Besides, Brother Theo had made sure that the contracts with the Shipyard were established with the billing for all work and supplies coming from the kingdom's purse, rather than the Fang's own money. After all, the work was being done at a premium price at the request of the local flag officer, wasn't it? And since the Fang was being refitted at the Shipyard, provisioning the Ship after battle should be considered part of the repair rather than a normal expense, shouldn't it? Which left all that coin available for other important things—like a profitable cargo...
And while Brother Theo was that rarity among pursers—a reasonably honest man—no man became successful in that field without at least a touch of larceny in his soul!
"My final status report, sir," said Melville as he entered the admiral's office and placed a thin stack of paper on the big wooden desk.
Rear Admiral Middlemuss looked up from his work as the young captain entered. The confident grin on Melville's face reminded him of a quote by Admiral Bull Halsey in World War II, who said, "There are no great men, just great circumstances, and how they handle those circumstances will determine the outcome of history." And with such men as this, and those reprobates he calls a crew, will our history be determined, thought Middlemuss.
"Humph. More reports from Earth, Melville," said the admiral, tossing across a packet of official correspondence that had come in on the latest mail packet. "You are the man of the hour. The Ships you captured and the crews you trained have saved the day. Your 24-pounders are being reproduced by the Dwarrowdelf, Sylvans, and our own Celebri, thanks to you. My local Celebri guildmaster tells me that the Crab sailcloth and swivel guns being sent back to Westerness are an even bigger deal than the 24-pounders. I've sent the guns and the cloth, and some Crabs to tend or 'grow' the sailcloth, along with signed documents donating them to Queen and Crown, but only for the duration of the current war. Somewhere along the line they may make you rich, and I want to be sure that I get the admiral's share of any prize money and proceeds! I'm also saving some of the cloth, and the crabs to tend them, for my fleet."
Middlemuss snorted bemusedly as he continued. "And that blasted alien Ship of yours appears to have been single-handedly spreading war fever across Westerness. Everywhere the Fang was in port, she convinced the Pier, and the Pier told her story to every Ship that docked there, which in turn passed it on to every Pier that they docked in, which passed it on to the Ships that docked at those Piers. The bottom line is that, in a remarkably short time, every Ship and Pier in Westerness has become rabidly pro-war, which of course has influenced all the captains and their crews. Pretty damned effective PR campaign!
"Most intriguing of all, word is coming to us that those damned monkeys of yours are beginning to appear in your wake, everywhere that you've traveled! They'll come in real handy in this war, I think." He glared at the monkey on Melville's shoulder and muttered, "You mysterious little buggers!"
The monkey just shrugged with a look of wide-eyed, "Who, me?" innocence as the Admiral continued.
"So you've been spreading monkeys and war fever across Westerness, like a damned intergalactic plague ship! And it's spread like clap through a cheap dockside cathouse! This, combined with all your achievements, has completely turned the tide of popular opinion, making the Admiralty look even more foolish than ever. So they hate you all the more, because you've succeeded in proving to the entire known universe that they're galactic-class idiots."
"Aye, sir," replied Melville cautiously, not knowing what else to say.
"Sit down, dammit," said the admiral, gesturing to a chairdog, as he studied Melville's report. "According to this, and my chief of staff's report, your Ship is ready to get underway. All accounts for your Ship have been settled..." A strange, wry look passed over the admiral's face, a source of confusion to Melville until later when he spoke with Brother Theo about certain contracts and stores. "Your new crew members are aboard, your poker accounts have been settled. Or should I say winnings?" He bent a mildly reproachful eye upon the unrepentant Melville.
"Why, heavens, sir, just because some poor soul tried to run an outrageous bluff with the biggest pot of the night..." Melville grinned at him.
"Humph. Be that as it may." In spite of himself Middlemuss couldn't help but twitch a smile back. "I understand your Crabs are singing like songbirds, giving us excellent intel on the Crab civilization?"
"Well, Admiral, 'singing' is not exactly the right word for their speech," Melville replied, "but they seem to have no reluctance to share everything they know. Hayl and Dr. Myriad-Forsythewald are working with your intel staff and getting it all down on paper." Melville had a sudden fear that the admiral might claim the Sting and her Crabs for intelligence purposes, so he added, "Their knowledge might well make the difference between success and failure for us on this mission."
"Aye," agreed the Admiral as he slid a sheet of paper over the polished top of the desk. "They followed you home, so you can keep 'em. I've put your orders in writing. When you get to Osgil, there will be no doubt that you were acting under orders."
Melville looked at the lethal piece of paper. A single page filed with terse lines that would dispose of so many lives.
"And here are your letters of marque," added the admiral, sliding two more sheets of paper across the desk. Two more deadly scraps of paper, which unleashed the Fang to wreak havoc upon vast portions of the galaxy, held in check only by his conscience and the Laws of War. "Nobody has a clue what the format for a letter of marque ought to look like, but that is as legal and thorough as we could make it. Now be off with you." And then as a strange kind of blessing he added,
"Wert thou all that I wish thee,
great, glorious and free.
First flower of the earth
and first gem of the sea.
"Now git!" Middlemuss said, turning his back and looking out the window to hide the traitor tears in his eyes.
"Oh, and Melville," he growled over his shoulder, "tell that damned rascal of yours, Fielder, that a certain influential gentleman from the local government was inquiring about his location this morning. I understand my flag lieutenant made a small mistake and directed said gentleman to a, umm, house of lesser repute on the outskirts of the city. Just so he knows he's still making friends and influencing people. Eh?"
"Aye, sir." Melville strode out the door, shaking his head at the continuing follies of his first officer. Societal rules to Fielder were like fence-posts to a dog.
A jealous boyfriend? Melville mused. Maybe an outraged father? Perhaps a brother? Nah, probably a husband. Daniel's allergic to the possibility of having to get married, and he says the best way to avoid that unhappy fate is to woo only married women.
Melville hosted his officers to dinner that evening, and informed them of their mission.
"And so, the good news is, we're headed home. We thought we'd never see Westerness again, but by God we're headed home! The bad news is, we're taking the long way home."
"Humph!" Fielder snorted. "The 'long way,' eh? Most of the galaxy, at least two alien empires, and several billion enemy are in the way. And the path is across uncharted realms!"
"Aye," replied Melville with a touch of wonder in his voice. "Uncharted realms. As Swift put it,
"So geographers, in Afric-maps
With savage-pictures fill their gaps
And o'er uninhabitable downs
Place elephants for want of towns."
"Or they put 'Here be dragons!'" said Broadax, with a laugh and grin that looked like it should split her hairy face, "an' we're the dragon slayers!" Then she scowled and added, "An' we gots sum serious payback ta dish out to the raggedy-assed, sorry excuse fer dragons in them parts! By the Lady, if they got an ass, we'll kick it, and send 'em ta suck vacuum with the Elder King!"
"Amen," agreed Mrs. Vodi in a subdued voice. "I still can't believe that they are all dead. The fashion-eesta, the art-eests, all the silly, foolish, gentle people we saw on Earth... They're all dead?"
&
nbsp; "Aye," replied Melville. "The lucky ones are dead. The few who remain alive may envy the dead. Hilaire Belloc wrote about the decadent, irreverent, foolish individual we met over and over again on Earth. He called that person The Barbarian. 'Discipline to him seems irrational,' and he is affronted that 'civilization should have offended him with priests and soldiers.'
"Belloc says that, 'We sit by and watch the Barbarian. We tolerate him; in the long stretches of peace we are not afraid. We are tickled by his irreverence, his comic inversion of our old certitudes and our fixed creeds refreshes us; we laugh. But as we laugh we are watched by large and awful faces from beyond: and on those faces there is no smile.'"
Melville sighed as he continued. "While Earth went its decadent, irreverent way, the Guldur were watching with awful faces from beyond. And they were not smiling. Now Earth is dead... But, my brothers, my sisters, we will avenge them! We will avenge the billions dead on Earth! We have a crack crew. If there is anyone in the galaxy who can get us through this mission alive it is you. But I will not have anything but volunteers on this mission."
"I just wish there were more of us," sulked Fielder. "Out of all the vast fleets in Westerness, it would be good if a few of them could come along to help us."
Merriment danced in Melville's eyes as he replied, "No, my friend. If we are marked to die, we are enough to do our country loss; and if to live, the fewer men, the greater share of honor.
"God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more!
"By Jove, I am not covetous for gold, nor care I who doth feed upon my cost. It yearns me not if men my garments wear. Such outward things dwell not in my desires. But if it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul alive!
"No, faith, my brother, wish not one man from Westerness. God's peace! I would not lose so great an honor as one man more, methinks, would share from me for the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
"Rather proclaim it, Fielder, throughout my Ship, that he which hath no stomach for this fight, let him depart. His passport shall be made and crowns for convoy put into his purse. We would not die in that man's company that fears his fellowship to die with us!
"This Ship is called the Fang: he that outlives this voyage, and comes safe home, will stand a tip-toe when this Ship is named, and rouse him at the name of Fang. He that shall survive this voyage, and see old age, will feast his neighbors, then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars, and say, 'These wounds I had aboard the Fang!'
"Old men forget. Yet all shall be forgot, but he'll remember with advantages what feats he did that day. Then shall our names, familiar in his mouth as household words: Melville the captain, Fielder and Broadax, Hans and Barlet, Elphinstone and Vodi, Westminster and Valandil, Theo and DeWalt, Hayl and Sting, be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd.
"This story shall the good man teach his son; and the good Ship Fang shall be remember'd. From this day to the ending of the world, but we in it shall be remember'd. We few, we happy few, we band of brothers—and sisters! For he, or she, to-day that sheds their blood with me shall be my brother, shall be my sister. Be they ne'er so vile, this day shall gentle their condition. And gentlemen in Westerness now a-bed shall think themselves accursed they were not here, and hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks that fought with us aboard the Fang!"
This application of a classic bit of Shakespeare to their current situation brought a thrill of pleasure to every heart, and a thunderous roar of approval rang out as they drank to that.
Melville looked at his first officer and asked, "What say ye, Daniel?"
Shaking his head with the driest of all possible smiles Fielder responded, "Bah! As for me and my impoverished house, I have no choice." And indeed, it was true that no other Ship was apt to take him, and to stay in port would likely spell his doom when his many enemies caught up with him. (To say nothing of husbands!) "So, as Churchill said, 'Go for the swine'—or crabs or curs!—'with a blithe heart!'"
"Lt. Broadax?"
"A mission laced with danger an' destruction? Nay, verily eager for death and disaster? Wat more could a girl ask?!"
"Brother Theo?"
"There is a verse that warriors have claimed across the centuries," the monk replied. "Isaiah 6:8, 'I heard the voice of the Lord, saying, Whom shall I send, and who will go for us? Then said I, "Here am I Lord! Send me!"'"
One by one Melville's officers answered in the affirmative.
"Aye," concluded Melville. "Then tell those bastards that Fang is afoot in the land! The Fang is coming. And all hell's coming with us! War, war is still the cry! War even to the knife!"
Once again there was an answering roar of affirmation and a quaffing of the captain's excellent wine before Melville continued. "The admiral has let slip the dogs of war. In 2001, the United States back on Old Earth—God rest their souls—was attacked by terrorists, and over three-thousand citizens were murdered in a single day. You all know the rest of the story. After decades of peace, America let slip her dogs of war. A warrior poet wrote about those 'sheepdogs' who defended their flock in those days. Now Westerness has let slip her dogs, and these Words apply to us, every bit as much as those Words of Shakespeare's that I just shared:
"Most humans truly are like sheep
Wanting nothing more than peace to keep
To graze, grow fat and raise their young,
Sweet taste of clover on the tongue.
Their lives serene upon Life's farm,
They sense no threat nor fear no harm.
On verdant meadows, they forage free
With naught to fear, with naught to flee.
They pay their sheepdogs little heed
For there is no threat; there is no need.
"To the flock, sheepdogs are mysteries,
Roaming watchful round the peripheries.
These fang-toothed creatures bark, they roar
With the fetid reek of the carnivore,
Too like the wolf of legends told,
To be amongst our docile fold.
Who needs sheepdogs? What good are they?
They have no use, not in this day.
Lock them away, out of our sight
We have no need of their fierce might.
"But sudden in their midst a beast
Has come to kill, has come to feast
The wolves attack; they give no warning
Upon that calm September morning
They slash and kill with frenzied glee
Their passive helpless enemy
Who had no clue the wolves were there
Far roaming from their Eastern lair.
"Then from the carnage, from the rout,
Comes the cry, "Turn the sheepdogs out!"
Thus is our nature but too our plight
To keep our dogs on leashes tight
And live a life of illusive bliss
Hearing not the beast, his growl, his hiss.
"Until he has us by the throat,
We pay no heed; we take no note.
Not until he strikes us at our core
Will we unleash the Dogs of War
Only having felt the wolf pack's wrath
Do we loose the sheepdogs on its path.
"And the wolves will learn what we've shown before;
We love our sheep, we Dogs of War!"
* * *
Melville saw his guests out the door of his cabin, after a long night of planning and partaking of drink and discussion. Finally he was alone with Grenoble and Ulrich.
"I won't order you to do this, either, my friends," the captain said, looking at his mismatched set of bodyguards. "Tell me now if you want to opt out of this one, and I'll understand completely."
Grenoble responded, "A Hebrew proverb of thy Old Earth says, 'If someone is going to kill you, get up early and kill him first.' The Hagakure sets forth that a samurai's word is 'harder than metal.' I will keep my oath. Whither thou goest, I go. Let us get up early and kill the enemies of both our kingdoms. Firs
t!"
"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.
The Guns of Two-Space Page 60
