The Guns of Two-Space by Dave Grossman, Bob Hudson Page A

 
    But Melville, Fang , and Rabid are not done. The enemy can still do damage on the upperside, and the foe is still in range of their gun. Melville must continue to savage the enemy Ship for as long as he can.  
    Now their target is the enemy's mizzenmast; their last mast, their only mast on this side. Already the enemy has dropped out of range of the Fang 's 12-pounders, and the two guns in the stern cabin beside him go silent.  
    <> "Cha-DOOM!!" <> But this time the ball misses. Melville feels the shot go left. The Fang is pulling away from her target. The range is greater with every second, yet still they fire. There is a vicious rage upon them and it is not in them to stop when they can still do damage.  
    <> "Cha-DOOM!!" <> The next ball sends splinters blossoming out from the Guldur's lower stern cabin.  
    "Damn, dead on, but too low," Melville mutters while Fang and Rabid seethe with frustrated rage.  
    The gun crew sees where the ball struck, and they automatically elevate the barrel. It is now back in battery and raised to the maximum possible extent.
    It seems to take forever for the gun to come back into battery, but finally it is ready. Melville touches the Keel charge and commands the next shot. Fang dedicates all of her vast intellect to compute and direct the shot. <> "Cha-DOOM!!" <> With an intensely gratifying, almost orgasmic surge of effort, Rabid spits out the ball.  
    The crew cheers and roars as the final mast shivers and falls on the distant enemy Ship, while Rabid's crew races to refill the shot garlands, not willing to rest until their gun is ready for the next battle.  
    Now there were only three Ships still alive in this piece of two-space: the Fang , and two Guldur strung out to her stern. One enemy Ship was completely dismasted on one side, while the other was only getting thrust from one mast. The Fang had steady thrust from two masts—albeit with badly damaged rigging and terribly tattered sails.
    If Melville wanted to he could pull away from his enemy and escape the battle. But that would mean they were still out there, and with some repairs they could still catch his tattered, mangled Ship.
    It would not be easy, but there would never be a better time to finish off the attackers, and Melville's beloved Ship and crew would not be safe until their enemy was completely defeated. Besides, Melville was a firm believer in kicking the bastard while he was down.
    In victory, humility. But until the victory was won and his Ship was safe, his motto was: fair fights are for fools.
    I am no Homer's hero you all know
I profess not generosity to a foe...
If you play a game of chance,
know before you begin
If you are benevolent,
you will never win.
 
    Their achievement thus far had been nothing short of amazing. Throughout history there have been warriors with extraordinary, deadly superiority in combat. There were swordsmen, duelists, and snipers on every world who racked up hundreds of kills, and Melville was in part a duelist and a sniper. But the Fang 's prowess was more akin to the man-machine interface of the fighter aces or elite tank crews in the twentieth century on Old Earth. Some of these war machines were manned by pilots and crews whose remarkable competence permitted them to make hundreds of kills.
    The majority of the fighter pilots and tank commanders in twentieth century combat never got a single "kill" to their credit. Many never got the opportunity, and those who did often found out, too late, that they didn't have the killer spirit. One of the greatest fighter aces of all, a man with over three hundred kills to his name, said that most of the time he killed men who never knew he was in the sky with them.
    As Melville felt the thrill of his survival, his success, his triumph, he knew that this was what it must have felt like for one of those legendary aces. The finest pilot in the finest machine with the finest crew, all