For Honor We Stand

by Harvey G. Phillips

  “Right. Shame, too. It would totally ruin any chance I might have for promotion. And, there’s one more thing. Think of the message it would send to prospective allies if the Krag can destroy the Rashidian fleet and take over the Rashid system on the very day they join the fight.”

  “That had not occurred to me,” the doctor said, shaking his head. “It would certainly work to discourage other powers from joining our cause.”

  “You got it, my friend. It would discourage them powerfully. That could lose the war for us right there. And I don’t have the first idea of what to do about it. Not one.” Returning to his CIC voice, “Chin, when you’re done with getting traffic control directions from the Rashidians, ask if there is any way they can cross deck the scans from their early warning system to us—I’d like to see what’s out there and analyze the raw data with our own computers rather than having to rely on reports from the Rashidians.”

  As soon as Chin repeated the order, Kasparov broke in. “Sir, as you might expect, sensors are a complete mess from all those nukes and won’t be very useful for several more minutes, but I’m pretty sure I just picked up a burst of Cherenkov-Heaviside radiation from this system’s Charlie jump point.”

  “Well, the Rashidians have that covered with a very serious battle station. If it’s bad guys jumping in, we’ll be picking up the fusion flash of their demise any second now,” said Max.

  “Sir,” this time it was Chin. “I’m getting heavily encrypted traffic originating in and around that jump point. It’s on a Rashidian channel, sir. Transmitter profiles phase discriminate out as two signal sources: some kind of warship and the Rashidian Military High Command transmitter. I’ve got nutcrackers for almost all of the Rashidian military encrypts, sir. We could probably listen in if you wanted to.”

  “Mr. Chin, I’m shocked. Absolutely shocked. The Rashidians are an Associated Power with the Union. You know that gentlemen don’t intercept each other’s encrypted military transmissions. I’m appalled that you would even make that suggestion.”

  “So am I sir. Absolutely. In fact, I’m surprised I can live with the shame. And, sir, are you going to want to listen to that transmission on your console or on headset?”

  “Console, please. Put it on an open channel.”

  Doctor Sahin merely shook his head. It could have been disapproval. It could have been resignation. It could have been both.

  Chin said a few words to his Back Room, the denizens of which quickly determined which decryption algorithm or “nutcracker” made headway against the Rashidian encryption and notified him that it was running on the transmission now. Chin then hit a few keys that put the transmission on the audio output on the Captain’s console and made it available to anyone on the ship whose duties allowed them to listen. In less than thirty seconds, a crackle came over the transducer as the computer’s application of the nutcracker to the data stream caught up in real time, locked in the interpretation matrix, and then, “—firm your clearance as requested. Set your transponder to squawk Kilo Tango Alfa Galaxy. Proceed to holding point three, at standard acceleration but do not exceed point two, then go to station-keeping and monitor this channel for further instructions. After a short delay, you can . . . Stand by . . . Um . . . Just a moment.” The man suddenly sounded a little flustered. “Please prepare to receive a direct transmission from his Serene and Celestial Majesty, Khalil the First, King of the United Kingdom of Rashid, Allied Emirates, and Protected Islamic Worlds. . . . Erm . . . . Your Majesty, you may proceed.” A brief silence.

  “Khalil here. Identify yourself.” No bullshit. Pure business.

  “Your Majesty, I am Rear Admiral Marcus Quintus Catalus, commanding the Imperial Romanovan Battleship Ravenna.” His voice was proud. Determined. This man was ready to fight. “We received a back channel communication from a Union naval officer named something like Maximian Romus Cato—I apologize but I believe the name was garbled somewhat in transmission—that you were under attack by the Krag. Emperor Adiuvatus dispatched us immediately upon receipt of the message and, before we jumped out, we received confirmation that the Senate just voted a contingent Declaration of War. Your Majesty, it is the will of the Senate and of the People of Romanova that if Rashid is at war with the Krag, then Romanova is at war with the Krag. The rest of the force under my command will be coming through the jump point as fast as they are able and should all be in system within the hour. Our battle group consists of the Ravenna as well as a Carrier, another Battleship, two Battlecruisers, and six Heavy Cruisers. Our orders, from the Emperor himself, direct us to render any assistance you may require. He also directs that I convey a personal message to the King.”

  “Proceed.”

  “The message is: We will fight beside our brothers. The sons of Rome will stand with the sons of Mecca, together in victory or defeat, until the last battle is fought.”

  “Thank you Admiral. Your offer of assistance is both welcome and timely. On behalf of the Kingdom, I accept it with gratitude. I am on my way to join the fleet at this moment. I would be honored if you would meet with me on board our flagship.”

  “It would be my privilege to do so, your Majesty.”

  “Very well. My staff will transmit traffic control instructions.” Short pause. “Oh, and Captain Robichaux, or should I say ‘Maximian Romus Cato’ if you can hear me, you may certainly join us. Be aware that, while I should take offense at the eavesdropping, I do not begrudge your listening today. A warrior must have sharp eyes and a keen ear. He who leads men into battle must listen to the wind itself.”

  Chapter 6

  09:28Z Hours, 20 March 2315

  “If the Rashidians and the Romanovans want to go after any reasonably attainable Krag military objective, and they want us to go with them, and if I get a vote, the vote is ‘yes.’ Actually, that’s not true. My vote is ‘hell, yes, what are we waiting for?’ Brown here says that he thinks our repairs can be completed before the Rashidians and the Romanovans have got this operation put together. We’ll even have those five guys from Auxiliary Fire Control and Midshipman Park back on duty by then. So, I say, let’s go and kick some more Krag ass. The rat faces have it coming. They’ve had it coming for more than thirty years.”

  “I can’t gainsay that being part of a truly offensive strike into Krag held space would be a bracing change of pace. One does so crave variety from time to time, you know.” Lieutenant “Werner” Brown, a native of planet Avalon, settled by the British, sometimes carried the English love of understatement and dry wit too far. There is dry, and then there is desiccated.

  “Obliterating a major repair and refueling depot would not come close to satisfying my personal craving for revenge against them for everything they’ve done to the human race and to people I know,” added Major Kraft. His scowl slowly turned to a wolfish smile, “But it would be a very good start. I would certainly be in favor of it.”

  The XO, Chief Engineer, Marine Detachment Commander, Chief Medical Officer, and Commanding Officer were meeting in Max’s Day Cabin. The commander wanted to bring his little “Kitchen Cabinet” up to speed on what had happened when he met with King Khalil, the senior Rashidian commanders, and Admiral Catalus.

  “Since everyone else has seen fit to express an opinion on this subject, doctor, do you have anything to say?” Max smiled at him gently.

  “Actually,” he said, “I rather think that I do not. Certainly, on an emotional level, I would find inflicting widespread destruction upon the works of the Krag and their implements of war to be intensely gratifying. But, as Admiral Hornmeyer is fond of saying, I don’t know a parsec from a parsnip. Actually, as a point of pride I looked up the definitions of both terms. But my newfound ability to differentiate between a unit for measuring astronomical distances and a carrot-like root vegetable is beside the point. I know nothing of naval tactics or strategy. My opinion on such a matter would be of no more value than yours on whether to treat a case of Long’s Dementia with psychotropic medication or with neu
ral reconstructive microtherapy. My sense of the matter, however, is that none of the opinions in this room is likely to be particularly determinative in the outcome. One opinion and one opinion only matters here, that of Vice Admiral Hornmeyer.”

  “I think you’ve hit the cartridge on the primer with that one, doctor. I sent a signal to the Admiral as soon as I got back from the meeting. You know how he is about things like that. We’re likely to get an answer--a very clear, specific, and emphatic one--in about a tenth the time it would take anyone else to make up his mind.” He smiled as a thought occurred to him. “You know, I’ve never seen anyone so decisive. Never in my life. I think the man was born with all the decisions he is ever going to have to make already loaded into his brain. They’re all sitting in there, just waiting for the right occasion to arise so he can announce them.”

  Max enjoyed the general laughter the remark triggered. He had a good sense of humor and he was discovering that it was not only a great coping mechanism for himself; it was also an invaluable part of his command style. He could not begin to understand how a man without a sense of humor could ever successfully command a warship.

  He let everyone settle down a bit, take a few more sips of their coffee, take a few bites of the truly outstanding cinnamon coffee cake that the galley had prepared for the Captain’s Table, and restore themselves a bit. It was not even mid morning but it had already been a long day, a day which included a desperate life and death Fleet Engagement before breakfast. “You should be aware, doctor, that I had a very interesting discussion with the Romanovan Admiral right after I persuaded the King to give us repair priority in the same shipyard that maintains the Royal Yacht which, it seems, is actually a bit larger than the Cumberland.”

  “Indeed? And what might that have to do with me?”

  “Well, the meeting had concluded and I went over to the Romanovan flagship to start building some bridges, you know how that works. We sat around very amiably drinking something called ‘espresso.’ Poo yai, let me tell you, that stuff will put stains on your teeth and grow hair on your chest—sort of like coffee with an anti-matter chaser. No wonder they serve it in those tiny cups. Anyway, Admiral Catalus mentioned to me that a rumor had come to his ears that there was a Union warship Captain who, from time to time, was impersonating a Romanovan Cutter Captain for the purpose of boarding purportedly neutral freighters to verify their neutral status and search for contraband.”

  The doctor had, on two previous occasions, done that very thing, down to wearing the comically ornate uniform associated with that post and speaking the slightly mutated Latin which was the language of the Romanovan Imperium. Doctor Sahin blanched.

  “Don’t worry, doctor, I told him that it was my pleasure to deny the rumor categorically. I told him, ‘I can assure you, Admiral, on my honor, that neither I, nor to my knowledge, any command officer of any Union warship has ever impersonated the commander of any Romanovan vessel.” In response to the accusatory look Sahin gave him, a look which practically screamed “liar,” Max pointed to the silver star, embossed with the Rod of Asclepius, on the left breast of Sahin’s uniform. “Doctor, the star you bear is silver, not gold. Meaning, my friend, you are assigned to one of the Navy’s non-combat branches and are not now and never will be a command officer, irrespective of your rank. My statement to the Admiral was perfectly true.”

  The doctor shook his head. “Literally true, I suppose, but practically misleading. You deliberately led him to a conclusion about the facts which you knew to be untrue. Irrespective of whether a literal parsing of the words does not result in a precise semantic falsehood, it is a dirty lawyer’s trick.”

  Sahin expected Max to take offense at the accusation and to reply sharply. He did not. Instead, he shrugged and said, “And a perfectly acceptable expedient according to the centuries-old customs of my profession. It was up to the Admiral to pay careful attention to my exact words. Even if we are all fighting the Krag, he is still a foreign officer and we were talking about the tactics employed in a classified military operation. Tactics which, by the way, I might want to use again sometime. Custom, which in this case is as binding as any law, holds that as an Officer and a Gentleman I had a duty to refrain from telling him a literal falsehood unless required to do so by a direct order or other military necessity. Otherwise, I’m under no duty not to mislead him unless we are on the same side and I am providing him with information material to an upcoming military operation in which lives will be at stake. Like it or not, doctor, lying is a part of warfare: lies to your enemy, lies to your allies, lies to your subordinates, lies to the people back on their home worlds. You can’t fight a war without telling lies, my friend, and telling them by the bushel basket at that. Falsehood is as much a part of war as is killing the enemy. Anyway, my statement had the desired effect. Admiral Catalus was mollified, and goodwill was maintained between allies.”

  “Captain, I believe I should remind you that we are not precisely ‘allies’ with the Romanovans at this point,” said Major Kraft. The Marine commander was a capable attorney who had gone to law school after a few tours as a “mud Marine” and rejoined the Corps after his home world of Neue Prussen had fallen to the Krag. “Their legal relationship right now is with Rashid, not with us. The doctor is the interstellar relations expert, though. He should be the one to explain it.”

  The doctor shrugged his acceptance, took a sip of his coffee, and began to speak. “It is simple enough, really. The Romanovan Imperium and the Rashidian Kingdom have a long standing Mutual Defense Treaty. They signed the first one more than a century ago and have renewed them continually, except for the short period during which they were both members of the Confederation. Under the treaty, as soon as it has ‘information’ that the Kingdom has been attacked, the Imperium is obligated ‘to render immediate and effective military assistance.’ I suspect our Captain was aware of this provision and used his quick ability to make a decision, and the speedy naval communications network, to get the ‘information’ to the Romanovans. In that way, they received it faster than they would have by means of an inherently slow Rashidian bureaucratic decision to make a formal Request for Aid transmitted over the less efficient civilian comm network. Is that right?”

  Max made a dismissive gesture. “No big deal. It was in the briefing materials and the database. Which, unlike certain officers whom I will not name but who are usually addressed as ‘Doctor,’ I always study in detail.”

  “A fortunate turn of events,” Sahin continued. “Now, under the Mutual Defense Treaty, the Imperium comes into the war as ‘an equal and co-ordinate ally, partner, and co-belligerent’ of the Kingdom in its war against the Krag. So, whereas only a few months ago, the Union was the only power at war with the Krag Hegemony, now there are four: the Union, the Pfelung, the Rashidians, and the Romanovans. The Pfelung and the Rashidians are Associated Powers with the Union but not with each other. The Romanovans are Allies and Co-Belligerents with the Rashidians, but not with the Union or the Pfelung. The Rashidians are an Associated Power with the Union, and allies—as I just said—with the Romanovans, but have no relationship with the Pfelung. The Pfelung, are not only not allies or associates with the Rashidians or the Romanovans, but have virtually no relationship of any kind with either of them. In fact, as a result of their long history of strict neutrality, other than with us, the Pfelung have no diplomatic relations with any human power except, for some strange reason I have never been able to discern, the Texians and the Highlanders. Some sort of cooperative arrangement is called for, I’m sure, but I have no idea what.”

  Max nodded. “This sort of thing has happened before. Before there is time for a full-bore interstellar treaty, which can take months, the forces in the field negotiate a practical agreement. It can go very quickly because fighting men do the negotiating, not diplomats and politicians. I expect that before long, we’ll get some sort of practical framework that will govern all combat operations by the Pfelung, Rashidians, and Romanovans, as wel
l as operations by all Union forces in this theater or maybe in both theaters. I’ve got no idea what that would look like, but that’s what you’ve got to have in order to make this thing work. What concerns me is who . . . .”

  The comm panel buzzed. Max touched the key. “Skipper.”

  “Captain, this is Chin. Signal from the flag. It’s in your box sir.”

  “Thank you, Chin. Skipper out.”

  Max got up from the meeting/dining table at which everyone was seated and stepped over to his work station. He checked the security coding as well as the headers and, seeing that it was not coded EYES ONLY, keyed it for wall display so that everyone in the room could read it. Not only did all of these officers have Top Secret or higher clearance, he’d need their active help to implement these orders. They might as well see them now.

  09:13Z 20 March 2315

  TOP SECRET

  URGENT: FOR IMMEDIATE IMPLEMENTATION

  FROM: HORNMEYER, L.G. VADM USN CDR TF TD

  TO: ROBICHAUX MAXIME T., LCDR USN

  1. YOUR REQUEST TO PARTICIPATE IN JOINT OPERATION WITH RASHID AND ROMANOVA IS DENIED. CUMBERLAND IS NEEDED FOR OTHER DUTIES.

  2. BE ADVISED THAT CMRE RANDALL DOLAND IS EN ROUTE TO RASHID TO REPRESENT UNION IN NEGOTIATIONS WITH RASHID, ROMANOVA, AND PFELUNG RE MULTILATERAL THEATER FORCES OPERATIONS ACCORD. CMRE DOLAND IS BEING TRANSPORTED BY USS WILLIAM GORGAS, FLE 0476, CMDR GERARD DUFLOT COMMANDING.

  3. AFTER COMPLETING NECESSARY REPAIRS AT RASHID, USS CUMBERLAND, DPA 0004, UNDER YOUR COMMAND, IS ORDERED TO PROCEED AT BEST PRUDENT SPEED TO COORDINATES 1198753.5116254.0085324, THERE TO RENDEZVOUS WITH FRIGATE-DESTROYER GROUP TD-2008 NOW CONSISTING OF WILLIAM GORGAS AND USS BROADSWORD, DGG 0585. GROUP IS UNDER DUFLOT’S COMMAND. CUMBERLAND IS HEREBY ATTACHED TO FRIGDESGRU TD-2008 FOR DURATION OF PASSAGE TO RASHID OR UNTIL FURTHER ORDERS.

  4. DEUTERIUM TANKER USS PATTILLO HIGGINS, TXA 1912, WILL BE AVAILABLE AT RENDEZVOUS POINT TO REFUEL YOUR VESSEL. ACCORDINGLY, CONSERVATION OF FUEL EN ROUTE TO RENDEZVOUS NOT A FACTOR.