If you’re so inspired, do pass this email on to others who might benefit from it. Merit be upon thee.
The Mother of Merit came from the North, the great bulk of her shadowing the outer bailey of the walled city-state of Lithburg (formerly Ashland). She was the pride of House Amazon, the flagship of the Dominator class. She spanned some thousand feet in length, and was attended by her own buzzing swarm of drones. In her vast holds, great stacks of sundries: Doodle food, personal exercise equipment, sexual devices, and every little convenience to ease the toils of the Westlanders.
She also carried a punishing ordinance array. Cannonels bristled from her lower decks and leered earthward. Racks of box bombs, in Amazon livery, could be dropped by gravity or by drone in a moment’s notice. And among her crew of contractorii and gigfolk, a company of Amazon Marines, and no doubt some Alexa agents.
Thus her dual purpose: A hulking agent of commerce, delivering parcels to the customers of House Amazon. And, if necessary, a hellacious storm cloud from whence a torrent of steel and fire could rain down upon the enemies of Free Commerce.
According to the court marketeers of House Amazon, the craft was held aloft by the voluminous merit and ingenuity of the Retail Lord Bezos. However, the physics of the craft were more prosaic: Various gases in the ship’s envelopes lifted her aetherward, augmented by dozens of rotor arrays and sails. Sun harvesters on her deck pumped energie to her lithaeic banks. Earthblood dynamos powered her through the nights.
Shiplord Brian stood at the forebridge and gazed below at the passing countryside. He wore a puffed black vest in the Seattle manner, and various ribbons and sashes bemarking a minor aristockrat. His head was shaved in the style of his liege lord. His skin was pale and his chin indifferent, a legacy of his years spent in the darkness of the Citadel by the Lake.
Behind him stood his first officer, Amanda, several lower ranking bridge officers, and two stone-faced Alexa agents.
As Brian watched, denuded forests and burn scars gave way to hamlets and roads and the outskirts of Lithburg.
“My lord, we are within drone range,” said First Officer Amanda.
“Very good. Deliver at will,” he advised.
“Commencing delivery, my lord.”
Ports in the composite hull opened and quadrotor drones of the fulfillment type emerged, bearing boxes and bags.
The Shiplord watched as the drones fanned out and dropped toward the city. The fulfillment of Lithburg had begun.
In the bowels of the Mother of Merit, Gigfolk placed Amazon boxes in the claws of drones. Managerii with shock sticks ensured efficiency and obedience.
Shiplord Brian removed his Book of A from his pocket and flipped it open. A pleasing image of cat sitting in a box brought a smile to his face.
“ALARM,” bellowed the first officer.
Brian looked up with a start. “Report,” he demanded.
The first officer consulted an array of gauges and live paintings. “Porch pirates bearing three four zero. Three thousand yards and closing.”
“Battle stations. Come about three zero zero.”
“Aye, my lord, coming about three zero zero.”
Klaxons honked as a clamor of shouts and footfalls echoed throughout the ship. The Mother of Merit began a ponderous turn to the West. Plumes of water fell from her ballast tanks.
To the north west, a ragtag formation of ashblack sky-frigates, autogyros, and unlicensed drones emerged from a cloud bank. They flew the box-and-crossbones of the Westland porch pirates.
“That would be Bonnie Janette the Porch Corsair,” intoned the first officer.
Shiplord Brian’s knuckles grew white as he grasped a stanchion. “Damn her merit,” he muttered. “How many drones do we have aloft?”
The first officer swiped a live painting. “One hundred eight-five, near the full complement, sir.”
“Continue delivery.”
“Sir. They will be lambs among wolves.
The Shiplord whirled on his underling, bellowing: “Need I remind you of our delivery guarantee, sailor?”
The First Officer tipped her head in deference. “No, Shiplord. Continuing delivery.”
“Scramble the heavy drones, and instruct the crew to prepare for boarding.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“We will crush these pirates.”
#
Below the Mother of Merit, a melee ensued between the pirate drones and those of House Amazon. The renegade craft were winged affairs, built for speed and armed (very illegally) with rams, rockets, and other contraband. Sirens in their undercarriages wailed as the drones stooped into dives. Some of the craft bore nets, grapples, and lassos, the better to steal packages from the ponderous delivery drones.
High above, the sky frigates, arrayed in a menacing attack crescent, soared down toward the great Amazon treasure ship amid a salvo of pirate rockets. The Mother of Merit, still coming about, returned fire with her topside cannonels, unable to bring her downward-facing heavy artillery to bear.
In Lithburg below, the Gigfolk gathered on street corners to watch the skirmish above. Their faces flickered variously between concern (their packages!), and another emotion, a kind of suppressed, wicked glee, for Bonnie Janette was a hero to their people.
Years later the day would be remembered for the curious shower of cat litter, doodle food, sexual implements, and kitchen brick-a-brack that rained upon Lithburg as the sky thundered with ordinance.
#
Aboard the Mother of Merit, a lookout in the aft observation mast squinted toward the sun and beheld a terrifying sight. For from the celestial orb a black mass appeared, solidifying into an impossible thing. The unmistakable silhouette of the ghost ship Disrupter, the long lost Amazon corvette.
“Merit save us,” whimpered the lookout, as he fumbled for the talk tube.
On the bridge, the first officer looked up from her station and locked eyes with Shiplord Brian, just as the great ship was rocked by a rending cataclysm, and the officers were thrown to the deck.
The Disrupter’s ram was deep in the aft fulfillment hold, the stricken treasure ship now pouring smoke and descending uncontrollably.
In Hold 16, the Gigfolk fulfillment workers staggered through the smoke and boxes and knick knackery. The ram and prow of the Disrupter had neatly skewered the aft of the Mother of Merit, such that the fore porthole of the corvette was inside the great ship. It was through this porthole that Bonnie Janette emerged, jumping to the deck with easy grace.
The Gigfolk workers watched in disbelief as Bonnie Janette sheathed a rather wicked axe, and stood before them unarmed. Likewise, the Amazon Marines, who burst through the shattered blast door, stopped short at the sight of her.
Bonnie Janette brushed one of her becurled locks from her eyes, and surveyed her audience. “Is there any person here who holds stock in House Amazon?”
A silence befell the group, broken only by the distant wailing of klaxons, and the groaning of the ship.
“I know ye to be Gigfolk,” said Bonnie Janette, nodding to the silent fulfillment workers. “And ye soldiers of Lord Bezos, share ye in the spoils of His Meritorious One?”
Another heavy moment of quiet and then a man wearing sergeant’s bars spoke up. “You know damn well we’re contractors.”
Bonnie Janette smiled broadly. “Then my offer is simple. Join our pirate cooperative. We offer childcare, profit-sharing, and free dental.”
The Sergeant eyed the pirate corsairess, and then the Gigfolk, and then his fellow Contractorii. “I have a dog,” he ventured, hesitantly.
“You can bring your dog to work.”
The Sergeant seemed to chew on his cheek a moment, then ripped the smiling Amazon insignia from his jacket and threw it to the deck.
#
The Shiplord’s face was crimson with rage as he unlocked the arms locker. “Mutiny,” he bellowed. “Disloyal, meritless, unproductive Gigfolk!”
He took a scattergonne for himself and grabbed a mathsword for his first officer. He turned to her, failing to see the new cast to her expression, and threw her the weapon.
He then called out to the Alexa agents by the entryway. “You two, go aft and restore productivity!”
The Alexa agents shared an inscrutable look. The shorter of the two, a barrel-shaped man, spoke up: “My lord, in case of mutiny, we are to ensure the productivity of the bridge crew.”
The Shiplord’s nostril’s flared. “I order you to go aft,” he shrieked, his voice cracking.
The Alexa agent bowed curtly, and threw open his longcoat, revealing an array of silicon knives strapped to his chest. He drew two and stalked through the entry way. His partner pulled a rather large multibow from her coat, affixed a bayonet, and followed him.
“Send an aether mail to Lord Bezos. Let him know that the Mother of Merit is under attack and we are repelling boarders.” The Shiplord opened the breech to load the scattergonne. “Let him know that we continue our deliveries unto death.” He looked up at First Officer Amanda.
She held the scabbarded mathsword in her left hand, and her eyes were closed, her face cast down, her brows furrowed as if she was troubled by a headache, or a weighty decision. The other bridge officers were oddly unmoving amidst the tumult of the emergency, their eyes fixed on the first officer.
“Let him know we trust ourselves to his limitless merit,” he continued, and then faltered. A questioning look befell his pink, aristockratic face. “First Officer?”
First Officer Amanda, a second generation Contractorii in the service of House Amazon (non-stock remunerated), triggered the maths on her sword, and the bridge was filled with a high, ungodly keen, and a green brilliance.
###
The Mother of Merit is a large armed cargo carrier operated by House Amazon. It is the first Dominator-class sky-galleon, having superseded the Monopoly-class fulfillment frigate. There are eight more Dominator-class sky-galleons planned or under construction at the Amazon yards in Seattle. They are considered to be a destabilizing influence in the balance of power of the great houses.
At 300 meters in length, the Mother of Merit is the largest skyship in the Westlands. The holds of the ship carry enough cargo to fulfill a medium-sized city. The ship’s primary mission is to make deliveries to settlements along the western seaboard.
Deliveries are carried out through direct drop or drone delivery. The ship’s onboard hangers house 200 multirole drones, capable of delivery or combat. An additional 20 heavy drones can be used to deliver heavy objects like kettlebells, or bombs. Heavy drones are also capable of transporting the ship’s company of Amazon Marines to the ground.
The ship features a defensive armament of 48 light cannonels to repel skyships and drones. Thirty-six downward-facing heavy cannonels can be used to bombard hostile settlements or competitors. The ship is also capable of dropping box bombs or flaming oils (known colloquially as “Jeff’s tears”).
Dominator-class sky-galleons are equipped with both sails and rotors for propulsion. Twenty-four gas envelopes containing aetheric gas provide buoyancy and lift. Aetheric gas leaks and explosions are a constant danger and fire suppression drills are undertaken daily.
The ship’s complement typically numbers two House Amazon aristockrats (the captain and fulfillment manager), and three hundred Contractorii and Gigfolk sailors and fulfillment workers. The company of Amazon Marines numbers 100 contractorii of various ranks.
Like all House Amazon ships, the Mother of Merit hosts a team of Alexa agents, who report directly to the Retail Lord Bezos. There are generally four plainclothes agents and an undisclosed number of undercover operatives on the vessel at any given time.