“While that statement may be true, Ambassador, in a formal sense, that same objectively documented historical record amply documents that some of these systems ‘volunteered’ to join after being hemmed in by Union systems on all sides and having their trade strangled by tolls, tariffs, navigation restrictions, and customs rules, none of which the Union applies to its members or was applying to other similarly situated non-Union trading partners at the time.”
Touché. “Minister, as we have both read the same diplomatic histories, it would be disingenuous of me to deny that the Union may have employed certain rather punitive economic measures calculated to add to its membership and territory early in its existence. It was then, as you recall, picking up the pieces from the disastrous governance imposed by the Earth Confederation. Current conditions, however, are fundamentally different. Now that we are at war, with all the demands thus placed on our economy, manpower, resources, shipping, and manufacturing capacity, the Union desires no members who do not desire us. In accordance with strict enactments of our legislative bodies, and the announced policy of our President, we simply do not employ those kinds of strong arm tactics on other humans any more.” Not ever? Well, hardly ever. “In any event, annexation is a practical impossibility, at least under the present circumstances. Our forces are put to full use defending our space and our worlds from the Krag. We do not have resources to spare for the intimidation, much less the conquest, of any other power, particularly one as well and skillfully defended as the Kingdom.
“Nevertheless, in recognition of the legitimacy of the Kingdom’s concerns, the Union is prepared to do the following. First, we offer a looser mode of cooperation than an alliance. I would suggest that the Kingdom consider joining the war effort as an Associated Power, much as have the Pfelung, a race known for their prudence, highly developed ethics, and staunch independence. Second, the Union is prepared to give whatever reasonable formal guarantees the Kingdom may require to respect its independence and territorial integrity. In that regard, I would note that the Union has, from the very day of its establishment, strictly respected the Kingdom’s independence, its sovereignty, and its borders. We have been proving our good faith to the Kingdom for decades in the most convincing manner possible, by our actions.”
“That is, indeed, true. We have never had any complaints about the Union as a neighbor. I believe that such an arrangement might be acceptable to my government, subject to negotiation of the precise terms of the formal guarantees of our independence, and provided certain other appropriate provisions were made.”
“Such as?”
“We would require that our forces operate with complete independence and that participation in any given operation be voluntary.”
Sahin turned to Max, who understood that it was his place to articulate the Union’s position on purely military issues. He did his best to sound diplomatic. Really. “That’s insane,” he said without a trace of rancor. “Complete independence has never been the basis of any joint operations since the first human space forces were formed in 2034. In combat, it would be a disaster. Any time your forces and our forces happen to be involved in the same battle, there would be no overall commander. Maybe the two commanders manage to cooperate and work out a joint plan, in which case only a little bit of time will be wasted while they do that. Or maybe they won’t, in which case the two forces operate at cross purposes, don’t provide coordinated fire support, aren’t on the same communications frequencies, transmit sensor beams that interfere with one another, and get in the way of each other’s battle maneuvers. Who knows, they might even get hit by each other’s missiles. Mister Krag, who is not stupid by any means, figures that out, uses the lack of coordination to his advantage, and cleans the clocks of both forces. I can tell you as a warship captain and a former tactical officer that unified command, at least at some level, is an absolute military necessity.”
“I accede to the Captain’s bluntly stated but obviously valid observation.” The minister gazed longingly at his coffee cup, as though wishing it had coffee in it that he liked, considered taking a sip, and then decided against it. “My government is not averse to the notion of coordinated commands on certain levels under some circumstances, but is concerned about placing large units on a consistent basis under the authority of Union commanders. We do not wish our divisions and squadrons broken up and, for example, used piecemeal as replacements, thereby losing their cohesion and identity as Rashidian units.”
Max nodded, recognizing the validity of the concern. “But at what level? Fleets, task forces, operational groups, they are all assembled from certain building blocks. The sticking point is the size of the blocks. Will your forces always operate together at the task force level, or can the task forces be broken down into operational groups that will be used to help assemble joint task forces, or maybe even divisions that can be put together into joint operational groups? And you can’t just decide at the beginning that everything will be integrated at a given level because operational demands are going to require different levels of integration. We can’t do it under those rules.”
“Minister, Captain, if I may?”
They both looked at the doctor, both convinced that a man who confused Cruisers and Corvettes because their names both start with a “C” could have nothing to contribute to this particular aspect of the discussion. The obvious annoyance displayed by Max and the Minister at being interrupted didn’t stop the Acting Ambassador. It didn’t even slow him down. “I do not have in depth knowledge of this business of ‘Task Groups’ and ‘Operational Divisions.’” Max grimaced at the nomenclature errors. “But it seems to me that these issues have already been worked out in detail and even approved at the highest level by both governments. That agreement can be adopted by reference and this issue would be resolved.” The minister and the captain looked at him blankly. “Equilateral. I was looking over your shoulder, Captain, when you called up the communications protocols to talk to those fighters. You paged through an index that showed a detailed list of arrangements to determine what units would be integrated at what level, who would command them, when a unit could refuse to participate in an operation, and a whole plethora of similar matters. It was all there in the exercise documentation.”
“There is a lot to be said for this approach, Mr. Ambassador, and we have indeed thought of it,” the Minister said. “You may not be aware, however, that there are several ways in which Equilateral is an imperfect fit for the current situation. Captain Robichaux could probably set them forth more accurately that I.” He looked expectantly at Max.
Max nodded. “OK. I can see several differences. First, Equilateral assumes three players: the Union, Rashid, and Romanova. What we’ve got now is the Union, Rashid, and Pfelung. Second, that exercise was a joint task force operation. We’ll be coordinating forces at the theater level, maybe higher. Third, both us and the Rashidians have changed our order of battle since then. We’ve shifted the building blocks around into a different force structure. Fourth, since that time we’ve put the Talon missile through two upgrades, which will require changes in joint targeting parameters, and—fifth--we’re in the process of adopting a new fighter, the FS-104 Wildcat, with substantially improved operating characteristics over the FS-101 Banshee it replaces, which will mean some new fighter tactics. So, there are going to be a lot of questions about joint operations and joint command that Equilateral isn’t going to cover.”
“So, there are going to be situations which, until more precise and detailed rules are worked out, will not be covered by the pre-existing framework, is that correct?” the Minister asked evenly. “We will not be able to tell in advance how they will be resolved, and we will essentially have to rely on the commanders in the field to come to an accommodation and make the correct decision.”
“That’s right. I can’t see how it could be otherwise. But we need to remember that none of the people in question are idiots: your commanders are damn smart and our commanders are damn
smart, as well. You put smart commanders in a battle zone and give them a problem, they’re going to find a way to solve it. You don’t get to be a Commodore or an Admiral unless you have a truly outstanding ability to solve complex problems. It’s what these guys do.”
Max could see that the Minister was still wavering. He must have some very, very serious concerns about his people’s forces going into battle under Union Commanders. The Kingdom had gone its own way for a long time. Max didn’t know diplomacy, but he did know people, and he was pretty sure he knew what the Minister’s sticking point was. “Minister, I know what you’re worried about. I think we both know our military history and both know there are lots of examples in history of joint operations where a commander of a joint force has used an ally’s forces unfairly. You know, he gives the glory missions to his own guys and the grunt work to the others, the low risk objectives to his own and lets the others take the heavy casualties. I could give you a laundry list of examples, but I think you know them just as well as I do. In the end, it all comes down to trust. No agreement that we sign, no assurance that we give you, can take the place of your trust in the good sense and the good will of our commanders, just as we are going to have to trust the good sense and the good will of yours.”
Suddenly, Max remembered something his Mother Goose on the San Jacinto told him, “Giving your trust is like handing over your baby: you can’t hand a baby to a position or an office. You have to put that baby in the living hands of an actual person.”
Max said, “Minister, if I’m any judge of men, you’ve been following the conduct of the war very closely.” He nodded his agreement. “Then you know the reputation and the combat records of the Admirals we’ve got in the major operational commands: Litvinoff overall, Hornmeyer and Middleton commanding the two major theaters, with Lo, Diem, and Barber running the Attack and Maneuver Groups. Truthfully, sir, can you see any of these men turning into a Sir Ian Hamilton? It’s almost absurd when I think about it.
“Sir, I know two of these men personally. If Admiral Charles L. Middleton isn’t the most honorable man in Known Space, he’s the runner up and the guy ahead of him should be Emperor of us all. The other one, old Hit ‘em Hard Hornmeyer, may kick you in the ass, and he may curse you to your face, but he’s sure as hell not going to stab you in the back. If these guys wind up commanding some of your forces—and remember—there will be times when your Admirals will command our forces, you can be certain that they’ll make decisions based on military considerations only. This is not the same Navy that fought at the Great Rift. Our Admirals aren’t politically ambitious, power-seeking, effete, headquarters drones and empty heads in pretty uniforms who move icons around in the tactical projector.”
“I understand that, Captain. I have no doubt that these are honorable men. I have come to know the Ambassador here as an honorable man and your actions prove you, also to be a man of honor. But, we would be forming a relationship, not just with Admirals Litvinoff and Middleton and Hornmeyer and with Captain Robichaux and Doctor Sahin, but with dozens of Admirals and Commodores and thousands of other officers. Trust in this situation does not come easily.”
“Sir, this is the Navy I’ve been a part of since I was eight years old, and that I love as much as my life. It is the most effective large military force in the history of the human race. Our Admirals are seasoned warriors, our officers tough and competent professionals, our Navy an instrument of death. We’ve been fighting for our lives for thirty years. We, or the Krag, have weeded out everyone, at least everyone at the senior levels, who isn’t brave, capable, and aggressive, not to mention honorable and worthy of trust as well. I would trust any one of them with my life. In fact, that’s exactly what I do. Every day.”
“Minister,” Sahin added, “you know what is at stake. If the Union falls, the Kingdom will not be far behind, then the Romanovans, then the Ghiftee, and everyone else. No one will be left behind to pray to Allah, to tend the graves of your ancestors, to carry the flame of learning and achievement and building and exploration handed down to us over the thousands of years from those who have come before. To fail to make common cause against the Krag now is to take the torch that bears that flame and to cast it into the dust. All of mankind’s struggles through the ages will have been for nothing.” He paused, drew in his breath, and played what he hoped would be the trump card. “Visualize the holy places on all the worlds defiled, then leveled and covered with the dust of the ages, without so much as a single human eye to shed a single human tear for their passing. Imagine all the cities and abodes of man empty and silent for all time. Think of the Orion-Cygnus arm of the galaxy, not as the cradle of man, but as his graveyard.”
The man whom Sahin had come to know as Mr. Wortham-Biggs stirred his coffee again, stared at the liquid for a moment, and set his spoon down in the saucer. He touched the handle of the cup, but did not pick it up. Again the internal battle: he wanted coffee but resisted subjecting his sophisticated palate to a beverage prepared from inferior beans, inexpertly blended, and roasted too hurriedly at too high a temperature and without dialing back the burner in mid-roast when the normal exothermal chemical reaction causes the beans to produce their own heat, brewed in an institutional coffee maker not thoroughly cleaned in weeks or months, and that was allowed to sit for too long on a too-hot burner driving most of the delicious volatile aromatics out of the liquid and turning the chemicals used in the processing of inexpensive coffee from mildly sour acids to extremely bitter oxides. With a subtle shake of the head, he decided that the coffee was best if left in the cup, eventually to find its way into a drain somewhere.
He withdrew his hand from the cup as he met Max’s eyes, and then those of the doctor. Clearly, he had made a decision. And not one about coffee. “The King has authorized me to speak for him in these matters. But he also gave me clear instructions. I fear that I have deviated from them slightly by insisting so strongly in securing these guarantees for the Kingdom. The need to strike the best bargain possible is deeply rooted in my nature and, of more importance, I felt a duty to my people. In a just cause, the blood of our sons may be spent, but must not be squandered. The fathers and mothers and wives and children of the men who serve are worthy of the best assurances in that regard that I could provide.”
He stood, his eyes grave. His head turned sharply toward the window which looked into the courtyard containing the broken airplane, the shattered trellis, the broken statues, the crushed roses, and the obliterated ferns. Machine gun fire could be heard in the distance—the King’s troops finally arriving to deal with the Emir’s forces. “We are a warrior people: our culture celebrates and ennobles the warrior virtues of courage, honor, loyalty, and sacrifice. We do not, however, celebrate or glorify the taking of life, the spilling of blood, or the death of our own men. We know that if we enter the war now, many of our brave sons will die, and that they will start dying very soon. Next week. Tomorrow. A few hours from now. How soon will it be when the first names of the dead are made known, the first notices to the families, the first lists on the newswebs with their pages bordered in black?”
A burst of automatic weapons fire echoed down the streets. The Minister gestured vaguely in the direction of the sound. “In a manner of speaking, our first casualties are bleeding and dying as we speak.” He sighed heavily. “The price of doing nothing is too great to contemplate. If there are to be future generations of our people, we must act. Our grandchildren are so precious to us that we must buy their lives with the blood of our sons.” He assumed a formal stance. “Ambassador, Captain, the Unified Kingdom of Rashid, Allied Emirates, and Protected Islamic Worlds will enter the war on the side of the Union as an Associated Power with appropriate Union guarantees of the continued independence of the Kingdom. The Equilateral protocols will serve as a framework for the integration of forces, further arrangements to be made by commanders in the field or further negotiations between the representatives of our governments. Are we in agreement, Mister Ambassador?�
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The doctor stood and bowed formally. “We are in agreement, Minister. May our swords shine together.”
“And may their edges be a scourge to our enemies,” the Minister completed the benediction. He touched the comm panel. “Authorization Altair-Mirfak-Deneb.”
Less than two seconds later a voice came over the panel’s transducer. “Yes?”
“It is done.”
The comm clearly picked up a heavy sigh, but it was a sigh of resignation and resolve rather than of sadness. “Good. We will do what we must. Ambassador, Captain, this is Khalil.” Not “the King,” not “King Khalil.” Just “Khalil.” “All of Rashid, every man, every ship, every drop of blood, every gram of treasure, is now committed to this cause. Humanity will stand together. We will fight beside our Union brothers and let nothing stand between us. Admiral Taniq and a small staff will leave within the hour for the Halsey to serve as liaison between your command structure in this theater and ours. Taniq is a Fleet Admiral, and the fourth most senior officer in our Navy. He has my complete trust and will be empowered to make binding agreements as to the use and deployment of all our forces without recourse to any higher authority.
“Further, at my suggestion, five years ago we elevated the status of the ‘Military Attaché’ to our Embassy on Earth from a Commander’s posting to a Rear Admiral’s billet and greatly enlarged his staff. Obviously, this team’s true purpose is to be ready to step in as the Kingdom’s representative and his staff in any joint command arrangements that we might make were we to enter the war. Orders activating those personnel in that capacity will go out momentarily as will our notice to your President. Captain, is there any other military step that you suggest we consider taking immediately?”
Max gulped. He wasn’t used to being asked for advice by anyone higher than a Captain by Rank and here he was being asked for advice on the force disposition of one of Known Space’s Great Powers. By a King. What do you even call a King? The last King to whom his forbears had been subject was George II of Great Britain, and that didn’t end so well—he threw them out of Canada and they wound up in the French territory known as Louisiana. He threw a panicked look at the doctor who perceptively mouthed “Your Majesty.”
For Honor We Stand Page 11
