For Honor We Stand (64 page)
What was not known was how the vote turned out. That was the most closely-held secret in the history of the Union. Only the President, the Senate, and Minister Bernard knew the outcome, and they were all secluded on Luna Base under Marine guard with all the long distance comms on the whole Moon shut down so that no one could leak the result. It was feared that disclosure of the outcome, before it became a
fait accompli
by transmission to the Krag, might spawn demonstrations, riots, even secession of worlds from the Union, detracting from the unanimity of the response and rendering it ineffective. This step, standing alone, made Max lose almost all hope.
The response to the Krag had been encrypted with a timelock code that would not allow it to be read until the appointed moment, the timelock encrypted data encrypted again in ICEPACK, the Union’s highest level encrypt, and placed on a datachip to be carried to the rendezvous in the
Cumberland
and transmitted.
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.
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 9
th
Grade English at Oak Park Junior High School and Ms. Jacqueline S. Finnegan who taught 11
th
and 12
th
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.
