Kraft nodded his head in admiration. “At any rate, Doctor, you thwarted that plan. Let us see what Zamora and Ulmer found in their search and let our real Captain know that the vessel is secure so that he can send over a prize crew.
***
“Major Kraft says you double tapped that freighter captain like a Special Forces Commando.”
“I have used the Model 1911 since boyhood. I believe it to be the best fighting handgun ever fashioned by human hands and I am very comfortable with it, which is why I had it with me instead of the usual sidearm for the Romanovans. I did a bit of research and found that some Romanovan officers carry that weapon, so I decided to bring with me what I knew.”
“Always a wise decision when it comes to something on which you may be staking your life.”
The two men were sharing another companionable dinner in Max’s Day Cabin, this one decidedly tastier than the last. The entrée had been shrimp étouffée, served alongside various fresh-frozen vegetables, and the usual fresh bread. All topped off with apple pie made with fresh apples.
“What of those other two we took off the freighter, the younger man and the cigarette smoking woman?” asked Sahin.
“They are both neutrals, it turns out. The whole crew was from Hibernia. I put them aboard the prize and sent it back to Lovell Station. Since they aren’t our citizens, we don’t have jurisdiction over them, although we do get the ship. They will be turned over to the Igandii authorities, who Major Kraft tells me do have authority to try them under something called ‘Jurisdiction by Estoppel.’”
“I’m certain I have never heard of it.”
“It’s a great thing—perfect justice all the way around,” Max said. “You see, if that ship had actually been Igandii, those two would have been under Igandii jurisdiction, pure and simple.”
“That is fundamental. But, the ship wasn’t Igandii, in reality. It had no true registry.”
“Exactly. Here’s the part I really like. When they get hauled before an Igandii court, and they try to say that there is no Igandii jurisdiction because the ship wasn’t really Igandii, the Igandii get to say, ‘but you said you were an Igandii ship and tried to pass yourself off as one. So, because you said that you were Igandii on that prior occasion, the law will not allow you to say now that you are not. They are, as the lawyers say, ‘estopped’ from being able to claim that there is no jurisdiction. Don’t you see the beauty of it? They are branded with their own lie, hung with their own rope, hoist on their own petard. Sometimes, the law can be a glorious thing. Not usually, you understand, not usually at all but, in this case, glorious.
“In any event, the Igandii take a dim view of those who falsely claim to be navigating under their flag. These two won’t be executed, but they will spend several years in an Igandii prison, and the Igandii don’t provide much in the way of luxuries in their correctional facilities.”
“What do the Igandii regard as a luxury, pray tell?” asked the doctor.
“Oh, things like . . . beds.”
“Alas, it can be a brutal galaxy.”
“It sure can. Although a good dinner can take the edge off the brutality. And, there is at least some good news about the capture.”
“You are speaking on the subject of prize money?”
“One of my favorite subjects. This little freighter wasn’t carrying gold but she wasn’t carrying potting soil, either.”
“And what exactly was the cargo.”
“Bearings.”
“Bearings? You mean those little metal balls that they used to put in machinery before suspensive magnetic interfaces?”
“There’s no ‘used to’ about it in the Navy, Bram. If you fill a spacecraft full of suspensive magnetic interfaces you fill a spacecraft full of electromagnetic fields—fields that radiate into the surrounding space where they can be detected by the enemy. Naval vessels still use bearings. Lots and lots of bearings. There are probably half a million bearings of fifteen or twenty different sizes on this ship alone, maybe more. Werner could tell you exactly. And not only do we use lots of bearings, but they are precision-manufactured, super hard, high temperature resistant, low friction, anti-magnetic, static dissipating, all sorts of other exotic properties. All of our bearings come from a small number of factories on Earth, Bravo, and Neue Prussen. God only knows where the Krag make theirs, but there are a few worlds in the Free Corridor that manufacture bearings to naval specifications, and one of them is Rashid V C, a moon in the same system as Rashid IV. Started as a mining colony, easy access to the rare earths and special metals used in these things, you know the drill.
“So, this freighter is stuffed to the brim with the highest quality precision bearings made to naval specifications, and all that. Worth a small fortune. Our share of their value will be a nice bit of change, as will the value of the freighter. And, the loss of those bearings is will cut into Krag warship production in a big way. We captured enough bearings to equip dozens of vessels. Maybe as many as a hundred. This is almost a big a blow to them as seizing all that gold.”
“I never thought I would say something like this,” Sahin said, “but I am deriving a great deal of satisfaction from my small role in setting back the enemy’s war effort.”
“It’s a good feeling, no doubt about it. And you’re role is not small, either. Like how you figured out those freighter rats were lying to you. There’s not a man on board who would have sniffed out that lie the way you did. Major Kraft says it was a very nice piece of observation and deduction.”
“Thank you. It helps that I have a rather broad knowledge of the beliefs of many different faiths. It put me right onto the deception. It was clear to me that these people were by no means Mormons.”
“I don’t know much about them, save what was in your report. But, right now, I wish we had a ship full of them.”
“Why is that?” the doctor asked.
“Not only would it leave more coffee for you and me, if we had a ship full of Mormons we wouldn’t have to deal with this stinking drug problem, at least to this degree. How are we doing on that?”
“Better, much better. Most of the men who had the worst addictions and the worst reactions are through the most severe of their symptoms. Everyone is now completely detoxified—that is, the drugs are out of their bodies. They will still need medication and watching for some weeks, but very few experienced the really acute symptoms. It helps that these men are in prime physical condition, all well nourished and hydrated, and that none of them are what we medically consider long-term users, that is, those who have been using these drugs for a period of years. There are some who have underlying psychological issues that predisposed them to drug addiction, and they are in counseling. At the end of this cruise, I may recommend that two or three be put into some more intensive treatment for a period of weeks before they are returned to duty, but then again, I may not. It depends on how they are doing at the time. There is substantial therapeutic benefit to serving on this ship which is becoming a very supportive environment.”
“Outstanding. A happy ship is the best medicine for everyone. It is the cure to virtually every naval ill.”
“I am beginning to believe it.”
“It is a good thing, because I may need this crew to be at their best very soon. There was something aboard that freighter that was much more interesting than its cargo of bearings.”
“There is something more interesting to you than another small fortune in prize money?”
“Oh, yes. Very much so. It seems that our freighter rats’ Krag masters had a schedule for them to keep—a very, very precise schedule. They were to deliver their cargo to their rat-faced customers, take on a standard type two freight container from the Krag cruiser they were meeting—no telling what’s inside—and then go to the Pfelung system, coming through the jump within a three minute window. Then, they were to cross the system to the Main Freight Transfer Facility, a kind of depot where ships swap cargo containers so that they make their way sta
ge by stage to their destinations. This one is one near the Charlie jump point. The freighters are supposed to coordinate their approach with ten other freighters coming from other systems so that they are all docked at the Freight Transfer Facility at the same moment, as close as possible to eight twenty-three tomorrow. I plan to be there. We’ve already altered course. I need to see what happens when they bring all those freighters together.”
“And why, pray tell, is that. You certainly cannot intend to blow up all those freighters right there in Pfelung space. It would be a gross violation of their neutrality.”
“I know that. But we are stealthy enough that we can sneak into the system unobserved, see what’s going on, and then sneak right back out with no one the wiser. I just want to watch. Every instinct is telling me that this is important.”
“How can anything involving that system be important? The Pfelung are just another alien neutral power in the Free Corridor, and a fairly minor one at that.”
“They’re more important than you think. Sure, their Navy isn’t nearly the size of ours, or even the Romanovans, but it is nothing to disregard, either. The Pfelung Association contains eleven systems: there’s Pfelung itself which is more populous than Earth and has a higher industrial capacity, and then they have ten other worlds, all very populous and productive, imagine ten worlds all like Alphacen or Bravo, with a strong industrial base and most with shipyards capable of producing warships. And, their Navy is substantial—enough to make up three or four well-rounded battle groups. They’ve got four carriers, seven heavy Battlecruisers, and about two dozen Cruisers, and more than fifty Frigates and Destroyers, plus some truly amazing battle stations to cover their jump points. If you know something of Earth History, think of Switzerland, a small independent Neutral power more than strong enough to be safe from invasion.
“And, there’s one more thing to remember about their Navy. They have, by far, the best fighter pilots in the known galaxy.”
Sahin laughed. “Surely not. The idea is almost comical. I have never seen a species that looked less likely to be able to pilot nimble little fighter ships in my life. The adults must weigh a hundred and seventy kilos if they weigh a gram, lumbering about on those great limbs of theirs, they can scarcely move unless they are in the water, and even then they are slow and ponderous.”
“And, yet, they are undoubtedly the best. They make the Blue Angels look like drunk Greenies flying Gemini space capsules. It’s the smaller, nimble adolescents who fly the fighters, not the lumbering adults you are used to seeing. In the wild, they had the job of defending both the young and the little hatchlings from predators. A lot like bottle nosed dolphins on Earth: a meter and a half long, about fifty kilos, accustomed to moving in a three-dimensional environment, fast, agile, incredibly brave on a fundamental and instinctual level. Natural fighter pilots. A squadron of them could mop the deck with the fighter wings from two Fleet Carriers and maybe a third, easy. I’d love to have them as allies.”
“Sure, that would be a help. No doubt.”
“But, that doesn’t touch the real issue with the Pfelung. It isn’t evident from most maps, but they stand on the best invasion route from Krag space toward the Core Systems. It’s all in the jump points. The way the jump points lie, if the Krag take Pfelung itself, then they can just jump around the current lines of defense and plunge right into the heart of our space. If they do that, they can cut off the main body of our fleet from its source of fuel and provisions, outflank and destroy it, and they’re free to turn to the Core Systems. To make things worse, the forces sent to do it would have a clear, straight line of communications and supply back to Krag space. Complete disaster. The war would effectively be over. It would still take years for the Krag to work their way through each system and move up their heavy forces jump by jump, but we would have no hope of stopping them.”
“But, surely, adequate provision has been made for this eventuality.”
“The Pfelung themselves can read a star projection as well as anyone. They know they’re on a natural invasion route and they have no wish to be invaded. So, the jump point into their system that the Krag would use is covered by the most powerful battle station in Known Space. I can’t pronounce the name in their language, but it means ‘That Which Cannot Be Moved.’ It’s got twenty, count-em, twenty pulse cannon, powered by half a dozen huge fusion reactors. Two thousand, five hundred gigawatt rating. Each. Nothing could get past it. Even if you could push a dozen Battleaxe class Battleships through the jump without any warning, the Pfelung would have space wiped clean of the lot in under a minute. Plus, they have most of their not-inconsiderable fleet patrolling the outskirts of their system to deal with anything of the limited size and power that could come up on them from the outside using compression drive.
“So, there’s no way past them. Crossing interstellar space on compression drive, the Krag have too far to go. Any force with enough firepower to break through the Pfelung fleet and defensive installations would be so large and slow that it would be spotted two months out. The Pfelung would subject it to continual hit and run attrition attacks for the whole two months and wear them down to nothing. Any force fast enough to cross the distance before it’s spotted and attacked wouldn’t have the necessary firepower. And, if the Krag try to get around that problem by jumping into the system, when they fail to send the right IFF, That Which Cannot Be Moved pounds them to dust before they can squeak. There’s just no way in.”
“Like Gibraltar.”
“Hmm?” Max’s attention, having wandered off to turn over the problem in his mind, snapped back.
“Gibraltar. I’m quite certain you must have heard of it. It was a British fortress guarding a strategically important maritime choke point at the entrance to the Mediterranean Sea on Earth, formerly known as the Pillars of Her—“
“Oh my God!” Max suddenly felt as though his stomach had been filled with cold lead. The deck seemed to move under his feet.
“You interrupted me,” Sahin said petulantly. “I was about to give voice to something I know of your sphere of expertise.”
“I’m sorry, Bram,” he said, his voice quiet but intense. “But what you said just now, ‘Gibraltar.’ I’ve just had the most horrible thought. Sweet Jesus, I can’t believe this. Have you ever heard of the ‘Gibraltar of the East’?”
“No, I cannot say that I have.” He finally got that something serious was going on.
“Singapore. That’s got to be what they’re up to,” he said to himself. Then, to Sahin, “Singapore was a British base on an island at the tip of the Malay Peninsula: the ‘Gibraltar of the East,’ supposedly impregnable. Two shore batteries, brilliantly made 380 millimeter guns, expertly served, vast supply of ammunition, protected by reasonably good troops under a competent commander. It was an impossible nut to crack from the sea. Yet, the Japanese took it with ease early in Earth’s Second World War.”
“But, if it was so impregnable, how did the Japanese take it?”
“They attacked from the land.”
Chapter 22
06:09Z Hours 9 February 2315: The Battle of Pfelung
Max was frustrated. Frustrated enough to punch holes through bulkheads, chew through reactor shielding, and insult a fully grown Vaach’s Forest Cadre hunting buddies to his face. No, he was more frustrated than that. He could see the whole thing. He could see it clear as his hand in front of his face. He knew exactly what the Krag were doing, as well as when, where, and how they were going to do it. He knew that if they did it, it would be an unmitigated catastrophe for the human race and for just about everyone else in this part of the galaxy.
And there didn’t seem to be a damn thing he could do about it.
Comms had tried all the Pfelung voice and data channels, but the main Pfelung Out-System Communications Relay and Exchange had automatically rejected the incoming signal because it came from a Union warship and, under their strict neutrality laws, the Pfelung did not communicate with the warships of any of
the belligerent powers in the current war. Comms tried spoofing the OSCoRE by changing the Source Origination Code for the signal to make it appear that it did not come from a Union warship, but the Pfelung computer had already associated the ship’s location in space with the original code and saw through the ruse. Comms tried bypassing the OSCoRE by signaling some of the larger entities on the planet that had their own comm networks and channels, but all had rejected the signal as soon as the recipient figured out who the sender was. A very helpful female with the Pfelung Astronomical, Astrophysical, Astrometric, and Astrocartographic Administration had, however, suggested that the communication should be directed through standard diplomatic channels. A snide remark involving the letters “as” started to suggest itself to Max, but he was too angry to allow it to form completely in his mind.
Standard diplomatic channels. Brilliant. Only, as part of their strict neutrality, the Pfelung would not allow the Union to maintain an Embassy or a Consulate or even so much as a GT & T branch office in their space. When the Pfelung say “strict neutrality,” they aren’t kidding. Accordingly, “standard diplomatic channels” would consist of (1) a message from the Cumberland across a thousand light years using the Union Navy Military Communications Interstellar Relay System directed to the Naval Diplomatic Liaison in Norfolk on Earth, which the Navy would relay to (2) the Pfelung Interest Section of the Union Foreign Ministry in Geneva on Earth, who would (3) relay the message to the Tri-Nin Embassy to the Union in New York, who would (4) pass the message along through the civilian Joint Intersystem Voice and Data Communications System (JIVDCS) to the Tri-Nin Foreign Ministry on the capital world of the Benevolent Sisterhood of the Tri-Nin Matriarchs and their Associated Males, Tri-Ninjupuq, about four hundred light years from Earth, after which it would (5) make its way across seven hundred light years using the JIVDCS to the “Terran Interest Correspondent Officer” in the Tri-Nin Embassy to the Political and Economic Association of Pfelung Worlds on Pfelung, who would, (6) refer the message to the Pfelung Commissariat for Communications With Creatures Who Live Beyond the Waters (more commonly referred to as their Foreign Ministry), who would, at long last, (7) hand the communication off to the Pfelung Comprehensive Authority for the Harmonious Swimming Together of the Warriors, their equivalent of the Union Joint Chiefs of Staff. Even using the highest priority channels, and assuming the officials involved acted instantaneously (as if that would ever happen), the shortest possible transmission time for a message to travel one way along that route was three days, fourteen hours, fifty two minutes, and nineteen seconds.
To Honor You Call Us Page 34
