"And what, Gunner Maas, do you perceive as 'necessary'?" Wellington asked, almost nose to nose with the tired-looking Friar.
"Why... a threat to the existence of our Order, m'lady. What else?"
Wellington smiled wryly and stepped back. "I don't suppose I can think of anything more important than that," she agreed. Then she raised her eyebrows. "And you say the cannon were created for the first occasion that The Order felt threatened from space?"
"Aye m'lady," Maas replied, setting his battered knapsack beside him on the grass in resignation-clearly, the man recognized that no respite would come until he satisfied this most persistent group of tourists. "As The Faith teaches," he said patiently, "when rumors of invasion reached the ancient Gradgroat and Norchelite Templars, they combined forces to build thirteen orbital bulwarks and fortify them with the ultimate space cannon."
Brim nodded to himself-it squared with what Claudia said.
"When was that?" Wellington asked. "I understand it was during the First Age of spaceflight."
Maas raised his eyebrows and smiled. "M'lady knows her history," he said. "We are taught that the last fort was completed in Standard year twelve thirty-five minus."
"Twelve thirty-five minus," Wellington repeated thoughtfully, nodding her head. She shook her head in amazement "More than a thousand years before the founding of today's Empire."
Ursis nodded, returning his gaze to the Friar. "Ancient, to say the least," he commented, rubbing his furry chin. "Nevertheless, it is my understanding that a mere thirteen of these primitive weapons once destroyed an entire invasion fleet. Are they the same thirteen that orbit Haelic even today, Gunner Maas?"
"So teaches The Faith," Maas answered proudly.
"Where did they get such prodigious amounts of energy?" Wellington asked. "I could find only small, auxiliary power plants in the monastery holomodels. And those were barely adequate to meet the demands of the forts themselves-certainly not the cannon."
Maas raised his eyebrows for a moment and nodded agreement. "Your perusal of the holomodels was entirely correct, m'lady. Only rudimentary power is supplied at the forts, and it is barely adequate to satisfy day-to-day survival." He nodded his head. "Unless one is a firm believer in The Faith, it is sometimes difficult to accept the knowledge that all required energy will be supplied when the time of need arrives."
"Of that I am certain," Ursis agreed sympathetically.
"However, if one does believe in The Faith," Maas continued, raising a tutorial index finger, "our Gradgroat-Norchelite Fifth Article of Religion states 'The Space Cannon, that were created for the protection of Civilization, will receive power from Truth when they are again vital to the needs of Civilization-but not before."
"And that's enough for you, Gunner, eh?" Ursis asked deferentially.
"It is," Maas assured him. "It has to be."
"So you everlastingly preserve these huge weapons in preparation for a day on which they may once more be needed," Wellington stated.
"That is true, ma'am," Maas declared solemnly. "We maintain them according to the Holy Metal Book of Specifications."
"And I assume that should both the power and the need appear simultaneously, someone will know how to use the cannon themselves," Ursis declared with a great frown.
"Oh yes, sir," Maas answered emphatically. "Excellent simulators have been in constant use for centuries. Holy Laws require that the forts are always manned by at least two firing crews, each with a minimum of five years' training."
"Even when there's no power to fire the real things?" Wellington asked.
"As I have stated a number of times, m'lady," Maas repeated emphatically, "The Faith assures us that when power is needed, power will be supplied." Then, replacing his backpack on his shoulder, he bowed. "Kind visitors," he said, "I most now take my leave. I have endured life in orbit for two solid months, and I am not yet accustomed to gravity here at the monastery.''
"Wait," Wellington said persistently, "I'm sorry I made such an issue of the power." She placed her hand on the Friar's arm. "One more question, Gunner Maas-please. Hador rides low in the afternoon sky, and we ourselves must soon return to our ship."
"Very well, m'lady," Maas replied good-naturedly. "One more question, then."
"How might one see the space forts?" Wellington asked breathlessly.
"By Zuzzuous, m'lady," Maas replied with a quizzical frown. "Or have I missed your question?"
"Only a little," Wellington said with a smile. "How should I- personally-go about getting up there? Could I ride in one of these Zuzzuous?"
Maas shrugged. "I should never state that such was possible only, for members of The Order, m'lady," he said. "But I believe that to do so would require special intercession by the Abbot." He then saluted from the center of his forehead, bowed once more, and determinedly shuffled off toward the monastery.
Brim raised his eyebrows. "Would you actually take your time to go up there, Dora?" he asked.
"Well, antique weapons are my stock in trade, after all," Wellington reminded him. "And once this war's over, I expect to continue teaching people about them-that's of course if Greyffin wins and I don't get myself permanently zapped in the process." She shrugged. "So maybe there isn't any way now of getting power to those old space cannon. I am still convinced that they did fire at one time, and because of that they're worth looking into." She giggled mischievously. "Especially worthwhile now when the History Faculty budget doesn't have to pay for a trip to Haelic...."
Much later that evening, Brim discussed his day's tour with Claudia-including Wellington's interest in the Gradygroat space cannon.
"She really got herself caught up in the old Gradygroat forts, did she?" Claudia chuckled as she bustled about in the savory aromas of her kitchen. "Well, Wilf, she's not the first to be fascinated-nor likely to be the last. Sometimes I think it's a national pastime."
"She is a recognized expert on antique weapons systems," Brim contended.
"Mmm," Claudia murmured, lifting the lid of a steaming pot, "and I'm-at least-a recognized expert on the preparation of torgo puddings, Wilf Brim. What do you say to that?"
"You are a recognized expert on a lot more than puddings, Claudia Valemont," Brim remarked as he got up from his chair. "But right row, I have very little interest in starship maintenance or anything else along those lines. Moments later, she was in his arms, giggling while he unbuttoned her blouse. As usual, she had neglected to wear anything under it....
After supper, they again relaxed to share liqueurs before her fireplace. "Defiant's due out tomorrow, isn't she?" she asked, nestled in the crook of his arm.
"She is," Brim asserted.
Claudia turned her head to look up at him. "Just in case I forget tonight," she told him, "tell Dora Wellington that I'll have the Abbot's permission for her space-fort visit when you get back." She grinned. "It's the least I can do for her part in making you an Imperial Helmsman-and bringing that talented body of yours here to Atalanta...."
Shortly after Defiant passed through LightSpeed the next morning, Brim received an extraordinary personal KA'PPA message from Avalon-delivered by the hand of the COMM
operator who had received it.
K32168ISANBVA
[UNCLASSIFIED]
FM:IMPEHIAL PALACE
TO:W.A.BRIM@ CL.921:U/W
INFO:COMFLEETOPS, COLLINGSWOOD@CL.921:U/W/
<<129BDNXCGJUCRT783Q-4ASKJ-S-FSDMSLKJ>>
1. LT. BRIM: IT IS OUR PLEASURE TO PERSONALLY SUMMON YOU TO OUR ROYAL