The Guns of Two-Space (17 page)

The enemy's upperside was better defended than the lowerside. Their upper quarterdeck fairly bristled with the remaining Guldur crew members, each with a tick on his shoulders. Melville knew that the Guldur had gutted the rest of their Ship in order to make a final stand on the upper quarterdeck. This was standard operating procedure for the curs, and it was exactly what he had anticipated.

The Guldur's goal was to inflict as much damage as possible upon their invaders. Melville's objective was to prevent that. To take the enemy Ship with minimal loss of life to his precious crew. He had a scheme in place to do that, and all he could do now was fight like hell, keep an eye on the tactical situation, and see if the plan came together.

Melville's boarding party came across the enemy's upperside bow, a wave of cold steel immediately behind the hail of grapeshot and volley of musket fire that atomized the front line of the foe. This attack was very similar to what
Fang
's marines were inflicting upon the enemy on the lower deck. The methodology was slightly different, but the results were largely the same.

Melville vaulted over the rail and his bare feet slithered and skidded on the blood-soaked decks. All around him his boarding party stumbled over limbs and tripped over the thrashing carnage, choking on the airborne ichor of the pulverized, smattered Guldur, mouths and eyes filling with a salty-tasting, sickening red mist. Those who stumbled were left behind, but most kept their balance and launched themselves into the Guldur defenders.

The boarding party was led by three masterful swordsmen of the Kingdom of Westerness, who sundered the enemy ranks with fearsome, fell-handed skill and ability. The onslaught was supported on both flanks by veteran sailors with flashing bayonets, but the real keys to their success were Melville and his rangers. Each was a true artist with the sword, cleaving a red web of death among the enemy.

The swords of two-space were always straight, since the corrosive influence of that strange realm played the devil with curved surfaces. The influence of two-space also helped to keep their weapons deadly sharp. They were stored in special compartments in the Ship, essentially "floating" in that impossibly thin plane of two-space. The influence of Flatland worked to pull the blades "flat," atom by atom, so that the edges of the blades were drawn into mono-molecular sharpness. The bayonet blades and short swords of the enemy were equally sharp, but the curs and ticks who carried them were no match for the three swordsmen of Westerness and the blades they bore.

The swords of Melville and his rangers flashed in crimson arcs, severing limbs and piercing bodies with a practiced ease that seemed deceptively and frighteningly effortless. Under stress the body shuts down the blood flow to the outer layers of skin and muscles. This "vasoconstriction" allows the skin to become a kind of "armor" that can take great damage without much blood loss, which can be a valuable survival mechanism. One side effect of this is to make blood pressure skyrocket, and when an artery
is
severed, the blood fountains out with amazing power. Great gouts of arterial blood sprayed out from each precisely aimed stroke of those Westerness swords. A maelstrom of crimson ichor splattered and splashed off blades and bodies as Melville and his rangers flicked off heads and limbs like a swordsman might flick spent blossoms from a rose bush in idle practice.

The Ship's boys, dogs, and their monkeys battled underfoot, bedeviling and badgering the enemy with flashing fangs and pitiless knives amidst a red rain of blood and limbs that flowed down from above. Soon the dogs were heaving great, pink, foaming breaths from gore-drenched muzzles, and the boys' arms were soaked to the shoulder in the crimson life fluid of the hapless Guldur whom they had hamstrung and neutered with their remorseless blades. The blood in the air and on their faces ran hot and salty into panting, screaming mouths, while the monkeys screeched from their backs.

Brother Theo was delivering a continuous fusillade of rapid-fire pistol shots from directly behind the line. He picked off the Goblan ticks on the enemy's shoulders with machine-like precision and speed, with a supply of pistols constantly renewed by the hurried reloads of the middies.

Following immediately behind the piercing, penetrating triad of Melville and his rangers, forming a fourth point to their diamond, was Grenoble with his broad-bladed spear. One moment that spear flashed to Melville's right while the captain cut to his left, spilling an enemy's guts like a great ropey tide of slimy, sickly, purple snakes. Just as the captain's sword stabbed to his right, Grenoble's spear flashed back and thrust swift as an arrow to Melville's left, piercing a Guldur's heart in a great gush of red, and then snapped back with such speed that it left a line of blood in the air, like scarlet thread following a darting needle. An instant later that broad blade thrust high to pick off a Goblan tick, then down between the captain's legs like some great, gore soaked, tripodal phallus, to cut a cur's hindpaw out from under him.

The boarding party's monkeys, crouching upon their shoulders, were blocking and neutralizing the attacks of the enemy's ticks, and most other attacks upon their hosts' upper bodies. Periodically, with a resounding "
Thwack!"
the monkeys' flashing belaying pins would block an incoming bullet. This was something that the
Fang
s would not have believed,
could
not have believed, if they had not personally examined the bullet-encrusted, wooden belaying pins after past battles.

The momentum of their combined, multilevel attack was stunning and devastating. The enemy who stood were mowed down like grass, and those who tried to take cover behind the dismounted bow gun were swept over from both flanks. Many chose simply to fall to the ground and curl into whimpering balls in the face of that implacable, inexorable onslaught. Melville and his boarders were happy to step over them, pausing only long enough to hack at any Goblan who remained alive, but permitting the broken Guldur sailors to live.

High above them in the rigging, the
Fang
's topmen, led by their Sylvan compatriots and ably assisted by their monkeys, slammed into the Goblan in the rigging. It was only on this front that the attack bogged down. It seemed than an inordinate number of the Goblan had been hiding in the crow's nests, and now they came boiling down like a deranged cross between insane circus clowns coming out of their car and enraged hornets pouring out of their nest. The Sylvans' skill in the low gravity of the upper rigging was astounding, but so was that of the Goblan, and their greater numbers slowed down the advance.

The rest of Melville's boarding party cut through to the enemy's quarterdeck. As Josiah Westminster put it later, "We went through 'em lahk a double dose of Mrs. Vodi's best rhubarb purgative."

Gotta maintain the momentum of the attack,
Melville thought to himself.

"Come on! Come on!" he roared to his men.

"
The combat deepens. On, ye brave,
Who rush to glory or the grave!"
 

The warriors around him cheered. It was
good
to have a captain with Words, ancient, apt, and powerful Words ready to do his bidding. It let them know that their forefathers had been in similar straits and survived to tell of the experience. The speaking of Words at moments like this reached deep into their collective, cultural heritage to lift their spirits. Or, as old Hans put it, "Them Words can reach down inta the heart of a man what's pissin' his self with fear, an' pull 'im up by the short-an'-curlies!"

And then they slammed into the mass of defenders at the enemy's quarterdeck.

"Okay you bums, time to keep me safe for women everywhere!" cried Lt. Archer as their cutter,
White-socks
, approached the enemy's quarterdeck on the upper redside. The Guldur did not notice the cutter coming at their right flank as they focused on Captain Melville's boarding party.

"Sir, are ya sure that's not '
from
women everywhere?'" asked Petty Officer Hommer, tossing his head to flip his hair out of his eyes as the two young warriors laughed together.

Then
White-socks'
single sail was slacked and an expertly tossed grapnel came up from the cutter's bow and thudded into the jollyboat along the enemy's upper redside. The cutter slewed drunkenly as the grapnel was pulled tight, and the sailor at the tiller brought them expertly along side the enemy.

"At 'em, boys!" cried Archer.

The lead elements of Archer's boarding party are standing on the yardarm of the cutter's mast, with the rest ready to follow. The young lieutenant is on the very end of the yardarm, with Hommer immediately behind him. Archer is balanced like a cat, with a pistol in each hand.

As they approach the enemy Ship, Archer leaps into the jollyboat that hangs from davits off the enemy's redside, firing both barrels of both pistols. "
Crackcrack"
first the right, then "
crackcrack"
the left, Archer thumbs the Keel charges on the two-space pistols as fast as he can put the front sights onto a target.
 

Four Guldur fall, each with a bullet smashing into its right ear. Then Archer drops his pistols and vaults the quarterdeck railing, drawing his sword as his feet hit the deck.

The rest of his small boarding party is right behind him, with Petty Officer Hommer in the lead, firing both barrels of their muskets into the unsuspecting enemy's right flank and leaping onto the quarterdeck behind their lieutenant. Little Midshipman Hayl is in their midst, waving his midshipman's dirk and screaming like a madman.

Archer's sword begins to take its toll just as the enemy becomes aware of his presence. An overhand slash of his terrible sharp blade beheads the first Guldur, slicing effortlessly through the hapless creature's throat and spine, and then continuing to cut his Goblan tick in half at the waist. The surprise of the flank attack combines with the speed of the blow and the sharpness of the edge so that the blade cuts completely through before the victims fully understand what has happened. The Guldur has a brief look of confusion on its face as its head tumbles back and a red fountain gushes up from its severed neck. The tick is able to look down into the intestines of the lower part of its body as it falls backward with an expression of horrible, frustrated rage upon its face.

Archer's return stroke eviscerates a Guldur who is turning toward him, and the hapless creature crouches and turns to its left, dropping its musket and holding its spreading entrails like a football player holding a ball.

To each side of him Archer's sailors advance with their bayonets flashing, but the impetus of their attack quickly stalls against the mass of enemy troops. Midshipman Hayl crouches low and scrambles through the boarding party to get to his designated position behind Lt. Archer.

Then Archer finds himself facing the biggest, blackest, ugliest Guldur he has ever seen, wearing an officer's harness, complete with a tick to match the size of its host.

He knows that this has to be the captain of the enemy's Ship, and his task is to defeat this creature. The smashing blows of the Guldur, combined with the attack from its tick, are too much for Archer and he knows he is outmatched. His arm is already numb from blocking blows, his monkey is overmatched by the smashing overhand clouts of the big tick on his opponent's back, and the sailors to his left and right are being pressed hard by multiple foes. Archer barely deflects one crashing sword blow as it slices a furrow into his left shoulder. Another scratches his right forearm.

The young lieutenant suddenly feels an awful sense of despair.
Is this what it feels like to die?
he asks himself.
Is this what it felt like for those creatures I just killed?

While Archer and his group attacked the Guldur's right flank, Lt. Crater and the crew of his cutter hit the enemy from the opposite direction. Crater and his party leapt from the yardarm of their cutter onto the enemy's upper greenside, quickly cutting down the few Guldur who stood in their way. On this side the quarterdeck was still about five feet above them, with another three feet of railing above that. They slammed a volley of musket and pistol balls into the mass of enemy packed onto the quarterdeck above them. The Guldur reeled from this unexpected assault on their left flank, but they quickly rallied, and Crater's attack bogged down at the railing.

Melville and his men also found themselves stalled at the quarterdeck. He and his rangers were battling at the ladder, while the rest of his men shot and stabbed up at the defenders.

After many battles Melville had honed his situational awareness to a fine edge. He knew when Archer slammed into the enemy's right flank, and he was aware of Crater hitting the left flank. The primary objective of this attack was to have Archer personally defeat the Guldur who was currently in command of the Ship. That was the key to getting the Guldur Ship to accept Archer as the new captain.

Melville knew from personal experience that the enemy's captain would be the biggest, toughest, most skillful fighter aboard. He also knew that young Archer would not be a match for such an enemy. Melville was hoping that the slaughter of the Guldur crew inflicted by the
Fang
's cannon fire would have whittled down the enemy's chain of command to the point where a less capable opponent would be in charge. In fact, he was betting Archer's life on it.

Through the mass of bodies in front of him Melville could catch glimpses of a huge, shaggy black form moving toward Lt. Archer's boarding party, and he had a sudden, morbid sense that he had lost his bet and Archer might pay for it with his life. The young lieutenant had trusted his captain, and Melville was sick with dread at the possibility of having sent Archer to his death.

Well
, thought Melville,

The mouse that always trusts to one poor hole
Can never be a mouse of any soul.
 

He had prepared for this possibility. This mouse had another hole. His plan was to attack at the enemy from every possible angle, and there were still one or two directions yet to come into play. It was a slim reed to grasp, but he would do the best he could on his end and hope that Broadax, or Ulrich and Hans would be successful on their fronts.