Read Online For Honor We Stand by Harvey G. Phillips, H. Paul Honsinger - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Harvey G. Phillips, H. Paul Honsinger
Tags: Science-Fiction
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didn’t want to say anything in the report that might change the Admiral’s mind.
Some captains solved this dilemma by walking the line in every sentence—that is, by writing the entire report in a moderate, balanced tone, neither too aggressive nor too cautious. Max could never make himself do that. His technique was, instead, to strike a balance by using counterweights. A series of aggressive sentences would be balanced by a few cautious ones so that, on the whole, the report was an appropriate compromise. He never knew if it had the desired effect but, until someone told him to do it different, he was going to keep doing what he was doing.
In any event, it would be several days before the Cumberland was going to be doing much of anything, interesting or otherwise. With her compression drive out of commission until she could rendezvous with a repair tender, Cumberland could travel through space in only two ways: propelled by her main sublight drive through normal, Einsteinian space, and hurled by her jump drive from one pre-surveyed jump point to another, similar point in a nearby solar system, skipping over the intervening light years in an instant. With these limitations, it took the Cumberland something like 16 hours to travel at roughly half the speed of light the average 60 AU distance within a star system from the jump point by which it arrived to the jump point by which it left. And, the task force was four systems away. Given the present performance level of this crew, though, there was always plenty to keep the men busy while the ship crossed one star system after another, mainly training, training, and more training. There were GQ drills, combat drills, fire-fighting drills, damage control drills, and boarder repulsion drills. There was rifle practice, shotgun practice, side arm practice, grenade practice, and practice with the various edged weapons issued to or allowed to be used by the officers and men, including the boarding cutlass, the dirk, and the battle axe. Maybe, if they worked very, very hard, this crew’s proficiency level would rise to the task force average. Average would represent a substantial improvement because, when Max took command, the crew’s performance rating was the worst in the task force. Max was about to summon his XO to come see him about trying to squeeze more training into the schedule when his comm buzzed.
“Captain, here.”
“Skipper, this is Chin. I’ve just decrypted a signal that I think you need to see. And, sir, this is going to sound a bit odd, but I think you’re going to want to have Doctor Sahin there with you when you see it.”
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
Some captains solved this dilemma by walking the line in every sentence—that is, by writing the entire report in a moderate, balanced tone, neither too aggressive nor too cautious. Max could never make himself do that. His technique was, instead, to strike a balance by using counterweights. A series of aggressive sentences would be balanced by a few cautious ones so that, on the whole, the report was an appropriate compromise. He never knew if it had the desired effect but, until someone told him to do it different, he was going to keep doing what he was doing.
In any event, it would be several days before the Cumberland was going to be doing much of anything, interesting or otherwise. With her compression drive out of commission until she could rendezvous with a repair tender, Cumberland could travel through space in only two ways: propelled by her main sublight drive through normal, Einsteinian space, and hurled by her jump drive from one pre-surveyed jump point to another, similar point in a nearby solar system, skipping over the intervening light years in an instant. With these limitations, it took the Cumberland something like 16 hours to travel at roughly half the speed of light the average 60 AU distance within a star system from the jump point by which it arrived to the jump point by which it left. And, the task force was four systems away. Given the present performance level of this crew, though, there was always plenty to keep the men busy while the ship crossed one star system after another, mainly training, training, and more training. There were GQ drills, combat drills, fire-fighting drills, damage control drills, and boarder repulsion drills. There was rifle practice, shotgun practice, side arm practice, grenade practice, and practice with the various edged weapons issued to or allowed to be used by the officers and men, including the boarding cutlass, the dirk, and the battle axe. Maybe, if they worked very, very hard, this crew’s proficiency level would rise to the task force average. Average would represent a substantial improvement because, when Max took command, the crew’s performance rating was the worst in the task force. Max was about to summon his XO to come see him about trying to squeeze more training into the schedule when his comm buzzed.
“Captain, here.”
“Skipper, this is Chin. I’ve just decrypted a signal that I think you need to see. And, sir, this is going to sound a bit odd, but I think you’re going to want to have Doctor Sahin there with you when you see it.”
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
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