The Guns of Two-Space (41 page)

Almost everyone was happy with this arrangement. The sole exception being Kaleb Jones himself, who was somewhat unhappy about being assigned to the marines. While he didn't mind cooking for them, his attitude was more along the lines of: "No way in hell I'm gonna belong t' th' damned marines!"

This unsatisfactory attitude was corrected quite handily by the senior marine aboard, Lt. Broadax herself. While the counseling session was conducted privately in the wardroom, the betting was heavily in favor of broken bones and contusions on Jones, rather than permanent lasting damage. All and sundry were firmly convinced that Broadax valued him as a cook, and equally convinced that his big mouth and her explosive temper would make for an entertaining session, even secondhand.

Alas for all those betting, the session was apparently conducted peacefully and quietly with the two of them departing in apparent amity and friendliness. An appearance that was only mildly marred by one of the wardroom's chairs having been broken into hand-length kindling pieces (with the only tool marks being impressions of Broadax's fingers in the hard oak), and stacked neatly in front of Jones' chair.

"The map of our Star Kingdom of Westerness," said Brother Theo, "can be perceived as being much like the United States in her early years. This analogy is quite fragile and purely contrived, and can be dangerous if taken too far. Never forget that this model is based on an artificiality, a generally agreed upon convention to call this the 'upper' side and to view everything from this perspective. But by doing so we come up with a map of the galaxy which has us in the west like Westerness or the Shire, and Osgil and the Guldur to the east, just like the Tolkien mythos."

Brother Theo's students, complete with the usual batch of idlers, were listening intently as the monk explained. This was more than the usual academics. This was no less than an outline of their kingdom's current reality, and their Ship's destiny and plans within that reality.

"Or you can use another paradigm and think of the planet Earth as New York, the Grey Rift as the Atlantic Ocean, and Westerness as Washington, DC, or thereabouts. Lenoria might be thought of as Pittsburgh in the early frontier days. If we use this model, then we will be sailing completely across the continent, or across the galactic arm, to the rim world of Show Low, which is similar to San Francisco in its old, Barbary Coast days. The Far Rift is comparable to the Pacific Ocean, and our final objective will be a star cluster called the Hero Cluster, which is analogous to a group of islands in the middle of the ocean."

This generated a buzz of excitement from his listeners. They had heard that they were headed to the Rim, and from there across the Far Rift and out into the vastness of two-space, but this was the first time they had received so much detail.

"Again," concluded the monk, "these models must be used with extreme caution. We are
not
America, nor are we Tolkien's Westerness or the Shire. We are
us.
No more and no less. But whoever we are, we are off on an
adventure,
my friends."

Thus the
Fang
started on the next round of her appointed port calls. Normally, Ships of the Westerness Navy were assigned a route that allowed for a reasonable amount of trading, with periodic ports capable of handling the liberty needs of a group of sailors and marines far from home wanting to bleed off stress in the time-honored fashion of indulging in too much alcohol, loose women, and open spaces under wide blue (or green, yellow, indigo, and varied other color schemes) skies.

Unfortunately, the tin gods of the Admiralty hadn't finished with them yet.

The
Fang
found herself out amidst the dark, rolling, forgotten planets of the kingdom, on a tour of the smallest and newest one-Pier worlds that the Admiralty could put together on reasonably short notice. To keep civilization alive on these worlds, Ships had to visit, dropping off interstellar mail as well as magazines such as
Home and Gardens
,
Vogue
,
Saturday Evening Post
, and
Home on the Range Monthly
, delivering one copy for each planet, which was then reproduced and distributed. Since there was normally no chance of turning a profit on these runs, the Admiralty had to literally pay for the privilege of sending them out to the back end of the galaxy by remitting a portion of their required payments for each planet visited.

"So far you've only observed major ports," Brother Theo told Asquith as they stood at the stern rail a few days after leaving Lenoria. "You've seen Earth, Lenoria, Ambergris, and Osgil, some of which have a hundred or more pilings, or Keels, or Piers making up their port. But there is a limited supply of Keels. Truly, they are the most valuable commodity in our civilization. They can be utilized for Piers, or for Ships, but not both.

"Thus, you have seen the great ports, and now you are about to see the norm. On most of our worlds there is only one piling coming up to form the Pier. These are the choke points in our kingdom. Indeed, the paucity of Piers and Ships are the limiting factor in our galactic civilization."

"What is stopping us from making more?" asked Asquith.

"You can ask our new carpenter and resident Celebri Guild member, Mr. DeWalt, but he won't tell you," replied Theo. "All the Guild will say is that they are doing the best job they can, manufacturing Keels as fast as humanly possible. And I have no cause to doubt them. Over the years many individuals of great political power have come from the Celebri, and if it were within their power to produce more, I have no doubt that they would do so."

"Okay, I'll forgo the dubious pleasure of asking DeWalt, who gives even longer answers than you do. And I understand that now we're going to see the rural, pastoral aspect of Westerness."

"Nooo," said the monk, pursing his lips thoughtfully. "There
is
a beautiful, rural, pastoral side to Westerness. But this isn't it. What we are about to see are the kind of nowhere worlds that exist only to avoid the embarrassment of having a big open patch on the map. Verily, I tell you. Somewhere there's a potbellied bureaucrat who looks at the map of our galactic arm and says, 'Hey, that's too big an open patch. We need a stopover there.' So the explorers make an extra effort until they find some marginal world that will support life, and
poof,
there you have it, a blank spot on the map neatly filled in. The little clerk in Westerness is happy, and a bunch of wretched folks must live on this hell hole. And we have to visit them."

"The fun just never stops," muttered Asquith. "One more question, if I may ask it of you, Brother?"

"Certainly."

"I'm working on my second book, and I'm trying to figure out a way to help the readers keep the deck plan of the upper and lower sides straight. Hell,
I
still get mixed up sometimes! Have you got any suggestions?"

"I believe I may be able to assist," replied the monk with a genial smile, pulling out a pencil and the notebook where he kept many of the working notes for his duties as the Ship's purser. "I actually have it sketched out here," he said flipping through pages of load plan sketches, manifest lists, and stores usage calculations. "Here it is! See?" he continued, pointing with his pencil at a meticulously drawn illustration of two deck plans, side-by-side and virtually identical. "This is a diagram of the
Fang
's upperside, and here, right beside it, is the lowerside."

"They look the same to me," said Asquith.

"Ah, but it's what's different that is important. Notice that the greenside and the redside are in different directions, and the names of the guns and the cutters are different! And the hatches that the captain uses to cut through from the upper to the lower sides in combat are a tad off center. Now, take this page, and fold it right here, and, ta-da! The greensides and the redsides are on the same side, and the hatches line up!"

"Huh!" said Asquith, taking the book and folding the page in, and then back again. "I think I get it!"

"May I humbly suggest that you put an illustration like this in your book?"

"Maybe," the diminutive earthling author replied cautiously as he digested the idea. "You know, it might just work. I saw something like this on the back cover of a
Mad Magazine
once."

Their journey would take them through little of the greatness of Westerness. Cuthbert Asquith the XVI described the series of one-Pier worlds as the "Smallness of Westerness" which neatly outlined the cluster of one-horse, one-Pier ports they visited. This term also neatly described the small minds and timid spirits back at the Admiralty, a viewpoint which Asquith was gleefully happy to record in his next book.

The
Fang
's course was more reminiscent of the garbage man's route through alleys and cul-de-sacs rather than the tomcat march of the best damned Ship afloat—which the
Fang
s knew they deserved! As old Hans put it, "The only way ta git ta these hellholes is by mail packet or by accident!"

One shining light in the unrelenting blandness of their trek through that vast obscurity where the dark planets of the kingdom spun in the lonely night, was Brother Theo. The cherubic monk was able to acquire the finest comestibles and potables that each world had to offer, at the best possible prices. The
Fang
was a wealthy Ship, just back from foreign climes, battles, and hardship tours (not to mention their experience with Jones' abominable cooking) so they spent money like... well, like sailors. They purchased exotic local varieties of microbrewery beer, wine, steaks, roasts, seafood, homemade baked goods, vegetables, and fruits to fill their larders. All of the finest and freshest quality.

From the mess deck to the wardroom to the captain's table, none of the crew had ever experienced such food. Even their perennially insatiable midshipmen found themselves fully satisfied with the quantity of food that was provided. And, happily for their marines, Kaleb Jones was still able to placate the esoteric tastes of their resident Dwarrowdelf.

In addition to providing an endless flow of local delicacies from countless worlds, Brother Theo was also a wizard at figuring out cargos that would turn a decent profit from port to port, as well as when they reached civilization again. He was determined to make them all rich (or rich
er
depending on your perspective) and
that
was an objective that every
Fang
aboard could support wholeheartedly.

The only crew member who was completely happy with this rather mundane state of affairs was Asquith. There was no combat, no excitement to distress the little earthling, and he was able to sell a copy of his book at every stop. The book was quickly purchased by a local publisher who would reprint and market it on their world, and then would hawk it off to even more worlds. Inside of a few months his book could be found on most of the planets in the star kingdom, being touted as "A Bestseller on Earth!" and "A true story of the greatest hero of our age."

Despite the lack of stimulation in their journey, the
Fang
s knew there was a valid reason for every stop. Each of these worlds was a member of their great star kingdom, hungry for news and information from the major planets. And, unlike early colonists on Earth, they were a literate people, educated and intent on improving their lot in life. (Or at least to find some literary escapism and cheap entertainment in their lives.)

Westerness' control of its empire was not merely a matter of her Ships, although those mighty symbols of trade and power were a critical ingredient. Westerness' rule also was represented by a permanent and organized system which had immense power to accumulate, absorb, and assimilate local institutions.

There was a whole nexus of professional, social, and psychological links that permeated all levels of the star kingdom, all serving to bind them together. Westerness had made a huge investment, politically, economically, and culturally, in expanding the frontier to the far edge of the galactic arm and beyond, and they were determined not to lose it.
And
(perhaps most importantly) they were determined to gain a return on their investment. This had to be done very carefully, maintaining bonds of kinship and fidelity, while turning a profit
without
alienating the far-flung citizens.

The viability of the frontier depended not just on communications within the region, but also on the maintenance of links back to Westerness and the core planets. All of which required substantial shipping assets, and even the smallest of planets was usually provided with a small two-space Ship to meet local needs.

Salutes were exchanged with the local Ships as they approached each Pier. Initially the salute was in time, but once the local crew fired the first few shots they often fell further and further behind, as the weary, potbellied reservists tried to keep up. And always there was the question, "How many shots to honor a three-masted Ship commanded by a lieutenant?" The resultant answer varied from port to port as they traveled across the vast expanse of Westerness.

It was rare for a mighty frigate (or even a three-masted "sloop") to visit such minor worlds as these. In many cases the
Fang
was the biggest Ship the locals had ever seen. Indeed, their arrival would have been a major sensation in most of these ports, had there been a sufficient critical mass of population for a good sensation to get off the ground.

The planets they visited were filled with weary women, determined farmers, cagey hunters, and fierce-looking trappers with beards, buckskin, and a smell to match any pelt. (In some cases, the pungent odor of the untanned hides was actually a relief from the smell of the trappers!) And all of them were, as Asquith put it, "talking in authentic frontier gibberish."

On a few occasions they were called upon to move parties of settlers from one backwater world to another. Because the
Fang
was far larger than the usual Ships that plied these small ports, she was a natural method of transport for big groups who had long ago sent in requests to move to another world. The
Fang
s felt sorry for these brave souls, and yet they were respectful of their hardy pioneer spirit.