Free For Honor We Stand by Harvey G. Phillips, H. Paul Honsinger

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: