Those whom heaven helps we call the sons of heaven. They do not learn this by learning. They do not work it by working. They do not reason it by using reason. To let understanding stop at what cannot be understood is a high attainment. Those who cannot do it will be destroyed upon The Lathe of Heaven.
- Ursula K. Le Guin, "The Lathe Of Heaven"
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Beyond the viewport stretched a huge expanse of metal, dwarfed only by the giant crablike arms of the drydock support structure which wrapped around it like a maternal spider. The giant ship would never enter any atmosphere, and thus it had no need for streamlining. That said, galactic technology was advanced enough to move beyond the bare-minimum utilitarian approach to a ship’s layout. Whoever had designed this particular dreadnaught had decided to go with a bit of style over substance.
And that style did include a bit of aerodynamic contouring, but only a bit. The rest had gone into making the moon-addled thing look as aggressive and nasty as possible. Rather than a more logical shape such as a cylinder or sphere, the overall shape of the warship was that of a flattened pyramid. Instead of coming to a point the wedge-like craft became truncated near its tip, making it look a little like a claw with a broken tip. From the cross-section of that truncation sprouted the central maw of a gargantuan mass-driver which was surrounded by a forest of smaller cannons. From this vantage point, one could make out the outlines of fusion engine bells at the other end which just protruded past the triangular armor plating.
Overall, it was obvious that this thing had a Flamey End and a Business End…and its designer wanted everyone to know when they were facing the Business End. And then, of course, to regret all of their life choices after such a realization.
Jevnar-of-Ahnrans hadn’t always been a civilian, and therefore was not at all impressed with the aggressive-looking craft. He’d pegged it as Jornissian-built, a few hundred years old. Galactic technology had moved on, of course, and any modern-day ship of the same class (when competently operated) could have reduced the [kilometers]-long craft to slag without issue. Quite honestly, he was surprised to see any of the Nhnnrahnah class still in one piece; he’d thought they’d all been broken up for scrap ages ago.
This one must have been collecting cosmic dust in some boneyard orbit until purchased by its current owner. That owner had to be his new employer, although oddly enough Jevnar had still no idea of his new boss’s identity. Whoever it was, they had lots of GRC to burn. As his shuttle approached the dreadnaught, Jevnar saw the winking lights of maneuvering thrusters circling the massive ship. Those lights resolved into small spidery drones which wove in a complicated dance over the surface of the ship. Some of the drones busied themselves repairing small bits of meteorite damage in the thick armor, but most were in the process of…painting the hull?
It appeared that his new employer was very fond of a particular shade of bright red. Jevnar quirked a curious ear when he saw that there was also a prominent stripe of deep green running up the centerline of the dreadnaught.
The wolf-like Dorarizin took a step back so that his reflection became visible in the viewport. He tugged at the cuffs of his immaculate attire to ensure that his shirt cuffs protruded just the right length beyond his suitcoat. Then he brushed away a few bits of nonexistent fluff from his lapels. Jevnar wore no visible jewelry or other ornamentation on his head. Instead, his luxurious blue-gray mane (always a source of quiet pride) spilled like a symmetrical waterfall onto the shoulders of his jacket in orderly waves. Should his new employer be a Dorarizin female, she’d find the look tasteful yet provocative.
Dorarizin or not, his new employer appeared to be quite eccentric. Still, that was no reason to not make the best possible first impression. Jevnar was first and foremost a consummate professional, albeit one in a very niche profession.
Jevnar’s career path was best described as a chaotic bouncing-around which had somehow wound up with him in a position perfectly matched with his temperament. First, a stint in the military led to a posting with the Dorarizin Empire’s Special Forces; during the course of that stint he’d taken part in some missions requiring bodyguard duties. Upon excelling at the latter, he’d taken it up as a full-time profession after mustering out. He found his gender worked in his favor; after all, assassins didn’t expect a cute little male to punch hard enough to knock out a Jornissian and have the aiming skills of a demon.
But after a while his bodyguard duties morphed into a more holistic approach. To his surprise Jevnar found that his most desired talents lay beyond mere physical protection, talents in demand by an elite clientele who desired a flesh-and-blood butler instead of mere serving drones.
Based on the salary from his new employer, Jevnar figured that whoever it was must be among the elite of the financial elite. He speculated once more on who it could possibly be. He thought knew the names of anyone who could afford his services, but this person remained a mystery. The most intriguing clue was a requirement buried in the contract they’d sent over; he had to demonstrate that he’d been trained to interact with [tiny-chompers].
It had been years since his Special Forces days, but Jevnar still had the required certifications and sent them along with a mental shrug. Perhaps his employer wanted to get a [tiny-chomper] for his crew? If they could throw around enough money to hire him, not to mention to buy a dreadnaught and repaint it red then perhaps they could pull off such a feat.
His scarab-shaped shuttle drew close to the mountain of crimson metal; a portion of the dreadnaught’s outer armor slid apart to reveal a docking bay which could hold his little craft a hundred times over. Jevnar swayed a bit as the shuttle berthed itself within the cavernous expanse, and after a moment his sharp ears picked up the hiss outside as the bay repressurized.
A soft and feminine but obviously synthetic voice sounded through the cabin. “{Welcome aboard the TCS [Thunderbird One], sir. Please stay within the shuttle until the pressures equalize.}”
Jevnar raised an ear in puzzlement. The computer spoke flawless Dorarizin, bypassing his translator bead. In addition to that oddity, he had no idea what the stink [TCS] meant with regards to ship designation.
The Dorarizin peered around the edges of the viewport as the hissing outside continued, hoping to catch some hint of any answer in the hangar beyond. He saw no information but noted that the big compartment was a lot more colorful and plush than he’d expected. Cheerful blue and green hues covered up any gun-metal gray surfaces, not to mention the walls were thickly padded to add to the overall sense of comfort. This ship may have started life as a military craft, but now it was certainly not.
The hissing stopped, and a few minutes later Jevnar started in surprise upon hearing a few imperious thumps on the shuttle’s hatch. His dark green eyes narrowed as his wedge-shaped ears twitched and triangulated on the exact position of that rapping. It was far below a height he’d expect of any adult…had his new employer sent a child to greet him?
His eyes widened as he realized the truth. Anyone else might have become perturbed, but Jevnar never lost his stolidity. The Dorarizin reached forward with a steady finger and tapped out the necessary ‘open’ code on the hatch’s keypad. The shuttle hatch slid up silently, and Jevnar stared down in bemusement at the diminutive biped framed in the doorway.
“[Hiya!]” said his greeter. “[I’m [Harry Lawson], real pleased ta meetcha!]”
A fuzzy mop of hair covered the tiny-chomper’s head. He appeared young, although Jevnar had to admit he had little frame of reference for the Senate’s newest inductees. Up until this point, he’d only ever seen them in holograms. At least Jevnar was sure that this person was a male…well, he was almost sure. The tiny-chomper’s outfit was, well, rumpled was the kindest way to put it. It was clearly not intended to impress anyone with its sophistication.
“{I am equally pleased to make your acquaintance, sir,}” Jevnar replied. He then gave an impeccable deep bow, one that not even the most sycophantic member of the Imperial Court could find fault with. “{Forgive me for being so blunt, sir, but is sir…my new employer?}”
The tiny-chomper’s grin didn’t abate in the slightest. “[Damn straight! Full name’s [Harry Lawson], but I don’t stand too much on formality. And Formality is real grateful for that, lemme tell ya.]” He let out a high-pitched chuckle. “[Sorry for all the [cloak and dagger] nonsense, but…well, you’ll understand better when I fill you in on the whole situation. C’mon, lemme give ya the [dime tour!]]”
[Harry] stuck out one hand, and Jevnar’s long-ago training kicked in as he shook the proffered paw with precision and delicacy.
Jevnar traveled light, as was his custom. He retrieved the small valise which held all of his important worldly possessions. Disaster nearly struck as he started to follow [Harry] out of the hangar. It had been years since his training, and he’d forgotten about the typical wobbly gait of a tiny-chomper. Out of instinct he almost reached out to sweep [Harry] off of his feet, fearing that the tiny-chomper was about to faceplant. But he managed to stop himself in time. Any exterior observer wouldn’t have seen anything, of course, except perhaps the minutest of twitches as Jevnar’s claws slightly protruded.
The butler found that he had to shorten his stride to make sure he did not overtake his smaller charge, while at the same time not appearing to take any such consideration. It proved to be a trivial challenge, but one made harder by his inner turmoil.
How could he be a butler and bodyguard to a tiny-chomper? The very idea seemed madness, the little aliens were practically made out of glass. It was difficult enough to protect and serve one of his own kind. How by the First Pack could he possibly provide proper service to [Harry]? True, the tiny-chomper seemed a pleasant and easygoing sort…but where did the resources come from to support all of this renovation? Was there something more nefarious going on beneath the surface?
His inner musing was interrupted by [Harry] question. “[You don’t mind if I call you [Jevnar], right? If ya do, let me know. I want us to start off on the right foot.]”
After a brief and puzzled glance down at his own right foot Jevnar straightened up again. “{Of course, sir. I have no issue with any manner of address.}”
[Harry] waved a small finger at him. “[None of that sir nonsense, either. Just [Harry] will do. I mean, yeah, I’m payin’ everyone’s salary on board but that don’t make me the [?error, possible reference to a religious figurehead?error] or anything.]”
They passed through the door leading from the hangar, a big square rectangle which obediently slid up and out of the way as they approached. Jevnar noted that [Harry] had not so much as gestured at the door. Perhaps the tiny-chomper had a cybernetic implant? If so, it would be the first tiny-chomper implant that Jevnar was aware of.
Beyond the doorway lay a smaller room containing an ovoid big enough to accommodate at least ten of [Harry’s] kind, made out of a tough transparent material. One side of the car already lay hinged down, forming a ramp into its interior. Jevnar followed his new charge into the egg and saw inside a few benches made from the same clear substance as the surrounding hull. He seated himself across from [Harry] as the car’s door swung up and shut.
Jevnar looked down through the clear floor as another hatch opened and dropped them down into a huge metallic tunnel. He could see multiple clear tubes snaking along the length of the cavernous space, and without a sound their own car began to speed along their own transparent tube. The effect was to make it feel as if they were gliding along through space as if magically propelled.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“[This is where the ship’s main mass-driver used to sit!]” said [Harry]. He waved at the expanse below with a big, adorable grin on his face. “[Course, they stripped out all of the actual weapony bits before [mothballing] the ship itself. Don’t have any need to glass a city, so I never looked into the legal issues in restoring it. I wanted to see if we could fit a bigger engine in here, but the engineers said that any engine that big would melt the whole ship. To be honest I’m not sure what I’m gonna do with all of this internal volume, so if you have any ideas let me know.]”
The Dorarizin performed another unnecessary tug at his cuffs before replying. “{Sir…ah, [Harry], may I ask how you acquired this vessel…?}” He trailed off in a gentle questioning manner that any spy agency would approve of, a tone that spoke louder than words Hey, I don’t really need to know but if you happened to tell me I’d be very grateful and we would become the best of friends.
In spite of Jevnar’s tone having to be translated via algorithm [Harry] fell into the well-laid verbal trap without so much as a pause. “[Yeah, I know this must all be really weird to you. You remember about [one year] ago, that big lottery jackpot?]”
Even though Jevnar didn’t typically peruse popular culture or news, he knew exactly what event the tiny-chomper referred to. It was the biggest pot ever in the Galactic lottery, a sum of GRC equal to many times the yearly output of a highly industrialized world…provided one could come up with the winning combination of sixteen numbers, of course. With such wealth one could go anywhere, do anything at all. But there was one problem with [Harry’s] explanation.
“{Far be it from me to contradict my gentleman, but wasn’t that prize won by many different people? And if sir had won even a portion of the pot, well surely that would have made the news. It would be a first for sir’s species.}”
[Harry’s] ever-present cheer faded a little as he looked away from Jevnar. “[Yeah, that’s the cover story. The truth is that there was only one winner.]” He tapped his chest with a finger, indicating just who that winner was. “[The Senate and the lottery commission decided to indulge in what we [tiny-chompers] would call a bald-faced lie. I had to agree with ‘em when they explained the situation to me. If word got around that a single person had that much cash on hand…well, that person would have a big target painted on their back for any nefarious types out there. Plus I’m a [tiny-chomper], which puts me at an even bigger disadvantage. Not only physically, I’d have every con-man in the galaxy coming out of the woodwork thinking they could take advantage of the poor dumb [tiny-chomper].]”
Jevnar relaxed back into the transparent bench behind him. Over the years he’d made a little hobby out of picking up the various idioms of the Senate’s different species. Out of the woodwork, he mused. Nice little tiny-chomper turn of phrase, that. I shall have to remember it. The parameters of this new assignment started to come into focus, and with those parameters came certainty. Jevnar craved certainty with the passion that a starving person lost at sea might crave a piece of succulent fruit.
“{You wish to engage me for my protection services, then.}”
[Harry] looked up and met Jevnar’s eyes in surprise. “[What? Um, I mean yeah that’s one reason I wanted you. But look at it this way…]” He sprawled back against his own transparent bench as he spread his arms. “[I asked for the best damn butler in the Galaxy. Turns out that’s you. I have no choice but to spend money like a drunken sailor, so I may as well get the best of everything.]”
For once Jevnar was at a loss for words. He blinked a few times, then performed the minutest shake of his mane before replying. Any heterosexual Dorarizin female would have instantly melted into a defenseless puddle of goo at the gesture. “{Perhaps sir might, what is the tiny-chomper phrase, ‘fill me in’ on the meaning of that last statement?}”
[Harry’s] smile returned. “[Sure. I’m no economist, but the way they explained it to me was that I’ve gotta do the work of a thousand…at least.]” He leaned forward, tapping his fingertips together. “[See, in the past a jackpot that big was always won by a bunch of people. That much GRC represents a measurable fraction of the galactic economy, and it can’t just sit stuffed into a [denpile] somewhere. It has to be recycled back out into the world so it can go do money things again, and fast…otherwise bad things could happen. Hell, it could trigger a recession.]” He spread his arms again, indicating the ship around them. “[That’s one reason I bought and retrofitted this big ‘ol warbird instead of just getting a standard rich-guy yacht.]”
Jevnar allowed himself a small smile. “{And that’s the reason that you’re spending the extra money to get it painted.}”
The tiny-chomper shrugged. “[Eh, I like red. And I added the stripe of [British] racing green to honor my ancestral country.]”
Their capsule slowed to a stop, then levitated out of the transport tube and into a scene of barely-controlled chaos. The capsule now sat in the middle of a big, lozenge-shaped room filled with lots of various species dashing around, entering and exiting through doors spaced equally around the room’s perimeter. Most of those outside were Jornissian, although Jevnar did see some Dorarizin here and there. To his surprise, he also saw a few Karnakians in the mix as well.
The capsule’s entrance caused a cessation in the maelstrom, and [Harry] strode with confidence towards the capsule’s door. It hinged down to allow his exit, and upon seeing the tiny-chomper everyone outside waved and a few even cheered. Jevnar thought it looked almost like the arrival of a member of the royal court. [Harry], to his credit, looked a little embarrassed at the greeting.
[Harry] stepped aside and waved back at Jevnar. “[Hey everybody, this here’s [Jevnar]. He’s the last member of our happy little team. Make him feel welcome, right?]”
Jevnar gave them all a polite bow, one nowhere near as deep as the one he’d given [Harry]. He followed the wobbly-striding tiny-chomper out of the capsule, noting with approval how the crowd parted to let the small alien pass with room to spare. It was obvious in hindsight, but everyone here must be trained just as he was.
They entered a small elevator car…well, small for Jevnar. [Harry] barely came up to his chest.
“{Where to now, sir?}” asked the butler as the car accelerated deeper into the ship.
[Harry] frowned at Jevnar’s continued formality, then shrugged as he realized that asking Jevnar to not be formal was a bit like asking a planet to stop being a giant sphere of rock and iron. “[We’re heading for the bridge, just to show ya around. Then I’ll show you your quarters. I hope they'll be okay.]”
Jevnar had, at times in the past, lived in the midst of mud combined with the perpetual fear of death. “{I’m sure they’ll be more than adequate, sir. My needs are very little.}”
With another shrug the tiny-chomper led the way out of the elevator and onto the bridge.
In front of the elevator stretched a wedge-shaped expanse of plush carpeting that led towards a magnificently huge viewport looking out into deep space. Jevnar was not fooled; his sense of direction was good enough to know that the bridge was buried safely within the dreadnaught’s armored hull and that the apparent ‘viewport’ was nothing but a holographic projection.
A tiny-chomper sized chair sat in the center of the wedge, one with lots of important-looking displays and buttons embedded on each armrest. Around the perimeter of the bridge sat multiple workstations. Jevnar noted that several of them were converted to the motorcycle-style seating arrangement favored by Dorarizin, while one was the larger-scaled chair favored by certain Karnakians.
In front of the viewport and before the ‘main’ chair sat two stations. One was a standard Jornissian circular workstation, complete with a frazzled-looking green Jornissian coiled up within it. Her face was permanently locked into the angular, fearsome expression of a viper-type of her species. The other station contained…
Well, the other station contained Jevnar’s next big surprise, namely another tiny-chomper. But whereas [Harry] was dressed in, let’s be honest, ‘informal’ clothing, this new tiny-chomper was clad in a dazzling white jumpsuit. Jevnar saw no hint of the tiny-chomper’s head, since the figure also wore a shiny white helmet complete with a visor tinted so black that there was no hope of seeing the person’s actual face.
That visored helm swiveled towards the entering pair, and Jevnar felt a distinct unease under that black-tinted regard. It was as if he was being judged for his ability in one particular area and found wanting. It was a new feeling, one that he did not particularly care for.
Before Jevnar could ask [Harry] a discreet question, the Jornissian whipped her head around towards them. With lightning speed she ducked down and slithered out of her workstation, then approached them at a more sedate pace. “[Sir…,]” she began when she was close enough.
“[[Harry], please!]”
“[…[Harry], we still need at least another [ten hours] to check out the engines before starting up the reactors. They’ve been sitting in hard vacuum for a long time.]”
The tiny-chomper just laughed. “[Yeah, for longer than the lifetime of some countries on my planet.]” He reached up and forward to pet the much larger Jornissian on her nose. From what Jevnar knew of Jornissian cultural norms it was a surprisingly intimate gesture.
However, on the big snake-like alien [Harry’s] touch worked remarkably well. The agitated twitching of her tail-tip ceased and she all but melted her head forward into his hand as he stroked the tip of her snout.
“[Take whatever time you need,]” said [Harry]. “[After all, it won’t do to have the ship blow up when we start off.]”
He took his hand away, and the big Jornissian blinked as if coming out of a trance. “[Of course. Thank you, si…Harry.]”
[Harry] grinned and walked off to confer with the other tiny-chomper. The Jornissian fixed Jevnar with a beseeching look. “[Are you his butler?]”
“{Indeed I am, Madame.}”
Her hood sagged as she relaxed. “[Then maybe you can talk to him. I’m [Shnhsnrnan], the chief engineer of this…this madhouse.]” She gestured vaguely all around them. “[I mean, [Harry’s] not unreasonable. But he keeps expecting things to work just because he wants them to! The repair and renovations started only [two months] ago and he still seems to think that this pleasure cruise of his is just around the corner!]”
Jevnar relaxed as well, now that more of his proper role had come into focus. He’d spent enough time aboard ships to understand that having a good XO was the key to a ship’s successful operation. If [Harry] was the Captain, well that made him the XO by default didn’t it? “{Don’t worry, madame. I shall take care of it. Perhaps you and I should organize a meeting of the various department heads, just to make sure that everyone’s needs are heard…?}” He trailed off again, and again any intelligence service in the galaxy would have given all of their teeth to have such a discreetly helpful and friendly asset on their payroll, one that could worm the deepest of secrets out of anyone with naught but the merest raised ear and pleasant voice.
[Shnhsnrnan] nodded in clear relief. “[Yes, that sounds wonderful. I’ll pass the word around, let’s set something up.]” She glanced towards [Harry], who at the moment was deep in a one-sided discussion with the other suited-up tiny-chomper. The mysterious helmeted tiny-chomper responded to [Harry] with nothing more than nods or shakes of his head.
“[It’s just…I like him, and I don’t want to disappoint him,]” she continued. “[[Harry] has been nothing but nice and understanding. To all of us. Plus he likes to give us all headpats, and well…maybe you haven’t been around [tiny-chompers], but trust me when I say you’ll come to crave those headpats more than anything in your life.]” She bowed her head as if ashamed. “[I know it seems silly, but…]”
Jevnar interrupted with the silky-smooth precision of a dagger seeking out a vital organ. “{There is no need to apologize or explain, madame. I have only been in the employ of sir for less than an hour, yet rest assured that if anyone out there threatened my gentleman I would destroy them and everyone involved in that threat without hesitation.}” He allowed his mane to fluff out a little more as he loomed larger in the plush and pleasant expanse of the bridge.
The chief engineer swallowed. “[I believe you.]”
Jevnar smiled, and once again he was nothing but a pleasant little Dorarizin male. “{All right then. Let’s get that meeting set up, shall we? The sooner we can redistribute the workload the sooner you can relax.}”
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Harry Lawson stretched out on his bed and breathed out a sigh. He’d led Jevnar [AKA Jeeves] to his room and then relaxed in relief when the big wolf-like alien had pronounced himself more than happy with his accommodations.
Harry’s own bed was large enough to hold a couple of aliens along with himself. Not that he was planning on any of that, of course, and certainly not with any of his crew. He knew that mixing business and pleasure was a bad idea. The rest of his quarters were not as big as one might expect, about the same size as those of his new manservant. Sure, the rooms were very generous for a human but then again this ship had been built to house giant snake-aliens capable of crushing a car. Still, Henry’s quarters were luxurious in terms of bedding and materials.
Having Jeeves on board was pretty much the final piece of the puzzle in place. His new recruit was the best of the best, a combination of the ultimate butler with the ultimate bodyguard. Harry would need that expertise if he was to accomplish his ultimate goal.
He stared at the ceiling. Where a swinging playboy might have installed mirrors, Harry had pinned up a list. A big list, one he’d written out by hand and which had taken him several months of ceaseless Galnet searching to cobble together.
Harry rubbed absently at a metallic button seated just behind and beneath his left ear. That button represented a not-insignificant chunk of his winnings, a sum invested into neurological research. He knew that money was a poor substitute for time, but to his delighted surprise the investment had paid off sooner than he’d expected. As it turned out, much of the background research was already well underway. With some judicious investing into certain research groups, Harry had a field-trial-capable device within only nine months. Then he’d promptly had that device implanted in his own head.
The human smiled as he remembered the reaction of poor Tr’tnan’til (AKA Twiggy), his Karnakian chief medical officer. “[There’s been no long term testing!]” Twiggy had screeched upon being told of the surgery. “[That thing could fry out your brain at any second!]” It had taken a lot of soothing and headpats to prevent her from resigning on the spot.
He yawned and turned onto his side. As he drifted off to sleep, Henry hoped that the engines would be ready soon. It was fun to throw around ridiculous amounts of money to get this giant dreadnaught turned into a yacht, but now the fun was starting to wane. It was time to get out into the galaxy and see stuff.