The Guns of Two-Space

by Dave Grossman

  "Well, Cap'n, ye sure know how ta show a girl a good time!" Broadax chortled as she and Hans left at a quick trot.

  "You know, Daniel, I really am very unhappy with Lady Madelia right now." His voice sounded normal(well, almost normal) but the look in his eyes was anything but. Something alien was peering out of those eyes. Fielder had seen warmer looking vacuum in the depths of interstellar space, and it matched his own mood perfectly.

  Fielder holstered his .45 and replied, "Trust me, Captain, you aren't the only one."

  Melville's and Fielder's grins were both much more a predator's snarl than anything of humor.

  "We're burning daylight, Daniel. Let's go." The two of them moved off rapidly down the street, looking for their wayward crew.

  * * *

  Grandpappy told my pappy,

  "Back in my day, son,

  A man had to answer,

  for the wicked things he done"...

  'Cause justice is the one thing

  you should always find.

  You gotta saddle up your boys,

  you gotta draw a hard line.

  * * *

  The trip to the hospital was fairly quick by foot. In actual fact, anywhere in the town was within walking distance. No matter how sophisticated it might seem, it was still a small outpost on a frontier world. It was a strategic shipping nexus, but the total population on the planet was under half a million people—although with some of them it wasn't clear whether they should be counted as people, livestock, or wildlife!

  The naval hospital was actually a wing of the city's medical center. It maintained a separate herbal greenhouse to resupply depleted stocks aboard Ships, as well as necessary stores to maintain health among a deployed crew. (It had taken decades to get brandy declared a medicinal store. Which had many benefits, not to mention that being a medicinal store, it no longer counted against the wardroom's allowable amounts of spirituous beverages! Naval Medical command had been fighting off an attempt to have it supplemented with scotch whiskey for almost as long!)

  It turned out that Mrs. Vodi had been living at the hospital for the past few days as she organized the medical department's resupply efforts. (And not incidentally managed to maximize her nighttime liberty in port.) This was a stroke of luck for Midshipman Hayl as she bullied, cajoled, wheedled, extorted, and downright intimidated everyone in sight to make his treatment a top priority.

  The prognosis for reattaching his hand wasn't good, even with the resources of the hospital. And the hospital did have significant resources. While their retro-culture frowned mightily upon technology developed subsequent to Old Earth's First World War, exceptions were made for drugs and medical innovations available throughout the twentieth century. Even the most staunch conservative did not condone anyone's child to needless suffering or death for want of basic medical technology like antibiotics. Least of all their own!

  Mrs. Vodi appeared calm and collected, in about the same way that the eye of a tornado appears to be peaceful and placid. Her impact point upon the hospital caused about the same amount of furor as that same tornado, its energy all focused upon helping one of her middies. When he was in the operating room and things were, in her words, "the best he can possibly get on this damned, benighted planet that hurt my boy!" she turned her attention on Broadax.

  "Put those damned cigars out!" snarled Vodi at the blood drenched Broadax, yanking her cigar and her monkey's out of their gaping mouths and throwing them through a window into the street. "What do you think this is, a bar? It's a hospital and you should know better than to try and poison everyone in it for your own pleasure!"

  She rounded on Hans next. "Now, in words of one syllable, not that you can handle anything more complex, who did this? And why?" Normally a levelheaded person, accustomed to dealing with the horrific injuries that cannonballs and splinters could inflict randomly upon her crew, she was incensed by the maiming of one of her boys. The thought of it was enough to send her rampaging out on the streets looking for the guilty bastards to return the favor!

  "That Sylvan hag!" Vodi scowled after Hans told her that Lady Madelia had sponsored the attack. "If I had the chance, I'd happily plug her through the heart, kick dirt on her corpse, and wear red to her funeral! And Ursula! Oh, I know her type. I call them urinals: they're the kind of woman men dribble over, and women have nothing to do with!"

  "Mrs. Vodi," interrupted the young corpsman, "I've got some guys at the front desk say'n they're from the Fang and want'n to know if Captain Melville is here. They say they heard he was hurt in some kind of fight. Only t'ing is t'ey looks more like local bully boys. Ain't got a navy look, if ya catch my drift."

  Broadax and Vodi looked at each other and with that silent telepathy women throughout the universe seemed to have developed, nodded and started toward the entrance, feeling for various lethal bits of hardware. Mrs. Vodi did a double take when Broadax pulled out her "pockin' pistol" as Petrico had christened it.

  "Would you mind if I borrowed that for a couple of minutes, Lieutenant?" Vodi asked eagerly.

  "Hmm? Shore, shore," she replied absently as she handed it over and pulled her ax out of her belt. "I'm still sorta partial ta my old friend here."

  Hans moved in front of the two women, hands outspread. "Ladies, ladies, jist a min'it, now. Honey, hold up. Lissen up fer a sec!" He smiled sickly as he met two, no, four sets of glares including monkeys—who seemed to have entirely too much ability to reflect their human's emotions. His monkey took the better part of valor and elected to slide down his back and hide, with just its mouth and eyes peeping over his shoulder.

  "Now, we kin take care o' these bully boys. By the Lady, there ain't no problemo there. But why does we need ta? These vacuum-suckers ain't the ones 'at tried ta kill the boy an' our cap'n. Those bozos are already dead, an' little Mr. Hayl dun 'imself proud, even if it cost 'im."

  The two women looked at him with gimlet eyes, but they were willing to listen for a few more minutes.

  "I figger if we tell 'em that the cap'n's okay an' he's headed on back ta a certain tavern, that'll give us enuff time ta git everyone back to the Ship. An then the cap'n can figger out what he wants to do, and we'll know where to go find the bad guys if we want to."

  Vodi and Broadax thought about it, and reluctantly agreed.

  "But, damn it, sweetie, it ain't fair!" said Broadax. "I'm an art-eest, and us artists yearn ta do wat we wus born ta do. They already messed up my plans fer this afternoon! I shoulda got another good fight outa it at least!" She snarled and fumbled for a fresh cigar. Then looked over at Mrs. Vodi, snarled again, and started chewing the end furiously, but she didn't light it.

  "Weelll," said Hans thoughtfully. "We can't kill 'em outright, even if it would jist be chlorine in the gene pool. But mebbee we can come up with some place to send 'em that'll make their lives reeel excitin'. I gotta think... I jist wish I knew more about this dirtball of a planet!"

  "Ahhh! That's a good idea!" said Vodi with an evil grin. "And I know just the place to send them. I think I can also guarantee that them and all their friends will be occupied for a good while. No innocent bystanders either!

  "You stay here," continued Vodi. "I'll go pass the word on to those idiots. Besides, this way I can check out who they are. Hell, they might be our boys and no way I want one of our guys to go where I'm sending these bozos! I'll tell them I'm a nurse from the hospital, which is what I am right now!"

  "Go gitum!" said Hans, punctuating this with a happy chuckle as he and his monkey spit into the nearby trash receptacle.

  "Hey, cut that out!" yelped the corpsman. "I have to clean those cans!"

  Hans smiled—or was it a snarl? "Could be worse, sailor! Wouldja rather clean out trash cans or swab up those scumbags' blood offa the decks out there?"

  The corpsman paled at the thought, and after a secondlook at Hans' face and a sideways glance at the blood-soaked, sawed-off lunatic who stood beside him fondling a battle-ax, he gulped and remembered a previous, pressing eng
agement.

  Broadax was mangling her cigar at a furious rate, and her brows were pulled together in thought.

  "Hey, hon, where did she say she wuz sendin' them scumbags, anyhoo?" she asked.

  Mrs. Vodi laughed out loud when they asked her upon her return.

  "Those idiots are all testosterone and no brains, they'll fit in good out there. See, one of my local friends mentioned that a group of, shall we call them, oh, stalwart hunters and trappers, had come back to town and were having a shindig. Only thing is, these boys have sorta gotten used to doing without women, if you get what I mean..." She trailed off and grinned.

  "Seems like these boys got only three interests in life," continued Vodi, "and drinking and fighting are the other two. And it can get quite vigorous in there, and some of those boys ain't too socially adept nor subtle if you know what I mean."

  Broadax looked quite fascinated with this whole idea. "Now, I ain't quite sure what ye means yet, but it sounds interestin'ly evil!"

  "Well," replied Vodi, "it seems like they'd had problems that ended up in a few legal complications. These boys just don't know how to act when someone says no. So the police and them set it up. No one gets in without a password, but once you're in, you're on yer own." She smiled beatifically.

  "So I gave 'em the password. I figured that them and all their friends should be gainfully occupied for a good while. And knowing some o' those boys, I figure these bravos and sellswords will learn the pleasures of receiving instead of giving!"

  Hans looked at her in admiration. "Woman, 'at's evil. Truly, truly evil! The Elder King hisself couldn't o' wished worst on 'em! I love it!"

  "The damned fools should know better than to trust free cheese in dark corners!" Vodi replied. "Besides, it was your idea in the first place, I just put the icing on the cake. If I was as good as you, I'd figure out how to get them to put their own handcuffs on!"

  "Well, I wasn't a master chief fer nothin'!" cackled Hans, "But yew done outdid me with this one!"

  "Yep, I do believe we're in the presence o' genius!" said Broadax, looking at Vodi in a wide-eyed admiration. "Sweetie, I think it's time ta buy this woman a drink!"

  * * *

  'Cause justice is the one thing,

  you should always find.

  You gotta saddle up your boys,

  you gotta draw a hard line.

  When the gunsmoke settles,

  we'll sing a victory tune,

  And we'll all meet back,

  at the local saloon!

  And we'll raise up our glasses,

  against evil forces

  Singing, "Whiskey for my horses,

  beer for my men!"

  * * *

  Petreckski, Elphinstone, and Asquith were easy enough to find. They had heard the commotion and screams from Melville and Hayl's fight, and they headed toward the sound of the battle. By the time they got there, Melville and Fielder were just starting to look for them.

  Melville was pleased by their response. Moving toward a fight isn't always smart, but you want people with that kind of instinct around you when life gets ugly.

  The captain quickly briefed them on the events of the afternoon. Brother Theo tried mightily not to grin or even look at Fielder when he heard about the result of his dalliance with Ursula.

  "Thou certainly hast a way with women, Daniel," said Lady Elphinstone, shaking her head with a wry smile. "Thy girlfriends all seem to hate thee exceedingly, so that the hatred wherewith they hate thee is greater than the love wherewith they loved thee."

  But their smiles disappeared completely when they heard about Hayl. Then they split up. Melville needed to get to his Ship, where he would be in position to maneuver and control his forces, so he, Asquith, and Brother Theo headed toward the Fang. Meanwhile, Fielder and Elphinstone went to alert the midshipmen at the brothel. The middies' liaison with the local ladies of negotiable virtue was about to come to an abrupt end.

  While the trip to the Ship was uneventful for Melville and Brother Theo, Elphinstone and Fielder were not quite so lucky.

  They were cutting through a crowded outdoor cafe when a police officer intercepted them. "Hold up there, you two!" called the cop from across the cafe. When they looked at him, he yelled, "Yeah, you two. The one in the green dress, and the one with blood all over his legs."

  Elphinstone looked over at Fielder's white uniform pants, splattered liberally with the blood from Midshipman Hayl, the dead bodies they had waded through in the bar, and the four dead bravos he had inspected in the street.

  "Why, Daniel, I do believe 'tis us he hath hailed so impudently!" she said serenely.

  Fielder glared at her with no apparent impact on her good spirits. "Think so, Sherlock?" he grunted.

  The officer stomped over to them. He was short, stocky, and looked a wee bit irked. "What t' hell are you Navy types doing here? An' where t' hell did that blood come from?"

  Fielder read the officer's name tag.

  "You're Officer Alberick?"

  "Thanks," he said, rolling his eyes and stepping closer. "If you're going to play mentalist then how much do I weigh?" bellowed the hard-case cop.

  "About a buck ninety-five," Fielder replied with an infuriating grin. "Give or take a donut."

  The cop's volume control was no better than his grasp of personal space. His response to this was to lean forward and shout louder. "Your breath smells of alcohol! Have you been drinking?"

  "Your eyes seem glazed, have you been eating donuts?"

  The cop turned red and looked at Elphinstone. "You gonna tell me what da hell yer up to?"

  "Thou wouldst know who we are?"

  "Yes!"

  "Then I shall tell thee without delay."

  "Well?"

  "I am called Elphinstone. Probably because 'tis my name."

  "That's real cute, but it's not answering my questions! There's four dead bodies in the street just a few blocks away, chopped, gutted, and sliced clean, like from one of those fancy blades you Navy scum carry. And there's a bunch more shot and chopped to hell inside the Laughing Dog! So what do you know about those bodies, and where in hell did that blood come from?"

  Fielder's face paled as his temper rose. Elphinstone felt action was needed to prevent having more blood spilled. After all, while the cop was being an officious jerk, he was doing his job, and injuring or killing a police officer was a great way to inspect prison cells—from the inside. She slipped a hand inside her shore medical kit, and palmed a syringe.

  "Good officer, I pray thee calm thy wrath! We shall be more than happy to assist thee in thy quest for information! Ah, wait, there's a wasp on thy jacket!" she said as her arm snapped out like a viper and pumped the syringe into the artery in the side of his neck.

  "What in the hell?" he gasped in confusion as his hand moved up to his neck.

  "Bad cop. No donut!" said Fielder as he stepped forward and eased the officer slowly to the ground.

  The customers at the tables around them were staring, but there seemed to be enough lawlessness in those who were watching, and enough ambiguity in the situation (since it wasn't really clear why the officer had fallen and there was no blood) to keep any observers from interfering. Fielder looked at the Sylvan healer with raised eyebrows.

  "'Tis but a mild sedative, Daniel. We must make haste with our mission, and 'tis so much easier than arguing, is't not?" she smiled at him. "And so much easier than getting the governor to have us released after assaulting this gracious officer!"

  Fielder grinned and nodded. As he stood up, the grin was wiped away instantly by the voice that came from behind them.

  "Daniel, Daniel, I am just so, so disappointed in you!"

  He spun around to see Ursula again, accompanied by... What would be the right collective noun? A gaggle of goons? A bully of bravos? The thoughts spun through his mind as he looked at her, then at the five armed men accompanying her, and then back at her. Damn. She must have recruited every piss-ant prairie punk who thinks he can sho
ot a gun!

  Ursula was dressed in a slinky red thing that looked like it had been spray-painted on. Wait! Maybe it is just a layer of body paint... Ursula saw Fielder's eyes lingering on her body and gave him a sly smile and a wink that made his heart ache. Well, the ache might have been lower. Man, that woman looks good!

  The tactical situation wasn't good. To his front was Ursula and her merry band of gunmen. The lead singer and her five percussionists, ready to set a merry beat on the revolver... To his right were a group of children in an alley tending a large flock of chickens. To his left and rear were nothing but tables filled with customers. Playing to a packed house.

  Why in hell did that cop have to stop us? Fielder dithered to himself as he tried to find some option that increased the odds of personal survival.

  The only good news was the fact that the customers in the outdoor cafe had noted the big Colt revolvers that each of Ursula's friends brandished. The danger of getting caught in a crossfire and the well developed survival instincts of the locals made the tables empty almost magically. Fielder now had a clear field of fire in front of him. Five targets, and no innocents. He also knew that Elphinstone had her two single-barreled pistols hidden in her sleeves and she was a deadly shot.

  Maybe they had a chance!

  Elphinstone spoke up quietly behind him. "I am watching thy back, Daniel. Thinkst thou I can help, tell me how."