“Krw?” said his monkey.
” . . . Aye,” replied Melville. Now,” he continued, pointing his finger at his monkey as it crouched back away from his remonstrating digit. “From this point on you, sir, will be in charge of discipline among the monkeys. You are the captain’s monkey, and you’ll be in charge of monkey discipline. When I want something done among the monkeys, I will tell you, and you will by God ensure that it is done. Is that understood?”
“Aiee kptnn,” responded his monkey faintly, its head nodding inside its thorax. The other two could be seen nodding their heads as well. A strange effect since it caused their eyes to blink in and out of sight.
Damn, thought Melville, I knew it! They really do understand.
“Good. If there are any other occurrences like this, you and all the other monkeys will be put on bread and water. If you cannot submit to authority you will be put off at the next port. Do you understand?”
“Aiee, kptnn.” Now their heads crept back out of the thorax and this statement by Melville’s monkey was accompanied by a chorus of nods from the three monkeys.
“Good. Very good. Now, what the cats do for us is to hunt down vermin. From this point on I want all of you to start earning your keep on this ship by helping to hunt down vermin. Not only do we have some rats, mice, cockroaches, and weevils, but we have all kinds of weird Guldur infestations. The cats are driven to distraction by having to take care of these critters, and you’ll help them. Can you do that?”
Now their heads were extended well out on their accordion necks. There was an eager nodding and a chorus from all three that a good imagination might take as “Aye Captain.”
“Good. Now move out!”
Smith and Aquinar saluted while the monkeys spun their necks 360 degrees to watch them. The monkeys mimicked the salutes almost perfectly and scampered to the appropriate shoulders. On their way out the monkeys looked at each other and exchanged relieved glances and a brief chittering. Melville could have sworn that they thought things could have gone much worse and perhaps they had gotten off lightly.
“Damn,” said Melville quietly as they left, reaching up to scratch his monkey behind the ears. “I wonder if I should feel sorry for the vermin?”
There were two additional groups that still needed to be integrated into their crew. One was the huge, semi-sentient 24-pounder cannons. The other was Cinder’s litter of puppies.
Sired by Josiah’s dog, born of Valandil’s Cinder, this litter of pups represented some of the finest canine bloodlines known to Sylvan or human kind. For centuries mankind had bred their dogs for intelligence and physical ability, as had the Sylvans. To the best of anyone’s knowledge this litter was the first cross between these two mighty breeds. At some time in the primordial past, many of the worlds in the galaxy appeared to have been seeded, perhaps repeatedly, by some elder race, or races. Indeed a strong case could be made for a continuous exchange of genetic material between many planets, so that life coevolved at the same time on all of them. It was generally believed that Sylvan and humans could interbreed. Here was further proof that interbreeding was possible between similar species from far distant worlds.
Melville looked with wonder at the little furry blobs mewling at the proud mother’s flank as they nursed with dogged perseverance. Above him the monkeys in the rigging were batting around some poor crayfishlike vermin they’d caught, until finally one of them batted it off into the blue plane of Flatland with a belaying pin and a cheer. Melville picked up a pup, with an audible pop as he pulled it from its mother’s teat, and stroked its little blind head. Here was another new thing. An ancient Spanish blessing went, “May no new thing arise,” but for him many new things had arisen. The monkeys, the Ship, the pups. And he found them all to be a source of great joy in his life.
Melville probably should have realized that Cinder was gravid when they came off of Broadax’s World. In retrospect it was pretty obvious, but somehow there were always other things to worry about. He was sincerely surprised when the pups were born, and deeply moved when the rangers presented one to him. He immediately began to bond with the puppy, but the rangers, and Cinder, took responsibility for training the pups. Having seen how splendidly the rangers’ dogs performed in combat, Melville asked them if they would assist in training all the ship’s dogs. They readily agreed.
The puppies were easily incorporated into the crew. Mankind had vast centuries of experience to draw upon when it came to dogs. It was in the genes of both species to adapt to each other, and this process even seemed to apply to the Guldur. But when it came to integrating the huge cannon, the task wasn’t nearly so simple and straightforward.
When you put your hand on the 24-pounder’s Keel charge you felt a feral yearning to lash out and destroy. This was true to a lesser extent of their 12-pounders, but in this case there was an intensity and a viciousness that was mildly disturbing. Like the difference between a hunting dog and a feral wolf. All the gun crews for the 24-pounders fired a round early on. When they touched off the cannon the response was something like <
Accurate firing of a Keel-charged cannon in Flatland was accomplished through a bonding with the cannon. The gunner willed the cannonball to hit what he was sighting on, and the Keel charge was capable of adjusting itself to hit the target. The cannons were capable of astounding accuracy if the gunner was experienced, and if the cannon was trained, and if they had practiced together as a team.
The problem with these cannons was that they were so large that the gunner couldn’t sight down the barrel and concentrate on his target as he touched off the Keel. Thus the gunner had no choice but to stand to the side as he touched off the cannon, or he’d be crushed by the recoil. But their master gunner, Mister Barlet, had a solution to that problem. His plan was to build a platform over one side of the gun, and the gunner would lie on that, looking down the barrel, making hand motions to the assistant gunners on each side of the carriage. They would pry the gun to left and right according to these signals. Once they got this all in place the result was amazing.
Since nothing but a Keel would “float” in two-space, and Keels were precious and expensive, the process of setting up a target for gunnery practice required significant ingenuity. Their standard procedure was to send out one of the cutters with a target suspended from a boom held out astern. The boom was long, as long as they could manage to lash together, with support lines up to the cutter’s masthead, but still there was danger of a missent cannonball hitting the cutter. At first the cutter was kept in close as they learned the guns’ ability, range and accuracy. The results astounded them. With a few weeks of daily gunnery practice they were able to run the cutter out farther than one of their 12-pound balls could even reach at maximum elevation. Their 24-pounders were still hitting the targets, usually a few suspended barrels, with deadly accuracy.
There was a full stock of round shot, canister and grape for exercising the 24-pounders, but there was only a limited amount for the 12-pounders. All of the ammunition for the 12-pounders had come across from Kestrel in the cutters, so the supply was necessarily limited. This was acceptable, since the 12-pounders’ crews were well trained and competent.
Within a few weeks Cinder’s pups were small balls of pure energy, gamboling merrily about with out-of-control limbs and a sheer love of life that was simple, pure and complete. They had thick, fluffy, tan and black fur, huge feet, floppy ears, and long, thick tails that wagged their whole bodies. They had the sailors in stitches as they romped back and forth across the decks in a great, hairy horde. The crew dearly loved and appreciated the pups for making them laugh. After the horror of their recent battles the puppies’ zest for life and boundless affection was healing, renewing and reenergizing, and most of all contagious.
Burned from the ore’s rejected dross,