"Voof!" Ursis exclaimed, stepping hesitantly onto the vast circular expanse of the Commons Room. "I have never seen the counterpart of this-not even in the Great Winter Palace at Gromcow."
"I've never even seen Gromcow," Wellington quipped in an awestruck voice. "Great Voot, Wilf, you weren't exaggerating about this place."
Brim only smiled. "There's a lot to look at," he said.
"Indeed," Ursis said, pointing to the Great Dome of the Sky above them. "The light source up there-a Kaptnor G-seed, isn't it?"
"My stars," Wellington gasped, peering up over her glasses, "I believe it is. I've only read about them, of course-miniature accretion disks that emit a luminous beam of energy.
They've focused this one through that funny lens up there-the one that says 'Power.'"
"Apparently so," the Bear said with a look of fascination. "I last saw one during my days at the Dityasburg Institute on Zhiv'ot-where we trapped one for a few days in a special plasma retort." He shook his great furry head and laughed. "And from what I learned there, I would wager that enough energy exists in that one little beam to snuff out an entire planet-or cause a major flareup in the surface of a star."
"Are you serious?" Wellington asked with a frown.
"Completely serious, my dear Dora," Ursis replied. "Properly positioned, the beam from that little G-seed could probably lift this whole monastery off its foundations. In fact," he added, "the golden cone over there-the one with the word 'Truth' carved around its base-is probably the only reason that it doesn't." He nodded his head with an approving smile. "The old Gradgroat-Norchelites provided quite an energy source for their display here-one with enough power to last. I like that kind of engineering!"
"Wait just a cycle, Nik," Wellington demanded, eyeing the reflecting cone and scratching her head. "You say that beam of light could launch this monastery into space? Forget you're a theoretical engineer and explain this to me in terms I can understand."
Ursis smiled-he was quite into his element now. "Clearly, the way our Gradygroats have things set up here, Dora, the cone serves to shatter the main beam into thousands of little ones-which it then reflects harmlessly back to the ceiling as lighted 'stars' for the display of the heavens. But if something were to move that cone," be continued, "the beam would have nothing to defuse its energy, and-this close to its source-would continue right through the floor with enough thrust to lift everything out into space." He laughed. "Such an event would make things dreadfully difficult for the Friars...."
"It would serve the idiots right," Wellington grumped. "The very idea, wasting all that energy to power a preposterous display." She shook her head.
"'Preposterous' is only a relative term," Ursis pronounced sagely, "especially when one deals in religious matters."
"I suppose you're right," Wellington admitted, "but I still think the whole setup's nothing more than a wild flea in Voot's beard. The very idea...."
In the next half metacycle, Brim and Ursis strolled on around the room, taking in all the displays on the ground floor while Wellington lost herself scrutinizing gloriously detailed holomodels of the Gradygroat space cannon. When they'd completed their circuit of the vast circular floor, she was still deep in reflection. "Fascinating," she said as her two comrades approached, "but primitive. It's a classic study in ideal Rycantean design. Weapons makers were wonderfully hardheaded and practical in those days. Little wonder the Admiralty boffins haven't studied it for centuries."
"Did they build cannon that could live up to the legend?" Ursis inquired with a smile. "It is said that the ones in orbit here could vaporize large asteroids with a single round."
Wellington thought for a moment, then nodded accord. "Given enough power, Nik," she declared, "artillery systems like this probably could. They're certainly designed to handle a lot more energy than anything I've ever encountered."
"But would they fire?" Brim asked. "I remember from your classes that nobody was ever sure they'd go off."
"Oh, I think there's little question that they would fire," she declared. "It's simply that no one has discovered how to pump that kind of energy up there to them." She smiled and raised her eyebrows. "You probably also remember from those classes that the forts are solely powered by one, old-fashioned EverGEN unit-and that's barely enough to maintain the environment and keep them oriented toward Hador for warmth." She shrugged and grinned.
"But if they did have a big power plant-something like a large solar flare," she added with a chuckle, "the Gradygroat cannon would undoubtedly be the most powerful weapons in the known universe-by an order of magnitude...." Then she frowned. "Nik," she said, pointing to the ceiling, "do you suppose they somehow ran the space forts from this G-seed, too?"
"Like beaming energy up to the cannon?"
"What do you think?"
The Bear shook his head. "You said it yourself, Dora," he said. "Those big disruptors need something on the order of a solar flare to power them up-and a big one if you wanted to fire from all thirteen forts in a salvo. Beamed energy falls off rapidly. The G-seed here probably couldn't even move anything bigger than a pebble if it were fifty c'lenyts or so distant."
Wellington snapped her finger and grimaced. "1 should have guessed that myself," she said, chuckling good-naturedly and turning to Brim. "I suppose we'll have to fight old Triannic with ships after all, won't we, Wilf?"
Brim put his arm around Wellington's broad shoulders and grinned. "Looks that way," he said. "But with you handling the disruptors, we won't need all that power, anyway."
"Is true," Ursis pronounced with mock sagacity as they moved off toward the monastery gardens. "In this day and age, it is accuracy that counts! Not power."
Later, seated around a diminutive table at one of the outdoor vcee' shops, the three had just finished a round of steaming, sticky-sweet cvcesse' when a fragile-looking Zuzzuou swooped down from the afternoon sky and side-slipped toward the landing area. "I want to watch that landing from close" quarters," Brim said, jumping up from the table. "I'll owe you for the cvcesse'!" Vaulting a hedge and a balustrade, he covered the short distance in good time to watch the cheerfully painted little spaceship settle into place on its gravity pool-savoring the singular sort of design philosophy that could place a high control bridge at the stern of such an angular, top-hampered hull. Smiling, he took in the arched windows-much like the ones on the big tram he'd ridden to the monastery-old-fashioned handrails, exposed docking windlasses, built-up skylights on the cabin roof, and canvas dodgers rigged over the short companionways to the brow. Its Helmsman, a huge brute of a man, was no more mundane than the vehicle he flew. Stationed presently on the cabin roof near the bows, he was vigorously turning a huge Crank jutting upward abaft the starboard landing beacon. Like all Zuzzuou drivers, he wore a great silken turban wound in swirls around a tall scarlet cap that protruded through the top like a mountain through a cloud. His black-and-white striped space suit looked almost drab in comparison.
It was wonderful....
When at some length Brim looked around for his companions, he found them near the passenger gate in rapt conversation with one of the returning Friars. He wasn't surprised-at the vcee', Wellington had vowed to remain at the monastery until she at least talked to one of the monks. Brim chuckled, judging that she'd probably seduce one if she thought it would help. When he neared, it was clear that she'd started by asking about the monastery's strange motto.
"As a simple gunlayer, I have no fixed idea what the motto means, m'lady," the Friar responded politely. He was probably tall and powerfully built, but now his shoulders were bowed with fatigue. His face was lined not so much by age as by deep, habitual concentration, and his eyes were those of a professional sniper-though there was an air of gentleness in every line and feature of his being. "In our faith," he continued, "we are taught to believe that the motto will manifest itself when such becomes necessary."