The Guns of Two-Space (45 page)

"It has been pointed out that grapplers, or wrestlers, make an art out of closing distance, clinching and wrestling. It's a smart game plan, because eliminating distance greatly diminishes an opponent's ability to effectively retrieve and employ guns. Punches and kicks are also diminished in potency when bodies are in contact.

"But Saint Farnam, writing in the early twenty-first century, pointed out that the nemesis for grapplers is a blade. Even when bodies are in contact, an opponent can efficiently retrieve and use a blade on a grappler, even a good one. Conversely, pistols are less likely to be retrieved and used effectively in the clinch.

"Against such an attack a potential victim may be able to use a blade more effectively than a pistol, at least initially. An attacker is less likely to notice a blade in the victim's hand than he would a gun. Even after the attacker has been made (painfully) aware of the fact that his victim has a blade, disarming him or her is nearly impossible. Levering a pistol out of someone's grip is much easier. A gun is only dangerous in one direction!

"When opponents separate, a pistol comes into its own, and a blade diminishes in usefulness. Think of a blade as something we can use quickly to get the attacker off of us and out of physical contact. When we have thus separated from him and gained distance, we can then utilize our pistol to prevent him from closing the distance once more.

"The best use for a blade is when you have one—preferably concealed—and your attacker doesn't know it until it is employed. When it is employed, he will probably be more than happy to separate, after which you can default to your pistol.

"And now, I leave you in the capable hands of the Gunny and Mr. Hans for lots and lots of lovely, loving practice." Brother Theo bestowed one last, kindly smile upon them and moved to the side.

Old Hans moved to the center of the circle and grinned nastily. "Well, young gennulmans, the Gunny an' I ain't Acadermy trained, but we is sorta good at our trade, which is stayin' alive an' makin' sure them that fight agin' us don't! So we're gonna help you boys ta figger out how ta stay alive inna clinch." He and his monkey both spat a brown stream of tobacco juice over the rail.

He chuckled evilly and continued. "I don' think you boys is gonna enjoy it much. An' speaking of things people ain't gonna enjoy..." He looked up at the yardarm over the circle and called out, "Thompson, ya wise-ass! Git yer butt down here. We needs a trainin' dummy, an' you proved yer qualerfy fer the job by mouthin' off ta' Brother Theo!"

The only reply was a smothered "Oh hell," as Thompson slid down a line to the deck.

And thus they trained and trained across the endless days. Not just midshipmen, but gun crews, topmen, and every other member of the
Fang
's crew trained at every conceivable combat task. The middies would sometimes protest, and most often it was Grenoble who would answer.

"I have been studying thy history, and it
tells
us why thou must train. A proverb from thy ancient Chinese tells us, 'to chop a tree quickly, spend twice the time sharpening your ax.' In 404 B.C., Thucydides wrote in
The History of the Peloponnesean Wars
, that 'true safety was to be found in long previous training and not in eloquent exhortations uttered when they went into action.' Almost two and a half millennia later, thy Field Marshall Rommel told us that 'the best form of welfare for the troops is first-class training.' See? 'Tis thy
welfare
we are seeking! We want only what is
best
for thee. So sweat and
suffer
, little brothers! 'Tis good for thee!"

"But, every day, sur?" asked Midshipman Jubal. "Do we have to do it
every
day?"

"Thou sluggard! Thou hast most Saturdays and a good portion of Sunday off. What more couldst thou ask? An ancient samurai master told his student, 'You must concentrate upon and consecrate yourself wholly to each day, as though a fire were raging in your hair.'"

"Mah whole
body
feels lahk it's on fire!" Jubal muttered.

"Cogitate upon it from this perspective," added Brother Theo helpfully. "Life is like the parable of the carrot and the donkey. You can see the carrot, but pull as you might you can never reach it. The secret to enjoying life is to learn to love pulling the cart. Now, again, from the top!"

"Great job," whispered Midshipman Lao Tung to Jubal as they started the knife drill again. "Now my hair is on fire, my carrot's forever out of reach, and my damned
brain
hurts just thinking about all them proverbs and stuff!"

But still they trained.

There were no great centers of civilization to partake of. No streets of bars and brothels, no stores packed with merchandize, no vast array of restaurants and vendors. But on each world there was at least one place to buy wholesome, homemade meals that were cheerfully sold for desperately needed cash. And some worlds had something different and exciting to offer. Occasionally the sun was brighter, or the animals were more colorful, or the vegetation greener, or the beaches whiter. Some worlds had exotic native food and animals, or unique souvenirs to treasure for a lifetime.

And some worlds—indeed, most worlds—had, as old Hans put it, "Ab-so-lutly nuthin' ta commend 'em."

But finally, it was done.

After their last one-Pier world, as they were headed into Show-Low, the captain invited his officers to dinner. At the end of a good meal the consensus was that the crew was content, and it was good to go for a while without anyone trying to kill you. A man could get used to this!

"It isn't as boring as sailing across the rift," concluded Melville. "No one is trying to sink us, and we do get a warm welcome on each world, such as it is. You have to admit, there is a kind of satisfaction in honest labor, and the crew is settling into it. As the poet said,

"Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers?
O sweet content!
Art thou rich, yet in thy mind perplex'd?
O punishment!...
O sweet content! O sweet, O sweet content!
Work apace, apace, apace, apace;
Honest labour bears a lovely face..."
 

"Aye," replied Lady Elphinstone. "'Tis pleasant. 'Tis 'sweet content' indeed. But I fear 'twill not last. Peace is not thy lot, my friends, for thou are not 'souls of clay.' Thou are heroes: the 'sons of the immortals,' the 'souls of fire.' And of thee the Goddess says:

"But to the souls of fire I give more fire,
and to those who are manful
I give a might more than man...
for I drive them forth by strange paths
that they may fight the titans and the monsters
and the enemies of Gods and men."
 

"Thanks, milady," said Fielder sourly. "Forgive me for saying so, but you really know how to ruin a mood."

She only smiled softly and quoted, "'Tell me now, which sorts of men seem more blessed?'"

And from every Pier they visited,
Fang
sent forth her message: <Kestrel
... A dark tide of fear and hate comes... Red war comes! Love quenches hate and fear... Remember.>>
 

I went downtown, it was just to ease my pain
I ended up out walkin' in the rain
I took my pistol and a hundred dollar bill
I had everything I needed to get me killed

"South Nashville Blues"
Steve Earle

The next stop on their agenda was a planet called Show Low, which had recently been selected as the capital for a new territorial sector. Demonstrating a singular but common dearth of imagination, the sector had subsequently been designated the Show Low Sector.

As they approached Show Low's Pier, old Hans and Midshipman Hayl were once again up in the crosstrees.

"That's the mighty
Weber
and the redoubtable
Ringo
!" said young Hayl, correctly identifying the two frigates docked at the Pier.

"Aye, lad," replied Hans. "Two o' the greatest Ships ever ta set sail. I can tell ya been studyin'. Theys lots less Ships here than Earthport, as you'd expect. But what's the significance o' these two?"

"Together with the
Drake
and some other Ships a little more loosely affiliated, they form the core of what's often called the Baen Fleet," said the little middie, eager to show off his knowledge. "They were assigned to the 'near frontier' immediately upon commissioning, and have been working the most profitable of the well developed frontier worlds ever since. As opposed to the Ships we saw at Earthport, which were mostly working the developed worlds, and the Sylvan and Dwarrowdelf runs."

"Well done, lad!"

"Do you want to know their boats?" Hayl asked eagerly, since he had the answers on the tip of his tongue.

"No, lad. That one's too easy fer ya! I'll try never to give ya a question I knows ya know the answer to. Them Ships' are both loaded up and ready to head out, which will make us the cock-o'-the walk here. So tell me what they's loaded with? What's their cargo, lad, where do they come from, an what cargo did they bring from those worlds?

"Cargo?" squeaked the middie in dismay. "How would anyone know that?"

"A veteran ossifer could make a pretty good guess. And a good Ship's ossifer would make it his job to find out! What's sellin'? What's good to get from each port? Tha's yer job now, lad. Knowin' that kind of info is key to the success of yer Ship! And it ain't just the purser's job. By the Lady, it's ever'body's job! So find out, an' brief me on it, asap."

"Aye, sir," replied the middie. He gazed out on the bustling Pier with a look of dismay. Then with a visible effort he took on an aspect of dogged determination that made the old Sailing Master laugh.
The boy's a right plucked one all right!
thought Hans.
He'll do. He'll do jist fine.
 

Show Low. From the name you would expect that it was a planet run by gamblers, a casino world. A whole world named after a game of poker! Instead, the world had started as a farming paradise, with a climate and soil that made attractive and bountiful propositions of both farming and ranching.

So this colony, by virtue of its ability to resupply the Westerness Navy's two-space fleets, as well as its attractive location on the Rim, made it an excellent hub for travel up and down the western edge of the spiral arm, and an ideal launch point for expeditions across the Far Rift. This created more and more trade, bringing increasing quantities of money, business, and lawlessness to the capital city of Lowball.

While there were casinos by the score in Lowball, there were also restaurants, theaters, bars, taverns, and sporting events. And, of course, there were establishments euphemistically referred to as "sporting houses" where ladies of negotiable virtue could be found.

Thus, the
Fang
s finally had an opportunity to sink into the fleshpots of a major port and seek wine, women, and song. But not
necessarily
in that order. Wine and song the
Fang
s had been enjoying in moderation on a daily basis. And women
were
periodically available during the Dance on many of the worlds they had visited. But Lowball provided an environment that
combined
great quantities of wine and song with an endless supply of willing, attractive young women. At least it was an "endless supply" until their money ran out.

In other words, Lowball had all the basic ingredients for a port call where a crew with prize money to burn could relax and cut loose. But it was also infamous for its lawlessness and violence. The spirit of the endeavor was communicated by an old ballad sung by one sailor as he staggered back aboard Ship:

"Oh, I've traded tomorrow for today.
But goin' up was worth comin' down!
Yeah I had lots of money
Which I spent,
Like it was goin' out of style!
Now I'm content!
Wearin' my memories like a smile.
"Yeah, I've traded tomorrow for today.
But goin' up was worth comin' down!"
 

After a few days of hard work, the officers also were given the chance to take shore leave.

"Clothes make the man," said Fielder, admiring his perfectly tailored uniform as the Ship's officers met in the wardroom prior to departing the Ship. "Naked people have little or no impact on society."

"Beauty's only skin deep," growled Broadax in reply, "but ugly goes all da way to da bone."

"So, when we get off the Ship would you like for me to call you a cab, or should I just whistle and have the flying monkeys bring you your broom?" Fielder's monkey
eek
ed at the jest, and reached down to straighten his lapel.

Broadax growled briefly and chewed on her stogie, but her heart just wasn't in it. "I've got plans fer this liberty, I do!" She laughed gleefully as her monkey puffed out a toxic cloud to equal hers. "We got da best damned cook in the Navy. Nobudy on any o' these pitiful li'l planets can't match Jones' cookin'. Nope. But beer! Lager, stout an' all their li'l brothers are jist callin' fer a girl 'at knows how ta treat 'em. An' then I gots me a few udder plans, I do!"

She glanced over at Hans, and gave a girlish giggle that sounded like gravel being crunched underfoot, winking in what she obviously believed was a sly manner. The old salt gave her a goofy grin, and then spat through the open port in unison with his monkey. Everyone in the wardroom tried simultaneously to pretend they hadn't noticed the byplay and to erase the thought of Hans and Broadax having "plans" together.

Fielder suppressed a shudder and shook his head. "Well, personally, I plan on finding the finest restaurant in town, and getting around the biggest, freshest, tenderest steak that money can buy, followed by an equally fresh and tender young lady!"

"I didn't know you knew anyone on Show Low, Daniel," Asquith replied confusedly. "Is this one of those Navy things, a girl in every port and all that?"

"More like a port in ever' girl!" cackled old Hans.

Brother Theo shook his head and replied, "Well, Cuthbert, I think it's more in the nature of Lt. Fielder making acquaintance with a young lady of negotiable virtue, if you catch my drift. Not the sort of friends I could hope he makes, you understand, but perhaps this is where he will see the error of his wayward ways!"