The Two-Space War
Dave Grossman and Leo Frankowski
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.
Baen Books by LEO FRANKOWSKI
A Boy and His Tank
The War with Earth (with Dave Grossman)
Kren of the Mitchegai (with Dave Grossman, forthcoming)
The Two-Space War (with Dave Grossman)
The Fata Morgana
Conrad’s Time Machine
Introduction
CALIPH: Ah, if there shall ever arise a nation whose people have forgotten poetry or whose poets have forgotten the people, though they send their ships round Taprobane and their armies across the hills of Hindustan, though their city be greater than Babylon of old, though they mine a league into earth or mount to the stars on wings—what of them?
HASSAN: They will be a dark patch upon the world.
Quoted in Other Men’s Flowers
by Field Marshall Earl A.P. Wavell
On Warriors and Warrior Scientists
My “day job” is to be on the road, almost 300 days a year, training soldiers (the Green Berets, the 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, on 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 is the first book to integrate the new field of “warrior science” into fiction. The characters in my book cite real “twenty-first century” researchers such as Alexis Artwohl, coauthor of Deadly Force Encounters, and Bruce Siddle, the man who coined the term “warrior science” and the author of Sharpening the Warrior’s Edge. 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 upon the latest research, on what I’m teaching, and on what those who have been there have taught me. Any errors are my own!
On Poetry and Science Fiction
If not otherwise indicated, the titles and authors of the poetry used throughout the book are listed at the end. Lord Wavell and his book, Other Men’s Flowers, deserve special mention. Wavell was the commander of the British Empire’s armed forces in World War II. After the war he put all the poems that he had committed to memory (that’s right, to memory) in a book. Wavell, perhaps the last of the great “warrior poets,” is one of the models for my hero, Lieutenant Melville.
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 through Lord Wavell, warriors existed in that world. In an environment such as two-space, where technology can’t exist, the power of well crafted words would again be the key to men’s hearts. The leader who masters such words would have a powerful edge in mastering his men.
I also wanted to construct a world in which science fiction would be the primary literature to survive from our era. The creators of SF are “pure poetry” to my soul, giants on whose shoulders I stand.
On Poets
But most of all I thank the poets who have gone before me. The poets of words and the poets of bullets, blows and swords. They wrote down their poems, or their narratives of combat, or they allowed me to interview them. They made it possible for me (as Lord Wavell puts it, quoting Montaigne) to build a garden “of other men’s flowers.”
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.
And Finally
To Leo Frankowski, a great partner and true gentleman, friend, and scholar of the old school. To our publisher, Jim Baen, who has proven himself to be a good friend and a man of vision. To my faithful and true friends and proofreaders: Rocky Warren, Steel Parsons, John Lang, Elantu, CC, and many others.
Most of all, to my princess and favorite proofreader, my Jeanne. In Beethoven’s words, “From the heart it has come, to the heart it shall go.”
Hooah!
Dave Grossman
The Crew
of Her Majesty, the Queen of Westerness’
24-Pounder Frigate, Fang
Lt. Thomas Melville, Captain
McAndrews, his steward
Ulrich, his coxswain, “cox’in”
Archibald Hargis, his clerk
Lt. Daniel Fielder, First Officer
Lady Elphinstone, Ship’s surgeon, a Sylvan
Mrs. Vodi, her “lob-lolly girl”
Pete Etzen, a corpsman (medic), “Doc”
Thadeaus Brun, a corpsman (medic), “Doc”
Brother Theo Petreckski, Ship’s purser, a monk
Mr. Caleb Tibbits, Ship’s carpenter, “Chips”
Mr. Darren Barlet, Ship’s master gunner, “Guns”
Sgt. Don Von Rito, Ship’s gunnery sergeant, “Gunny”
Chief Petty Officer Bronson Hans, “Chief.” Later “Mr.” and Ship’s sailing master
Marines
Sgt. Broadax, a Dwarrowdelf. Later “Lt.”
Cpl. Kobbsven
Private Harold Jarvis
Rangers
Josiah Westminster
Aubrey Valandil, a Sylvan
Midshipmen
Jarad Crater. Later “Lt.”
Buckley Archer. Later “Lt.”
Garth Aquinar
Faisal, Chang, Hezikiah Jubal, Lao Tung, Kande Ngobe, and Ellis Palmer
Ship’s Dogs
Ship’s Cats
The Monkeys
Chapter the 1st
A Race of Rangers
They were the glory of the race of rangers,
Matchless with horse, rifle, song, supper, courtship,
Large, turbulent, generous, handsome, proud, and affectionate,
Bearded, sunburnt, drest in the free costume of hunters . . .
Retreating they form’d in a hollow square with their baggage for breastworks,
Nine hundred lives out of the surrounding enemy’s, nine times
Their number, was the price they took in advance . . .
“Song of Myself”
Walt Whitman
“What does that boy think he’s doing?” muttered Lieutenant Thomas Melville. He sat on the Pier in the oppressive heat of mid-afternoon. He’d received only one wound in their recent battle, an ignominious clawing of his right buttock. Not too deep, but sufficient to make him sit carefully. Spread before him was the emerald shade of the copse of huge trees they’d fought so hard to defend. Exhausted and spent from desperate battle, he watched little Midshipman Aquinar as he crawled into the white bones of their beached cutter.
He looked out on the vast expanse of forest that encompassed their hill. Reaching up and behind him he put a hand on the Keel of his Ship, which now formed the Pier. <
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Through this strange, telepathic link with his faithful Ship, Melville “heard” these words, but they came with a great weight of context and additional information that was subtly communicated, so that Melville knew exactly what Swish-tail meant. The Keel of his little ship now disappeared up into two-space, into Flatland, forming a link between the two realms. It was here, and there.
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