't work, and the mold began to fight back. First Brutus tried to hack it back out, intending to vomit it into two-space. This was something that cats were particularly skilled at. It was generally best done over something irreplaceable that people were fond of, and he saw no reason why it shouldn't work.

  Cuddles had just returned from his unsuccessful foray into the captain's cabin, and he looked on with keen interest. It wasn't every day that you saw a cat try to hack up an alien hairball.

  When that didn't work Brutus went to Plan B: trying to expel the alien out the other end of his digestive tract. But when the mold came out, it clung to Brutus' hindquarters like a large, slimy growth hanging from his rump. As Brutus stood, awkward and splayed out over the "head" (which was nothing more than a seat with a hole in it, suspended over two-space) the mold began to <> to him.

  <>

  This was very confusing. Food often made noises or communicated distress, but not after it was eaten.

  <our feeble digestive tract. We gain strength from your acids. We incorporate your bile to cleanse the stars of your desecration!>>

  Brutus had done his best, but now he admitted defeat and looked pleadingly to Cuddles for help. Cuddles carefully considered the situation. Then, with one brutal, powerful, lighting-fast uppercut swipe of his paw, Cuddles smacked Brutus (and the mold) off into space. As the black cat flipped back, his body paralyzed with toxins, he was only capable of one last plaintive, bewildered, frustrated, enraged "Warrllll!!" as he spun 360 degrees and landed in Flatland, feet first.

  * * *

  What the hammer? what the chain?

  In what furnace was thy brain?

  What the anvil? what dread grasp

  Dare its deadly terrors grasp?

  And what shoulder, & what art,

  Could twist the sinews of thy heart?

  And why thy heart began to beat,

  What dread hand? & what dread feet?

  * * *

  On the lower quarterdeck, Lt. Fielder, the officer of the watch, looked out upon these proceedings with bemused approval. Cats are excellent judges of character, he thought. They distrust all other cats.

  On the other side of Flatland, two idle sailors were leaning on the upperside railing. They watched in amazement as a cat popped through the dark blue membrane of two-space, emerging feet first. He appeared only briefly before dropping back into interstellar space.

  "Dead cat bounce," said the one, laconically. "Thas sumpthin' ya don't see ever' day."

  "Yep," replied his friend, calmly. "Except I don' think 'e was dead. Looked like he was squatting to poop."

  "Rough way ta go."

  "Yep. He didn't look none too happy 'bout it."

  The cats around Cuddles all watched Brutus bounce once and disappear into two-space. They understood. Once again Cuddles had demonstrated that old age and treachery will defeat youth and enthusiasm every time.

  Cuddles wandered off with the kind of catlike nonchalance and poise that causes envy in humans and outrage in dogs. With both his enemies (vermin and feline) now well and truly defeated, he automatically went into his default mode of looking for food or females to rape. Food or sex? Food? Sex? Sometimes life was hard for the top cat. Decisions, decisions.

  Food. Food sounded good, and this time of day Mrs. Vodi should have something for him, he thought as he trotted off.

  "Well, Captain, we have good news for you," Brother Theo reported.

  Once again the purser, surgeon, and first officer were meeting in the captain's cabins. Mrs. Vodi was too busy nursing her sick and dying cats to come this time.

  "That would be a pleasant change," Melville replied with a grin. "What have you got for me?"

  "Welladay," said Lady Elphinstone, "we hath found the source of the illness that hath afflicted our gallant crew. Wouldst know what it is?"

  "I'd like nothing better!" said the captain.

  She shook her head in frustration as she continued. "'Twas a water barrel placed as deck cargo in the lowerside waist. It hath been broached by the cooks, but 'twas not recorded!"

  "Aye, Captain," said a grim faced Theo, "and it is my division's responsibility to keep those records. I'm afraid I must accept the blame for what has happened."

  "Nay," said Elphinstone. "'Tis a joint responsibility to inspect all sanitation and monitor all records. I must shoulder my portion of the reprobation."

  "Hell, I should have spotted it during captain's rounds on Sunday," said Melville, "and in the future we'll be watching for this. The good news is no one has died." Then he looked at the surgeon's grim countenance and corrected himself quickly, "Except for our cats, of course. Which is certainly a tragedy. The question before us is, how much harm has been done to our water supply?"

  "There shouldn't be too much cross-contamination, Captain," said Theo. "There are procedures in place to prevent that. Any secondary reservoirs that drew water from that source will have to be purged and cleansed, but it shouldn't amount to much."

  "Good!" said Fielder. "So it should all be over now?"

  "Aye," replied Elphinstone. "Fear not. The nausea, incontinence and anal leakage shall clear soon. I'm not sure about the impotence, though. 'Tis possible that will be a permanent effect. I am confident that thou shalt let us know when we get into port, won't thee, Daniel?" She gave him a sweet smile which didn't hide the glint in her eyes.

  "Oh, hell," he moaned.

  "Back on subject here," Melville said. "The final question is, how did it happen? I mean, why a poison that only kills cats?

  "We think it's just a fluke," said Theo. "Some local toxin, maybe from an aquatic life form on Show Low that the felines just happened to be sensitive to. No way it could have been intentional. I mean, if someone was going to attack Fang, why would they poison our cats?"

  "Aye," nodded Melville. "I know you love them," he said quickly to Lady Elphinstone, "but they're not exactly our achilles heel! I mean, come on, you have to admit that they're not essential to our survival, now are they?"

  "Hello, my sweet little Cuddle-kins," cooed Vodi, scooping up the cat as he sauntered into the hospital. Vodi was a truly wise woman, but everyone had a weakness, and this was one area in which the universe had pulled the wool over her eyes. In her mind, this malignant, vicious, rapacious, murderous fur coat with razor blades was still an adorable kitten. Cuddling him and cooing to him she said, "Has 'ou been a good boy? Has 'ou been staying out of trouble?"

  Cuddles purred happily, and somewhere deep in his self-centered cat soul he thought his feline thoughts: If you only knew, person. If you only knew. Now, where's my damned food?

  * * *

  When the stars threw down their spears

  And water'd heaven with their tears,

  Did he smile his work to see?

  Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

  Tyger! Tyger! burning bright

  In the forests of the night,

  What immortal hand or eye

  Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

  CHAPTER THE 14TH

  Arrival at the Hero Cluster:

  "Having Us, They Know No Fear!"

  Eternal Father, strong to save,

  Whose arm hath bound the restless wave,

  Who biddest the mighty ocean deep

  Its own appointed limits keep;

  Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee,

  For those in peril on the sea!

  Lord, guard and guide the men who fly

  Through the great spaces in the sky.

  Be with them always in the air,

  In darkening storms or sunlight fair;

  Oh, hear us when we lift our prayer,

  For those in peril in the air!

  The Navy Hymn or "Eternal Father"

  (Various verses have different authors, and many are unknown)

  There were very few truly devout men about the Fang. Even Brother Theo could not really be called pious. But there were also precious few who did not feel the tug of mortality in the midst of battle, and no sentient creature could avoid a sense of wonder and awe at the nature of

  this magical realm that they traveled in.

  Thus, the religious services held every Sunday morning were always well attended, and Brother Theo tried to minister to their spiritual needs without chasing anyone away. He found that the best way to do that was to keep it short, and to tap into the deep roots of their history and culture with Words and stories. And of course a few Songs of faith. The Fangs did love their singing, and the ancient old Songs touched the soul of the sailor far from home.

  "Shipmates," said Theo, "we are about to enter into a new chapter in our voyage. We are far from home, and far from our loved ones. But we are off on a great adventure, and we are never far from the Almighty, even out here. So let us sing the Navy Hymn, and let this be my sermon, and may this be our prayer, dedicating our loved ones and our Ship to Him." In his strong, clear, tenor voice he led them through the first three verses. The third verse was wri
tten in the twentieth century for the early astronauts, but the sailors of two-space claimed it, happily and loudly, for themselves.

  "Aloft in solitudes of space,

  Uphold them with Thy saving grace.

  Thou Who supports with tender might

  The balanced birds in all their flight.

  Lord, if the tempered winds be near,

  That, having Thee, they know no fear."

  "Aye," growled Broadax, in the pause between verses, "having us, 'they know no fear' out here!" That drew a cheer as the assembled Fangs continued.

  "God, Who dost still the restless foam,

  Protect the ones we love at home.

  Provide that they should always be

  By Thine own grace both safe and free.

  O Father, hear us when we pray

  For those we love so far away."

  There were more than a few tears as they dwelt upon that verse and their loved ones far away, and there was peace and solace in entrusting them to the Almighty.

  Before the final verses Brother Theo interjected, "And as we sing these last two verses, let us take this opportunity to humbly entrust and rededicate ourselves and our Ship to Him."

  "O Father, King of earth and sea,

  We dedicate this ship to Thee.

  In faith we send her on her way;

  In faith to Thee we humbly pray:

  O hear from heaven our sailor's cry

  And watch and guard her from on high!

  "And when at length her course is run,

  Her work for home and country done,

  Of all the souls that in her sailed

  Let not one life in Thee have failed;

  But hear from heaven our sailor's cry,

  And grant eternal life on high!"

  "'Hear from heaven our sailor's cry, and grant eternal life on high!' What more could we ask?" concluded Brother Theo.