The Guns of Two-Space Read online

  Author's Comments:

  Introduction and Important Background Info from Dave Grossman

  I am Pallas Athene,

  and I know the thoughts of all men's hearts

  and discern their manhood or their baseness.

  From the souls of clay I turn away,

  and they are blessed but not by me.

  They fatten at ease

  like sheep in the pasture

  and eat what they did not sow

  like oxen in the stall.

  They grow and spread

  like the gourd along the ground,

  but like the gourd

  they give no shade to the traveler.

  When they are ripe death gathers them

  and they go down unloved into Hell

  and their name vanishes out of the land.

  But to the souls of fire I give more fire,

  and to those who are manful

  I give a might more than man.

  These are the heroes,

  the sons of the immortals who are blessed,

  but not like the souls of clay,

  for I drive them forth by strange paths

  that they may fight the titans

  and the monsters

  and the enemies of Gods and men...

  Tell me now, Perseus,

  which of these two sorts of men seem

  to you

  more blessed?

  Charles Kingsley

  Canon of Westminster and Chaplain to Queen Victoria

  The life of a ship, propelled only by wind: not as the wind listeth, but obedient to command and guided by an almost occult power, acquired only by long practice and experience.

  The rush and bustle of peopled deck: ringing orders, peremptorily expressed and instantly obeyed; eternal vigilance, the price of salvation; and the right thing done instantly, on the spur of the moment, at the right time.

  This was a realm prolific of poetry: poetry of romance and poetry commemorating deeds done. It was the time of the after-dinner songs and elaborate toasts, and these Words helped supply such a need.

  The period of steam and steel has produced nothing like it. The locomotive, the telegraph, the steamship: these were the beginning of the end of deep thought. True thought, distilled and aged over months and years of solitude became rare...

  From the introduction to

  American Naval Songs and Ballads

  by Robert W. Neeser, 1938

  On Poetry and Science Fiction

  In this series of books I've tried to craft a world in which deep respect, even veneration for poetry could exist. But in reality there's no need to make up such a world. Throughout history, from Homer to Kipling, we existed in such a world. And nowhere was this more so than at sea.

  In an environment such as the shoreless seas of two-space, in this book, where advanced technology can't exist, the power of well-crafted Words would again be the key to men's hearts. A leader (such as Melville, the captain of the Fang) who masters such Words would have a powerful edge in mastering his men.

  When you read these poems, I encourage you to read them aloud.

  Or, if you're in a public place, at least mumble them quietly! For poetry was meant to be spoken, not read, and you lose half the joy if you don't let these Words, these ancient, powerful Words, roll off your tongue and o'er your lips.

  Hopefully the words in between the poetry will give you some small measure of pleasure as well.

  On Fans and Readers

  I would like to make a note of thanks to all the Baen Books fans who responded so kindly to the first volume to this series. But many of my readers have not had past experience with military science-fiction. These individuals were drawn to the book from the military and law enforcement communities, based on their experiences with my nonfiction books and my "Bulletproof Mind" seminars.

  There has also been a sizable number of "nautical fiction" fans (especially readers of the Hornblower and Jack Aubrey series) for whom my work was their first taste of military science-fiction. The response from these wonderful readers has also been gratifying.

  For all of you who generally do not read science fiction but are pleased by this series, I would like to strongly recommend that you take a look at other Baen books. John Ringo, Eric Flint, David Drake, David Weber, Leo Frankowski, and all the other "race horses" in the great "stable" of Baen authors are true giants in the land. Their books have given me great joy over the years, and I highly recommend them to one-and-all.

  On Warriors and Warrior Scientists

  I said in the first book of this series (and it bears repeating) that my "day job" is to be on the road, almost three-hundred days a year, training soldiers (Green Berets, SEALs, British Special Boat Service and Royal marine Commandos, Army Rangers, the USMC, etc.) and cops (the FBI, the ATF, the CHP, the RCMP, etc.) about the psychology and physiology of combat. It's a great job. I teach them and then they teach me, in an endless, ever-refining feedback loop. I can never thank them enough for putting it on the line for us, every day, and for sharing their experiences with me. You can get a better feel for what I do, and take a look at some of my scholarly writings on these topics, through my Web site, www.killology.com, or my books, On Killing and On Combat.

  I need to thank my fellow "warrior scientists." The concept of science fiction has usually involved the integration of science, or projected science, into fiction. This series is the first time that anyone has integrated the new field of "warrior science" into fiction. The characters in my book cite real twenty-first century researchers. (You can find out more about them, and this field, in On Combat.) I sincerely believe that hundreds of years from now these pioneer friends of mine will be remembered and cited.

  The combat experiences of my characters are based on the latest research, on what I'm teaching, and on what those who have been there have taught me. Any errors are my own!

  And Finally:

  To Bobby A. Hudson, Jr., Commander, U.S. Navy (retired), my co-author, partner in crime, and frien. "Gentle reader beware: twisted military minds at work."

  To Leo Frankowski, our mentor, guide, good friend, and in-house editor. To our publisher, the late Jim Baen, who was a friend and a man of vision... he will be missed. And to the great people at Baen Books who are carrying on his vision. To our faithful and true friends and proofreaders: Barb (Sabrehawk) Walker, Jim (G-2) Bray, Rocky (High Deacon of the Ever Evolving Church of Violence) Warren, Steel Parsons, John Lang, Elantu Viovodi (author of that great source of wisdom, The Contented Poacher's Epicurean Odyssey, who helped put words in Mrs. Vodi's mouth), Carlie Cockett, Scott Blackledge, Ranger Rob Jones, Eric (ESR) Mryiad, Reb, and many others.

  To my extraordinarily competent and long-suffering staff, Susan Tacker, Chris McCorkle, and Aubrey Joe Grossman.

  And to the sheepdogs of life. Long may they live and prosper so they are there when we need them!

  Most of all, to my princess, my favorite proofreader, my bride and friend of three decades: my Jeanne, who stands watch at the door to our world.

  Hooah!

  Dave Grossman

  Lt. Colonel, U.S. Army (ret.)

  Director, Killology Research Group

  www.killology.com

  (Note: If not otherwise indicated, the titles and authors of the poetry used throughout the book are listed at the end.)

  The Crew

  of Her Majesty, the Queen of Westerness' 24-Pounder Frigate, Fang

  Lt. Thomas Melville, Captain

  Ulrich, his coxswain

  Grenoble, his bodyguard, a Sylvan

  McAndrews, his steward

  Lt. Daniel Fielder, 1st Officer

  Lt. Jarad Crater

  Lt. B
uckley Archer

  Lady Elphinstone, Ship's surgeon, a Sylvan

  Mrs. Vodi, her "lob-lolly girl"

  Pete Etzen, Thadeaus Brun, corpsmen (medics), "Doc"

  Brother Theo Petreckski, Ship's purser, a monk

  Roxy, Ship's cook, "Cookie"

  Kaleb Jones, Ship's cook

  Mr. Caleb Tibbits, Ship's carpenter, "Chips"

  Mr. Joby DeWalt, a Celebri, Ship's carpenter

  Mr. Darren Barlet, Ship's master gunner, "Guns"

  Sgt. Don Von Rito, Ship's gunnery sergeant, "Gunny"

  Mr. Bronson Hans, Ship's sailing master

  Marines

  Lt. Broadax, a Dwarrowdelf

  Cpl. Petrico, Cpl. Kobbsven, L.Cpl. Jarvis, Pvt. Dwakins,and others

  Rangers

  Josiah Westminster

  Aubrey Valandil, a Sylvan

  Midshipmen:

  Anthony Hayl

  Garth Aquinar

  Hezikiah Jubal

  Abdyl Faisal

  Lao Tung

  Ellis Palmer

  Ship's dogs

  Ship's cats

  The monkeys

  Cuthbert Asquith XVI, an unhappy passenger

  Timeline

  2104: Kenny Muraray creates the first Pier and begins exploration of two-space.

  2119: The great Crash on Earth is caused by a two-dimensional virus brought back from a computer taken into two-space. The Crash leads to a catastrophic destruction of most computers and the entire World Net and a collapse of civilization as virtually all computers and computer data-bases are destroyed. Only a few isolated military nets remain intact.

  2210: Earth's early two-space Ships first land on Westerness.

  2420: Star Kingdom of Westerness is peacefully established, as Earth loses interest in two-space.

  2628: The Great Two-Space War begins with a Guldur invasion of Stolsh Empire and Osgil. The Westerness exploration Ship Kestrel is attacked by the Guldur, and Fang is captured by Westerness forces. (See: The Two-Space War.)

  2629: Fang returns to Earth.

  PROLOGUE

  Airy Navies Grappling In the Central Blue

  For I dipt into the future,

  far as human eye could see,

  Saw the vision of the world,

  and all the wonder that could be,

  Saw the heavens fill with commerce,

  argosies of magic sails,

  Pilots of the purple twilight,

  dropping down with costly bales.

  Heard the heavens fill with shouting,

  and there rain'd a ghastly dew

  From the nations' airy navies

  grappling in the central blue.

  "Locksley Hall"

  Alfred Lord Tennyson, 1842

  A fragile wooden Ship, complete with canvas sails, was sailing between the stars. This was patently, embarrassingly impossible, of course, but fortunately the Ship didn't know that, and neither did her crew.

  Actually, it was more like two old-fashioned three-masted sailing ships, cut off at the waterline and joined together like some bizarre "Siamese twin" of a Ship. And if you happened to be out in interstellar space as the Ship whizzed by, you couldn't actually see it, because it was in another dimension and it was going far, far faster than the speed of light. But it was there, take our word for it.

  To understand how this Ship came to be there will take some explanation, and a good dose of imagination.

  First, you have to imagine a two-dimensional realm. This part is not too hard. Humans have imagined such a realm since 1884 when Edwin A. Abbot first introduced the concept in his book, Flatland: A Romance in Many Dimensions. In this Flatland, or two-space, there is left and right, forward and back, north, east, south, and west, but no up or down. Just two dimensions, see?

  Now, imagine the entire galaxy in two-space. The whole, immense galaxy, with its billions of stars, solar systems, and planets all compacted into a vast, flat, two-dimensional disk. For humans to travel in this realm, a Ship would have to create a pocket of three-dimensional space, which could intrude into two-space like a soap bubble, existing above and below the flat surface of a vast, calm ocean. This really is no harder (indeed it is actually quite a bit easier) than imagining hyperspace or other, complex, multidimensional models. And, when you think about it, it is logical that humans should travel between the stars via the simple, basic realm of two-space rather than some complex realm of multiple dimensions that nobody ever really understood anyway.

  But, this simple realm has rules of its own. The laws of physics, and chemistry, and... well, hell, just about everything changes here. One of the most important of these changes is that time and space are different, so that it only takes weeks or months to sail between the stars.

  Another major difference in two-space is that complex technology cannot exist here. The easiest way to think of it is simply to understand that two-space has a "grudge" against high-tech. Under the right circumstances living organisms and simple tools can exist here, but anything complex will immediately start breaking down.

  People who claim to have excellent imaginations often seem to balk at this aspect of two-space. "Why can't complex technology exist in two-space?" they cry out in frustration. And the answer is, "Why can't people breathe water, or energy be created, or pi equal three, or entropy be reversed, or pigs fly in our universe?" Different universes are going to have quaint, unique, inexplicable, incomprehensible, unpredictable, and fundamentally different laws! And, as every traveler knows, if you travel to an exotic land, you'd better be prepared to accept and obey the law of the land.

  So, if computers, complex spaceships, and other technological devices cannot exist in this realm, how then—you may ask—do you travel between the stars?

  Well, our Ship, although it is a fragile, complex thing of wood, rope, and canvas, is really very simple technology. Two-space tolerates it. The "Keel" of the Ship creates a pocket of three-space that can exist in the midst of two-space. The Keel also generates gravity and warmth. (Or maybe it is two-space that provides the gravity. Nobody is really sure.) And the wood of this Ship is coated with a glowing white, two-dimensional "Moss" that gives light and air for the passengers crowded upon its decks. (A sense of superstitious homage causes the crew to always treat the Moss and the Keel as proper nouns, as befits such wondrous, mysterious, supernatural, life-giving objects. Ancient mythology, passed on from the Elder Races, says that the Moss was Lady Elbereth's Gift, intended to keep sailors out of the freezing vacuum hell of the Elder King.)

  And, by the way, that Moss becomes a sentient, two-dimensional creature, or perhaps a colony of creatures, which makes the Ship... alive. Apparently much to its surprise. Thus, out of respect for this living creature that allows humans to travel upon its back between the stars, it is always referred to with a capital "S". It is... a Ship. One hell of a Ship. One hundred and fifty feet of living grace and star-spanning power.

  Oh, one last thing. The "winds" of two-space are always exerting a constant, downward pressure. Two-space, you see, responds to our little pocket of three-space in much the same way that an oyster might react to a grain of sand. The Ship is an irritant and two-space is trying to squish it flat. Which seems only fair. So our Ship has forward-leaning masts, and the downward pressure catches the canvas sails and pushes the Ship forward.

  See, it is all very simple and elegant. And stunningly beautiful as we zoom in on three officers standing on the upper quarterdeck of our improbable Ship. Watch closely now, the special effects are subtle but expensive and really quite impressive.

  Two of them were tall with elegant, classic, navy blue jackets. The other was short and very wide, with a red coat. They were the captain, his first officer, and their marine lieutenant.

  Beneath them was the glowing white wood of their Ship. Above them a forest of luminous white masts and spars, dirty off-white canvas sails, and brown hemp rigging hummed and sang as their Ship raced between the stars. Above the central blue that they sped thr
ough, above the perpetual purple twilight of the horizon, far above the rigging of their Ship, hung stunning, achingly beautiful, crystal clear stars, constellations, and galaxies, spread thickly and densely across the black sky.

  All around them a constant, faint, ethereal music rang in their ears. Their noses breathed in the crisp air of two-space, which always smelled like new-fallen snow on a calm, clear winter morning. (Although belowdecks it sometimes smelled more like a locker room.)

  It was a realm of beauty and wonder surpassing anything that mankind had ever known before.

  And, as always, whenever sentient creatures are involved, they immediately muck it up and spoil the calm, exquisite grandeur of it all by trying to kill each other.

  In this case their personal pocket paradise was marred by four other Ships coming to destroy them. Their enemy's goal was to "sink" their Ship so that it would pop into three-space, where they would all die hideous deaths in the cold vacuum of interstellar space.

  Needless to say, the three officers on the upper quarterdeck (and the small cloud of sailors and marines around them) all objected vigorously to this possibility. And therein lies our tale.

  "My god, four of them!" said the first officer with a touch of despair in his voice.

  "This isn't the first time people have tried to kill us," the captain replied calmly, looking at his first officer with eyes that were both less and more than human. "Lots of them, indeed most of them, are dead."

  Lt. Thomas Melville was Master and Commander of Her Majesty, the Queen of Westerness' Ship, the Fang. He was the rightful captain of a sentient wooden Ship. They were traveling serenely across the shoreless seas of two-space, headed due west, two days out of Osgil with all sail set, on the long haul across the Grey Rift, between the spiral arms of the galaxy on their way to Old Earth.

  Melville should have been a happy man as he and his two officers stood on the upper quarterdeck of his Ship. (His Ship, by God!) They should all have been very cheerful and lighthearted as they looked out upon the deep, dark blue of two-space, their eyes focused on the distant, purple horizon.

  They existed in a world of wonder and excitement. They were young. They were victorious in past battles. The Osgil courts had declared the Fang to be a war prize and had awarded enough prize money to make them quite wealthy. And they were partaking in the greatest adventure that mankind had ever imagined: they were literally sailing among the stars.