Two Space War

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by Dave Grossman


  'Tis the Dreamer whose dreams come true!

  "Ask him his terms and accept them at once.

  Quick, ere we anger him, go!

  Never before have I flinched from the guns,

  But this is a different show.

  I'll not fight with the Herald of God.

  (I know what his Master can do!)

  Open the gate, he must enter in state,

  'Tis the Dreamer whose dreams come true!

  "I'd not give way for an Emperor,

  I'd hold my road for a King—

  To the Triple Crown I would not bow down—

  But this is a different thing.

  I'll not fight with the Powers of Air,

  Sentry pass him through!

  Drawbridge let fall, 'tis the Lord of us all,

  The Dreamer whose dreams come true!"

  * * *

  Melville laughed in sheer delight to hear Fielder wield poetry on him. The first officer was, as usual, half mocking and half flattering, and always clever.

  "We are destined to the back of beyond," Fielder continued, "where there is no possible duty but mail delivery and a lifetime of carrying borderline cargos. But I will follow. We may have a long dull life in front of us, but at least we have a life, and the story will continue. I've always hated short stories, and I've always had a soft spot for a good series."

  And it will get you away from that crazy Sylvan ex-girlfriend of yours, thought Melville with a knowing smile. "Daniel, we are headed out to the frontier," he said, leaning forward intently. "The frontier. The wildest, most unknown, exotic part of the galaxy. We will find adventure and glory there!"

  "Damn. I was afraid of that."

  There, there was that grin again.

  After Fielder left, Melville sat in his cabin, looking out the stern windows at the wonder of Flatland spreading out before him and the brilliant, vivid stars strewn above him. He had one hand on his dog, scratching behind its ear, and one hand on the white, Moss-coated bulkhead, faintly in commo with his ship. His monkey and his dog's monkey were in the corner chittering to each other and assiduously hunting down some poor, tormented vermin.

  He shook his head in wonder, still thinking about Hans and Broadax. To each his own, he thought. The contented panting of his dog blended into his mind, echoing in perfect harmony with the contentment he felt coming from his ship. To each his own. As for me . . .

  I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,

  And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,

  And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,

  And a gray mist on the sea's face and a gray dawn breaking.

  I must down to the sea again, for the call of the running tide

  Is a wild call and a clear call that must not be denied;

  And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,

  And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

  Poetry References

  Chapter 1:

  An orphan's curse would drag to hell . . .

  "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner," Samuel Taylor Coleridge

  Chapter 2:

  The fighting man shall take from the sun . . .

  (and following stanzas)

  "Into Battle," Julian Grenfell

  I never shall forget the way . . .

  "The Modern Traveler," Hilaire Belloc

  Chapter 3:

  . . . The burning sun no more shall heat . . .

  "As Weary Pilgrim," Anne Bradstreet

  Chapter 4:

  Here dead lie we because we did not chose . . .

  "Here Dead Lie We," A.E. Housman

  There's a land that is fairer than day . . .

  "Sweet By and By," S.F. Bennett and J.P. Webster

  High in the wreck I held the cup . . .

  "The Deluge," G.K. Chesterton

  . . . Kilmeny had been where the cock never crew . . .

  "Kilmeny," James Hogg

  Read here the moral roundly writ . . .

  "Boxing," from "Verses on Games," Rudyard Kipling

  We are the Dead. Short days ago . . .

  "In Flanders Field," John McCrae

  I've lived a life of sturt and strife . . .

  "MacPherson's Farewell," Robert Burns

  Soft as the voice of an angel . . .

  "Whispering Hope," Septimus Winner

  Oh yesterday our little troop was ridden through and through . . .

  "To-morrow," John Masefield

  Chapter 5:

  Biding God's pleasure and their chief's command . . .

  "The Birkenhead," Sir Henry Yule

  But now ye wait at Hell-Mouth Gate and not in Berkely Square . . .

  "Tomlinson," Rudyard Kipling

  Chapter 6:

  Quoth he, "The she-wolf's litter . . ."

  "Horatius," Lord Macaulay

  And out the red blood spouted . . .

  "The Battle of Lake Regillus," Lord Macaulay

  I shall not die alone, alone, but kin to all the powers . . .

  (and following couplets)

  "The Last Hero," G.K. Chesterton

  Through teeth, and skull, and helmet . . .

  "Horatius," Lord Macaulay

  Chapter 7:

  A child said What is the grass? . . .

  "Song of Myself," Walt Whitman

  Too delicate is flesh to be . . .

  "The Debt," E.V. Lucas

  Was there love once? I have forgotten her . . .

  (and following four stanzas)

  "Fulfillment," Robert Nichols

  For, alas, alas, with me . . .

  "To One in Paradise," E.A. Poe

  Chapter 8:

  Around no fire the soldiers sleep to-night . . .

  (and following stanza)

  "The Battlefield," Sydney Oswald

  When first I saw you in the curious street . . .

  "German Prisoners," Joseph Lee

  The recipe for "Thrice Cooked Javalina Brains," and the story about "Major" are from the wonderful (and highly recommended) book, The Contented Poacher's Epicurean Odyssey, by Elantu Viovodi, with the author's gracious permission.

  Bind her, grind her, burn her with fire . . .

  "A Chant of Love for England," Helen Gray Cone

  Chapter 9:

  Big bugs have little bugs . . .

  Originally by Jonathan Swift,

  then modified by Ogden Nash and anon.

  Burned from the ore's rejected dross . . .

  "The Anvil," Laurence Binyon

  All that is gold does not glitter . . .

  From The Fellowship of the Ring, J.R.R. Tolkien,

  The fewer men, the greater share of honour . . .

  From Henry V, Shakespeare

  A thousand shapes of death surround us . . .

  The Iliad, Book 12, Homer

  Chapter 10:

  Shall I retreat from him, from clash of combat . . .

  The Iliad, Book 18, Homer

  She reached our range. Our broadside rang . . .

  (and following stanzas)

  "On Board the Cumberland" George H. Boker

  Then the dead men fouled the scuppers and the wounded filled the chains . . .

  "The Ballad of John Silver," John Masefield

  No heed he gave to the flying ball . . .

  "The Sword-Bearer," George H. Boker

  Victory! Victory! . . .

  "Boy Brittan," Forceythe Willson

  Chapter 11:

  He said: "Thou petty people, let me pass . . .

  "The Kaiser and Belgium," Stephen Phillips

  Efficient, thorough, strong, and brave—his vision is to kill . . .

  "The Superman," Robert Grant

  Hark, hark, the dogs do bark . . .

  "Mother Goose", anon.

  All other stanzas are from Service's "The Call"

  Chapter 12:

  A hundred thousand fighting men . .
.

  (and following stanzas)

  "The Battle of Liège," Dana Burnet

  Three hundred thousand men, but not enough . . .

  (and following stanza)

  "Verdun," Eden Phillpotts

  Chapter 13:

  All drawn from "A Consecration," John Masefield

  Chapter 14:

  All drawn from "Once to Every Man and Nation," James Russell Lowell

  Chapter 16:

  Was a lady such a lady, cheeks so round and lips so red . . .

  "A Toccatta of Galuppi's," Robert Browning

  You meaner beauties of the night . . .

  "Elizabeth of Bohemia," Sir Henry Wotton

  Chapter 17:

  True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank . . .

  (and following stanzas)

  "True Thomas," anon.

  Some text has been derived from a poem entitled, "The Warrior and the Lady," by Billy Martin, copyright 2001, with the author's gracious permission.

  Chapter 18:

  My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun . . .

  "Sonnet CXXX," Shakespeare

  I have been given my charge to keep . . .

  "The Fairies' Siege," Rudyard Kipling

  I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky . . .

  "Sea Fever," John Masefield

  THE END

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