“I’m sorry to hear that. He was a good man. Our captain, first mate, marine lieutenant, sailing master and our bosun. The enemy has much to answer for. But do you see? Those guns are inaccurate as hell at long range, and slow as hell to load at close range.” The old carpenter looked at him with hope smoldering in his eyes.
“Chips, an ancestor of mine, Herman Melville, wrote that, ‘Mishaps are like knives that either serve us or cut us, as we grasp them by the handle or the blade.’ By the Lady, we can do it. We can close with those bastards and board them! We shall grasp this dark deed by the handle and plunge it into the enemy’s breast! We have no choice. To fight is our duty. Do you want to kill your Ship and rot below? Or do you want to avenge her?” A ragged cheer broke out among the surrounding sailors.
Melville didn’t wait for an answer as the carpenter looked at him openmouthed, bewildered, amazed, and . . . hopeful. “Mr. Aquinar!” he shouted.
“Sir!”
“Get me the gunner, asap!”
“Aye, sir!”
The Kestrel had four warrant officer positions, each responsible for the operation, repair and maintenance of their portion of the Ship. The carpenter, Mr. Tibbits, was responsible for all the wooden parts of the Ship. The sailing master was responsible for all sails and rigging, but he was dead, and so was his senior NCO, the bosun. The gunnery warrant, Mr. Barlet, was responsible for her forty 12-pounders. The purser, Brother Petreckski, was responsible for the cargo and the holds. In order to get the Kestrel ready for combat Melville needed to get these section leaders and their personnel into action.
Melville’s next priority was to get a quick exterior look at the damage to the lower half of the Ship. Wise-nose was specifically designed for maintenance tasks such as this. At the bow, stern and flanks of the cutter there were steps that permitted access directly to Flatland. Melville moved carefully as he lowered himself down to this level, since gravity and warmth increased as you got closer to Flatland.
At the upper levels of the rigging, gravity was around a quarter gee and it was uncomfortably chilly. At the crow’s nest it went up to a half gee and cool. The constant cold at that height was why they used enclosed crow’s nests instead of open fighting tops.
On the maindeck of the Ship it was about one gee, with warm and balmy temperatures. Right at the plain of Flatland, where Melville was, the Ship was hot, with around 1.5 gees, and you had to move with some caution.
Melville knelt on the platform, and dipped his head through the opaque blue plane of Flatland. From this position he could see the half of the Kestrel that was “below.” Basically, the Ships of two-space were like two old-time sailing ships with everything below the waterline cut off, and then joined together at the “waterline” formed by Flatland. The end result was that you had two ships arranged so that one of them was “upside-down” to the other.
When he turned his head briefly, he could see that the cutter beside him was exactly the same on a smaller scale. Two equal sides, balanced above and below Flatland, except the cutter only had one small mast to a side.
Masts and sails had to be equally placed, above and below the vast plain of two-space. If the “balance” between the upper and lower part of a Ship got out of adjustment, the Ship could tip over. If an old-time sailing ship tipped over it sank into the deep blue sea. When a Ship in Flatland tipped too far it would also “sink,” popping out of two-space and into the cold, hard vacuum of interstellar space.
As soon as Melville’s head popped through, “down” became “up” for the portion of his body that was on the other side. All forces pushed him “down” from both sides into Flatland, that impossibly thin layer that represented the thickness of the entire galaxy.
From here it was as though his head was sticking out of water. He could see the two gaping holes where the enemy’s cannonballs had punched through the gundeck, and down into the Keel. Hanging immediately above him were the constellations of the “lower” sky. Dominating all was the great pinwheel that sailors called the Andromeda Galaxy. Which Earth astronomers swore had nothing to do with the “real” Andromeda Galaxy.
After taking a quick look, Melville pulled himself back up to the deck of the cutter. There was one other entity that Melville needed to consult before he committed them to combat. Kestrel herself.
Hans and Broadax helped Melville pull himself up to the maindeck. He strode to the hatch, just for’ard of the mainmast, down the ladder (a land lubber would have called it a set of stairs, but aboard a ship, stairs are always called ladders), and through the upper gundeck. The warm yellow light given off by the Elbereth Moss guided him through the wrack and ruin of the shattered decks. He went down a second ladder to the upper hold.
Beside him, running fore and aft down the floor of this deck was the Keel, a round beam covered with pure white Elbereth Moss. Lovingly placed around the Keel were the crew’s most delicate instruments. These were mostly the locks and barrels from many muskets and pistols. The cannon, muskets, and rifles that fired in two-space were somewhat protected by their “Keel charges,” the small, modified version of the Ship’s Keel, that provided the projectile force for the gun. But the gunpowder weapons used in three-space needed the protection provided by close proximity to the Ship’s Keel whenever they were transported in two-space.
Beside the Keel they also stored some of the carpenter’s equipment (much of which was now in use), some navigational equipment, a few carefully tended block-and-tackle, and some of the surgeon’s instruments. Here, closest to the Keel, the corrosive effect of Flatland on technology was at its least. With daily maintenance these few pieces of crude three-space technology could continue to exist.
In slots in the deck, further out from the keel, the swords were stored. They were kept parallel to two-space, their blades essentially “floating” in that impossibly thin plane. The influence of Flatland worked to pull the blades “flat,” atom by atom. The effect was that the edges of the blades were “drawn” into supernatural, almost monomolecular sharpness.
Melville could see where the Keel was mortally damaged by the impact of two great cannonballs fired at point-blank range. All around him men were working to shore up this vital area of the Ship.
At the foot of the ladder lay an open hatch surrounded on three sides by a ladder-like railing. This was the opening to the “lower” half of the Ship. Flatland couldn’t be seen here, in the same way that the waterline is invisible from inside a ship. But the gravitational effect could be felt. If you eased feet-first through this hatch you’d sink halfway down. Half of your body would be pulled “down,” while the other half, the half below Flatland, would be pushed “up.” Like floating in water, with gravity pulling you down and buoyancy pulling you up. Except in this case it was gravity pushing from both directions.
Instead of easing in, Melville dove through the hatch, headfirst, like diving into water. His momentum carried him most of the way through, and he pulled himself out using the railing on that side. From here he could see the damage to the keel from the other side. It didn’t look any better.
He knelt carefully in the 1.5 gees and grasped the shattered Keel shards in his hands. <
<
<
She was in pain, preoccupied and distracted. But she was the product of over a century of fellowship with human beings. Her sentience was her own. Her heritage was human. Communicating with her was sometimes ponderous, but she knew how to transfer complex concepts in a concise manner.
<< . . . F L A N D E R S . . . F I E L D S . . . >>
Melville understood immediately, and was rocked to his core by what she was saying. Aloud to the men around him, and to his Ship (his Ship, by God, for a little while it was his Ship), he replied:
“<