To Honor You Call Us Read Online Free Page A

He had been in more battles than many officers could even name, and was almost always assigned to one of the “fighting stations” such as Weapons, Tactical, Sensors, Countermeasures, Electronic Warfare, and various other functions directly related to taking, killing, harassing, or destroying the enemy.  Hell, he had even been wounded in combat.  Twice.  Max was itching to get back in the fight and maybe he had a chance.  Rumor had it that several new ships, fresh out of the massive fleet construction yards back in the Union’s Core Systems, were en route to join the Task Force, perhaps with officer billets to be filled from surplus personnel already here.  The Navy Cross he was just awarded for what most people were calling a “valiant boarding action” might give him a leg up in that department.  And, from there, perhaps he would receive promotion and a chance at a command.    
    Just as he started to allow himself a smile of hope, his lips curled into a frown of irritation.  Someone, visible to him only as a silhouette, was blocking his view of the majestic ringed planet that hung outside the thirty meter long window that was the room’s only attractive feature.  Max strode up to him to ask him in the deferential manner appropriate when speaking to an undoubted superior officer to step aside so that he could see. 
    The man, likely sensing Max’s approach, turned around to face him and Max’s planned request went out the airlock.  First, the man was apparently the only officer in the room with a rank lower than his, Lieutenant Junior Grade, so Max had no need for all the carefully constructed convoluted language one had to use when asking a superior to do something.  Second, he wore over his left breast a medal consisting of a silver star, indicating that the wearer was a non-combat officer; superimposed on the star was the outline of a wooden stick with a single, entwining, snake.  It was the Rod of Asclepius, the ancient emblem of a Physician.  So, the man was a Naval Doctor, and Naval Doctors were worth their weight in antimatter, meaning in general that they were pretty much a law unto themselves and in particular that under long-standing naval custom and etiquette this man could block Max’s view of the ringed planet all day if he chose.  Third, and what really killed his urge get the man out of his way, was that he wore on his face a look of such profound grief and intense, protracted, sorrow that Max could not bring himself to ask him to move.   
    The man raised his eyebrows in inquiry.  Quickly, Max decided not to say anything about his view being obstructed and hit upon the most obvious alternate pretext.  “Hello, I’m Max Robichaux, Weapons Officer of the Emeka Moro.   I’ve gotta tell you, it’s a true relief to see someone else here who isn’t the exalted Commanding Officer of some ship or other.”  As Max extended his hand, he examined the man more closely.  Physically, he was the most forgettable individual Max had ever seen.  Medium height, medium build, brown eyes, dark brown hair, features representing the mixed ancestry that was the heritage of most humans in the 24 th Century, in this case mostly Turkish with some European, and some Arabian.  Neither noticeably handsome nor noticeably unattractive, he could pass as a native or a plausible tourist on any Human world, and would not stand out on any of them. 
    The man took his hand, bowing slightly as he did so, a custom on many of the more formal human worlds and one that was growing in popularity.  “Ibrahim Sahin, Assistant Chief Medical Officer of William B. Travis Station.”  A wave of deep emotional pain, quickly checked, washed across the man’s features.  He released Max’s hand.  “I beg your pardon.  Former.  Former Assistant Chief Medical Officer.”  Former was right.  The whole enormous facility, which was supposedly in a secure rear area, had been blown to flaming atoms eight days ago with