The Guns of Two-Space

by Dave Grossman

  Hans grinned at him cheerfully. "Aye, there's lots worse models ya kin pick asides our cap'n, eh?"

  Hayl's monkey came swinging through the rigging to the little middie, tapped his head, and pointed downward.

  "Uh-oh! It's Mrs. Vodi! I'd better get on down, sir, before she catches me up here. She thinks I ought to stay below until Lady Elphinstone clears me for climbing in the rigging! Thanks for the lesson, sir!"

  Hayl dove out into the low gravity of the upper rigging, with his monkey clinging tightly to his shoulder. Then he snagged a backstay with the smooth part of his hook, slid down the line to the deck, and walked up innocently behind Mrs. Vodi.

  Hans switched the chaw around in his mouth as he watched the lad. "Ya know, my li'l friend," he said to his monkey. "I gets the feelin' 'at young feller may be as int'restin' as our captain ta be around in the years ta come."

  "Eep!" agreed the monkey.

  * * *

  It matters not how strait the gate,

  How charged with punishments the scroll,

  I am the master of my fate:

  I am the captain of my soul.

  * * *

  The Fang's arrival at the Pier on Hector was a bit anticlimactic after the long journey and the joyous welcomes they had come to expect on their travels through the Smallness of Westerness. Even more than Show Low this was a bustling hub of activity, and they were just one more Ship in a port filled with military and commercial craft of every sort.

  The Pier was crowded with small one- and two-masted Ships loading and off-loading cargo in the commercial docks, and several frigates were moored in the military docks. But the pilot brought them to dock at an otherwise empty, stand-alone portion of the Pier. This section of the port was within the military area, but distinctly separate, and normally used only for rewatering and revictualing military Ships.

  A suspicious mind might see the influence of the Admiralty in their semi-isolation, but the simple truth was that the Fang needed to totally off-load and reload all of their water supplies, as well as replacing the water barrels. No one was taking any chances with whatever it was that got into their water. By berthing them directly at the military supply dock, the process could be completed much more efficiently.

  Waiting for them on the Pier was the port admiral's messenger, a young sailor who quickly delivered an invitation to a soiree at the port admiral's residence the next evening for Captain Melville, his officers, and their guests.

  And that was all! No hidden warnings, veiled threats, or social complications. Just a simple invite, and we'll see you later!

  While their reception was welcome, it put pressure on the wardroom to get their official business of delivering mail, periodicals and other publications completed, and the Ship resupplied as quickly as possible so that they could attend the function. Their isolated location may have simplified the major evolution of replacing all the water casks, but it also greatly complicated most other resupply tasks!

  For some strange reason, the Navy felt it was inappropriate for the officers and captain to miss a superior's social function just so they could complete Ship's business. Of course, failing to complete official Ship's business because you had to attend a social function was considered to be inexcusable as well.

  So this left them with only one option: to get everything done as expeditiously as possible, so that the officers and crew might have some time before the vagaries of the Navy sent them off on their merry way again—sans liberty. Or even without the damned showers they all wanted!

  And so the Fangs turned to with a will!

  Oozing slowly and unsteadily down the gangplank, forming a tiny dark line in the Moss, was the traumatized remnant of the ninja slime mold that had been sent to destroy the Fang. No bigger than a teardrop, the few surviving cells had little intelligence. All memory was pared down to a few essential survival facts.

  It could remember the emergency rally point where it was supposed to meet up with friendly agents on Hector in order to escape and evade out, if needed. It remembered <> the enemy's most fearsome weapon: a malevolent, relentless, vicious entity called "cat."

  And it remembered (oh yes, it remembered!) the formula for the biochemical toxin that brought slow, hideous, painful death to the cats! The slime mold believed deep in its soul that this vital intelligence would help them neutralize the enemy's ultimate weapon and win this war!

  "Mr. Hayl," said Brother Theo quietly. "Do you discern that dapper young lieutenant headed toward us on the Pier?"

  "Aye, sir...?" replied the middie, who was standing on the upper quarterdeck as the watch officer.

  "And," continued the monk, "do you also perceive a yellow cord affixed to the shoulder of his uniform jacket? It is referred to as an aiguillette, which means he's a flag lieutenant."

  "Aye, sir. Thank you! But... what's a flag lieutenant?"

  "Hmmm. I can see that I have been remiss in my tutorial responsibilities. Your ignorance is understandable, since no such creature has ever deigned to visit the Fang before. Admirals and generals are known as 'flag officers' because they are authorized to fly their own personal flag, denoting their rank, and marking their position on the battlefield or aboard Ship. And an admiral's staff lieutenant is called a 'flag lieutenant.'"

  "In other words, he's pretty important?"

  "Aye, you have stated the crux of the matter in your customary, succinct fashion. And...?"

  "And I should tell the captain?"

  "Aye, that might be perspicacious."

  "Captain Melville, there's another messenger, a flag lieutenant is here to see you, sir!" Midshipman Hayl said after knocking on the cabin door.

  "Okay," replied Melville distractedly as he looked up from the lists and paperwork spread in front of him on his desk. "Send him in, please, Mr. Hayl. Well," he said to Fielder, who was going over the checklist of tasks to be accomplished after arrival at port, "it looks like we're a bit ahead of schedule so far, Daniel."

  "Yes, sir. Mail's off, package transfers completed, we're working on supplies and rewatering, Brother Theo is ashore looking after cargo, and Mrs. Vodi is off to the hospital for resupply and herbal materials. All in all, we should be complete by midmorning tomorrow. Just in case we get another bum's rush off the planet," he concluded with a sardonic smile.

  The marine guard outside the captain's door snapped to attention and saluted, and the messenger knocked on the hull next to the open door. Their visitor's aiguillette and his impeccable uniform indicated that he was a flag lieutenant. It was obvious he had just come from the planet since he was still wearing shoes—something naval personnel didn't do when working on Piers and Ships, to spare the wear and tear on the Moss.

  "Captain Melville?" he inquired.

  "Yes, how may I help you, Lieutenant?"

  "Sir, I am Lt. Kit McKurkle, Rear Admiral Middlemuss' flag lieutenant. He sends his compliments, and asks if you would be so kind as to stop by his office to have a talk with him, when things are under control here. If after working hours, his home this evening would be fine."

  Melville was more than a bit astonished. Admirals tended to demand your presence on the instant, not send someone to politely ask you to stop by when you have time!

  "If you will give me a minute here, I will turn things over to Lt. Fielder, my first officer, and accompany you now."

  Lt. McKurkle grinned and shook his head. "You really can take your time, sir. Before the mail came in this morning, we were ready to send you straight back out, and the admiral really would have wanted to see you asap. Prior to today's mail the only thing the admiral knew was that he had a loose cannon coming in and the Admiralty had requested he expedite anything necessary so you could continue your mission. Expedite as in 'get them in, and then get them out' would be the correct interpretation, I believe!"

  He caught the glance between the two officers and smiled slightly. "Yes, gentlemen, I am afraid that your friends in the Admiralty haven't forgotten you yet. B
efore you get too wrought up about it though, the admiral asked me to share a few things with you. First off, he and Sir Geoffery Chudloss on Show Low go way back. To be honest, I'm not too sure how far back they go, but they are and remain good friends, and the morning's mail packet included some dispatches from Sir Geoffery concerning the Fang and her crew."

  "Uh oh," muttered Fielder, thinking about what Sir Geoffery might have said about the Fang's first officer and his escapades ashore.

  "Exactly!" replied McKurkle, looking at Fielder and confirming his worst suspicions with a grin and a nod. Looking back at Melville he continued, "It also helped explain the Fang's relationship with the Admiralty, sir. And, to put it bluntly, it has probably made your life here a lot more pleasant than it would have been otherwise!" He concluded with a chuckle, "So you see, there really is no rush now."

  "Yes, I understand," Melville said slowly. "And I certainly appreciate the admiral's kindness, but I will still be returning with you, Lieutenant. My crew have fought and traded their way across half the galaxy, and my first officer is fully capable of dealing with the responsibilities on this end."

  "Thank you, sir. Oh, and he also asked that I tell you that any references to invitations to your crew and wardroom definitely include your monkeys. Sir Geoffery didn't say much about them, except that they would be of extreme interest." He looked at the little monkeys with curiosity.

  Melville and Fielder's monkeys both shot their heads up, looked at each other and gave a manic, "Eek, eek!" at this.

  Fielder looked over at his monkey and said, "See what happens when you get a reputation? Next thing you know, they'll be inviting the monkeys and forgetting their people!"

  His monkey gave a dismissive "Eep!" and snapped its head back down to its shoulders.

  Melville stood and put on the uniform jacket that McAndrews held out for him. The steward's monkey gave the jacket a few last brushes as Ulrich buckled the captain's around Melville's waist.

  "Well, Lieutenant, shall we be going?"

  "Yes, sir. Oh, I almost forgot. Admiral Middlemuss has arranged for some temporary loans from the marine contingent for you and your crew. Prior to leaving the base of the Pier area, please have your qualified personnel visit the armory. They will be issued .45 caliber pistols and holsters. While he doesn't particularly want a repeat of your adventures on Show Low, he really would like to make sure that if anything does happen, it happens to someone else!"

  Lt. Fielder smiled happily. "I like the sound of that, Mr. McKurkle."

  McKurkle grimaced. "Actually, I'm not sure you will."

  Melville looked concerned and said, "What do you mean? Is there some kind of problem that you haven't mentioned yet?"

  McKurkle looked a bit embarrassed and said, "Well, no. It's just that after reading the report Sir Geoffery sent from Show Low, the admiral asked me to pass on that it would be considered a 'favor' if Lt. Fielder limit his movement to the naval facilities, except for official duties. Sir Geoffery believed that the attacks were focused on the captain and yourself, and the admiral hopes to minimize your exposure in order to forestall an potential problems."

  Fielder paled. After his frustrating experience with Ursula he had been looking forward to a fair amount of spooning during this port call. Maybe even some forking. "Restricted to base? Official duties? Oh my god, all those wonderful erotic sights and I'm stuck here?"

  Melville suppressed a laugh and said, "Now, Daniel, it's not that bad. After all, we do have a command performance at the reception tomorrow evening. I'm sure there will be plenty of women and wine for you there."

  Fielder ignored him as he sat down. His monkey's head began bobbing up and down as it chuckled quietly, "Eep eep eep..."

  Rear Admiral Ivar Middlemuss had a bushy mustache, a beak nose, steady eyes, and features that at first appeared to be severe, even hard. Until he smiled, and then everything changed. And the admiral smiled often.

  "Captain Melville! Welcome to the Hero Cluster!" said the admiral, shaking hands with a firm, two-handed grip. "I've heard a good bit of you and your adventures, and have been eager to meet you." His grin projected a warmth that Melville was not used to seeing in a flag officer. Especially one who was speaking to him! "Although, from reading your exploits, I had expected you to be at least a foot taller, and possibly breathing fire! And this must be one of your famous spider monkeys!"

  "Eep!" said the monkey, politely.

  "A pleasure to meet you as well, small sir!"

  Melville laughed and said, "I think you have been reading too much of Mr. Asquith's prose then, sir. I am simply an officer in Her Majesty's Navy."

  Middlemuss smiled again with a slight shake of his head. "No, not simply an officer. But I won't embarrass you now—I'll save that for later when we discuss the dispatches and news at the morning briefing."

  Gesturing to the other individual in the room, the admiral said, "Right now, I'd like to introduce you to Dr. Eric Myriad-Forsythewald, an expert in beastics and monstrology. He has come all the way from Westerness to learn something about the legendary 'Crab' species and their star kingdom."

  Melville shook his hand and said, "The Crabs? I'm afraid that's a new one on me, sir. Who—or what—are they?"

  Dr. Myriad-Forsythewald, dressed conservatively in a puce suit with coordinating cravat, was a distinguished gentleman in his late middle age. He was tanned to a deep mahogany by countless alien suns, and his dark hair was shot through with gray. He looked more like an engineer accustomed to working in the field than an eminent scholar.

  "Charmed, sir, charmed!" He shot his cuffs, shook hands with Melville, and said, "Please just call me Eric."

  "Gentlemen, now that we've been introduced, let's be seated," said the admiral. Their host's office was richly appointed in dark, indigenous woods, with a heavy desk, book-laden shelves all around, and three dark brown chairdogs. They settled back into the chairdogs as the admiral called out, "Simpson! Tea for three! Is tea all right with you, Melville? Or do you need coffee?"

  "No sir, tea is just fine. I was really intrigued by what the admiral was saying about these Crabs, Doctor. Can you tell me more?"

  As the admiral's steward served them, Dr. Myriad-Forsythewald continued. "Well, now, the Crabs are reportedly a race of creatures that resemble some sort of crustacean. Which no doubt explains the name, eh? The difference is, this Crab is not only large, but intelligent, and able to sail in two-space." He sighed and continued. "So far though, we have nothing except second-hand reports to support their existence. Thus, I, your humble servant, was sent here to determine the truth of these legends."

  Rear Admiral Middlemuss mumbled, "Humble servant, my arse." In a normal voice he said, "Captain, the good doctor does himself a disservice. He is actually the chair of the department of Alien Philosophy at the King's University on Westerness." The admiral harrumphed and brushed his mustache contemplatively. "Additionally, this old reprobate and I have been friends since he came onboard the Chaucer when I was a fresh-caught lieutenant."

  Dr. Myriad-Forsythewald grinned and lifted a finger in the age-old symbol for a fencer registering a touch and continued. "'Tis true that I have some small expertise in alien studies, beastics, monstrology, and such. Thus, Captain, I would very much like to have your permission to study the alien members of your crew. I have spent time with the Sylvans, but I suspect your Lady Elphinstone has much to teach me. Plus, I understand that you have a Dwarrowdelf officer and even a few Stolsh aboard! And I would dearly love to study these remarkable monkeys of yours. With your permission, of course, and I think the admiral can vouch for me when I say that I will not be disruptive or invasive in the process."

  "Aye, of course, sir," replied Melville.

  "Hmph!" said the admiral. "Sure, I can vouch for the fact that he is a good man to have aboard and will not be a nuisance. But be forewarned, Melville, he is no respecter of authority when it comes to cards. He will take your money without hesitation, and he runs the most shameless bluffs! So,
I gather that Lt. McKurkle told you a bit about the communications I have received concerning you and your Fang?"

  At Melville's nod, he continued. "Originally, all I had was the missive from the Admiralty, which hinted that you were a loose cannon, and that I would be advised to expedite any port visits and keep you well away from inhabited planets once you were attached to my group here. With not a whole lot of explanation as to what you had done to get that bunch of old ladies' panties in a bunch. So, originally I was minded to have you here at the soiree tomorrow and then send you immediately on your way!"

  Then the admiral gave another one of those remarkable smiles and said, "Luckily for you, the mail you brought in from Show Low had a letter from Sir Geoffery. It explained more than a few things that he knew, and the outcome of your visit to Show Low. While I don't think we need a dose of chlorine in the gene pool here, it sounds as if it didn't do them too much harm there!"

  Melville started to reply, then stopped with his mouth open, not quite sure what to say. What the hell, thought Melville with a mental shrug. Notoriety isn't as good as fame, but it beats obscurity any day.

  "Never mind, Captain, never mind! Things happen, and it all turned out for the best. Although, Sir Geoffery did say he wasn't quite sure how you managed to engineer that remarkably sordid little riot that occurred just before you left. He asked me for some clarification, just for his own edification and amusement!"

  Melville shook his head sharply. That's not something I thought I'd be discussing right away with my new boss!

  "But why don't we take a break and get to know each other over some cards, Captain? Port, cigars, and a few hands of poker. Capital way to get to know my new officers, don't you think?" He laughed as he led the way to a study where a green felt table awaited.