Man Of War: To Honor You Call Us Part 23

"Yes, many freighter crew do that. I envy you, coming from such a world. I've always wanted to visit New Zarahemla. Especially the beaches. I hear they are beautiful."

"Yes," the captain responded, with the rest of his crew nodding their support. "Absolutely beautiful. I love them. In fact, I was born and raised close to the water, right there on a bay. Practically lived on the beach. Went fishing every day. I love fishing. Are you a fisherman, Captain?"

The doctor shook his head.

"Anyways, I remember my father telling me over and over again about how he had this little cypress skiff that he would row out to his favorite fishing spot, an oyster sh.e.l.l reef in a shallow, muddy bay that he would find by lining up a wind turbine with a gap between some trees. He'd catch redfish and speckled trout and a really tasty but hard-fighting little fish that we called a 'croaker' because of the noise it made. He'd bring the fish back and his mother would fry them up in this little cottage we had right on the water-beautiful place with a screen porch where we used to sit in rocking chairs and enjoy the breeze off the water. I've got a holocube of it right here. You'll see that it was really quite quaint the way they built them back then."

As the captain was droning on, he opened a small locker near the Commander's Station as if to pull out a holocube. What came out of the locker, though, was decidedly not an image of a beach cottage. Just as he accelerated his motion to bring the object to bear, two sharp reports rang out, accompanied by the sudden appearance of two roughly eleven-and-a-half-millimeter circles in the center of the captain's forehead and an explosion of bone and brain matter from the back of his skull. As the man fell to the floor, all eyes turned in the direction of the two shots.

There, in his garish faux uniform, stood Dr. Ibrahim Sahin, holding a smoking M-1911 in a two-handed combat grip, with a look on his face that could almost be characterized as embarra.s.sment. By this time the Marines had the other crew members covered with shotguns, and Major Kraft was taking a small black pistol from the dead man's hand.

"CZ 535, nine millimeter, made on Bravo. Good little pistol, actually. Good thing you had the drop on him, Doctor." He peered at the dead man's forehead. "Nice grouping, by the way. You could cover both entry wounds with a one-credit coin."

"Without meaning any insult to you, Major, I decline to accept the compliment, I'm afraid. I take pride in saving lives, not taking them."

"No insult taken. Merely admiring a thing done well." He turned to two of his men.

"Bind these two, and take them across to the c.u.mberland."

To two others: "Zamora and Ulmer, you two search the rest of the ship. Be careful." He turned back to the dead man.

"Doctor, what was it that tipped you off? I had a vague feeling that these people were not what they said they were, but I can tell you were certain they were lying."

"Quite simple, really. His ID cube said he was from New Zarahemla. What do you know about that world? Do you recognize the significance of the name?"

"Only that a lot of freighter crews come from there and that if a man from there is under your command in the corps, you generally don't have to worry about him being a drunk or a tranker. I have no idea where the name comes from."

"Aaah. Well, it appears that you and our friends here share the same-apparently quite widespread-ignorance. Zarahemla is the name of a city and a republic mentioned in the Book of Mormon. New Zarahemla takes its name from there, as it was settled by an expedition funded by the Mormon, or LDS Church as they call themselves, and to this day virtually every resident of the planet is an adherent of that faith. The first name 'Brigham' is also very rare except among Mormons. Do you know anything about the Mormons, Major?"

"Very little, I'm afraid. I suspect I'm about to learn, though."

The doctor smiled. "I will try to keep my exposition short. First, their beliefs include a requirement that they wear at all times a highly characteristic type of undergarment as a constant reminder of their promises to G.o.d, somewhat akin to the wearing of a yarmulke, or kippah, by orthodox Jews, although the precise theological bases for the two are distinct. Our late captain here, as I could see from the way he was wearing his uniform, was clearly not wearing those garments. I am quite familiar with their appearance, as a physician who, from time to time, examines members of that faith.

"Second, the Latter Day Saints strictly avoid consumption of coffee or other stimulants. As you can see, there are two cups of coffee on this bridge. Third, their religion teaches them, quite accurately I might add from a purely secular perspective, that tobacco is not fit for human consumption. The woman had a pack of cigarettes among her effects.

"On top of that, not only did they not know the tenets of the faith to which they purported to adhere, but they were profoundly ignorant of the very world from which they said they came. Our supposed captain waxed eloquent about all the time he spent on the beautiful beaches of his planet when, according to every text and guidebook, their unfortunate geology is such that the land ma.s.ses rise from the ocean so steeply that continent and sea generally meet in towering cliffs and jagged rocks.

"All of their seaports are either artificial harbors created by building jetties and wharfs that extend from the land or by dredging rivers far inland to where the water level is closer to the elevation of the land ma.s.s, which makes him a liar, and a bad one at that. I am afraid that my recognition of that fact must have shown on my face, so Mr. Johnson-or whatever his name really is-was reaching for his pistol, thinking he might be able to take the boarding party hostage and convince our people to let him go. Remember, he thought I was the captain and accordingly believed that if he held me, he might have some bargaining power."

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, Doctor," Max said admiringly.

"Traders often go to dangerous places and deal with unsavory individuals. Accordingly, most are almost always armed. 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 entree had been shrimp etouffee, 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, they are not permitted to argue that the Igandii lack jurisdiction, because they earlier masqueraded as an Igandii freighter. The are, essentially, forced to stick with their first lie instead of being able to argue the truth. 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 b.a.l.l.s 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 s.p.a.cecraft full of suspensive magnetic interfaces, you fill a s.p.a.cecraft full of electromagnetic fields-fields that radiate into the surrounding s.p.a.ce, 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. Wernher could tell you exactly.

"Not only do we use lots of bearings, but they are precision-manufactured, super hard, temperature resistant, low friction, antimagnetic, static dissipating, and have all sorts of other exotic properties. All of our bearings come from a small number of factories on Earth, Bravo, and Neue Bayern. G.o.d 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. Worth a small fortune. Our share of their value will be a nice bit of change, as will the value of the freighter. The loss of those bearings 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 as 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 your 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, but we wouldn't have to deal with this stinking drug problem, at least to this degree. How are we doing on that?"

"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 observation 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, who I am 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's 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?"

"Very much so. It seems that our freighter rats' Krag masters had a schedule for them to keep-a 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 ordered to synchronize their arrivals at the main freight transfer facility near the Charlie jump point to all occur as close as possible to 08:23 tomorrow. I plan to be there. We've already altered course. I need to see what happens when they bring all those freighters together."

"Why? You certainly cannot intend to blow up all those freighters right there in Pfelung s.p.a.ce. It would be a gross violation of their neutrality."

"I know that. But we are stealthy enough that we can sneak into the system un.o.bserved, 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 a.s.sociation 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, 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're 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 s.p.a.ce capsules. It's the smaller, nimble adolescents who fly the fighters, not the lumbering adults you're 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 s.p.a.ce 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 s.p.a.ce. 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 then 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 s.p.a.ce. 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 s.p.a.ce. I can't p.r.o.nounce the name in their language, but it means 'That Which Cannot Be Moved.' It's got twenty pulse cannons, powered by half a dozen huge fusion reactors with a twenty-five hundred gigawatt rating. Each. Nothing could get past it. Even if you could push a dozen Battleax cla.s.s battleships through the jump without any warning, the Pfelung would have s.p.a.ce 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.

"There's no way past them. Crossing interstellar s.p.a.ce 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. If the Krag were to 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 G.o.d!" Max suddenly felt as though his stomach had been filled with cold lead. The deck seemed to move under his feet.

"What's wrong?"

"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."

"Singapore. It was a British base on an island at the tip of the Malay Peninsula: the 'Gibraltar of the East,' supposedly impregnable. Two sh.o.r.e 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 j.a.panese took it with ease early in Earth's Second World War."

"But if it was so impregnable, how did the j.a.panese take it?"

"They attacked from the land."

CHAPTER 23.

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 Vaaach forest victor to his face. No, he was more frustrated than that. He could see the whole thing. 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 d.a.m.n thing he could do about it.

Comms had tried all the Pfelung voice and data channels, but the main Pfelung OutSystem 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 a.s.sociated the ship's location in s.p.a.ce with the original code and saw through the ruse.

Comms tried bypa.s.sing the OSCoRE by signaling some of the larger ent.i.ties 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.

Standard diplomatic channels. Brilliant. Only, as part of their strict neutrality, the Pfelung would not allow the Union to maintain an emba.s.sy or a consulate or even so much as a GT&T branch office in their s.p.a.ce. When the Pfelung said "strict neutrality," they weren't kidding.

Accordingly, "standard diplomatic channels" would consist of a long chain of transmissions across hundreds of light years of s.p.a.ce involving the also-neutral Tri-Nin as intermediaries and requiring at least three and a half days. The Krag would be halfway to Bravo by then.