For Honor We Stand

by Harvey G. Phillips

  That chip was now plugged into the Captain’s console which had been programmed to read the chip and transmit the message when Max pressed the recently-repaired and now famous “Summon Steward-Coffee” button. Max was on the verge of being physically ill. The mood in CIC was not only tense, but grim. Most of the men had picked up on the skipper’s pessimism and now believed that the Senate had voted to preserve the existence of the human race by sending it into eternal slavery under the lash of the Krag.

  The result of the vote would be released to mankind at large by means of a Presidential address beginning at the instant the answer was scheduled to be transmitted. On board the Cumberland, every console throughout the ship had been configured to display the answer when it was sent, so no man need wait in suspense a second longer than necessary. Two hundred and fifteen men would know the fate of the human race in a single, shared moment. Until then, it was agony.

  At 11:55, the Vaaach vessel seemed simply to wink into existence, exactly ten kilometers away, just as it did the last time. After the usual steps, the Forest Commander’s face appeared on the displays. His demeanor seemed subdued. The normally gut shaking roars were quiet and deliberate. Then, the translation: “Peer Swamp Fox, I greet you.”

  “And I greet you, Forest Commander Chrrrlgrf.”

  “This is an important day in the history of your race. While I am here only to bring Human and Krag together to exchange their messages in safety, I wish you to know that I do not welcome the thought of your troop of absurd, chattering primates going into the long silence of oblivion, nor do I welcome the thought of them being chained and marched into the cages of slavery.” He stood, placed his long arms (which reached well past his knees—a sign of his arboreal heritage) at his side, claws fully extended, and bowed his head for just under five seconds. Salute? Prayer? Mourning? There was no intel brief on this gesture. Then, he leveled his unnerving yellow-green eyes at the camera. It felt to Max as though the Vaaach was meeting his eyes. There was genuine emotion in the alien gaze. Max could not read it, but it was certainly present and it was undoubtedly powerful. “The Vaaach wish you well.”

  “I thank you for your good wishes, Forest Commander. I do not know what the answer of my people will be. We will all learn it together.”

  “I await this revelation with interest. Today, we will learn the true nature of your species: hunters or prey.”

  The Krag vessel appeared at 11:59 and slid into its appointed place. At the stroke of 12:00 Chin announced, “Sir, the Krag send ‘Ready to copy transmission.’” His voice was like death.

  High noon. The hands of the old-style twelve-hour watch clock mounted on the bulkhead pointed straight up because, at that moment, more than a thousand light years away on Earth, the sun was at its highest point in the sky as viewed from the meridian of Greenwich, England. Over the thousands of years of human history, how many confrontations, how many meetings, how many ultimatums, how many pivotal events had been scheduled for just this hour and minute? Could any of them—could all of them put together—be any more important than what was about to happen at high noon, today, 2 May 2315?

  No. Probably not.

  Max steeled himself to push the button that would cause his console to lock in the decrypt, interrogate the chip, extract the response, and transmit it to the Krag. He laid his finger on top of the button without pressing it. It was bad enough that he was the one who had to send the message he was certain would begin mankind’s subjugation to the Krag. He could not make himself watch it happen. The almost unbearable emotion of the moment making Max literally unable to breathe, he closed his eyes and forced his finger to exert the necessary pressure. The button engaged the contact that closed the circuit, making a click that, although almost inaudible, echoed in Max’s mind like a rifle shot.

  There. It was done.

  Max felt a coldness run through his veins, as though he were receiving an intravenous drip of liquid helium. He knew the people around him were reading the response. Eyes still closed, he listened for changes in their breathing, speech, anything that would give away the answer without his having to look at the fateful words on his display. Nothing. The CIC crew was always a stoic lot.

  A warship is essentially a hermetically-sealed metal tube containing equipment, air, consumables, and human beings. The metal of the hull, the airtight bulkheads, and the decks which transect that hull are made of metal so thick and so sturdy that sounds made by the unamplified voices of the humans within or by the direct actions of their limbs in one compartment of the ship are usually inaudible in any other. But, if enough noise is made of the right kind, the ship can be turned into an enormous reverberation chamber which amplifies and multiplies sounds rather than dampening them. Max had never encountered that phenomenon.

  Until now.

  At first, he could barely hear it, an almost subliminal suggestion of a sound, like the thunder of a distant storm. Undifferentiated in the beginning, it resolved into a series of “BOOMs” that got louder and louder and more and more powerful until the ship and the very air within it seemed to shake with each one. Only one thing could make that sound, Max thought: every member of the crew stomping his feet and banging on the bulkheads in unison. Also, faintly, he heard voices echoing through the bulkheads and vibrating the decks both above and below him. The men were shouting something in rhythm with one another. One word. Two syllables. He could not make them out.

  Max’s heart was beating so hard that he could feel each individual contraction, not just as a motion inside his chest, but as a throb of pressure inside his head--pressure so great he felt as though his head might explode. He opened his eyes, assembling the courage and the patience to wade through a lengthy Senatorial reply, the verbosity and obscurity of which would prevent him from knowing until the very end of the document the answer to the Krag’s deadly question. The Krag had asked: will you save your race, preserving the lives of yourselves, your children, and the generations to come by tendering your surrender and accepting the overlordship of the Krag?

  The answer of the Union and of the human race to the Krag’s question, shown on hundreds of displays around the ship, was a single word: the same word that the men were shouting over and over in time with the cannon-like booms that shook the ship, the same word that—for good or ill—would shape the destiny of the human race for all time:

  NEVER.

  The Union would fight on. Mankind would live free.

  Or die.

  ***

  The story of Captain Max Robichaux, Doctor Ibrahim Sahin, and the USS Cumberland continues in the concluding volume of the “Man of War” Trilogy, Brothers in Valor, scheduled for publication in mid 2013.

  Acknowledgements

  We owe all the same debts in this book as in the first. To the acknowledgments printed there, we add the following.

  The Cumberland Creed is based on the “Foundations of Mission Control,” a document written, we believe, primarily (perhaps entirely) by Flight Director Eugene F. (“Gene”) Kranz shortly after the Apollo One Fire. Paul is fortunate enough to have a copy autographed by Kranz which was displayed in his law office for many years. We are thankful, not only for the document from which Max borrowed, but also for the brilliant work done by the engineers, technicians, administrators, and astronauts of the Apollo Program. They brought forth one of the greatest achievements in the history of our species, a splendid accomplishment that will continue to inspire humanity through the ages.

  We are thankful to Paul’s wife, Kathleen Honsinger, for her skilful editing of the manuscript, perceptive suggestions, and for her beautiful cover design for both extant volumes of this series.

  We are also grateful to the literally dozens (48 as of this writing) of people who took the time to write favorable reviews (so far ALL the reviews are favorable, and the overwhelming majority are “five stars”) of the first novel on Amazon.com. It was largely on the strength of these wonderful compliments that thousands of people were willing to take a
chance on an independently-published military science fiction novel from two unknown authors. The success that To Honor You Call Us has enjoyed and is enjoying is largely due to these reviews.

  The expression, “Stealth is Life,” while probably of wide currency in the Submarine Service, first came to our attention in a customer review of our first novel on Amazon.com written by John William Hayes. We liked it so much that we made it “The First Law of Destroyer and Frigate Combat.” For the expression and the kind review, we offer our thanks.

  To the extent that Paul is able to write precise, coherent, logical prose, he owes much of that ability to two superlative teachers he encountered in Louisiana’s Calcasieu Parish School system: Mrs. Mildred Hobbs who taught 9th Grade English at Oak Park Junior High School and Ms. Jacqueline S. Finnegan who taught 11th and 12th Grade English at Lake Charles High School. The Hobbs and Finnegan in the Cumberland’s CIC are a respectful nod to these two superlative educators who held their students to the highest standards of excellence and who accepted from Paul nothing less than his best work.

  Paul’s father, Harvey Honsinger, who died last March, was a novelist and spent many hours talking with Paul about how he wrote his books. Much of what Paul learned in those talks can be found in these pages. The late Mr. Honsinger had a very colorful way of expressing himself. Every now and then, one of the “Southern” characters in these books says something that he used to say or in a rhythm and a voice that echoes his. Harvey said some of those things on his Citizens Band radio, which he started using back in the 1960’s before they became the rage. In addition to his call letters, KMR-7239, he was widely known by his handle: “The Swamp Fox.” It is in his honor and cherished memory that Max Robichaux will carry that nickname through the remainder of his adventures.

  Northern Arizona, February 2013

  Glossary and Guide to Abbreviations

  [This glossary is cumulative, meaning that it includes all terms from the first volume of the series as well as the present volume. Accordingly, not all terms herein appear in the novel you hold in your hands.]

  Alfven wave: a low frequency traveling oscillation of ions in a magnetic field resulting when ions are injected or inserted into the field, with the ion mass density providing the inertia and the magnetic field line tension providing the restoring force. Alfven waves travel along the lines of force of the magnetic field.

  Allah askina: (Turkish) For God’s sake. An expression of shock and dismay.

  Alphacen: Alpha Centauri, as viewed from Earth the brightest star in the constellation Centaurus (the Centaur) a trinary star system and the star system nearest to the Sol System. Primary Star, Alpha Centauri A, a type G2V main sequence star. This star (the system appears as a single star to the naked eye on Earth) was known by astronomers, mariners, and other “star users,” until the popularity of “Science Fiction,” by its ancient name, Rigel Kentaurus, or “foot of the centaur.” The name is also used loosely to designate the human inhabited world of Alpha Centauri A IV, the oldest human settlement outside the Sol system. This world is often referred to by it’s the inhabitants of its Western Continental Mass as “Birdseye” and those of the Eastern as “Swanson,” words which in some forgotten way, are said to relate to the first colonists’ arrival in coldsleep (or, as some crudely said, “frozen”) crossing interstellar space at sublight speeds.

  Armis dominum: (Romanovan Latin) Weapons Officer.

  Article 15, Paragraph 5, Naval Regulations: the provision of Naval regulations giving the commander of a Rated Warship authority to disobey a direct order from a superior when an unforeseen event triggers the operation of a superior and countermanding standing or other pre-existing order. In such an event, the officer disobeying the order is required to provide, as soon as practicable, a full and complete explanation and justification of his actions, in writing, to the superior officer whose order was disobeyed. The disobeying officer invokes this regulation at his peril, as there is no “good faith exception” to excuse his disobedience if his interpretation of the orders in question turns out to be in error.

  AU: Astronomical Unit. A unit of length or distance, defined as the mean distance between Earth and the Sun, most commonly used in measuring distances on an interplanetary rather than an interstellar scale because it yields manageable numbers for such distances. For example, Mercury is about .35 AU from the Sun while Neptune is about 30 AU from the sun. One AU is equal to 149,597,870.7 kilometers or 92,955,807.3 miles.

  AuxCon: Auxiliary Control. A compartment in a warship, generally present is ships of Frigate size and larger, duplicating the key functions of CIC, designed to allow the ship to be controlled and fought in the event CIC is damaged or destroyed. In most warships, it is located at least a third of the length of the ship away from CIC as well as on a different deck to reduce the likelihood that the two will be destroyed by the same event. Auxiliary Control is served by an auxiliary computer core, an independent life support system, and an its own set of data and control lines to create complete redundancy with CIC. On smaller ships, such as Destroyers, the functions of AuxCon are served by a set of stations in Pulse Cannon Fire Control that can be reconfigured in an emergency to con the ship.

  Back Room: see SSR.

  Battlecruiser: a large, powerful warship carrying offensive weaponry of the size and power of a Battleship, but intermediate in size between Cruisers and Battleships. Typically massing between 40,000 and 60,000 tons, Battlecruisers possess shielding, armor, speed, maneuverability, and defensive capabilities more equivalent to those of a Cruiser than a Battleship. Naval officers are split on the utility of this Type, with some believing that, with the killing power of a Battleship and the speed of a Cruiser, it offers the best of both; others believing that its large guns make it as tempting a target for the enemy as a Battleship but lacking in the armor, shielding, and point defense capabilities of a Battleship to defend itself, thereby combining the worst of both. A Battlecruiser is generally under the Command of a full Captain.

  Battleship: the largest and most powerful Type of weapons platform ship (Carriers are larger and, with their fighter groups, arguably more powerful, but do not mount heavy offensive weapons). Typically massing 60,000 tons and up, Battleships mount large batteries of the most powerful offensive weapons carried on starships and are equipped with the heaviest armor and defensive shielding. The firepower and toughness of a Battleship rival those of a battle station. While capable of fairly high sublight speeds, they are very difficult to maneuver. In addition, their enormous bulk means that under compression drive, they are limited to fairly low c multiples. Accordingly, Battleships cross interstellar space almost exclusively by jumping. A Battleship is typically under the command of a full Captain or a Commodore.

  Battle Star: an award conferred by a fleet or task force commander upon a vessel that has comported itself honorably in direct combat with the enemy. In the days of the Salt Water Navy, vessels displayed their Battle Stars on the hull or superstructure where other vessels could see them. Union Warships display their battle stars by the use of colored running lights on their hull, arranged in the shape of a star, and illuminated when they are not stealthed. Battle Stars come in three grades Bronze (orange lights), Silver (white lights) and Gold (yellow lights). The Battle Star is a permanent award displayed by the vessel as long as it remains in service. Not to be confused with a Battlestar which is an archaic name for a former Type that was essentially a cross between a Battlecruiser and an Escort Carrier, mounting heavy pulse cannon and missiles while also carrying fighters. This Type fell into disfavor because of the difficulty in conducting fighter operations while firing guns and missiles through the fighter formations.

  bearing: The position of an object relative to another object, measured as degrees of angle on a horizontal and a vertical plane with the two numbers separated by a slash which is pronounced as “mark” when giving a bearing out loud. The zero reference in both planes is the geometric center of the Milky Way Galaxy. Hence, a Sens
or Officer will say that a contact is at bearing two three seven mark zero four five. Also, a sphere, usually made of some hard metal alloy, used in conjunction with several similar spheres to provide lubrication between a rotating shaft and its housing (ball bearings).

  beignet: (plural, beignets) a fried rectangular pastry similar to a donut but without the hole, generally served covered with powdered sugar and often eaten at breakfast. Pronounced “bain yay.”

  boarding cutlass: a sword made of high tensile strength steel, in fashion similar to the United States Navy’s Model 1917 Cutlass. It is 63.5 centimeters long (25 inches) and weighs approximately 935 grams (33 ounces), slightly curved, and primarily regarded as a slashing weapon, but can be used as a thrusting weapon as well. Carried by Naval Personnel for close order battle in confined quarters on ship, particularly in locations where gunfire might puncture pipes or pressure vessels releasing toxic or radioactive substances or might cause the venting of atmosphere into space. A boarding cutlass and a sidearm of his choice (either an M-1911 or an M-62) is issued to a Midshipman when he is promoted to Midshipman 1st Class.

  Bones: the traditional nickname for warship’s Chief Medical Officer. Research regarding the origin of the nickname shows that it was in use from the very beginnings of the space services, being applied to medical officers of the U.E.S.F. (see) from its very beginnings in 2034. Experts in the popular culture of that day have offered the theory, disputed by many space historians, that the term derives from the nickname of the fictional Chief Medical Officer, Doctor Leonard McCoy of the starship USS Enterprise in the television and film series known as Star Trek (see). In his case, the term is believed to be a contraction of “sawbones,” an old, somewhat derogatory, term for a surgeon or for a physician generally.