Unlike some officers, Max believed that the obligations of command ran in both directions. Obviously, subordinates owed to their superiors duties of obedience and respect. Perhaps not so obviously, but of equal importance, superiors owed to their subordinates duties as well: loyalty, compassion, respect for their dignity, recognition of their value as individuals, teaching and guidance, correction and discipline, praise and reward for excellence and outstanding effort, and—maybe above all—trust. For Max, when a subordinate made a recommendation of that kind, particularly when all that was at stake was a little time and inconvenience, you didn’t cross examine the man about his reasons. Instead, you took his advice, proving by your actions that he has your trust. It nearly always paid off.
“Come to my Day Cabin in half an hour. I’ll have the doctor here by then.”
Chin got there first, with the doctor arriving a few moments later. The Captain’s Steward served all three men some of the excellent and ruinously expensive coffee given to Doctor Sahin by Ellington Wortham-Biggs, an art dealer on Rashid IV. As always, the taste was sublime. When Chin took a sip of the coffee and recognized the flavor, an ironic smile slowly wrote itself on his lips.
“Ok, Chin, what have you got.”
The Communications Officer, who was, after all, only a twenty year old Ensign and who had never before sat drinking coffee in the Captain’s Day Cabin, took a second or two to compose himself, and then began. “Sir, the Cumberland has assigned to it metaspacial data channel 77580, and we monitor it constantly. We get ten or twelve transmissions on it per watch, in addition to the signals we get on the ALL FLEET channel, the Task Force Tango Delta Channel, etc.
“Well, about an hour ago, we received a signal on channel 77580, only it didn’t start off with an authentication code prefix.” To the obviously confused doctor, “That’s a twenty-seven character identifier assigned to each authorized naval sender, which is how we know a signal is from Norfolk or Admiral Hornmeyer instead of from the Krag or a bunch of school kids in North Tonawanda, New York. Ordinarily, we would have discarded it, since civilians send signals on the wrong channel all the time. They get the digits transposed, punch in the wrong number, have a glitch in their equipment, bump the channel selector in the middle of sending, and so on. Most of those signals are in clear. No code. No encryption. But this signal was encrypted. Not only that, it’s a Union Space Navy encrypt. Permafrost.”
Max, who had been sitting rather comfortably (all right, he was slouching) suddenly sat bolt upright. “Permafrost? You’re sure they used that one?”
“No doubt, sir. We get a perfectly comprehensible, if a bit cryptic, message if we use Permafrost. Otherwise, we just get a lot of gibberish.”
“Pardon me,” the doctor verbally threw an elbow to get into the conversation. “But not everyone present is versed on the latest developments in military and naval cryptography. What is so special about Permafrost?”
The entire ship’s company had tacitly agreed that it was the Captain’s job to answer this kind of question for the doctor. Max tried to keep his voice from sounding too pedantic. “It’s the code name of a high level naval encrypt. In fact, it’s Indigo level, which is the second highest. We replaced it with Icicle what, about four months ago?” Chin nodded a confirmation. “Even if we have no indication of it having been broken, we never use any encryption for more than a year. That way, even if someone does break it the damage is limited and the enemy has to start off breaking a new one.
“Anyway, Permafrost was the main high level encrypt we used for sending intelligence reports, operational orders, tactical and strategic communications, basically the kind of information that would do the most damage if it fell into the hands of the enemy. There’s only one higher level, Violet, that we use for our deepest, darkest secrets. I’ve never received anything encrypted at that level—I’m not important enough, you see—so I really don’t know what is more important than the Indigo material. Who other than the Navy would have the ability to send a message in Permafrost and why would they do it?”
“I have an idea, sir,” said Chin, somewhat tentatively.
“Let’s have it.”
“Another government with a strong defense and intelligence establishment could pull it off: Romanova, Rashid, Ghifta, Pfelung. Now, suppose a private party wanted to hint that he had high level connections with one of those governments, but did not want to come right out and say so. Or, what if a government wanted to communicate something to us unofficially through a private party, but in a way that said the communication had official sanction. This would be a good way to do it. The sender would be providing us with his bona fides right there, in the structure of the message. Of course, I’ve seen the message, and that theory fits with what it says.”
“Let’s see the message, then.”
Chin reached into a pocket of his uniform and pulled out two slips of paper. Actual paper. Very few things on a warship were printed on paper. With each man having two or three padcomps and computer work stations and consoles with computer access all over the ship, there was little need to print anything. Perhaps more than anything else, committing the message to hard copy showed how much importance Chin attached to the communication. He slid the printouts across the small table to the Captain and the Doctor. They read: “TO THE DISCIPLE OF APOLLO COMMA THE MAN WITH WHOM YOU LAST TOUCHED SWORDS URGENTLY DESIRES TO MEET WITH YOU AND YOUR PRINCIPAL IN CONFIDENCE ON A MATTER OF THE HIGHEST POSSIBLE IMPORTANCE TO THOSE WHO SHARE YOUR QUESTIONABLE TASTE IN ATTIRE STOP COME TO THE PLACE WHERE THE MASTIFF SLEEPS AS SOON AS YOU ARE ABLE STOP WEAR SOMETHING TURQUOISE AND ARRIVE RIDING THE SAME HORSE AS PREVIOUSLY STOP MESSAGE ENDS.”
“Now I don’t understand all of this,” Chin said, “but based on the reference to Apollo I thought it was probably addressed to you, Doctor, and that he wants to meet with the both of you. I don’t know the rest, but it looked extremely important to me, so I brought it to your attention right away.”
“Outstanding work, Chin,” Max said. “Your instincts were perfectly correct. Thank you. The doctor and I will take this from here. You’re dismissed.” Chin drained his coffee cup, set it down, rose, and left.
“Well, Bram, I hope you can make more sense of this than I can, because other than knowing who Apollo is, the rest of it is Greek to me.”
“Apollo. Greek. Your wit never ceases to amaze. But, as a matter of fact, Max, I believe I understand every word of it perfectly. This is only fitting. The message is, after all, addressed to me. One might expect, therefore, that the writer would adapt the message to my particular understanding.”
“All right, then, translate it for me.”
“Very well. As Ensign Chin correctly surmised, I am the disciple of Apollo. The physician’s Hippocratic Oath begins with the invocation of several ancient deities, the first of whom is Apollo. The man with whom I recently touched swords is Ellington Wortham-Biggs. As part of our recent dealings we swore a Rashidian ‘Sword Oath’ that involved drawing our swords and touching them flat to flat near the tips. You, my friend, are my principal. Those who share my questionable taste in attire are, I believe, the Navy, as we all wear the same uniform which, I believe, the perfectly turned out Mr. Wortham-Biggs would regard as most unbefitting a gentleman. The directive to wear something turquoise is most likely a reference to the turquoise sash that goes on my uniform when I am acting as an Ambassador. He wishes that I be empowered to act in that capacity when I meet with him, just as I was with the Pfelung. The place where the mastiff sleeps is his private office. There was a most enormous, somnolent, loudly-snoring mastiff there when we met.”
“And ‘the same horse’ means that we are to arrive in the microfreighter rather than bringing the Cumberland, a rated warship of a foreign power, to the capital world of the Kingdom,” Max finished.
“A reasonable interpretation.”
“But what would be the ‘matter of highest possible importance?”
“I’m sure I have no idea, but as you
could tell from my report regarding my negotiations with him, this gentleman is wealthy, exceptionally well-connected, and possesses impressive intellectual gifts. If he wants to meet with me in an ambassadorial capacity and says that the subject matter of that meeting is something of the highest possible importance to the Navy, I am inclined to believe him.”
“So am I.”
Chapter 3
06:42Z Hours, 19 March 2315
So was the Admiral. Max pulled up his most recently-issued orders:
09:55Z 17 March 2315
TOP SECRET
URGENT: FOR IMMEDIATE IMPLEMENTATION
FROM: HORNMEYER, L.G., VADM USN CDR TF TD
TO: ROBICHAUX, MAXIME T., LCDR USN
1. USS CUMBERLAND, DPA 0004, IS ORDERED TO RAIPUR II AT BEST PRUDENT SPEED TO RENDEZVOUS WITH ROTTERDAM CLASS TENDER, USS NEWPORT NEWS, TMA 1968, TO UNDERGO REPAIRS AND REFIT CONSISTENT WITH SEPARATE ORDERS ISSUED THIS DATE.
2. YOU AND DOCTOR SAHIN ARE TEMPORARILY DETACHED FROM VESSEL AND DIRECTED TO PROCEED TO RASHID IV, TRANSPORT VIA SHETLAND MICROFREIGHTER PREVIOUSLY ISSUED. WHEN IN RASHID SYSTEM, AS WELL AS IN ROUTE TO AND FROM, YOU AND DOCTOR SAHIN ARE AUTHORIZED TO WITHHOLD DISCLOSURE OF NAVAL AFFILIATION AS YOU DEEM APPROPRIATE TO COMPLETION OF MISSION. UNIFORM REGULATIONS ARE WAIVED FOR THESE PERSONNEL FOR DURATION OF THIS MISSION.
3. DOCTOR SAHIN IS HEREBY APPOINTED ACTING UNION AMBASSADOR AND MINISTER PLENIPOTENTIARY TO THE UNIFIED KINGDOM OF RASHID, ALLIED EMIRATES, AND PROTECTED ISLAMIC WORLDS FOR THE PURPOSE OF CONDUCTING ANY NEGOTIATIONS AND CONCLUDING ANY AGREEMENTS WITHIN THE SCOPE OF THE INSTRUCTIONS ISSUED TO HIM UNDER SEPARATE COVER. IN THIS REGARD, HIS AUTHORITY SHALL BE DEEMED TO SUPERCEDE THAT OF THE REGULARLY APPOINTED UNION RESIDENT MINISTER NOW IN PLACE. SIGNED AND SEALED COMMISSION TO THAT EFFECT ALREADY IN POSSESSION OF LCDR ROBICHAUX.
4. DURATION OF DIPLOMATIC MISSION TO BE AT DISCRETION OF DOCTOR SAHIN BUT SHALL NOT EXCEED FIFTEEN DAYS ABSENT EXPLICIT ORDERS FROM THIS COMMAND.
5. LCDR ROBICHAUX IS REMINDED THAT WARSHIP HULL MATERIAL, NOT TO MENTION JUMP DRIVE COMPONENTS AND COMPRESSION DRIVE PRIMARY PHASE REGULATORS, DO NOT CONDENSE FROM NEBULAE, NOR ARE THEY EASY TO REQUISITION WHEN THE FLEET IS 1000 LIGHT YEARS AWAY FROM THE CORE SYSTEMS. EXERCISE GREATER CARE IN THE FUTURE.
6. GIVEN THAT CUMBERLAND IS IN FOR REPAIRS, I MIGHT AS WELL AUTHORIZE THE REPAIR CREW TO ATTACH A SECOND BRONZE BATTLE STAR TO THE VESSEL IN RECOGNITION OF RECENT COMBAT VICTORY OVER TWO CRUISER ENEMY FORCE AT MENGIS VI. THIS CREW HAS COME A LONG WAY.
7. I HAVE REVIEWED REPORT RE ENGAGEMENT AT MENGIS VI. WHILE I HESITATE TO ENDORSE SUCH AN IMPROBABLE SEQUENCE OF HARE-BRAINED STUNTS AS ACCEPTABLE NAVAL COMBAT MANEUVERS, MAGNITUDE OF LOSSES INFLICTED UPON THE ENEMY COMPELS ME AGAINST MY BETTER JUDGMENT TO RECOMMEND YOU FOR THE ORDER OF TACTICAL MERIT. IF THE COMMENDATIONS BOARD HAS ANY SENSE, THEY WILL DENY MY REQUEST.
7. STAY OUT OF TROUBLE, ROBICHAUX. IF YOU DO ANYTHING STUPID, I WILL KICK YOUR ASS.
At least, Max thought, there is no doubt that the Admiral wrote these orders himself. He loved the warm, secure feeling he got from knowing that he was on Admiral Hornmeyer’s good side.
Given the microfreighter’s speed limitations, it was a two day trip from Raipur II to Rashid IV, a journey that the two men spent mostly catching up on things. Max was catching up on what was still referred to as “paperwork,” notwithstanding the almost complete absence of paper employed in its completion. Running a warship, even a warship as small as the Cumberland, required that her commander generate, read, review, comment upon, complete, fill out, check off, authenticate, sign, verify, forward, or reply to a staggering volume of documents and communications, a process that consumed several hours a day. The doctor was catching up on reading various medical journals, treatment bulletins, and other newly-available information on advances in medical science. This process, as well, was quite time consuming, particularly given the number of fields in which the doctor was interested and tried to remain current. Of course, his task was greatly complicated by the very nature of the healing arts, where the growth of knowledge had been accelerating with each passing month since the convergence in the twentieth century of anesthesia, antiseptic surgery, antibiotics, the germ theory of disease, and statistical/empirical analysis of treatment outcomes gave rise to what humanity calls “Modern Medicine.”
And sleep. Neither man had gotten much rest since they reported aboard the Cumberland on 21 January 2315. The microfreighter’s automated cabin monitoring system recorded many, many hours of deep, vigorous, bulkhead-rattling, manly snoring during the journey.
So it was that both men were well-rested and relaxed when they jumped into the Rashid system on 19 March and made contact with Rashidian System Traffic Control. Having completed the standard electronic identification, interrogation, and response process the microfreighter, known only by the prosaic registry number GPGC 72114, had been waiting about five minutes to receive instructions from the traffic controllers. The doctor was getting impatient.
“Do you think that something is amiss? I cannot imagine why anything would take this long.”
“Relax, Bram. Traffic controllers are just another species of government bureaucrat.” He smiled and turned towards his friend. “You are familiar with the three imperatives of bureaucratic behavior, right?” The doctor shook his head.
“Other than ‘cause as much frustration as possible to Ibrahim Sahin,’ I’m sure I have no idea.”
“Well, then, it’s a good thing you have me in your life to impart these nuggets of pure, triple-distilled wisdom to you. I am tasked with the completion of your already considerable education. Attend closely, my friend. Here are the Three Rules of Bureaucratic Behavior that Commodore Middleton taught to me years ago. One: never, ever hurry. If you do something fast once, people will expect you to do it that fast every other time. Two: never be the first person to do anything. To err is human, but to err in a way no one has erred before makes people question your judgment. Three: there is no mistake that cannot be papered over by enough of the right kind of documentation. Once the dust settles, it’s not what you do, but what you say about what you did, that matters.”
The doctor chuckled. “There is more truth to those statements than I really care to admit. There is a surprising amount of bureaucracy in a military hospital, you know. I was truly surprised because I thought that the objective external constraints of the life and death of patients would limit the development of bureaucratic tendencies. Unfortunately, however . . . .”
The doctor’s exposition on the subject of medical bureaucracy was interrupted by the three quick beeps of an attention signal from the comm panel indicating that traffic control was about to issue instructions. Twenty seconds later, the speaker came to life. “Union Microfreighter Galaxy Papa Galaxy Charlie seven-two-one-one-four this is Rashidian jump point traffic control. We are prepared to transmit navigational instructions. Are you ready to copy? Over.”
Max hit the transmit key. “This is one-one-four, acknowledging. Ready to copy instructions. Over.”
“One-one-four, you are cleared to enter system immediately. Safety, cargo inspection, and customs clearance have been waived. Entry visas are conferred upon both vessel occupants without personal interview. Standard traffic pattern approach requirement is waived. You are being given a direct approach to Rashid IV and direct clearance to land on Victor India Papa Pad zero-zero-two at Amman Spaceport. Set your transponder to squawk Kilo Papa Lima Charlie and that will get you all the way to the surface. Trajectory being downloaded to your navcomp right now. Please acknowledge receipt. Over.”
Max keyed the navcomp and saw that a nearly straight line trajectory from the ship’s current position to the surface of Rashid IV had been plotted without any of the usual weaving about to avoid other traffic, curving to avoid communications beam corridors, or oblique angles designed to bring the ship through traffic control points. Usually, the only time a ship got to follow so straight a path was when it was a warship going into combat more interested
in nuking the traffic control center than in following any instructions it might happen to issue.
“This is one-one-four. Thank you, control. Trajectory received, instructions acknowledged. Initiating approach. One-one-four out.” He killed the pickup, set the course, and engaged the drive. Then he turned to his companion. “Son. Of. A. Bitch.”
“Clearly, you are astonished.”
“Astonished? I’m flabbergasted. In the twenty years since I went to space, I’ve never heard of a dinky little banged up foreign flag microfreighter jumping into one of these independent systems and being given priority clearance all the way from the jump point to the ground, on a VIP landing pad, and on a nearly perfect direct trajectory at that. Normally, jump point control would have handed us off to system control, who would have handed us off to Rashid IV planetary zone control, then a hand off to low orbit and proximity control, hand off to approach control, hand off to descent control, hand off to spaceport and landing control. Plus, in a trading center like Rashid we would normally have to follow an approach pattern in line behind a dozen or two other ships, go through four or five traffic control points, at any one of which we could be held for hours awaiting other traffic and clearances. It would all take at least twenty hours and probably closer to thirty-six. As it stands, we’ll be on the ground in about eight hours or so, almost all of which is just the time it takes at our cruising speed to go from point A to point B. Didn’t you have to go through all of those stages when you came here in the microfreighter back in January?”
Sahin’s eyes took on a far away expression. “I suppose that we did, but Spacer Fahad was piloting the ship and I wasn’t paying very close attention. As I recall, I was reading an amazing journal article on Krag molecular biology and the relationship between the genetic sequences that they evolved for the creation of large, powerful brains to those evolved by humans. What made the article so intriguing is that, although we share many DNA sequences with the Krag, when you consider that we have forty-six chromosomes and they have forty-two, the allocation of particular base sequences to certain chromosomes doesn’t correspond with the similar allocation in humans. The instances of correspondence versus the instances of difference . . . . I see your eyes glazing over my friend. I am certain that I am boring you. In any event, you may take my word that the article was fascinating in the extreme and was more than sufficient cause for my lack of attention to the mundane details of how Spacer Fahad and I were routed from the jump point to the surface.”
For Honor We Stand Page 6