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GWOT IV - Credit
GWOT IV - Credit
When our three infirmaries received their first deliveries of medication, I had to personally sign for them as installation commander.
Staff infirmary, for us, complicated by the fact that some of my personnel were seconded to this duty due to injuries. More court recorders were in wheelchairs than not. Plus chemotherapy drugs for Agent Knight.
POW infirmary, according to the laws of war. Another reason I needed to get the POWs closed out; they were in sober fact getting better medical care than California Republic civilians.
Unlawful combatants infirmary, according to the orders of the Surgeon General of the California Republic.
That last had required discussion. We were not going to refer people on trial for their lives to an off prison hospital. I didn't have the guards. What was to keep hundreds of them from claiming say, chest pain?
I won the fight on security grounds. But the UC infirmary therefore had to be stocked as well as any other primary point of care in the Republic, because it wouldn't be referring patients anywhere, and there was some odds that some of them might be innocent after all.
The medications came in sealed boxes escorted by armed guards.
Where had they come from?
In inventorying, I read labels. They had come from Germany and Russia.
How had a poor, struggling new nation, literally fighting for its life, gotten credit to buy medications?
For that matter, how had the medications arrived?
###
"Make your depth twenty meters. Up periscope."
The commander swept the ocean carefully as the analysts looked at their screens, passively monitoring the electromagnetic spectrum. Especially for radars. No findings; no one called out.
"Compose burst signal. Message: RCS Artemis to Monterey. San Francisco outer approaches sanitized. End message."
The message was coded and sent.
"Down periscope. Make your depth forty meters. Bearing 275, three knots. Continue silent running."
"Captain," and by naval law there was only one captain on any vessel, "supplemental engineering report."
"Go ahead."
"Batteries are not performing to specifications, even in colder temperatures. Charging is less efficient underwater. At current rate of consumption we will have to start diesels in less than six hours."
"That's impossible. Take extreme power conservation measures. We have to sneak out of the lane."
The American Navy's underwater sonar capabilities were horribly precise, but the prewar SOSUS net had been heavily damaged, not least of which by Chinese underwater warfare. In this at least, China and the California Republic were allies - America's ears in the Pacific needed to be deafened.
"We have already taken all the measures we can. Heaters are off."
All of them were visibly shivering even with full uniform clothing including headgear.
"We need to take truly extreme measures. Power down battle management and fire control. Turn off the scrubbers and the emergency lighting system. Break out light sticks and oxygen candles. Everyone hydrate, then turn off the potable water pumps."
"Aye aye, Captain."
###
The freighter captain looked at the fantail of his ship.
An enormous red cross was displayed on a flag. More red crosses were painted on the bows, the superstructure and the forward decks.
This was not a hospital ship.
But it was carrying medical supplies into a war zone.
"Sir, emergency message on 121.5 and 243."
"On speakers."
"Unidentified vessel, you are approaching a port that is under blockade. You are ordered and directed to cut your engines for boarding and search."
The freighter captain picked up the mike.
"This is MV Toscana out of Vladivostok. We have only medical supplies aboard. Who is this?"
"Your identity will be confirmed by boarding and inspection."
"We will not be boarded by pirates. Identify yourself or you will be resisted."
A short pause.
"This is USCGC Douglas Munro. We are enforcing a maritime blockade of United States ports. You are not, repeat, not permitted to enter the port."
"This is MV Toscana, we are an unarmed merchant freighter carrying medical supplies on consignment to Oakland, California."
"The port of Oakland is closed to all unauthorized maritime traffic at this time. Cut your engines now."
"Sir! Sir!"
A lookout pointed. A helicopter off the port side, slowly starting to circle.
"Coast Guard ship, you have no jurisdiction over a neutral vessel carrying medical supplies. We intend to proceed to Oakland docks. We will not resist boarding but we will not cut our engines either."
The helicopter suddenly banked hard starboard and dove for the surface of the ocean. A streak of light followed it, but missed. The helicopter raced away, low and fast as it could manage.
"Surface contact, 245 degrees, a Boghammer."
A high speed small boat, a rich man's plaything, or a commando transport.
In this case, flying a huge California flag over and above the deck, with a hand held surface to air missile crew on her bow.
"MV Toscana, you are authorized to proceed," spoke a new voice. "Courtesy of the California Republic. And if the Coasties want to lose another chopper, they are welcome to circle back around and try it again."
###
The paperwork for the cargo was endorsed FOB, Free On Board. In other words, fully paid for.
The angry Asian man in the business suit changed languages three times in his conversation, on dockside with the harbormaster's agent, the customs staff and the stevedore's foreman.
He was an expediter. It was his job to get the cargo from Point A - Europe and Russia - to Point B, California. And despite his features, he was pure Californian. He had been on vacation in Europe when his home and aging parents had been vaporized in San Francisco. Staying in Europe had spared him from Homeland. But now he was in service to his home country.
He would not be paying extra fees to the stevedores. He would pay reasonable harbor charges. And the customs staff could pound sand, this was an outgoing shipment, and he had friends in Moscow. And points in between, too.
###
"This is highly unusual," said the banker.
"This is a highly unusual matter," retorted the attorney.
Both men were as European as can be. But the attorney was a paid agent of the California Republic, as loyal as money could buy.
In European high finance, that could be very loyal indeed. But the attorney had another reason for his loyalty, the idealized memory of a dead lover.
Nuking San Francisco was probably the worst idea anyone had ever had, ever. It was coming back to bite America in all sorts of ways.
"The credit of a small country at war with the United States, which shares a land border with her, is sketchy at best."
"Before the War, California would have been counted as the sixth most powerful economy in the world, by herself."
"Before," the banker added dryly.
"Now she is nuclear armed, has defined borders, has been recognized by over fifty nations ..."
"... none of them terribly important in themselves."
"... including China, Mexico and Canada..."
"... but no European power."
"I have been instructed by my principals to point out the following. California nationals hold numbered bank accounts throughout the European banking system. But Hong Kong is still an exchange. What if these accounts were to be withdrawn? And reinvested?"
"California persists in believing that the numbered bank accounts of those deceased in San Francisco are an asset. We will be happy to honor any claims by their estates, if their estates possess the necessary proof including the numbered PIN codes. If."
"Do you recall our request for the hundred sample accounts?"
"Yes."
"Here is California's reply."
The banker took the anti-RFID envelope with its heavy creased paper inside, walked over to his computer. Typed for a while.
"How is this possible?"
"Are you satisfied that the selection was random?"
"Yes... but every sample account, California was able to provide the PIN for!"
"Do you dispute the ownership of these accounts?"
"We have a fiduciary duty to our account holders ..."
"... even after they are deceased, you mean?"
"... to follow our security procedures."
"California has met them. Will you honor a withdrawal on these hundred sample accounts? And then the tens of thousands to follow?"
The question hung heavily in the air.
"In that case, I am instructed to give you this second letter."
The letter was much plainer than the first, but bore the logo of the California Republic and of its Strategic Defense Force. A bear throwing a javelin.
The banker read it slowly. Stopped. Read it again. Flinched. Put it down slowly.
"Hand it back, if you please."
The banker did, hands shaking.
"We will of course be pleased to work with our new friend and partner the California Republic," he said woodenly and slowly.
When our three infirmaries received their first deliveries of medication, I had to personally sign for them as installation commander.
Staff infirmary, for us, complicated by the fact that some of my personnel were seconded to this duty due to injuries. More court recorders were in wheelchairs than not. Plus chemotherapy drugs for Agent Knight.
POW infirmary, according to the laws of war. Another reason I needed to get the POWs closed out; they were in sober fact getting better medical care than California Republic civilians.
Unlawful combatants infirmary, according to the orders of the Surgeon General of the California Republic.
That last had required discussion. We were not going to refer people on trial for their lives to an off prison hospital. I didn't have the guards. What was to keep hundreds of them from claiming say, chest pain?
I won the fight on security grounds. But the UC infirmary therefore had to be stocked as well as any other primary point of care in the Republic, because it wouldn't be referring patients anywhere, and there was some odds that some of them might be innocent after all.
The medications came in sealed boxes escorted by armed guards.
Where had they come from?
In inventorying, I read labels. They had come from Germany and Russia.
How had a poor, struggling new nation, literally fighting for its life, gotten credit to buy medications?
For that matter, how had the medications arrived?
###
"Make your depth twenty meters. Up periscope."
The commander swept the ocean carefully as the analysts looked at their screens, passively monitoring the electromagnetic spectrum. Especially for radars. No findings; no one called out.
"Compose burst signal. Message: RCS Artemis to Monterey. San Francisco outer approaches sanitized. End message."
The message was coded and sent.
"Down periscope. Make your depth forty meters. Bearing 275, three knots. Continue silent running."
"Captain," and by naval law there was only one captain on any vessel, "supplemental engineering report."
"Go ahead."
"Batteries are not performing to specifications, even in colder temperatures. Charging is less efficient underwater. At current rate of consumption we will have to start diesels in less than six hours."
"That's impossible. Take extreme power conservation measures. We have to sneak out of the lane."
The American Navy's underwater sonar capabilities were horribly precise, but the prewar SOSUS net had been heavily damaged, not least of which by Chinese underwater warfare. In this at least, China and the California Republic were allies - America's ears in the Pacific needed to be deafened.
"We have already taken all the measures we can. Heaters are off."
All of them were visibly shivering even with full uniform clothing including headgear.
"We need to take truly extreme measures. Power down battle management and fire control. Turn off the scrubbers and the emergency lighting system. Break out light sticks and oxygen candles. Everyone hydrate, then turn off the potable water pumps."
"Aye aye, Captain."
###
The freighter captain looked at the fantail of his ship.
An enormous red cross was displayed on a flag. More red crosses were painted on the bows, the superstructure and the forward decks.
This was not a hospital ship.
But it was carrying medical supplies into a war zone.
"Sir, emergency message on 121.5 and 243."
"On speakers."
"Unidentified vessel, you are approaching a port that is under blockade. You are ordered and directed to cut your engines for boarding and search."
The freighter captain picked up the mike.
"This is MV Toscana out of Vladivostok. We have only medical supplies aboard. Who is this?"
"Your identity will be confirmed by boarding and inspection."
"We will not be boarded by pirates. Identify yourself or you will be resisted."
A short pause.
"This is USCGC Douglas Munro. We are enforcing a maritime blockade of United States ports. You are not, repeat, not permitted to enter the port."
"This is MV Toscana, we are an unarmed merchant freighter carrying medical supplies on consignment to Oakland, California."
"The port of Oakland is closed to all unauthorized maritime traffic at this time. Cut your engines now."
"Sir! Sir!"
A lookout pointed. A helicopter off the port side, slowly starting to circle.
"Coast Guard ship, you have no jurisdiction over a neutral vessel carrying medical supplies. We intend to proceed to Oakland docks. We will not resist boarding but we will not cut our engines either."
The helicopter suddenly banked hard starboard and dove for the surface of the ocean. A streak of light followed it, but missed. The helicopter raced away, low and fast as it could manage.
"Surface contact, 245 degrees, a Boghammer."
A high speed small boat, a rich man's plaything, or a commando transport.
In this case, flying a huge California flag over and above the deck, with a hand held surface to air missile crew on her bow.
"MV Toscana, you are authorized to proceed," spoke a new voice. "Courtesy of the California Republic. And if the Coasties want to lose another chopper, they are welcome to circle back around and try it again."
###
The paperwork for the cargo was endorsed FOB, Free On Board. In other words, fully paid for.
The angry Asian man in the business suit changed languages three times in his conversation, on dockside with the harbormaster's agent, the customs staff and the stevedore's foreman.
He was an expediter. It was his job to get the cargo from Point A - Europe and Russia - to Point B, California. And despite his features, he was pure Californian. He had been on vacation in Europe when his home and aging parents had been vaporized in San Francisco. Staying in Europe had spared him from Homeland. But now he was in service to his home country.
He would not be paying extra fees to the stevedores. He would pay reasonable harbor charges. And the customs staff could pound sand, this was an outgoing shipment, and he had friends in Moscow. And points in between, too.
###
"This is highly unusual," said the banker.
"This is a highly unusual matter," retorted the attorney.
Both men were as European as can be. But the attorney was a paid agent of the California Republic, as loyal as money could buy.
In European high finance, that could be very loyal indeed. But the attorney had another reason for his loyalty, the idealized memory of a dead lover.
Nuking San Francisco was probably the worst idea anyone had ever had, ever. It was coming back to bite America in all sorts of ways.
"The credit of a small country at war with the United States, which shares a land border with her, is sketchy at best."
"Before the War, California would have been counted as the sixth most powerful economy in the world, by herself."
"Before," the banker added dryly.
"Now she is nuclear armed, has defined borders, has been recognized by over fifty nations ..."
"... none of them terribly important in themselves."
"... including China, Mexico and Canada..."
"... but no European power."
"I have been instructed by my principals to point out the following. California nationals hold numbered bank accounts throughout the European banking system. But Hong Kong is still an exchange. What if these accounts were to be withdrawn? And reinvested?"
"California persists in believing that the numbered bank accounts of those deceased in San Francisco are an asset. We will be happy to honor any claims by their estates, if their estates possess the necessary proof including the numbered PIN codes. If."
"Do you recall our request for the hundred sample accounts?"
"Yes."
"Here is California's reply."
The banker took the anti-RFID envelope with its heavy creased paper inside, walked over to his computer. Typed for a while.
"How is this possible?"
"Are you satisfied that the selection was random?"
"Yes... but every sample account, California was able to provide the PIN for!"
"Do you dispute the ownership of these accounts?"
"We have a fiduciary duty to our account holders ..."
"... even after they are deceased, you mean?"
"... to follow our security procedures."
"California has met them. Will you honor a withdrawal on these hundred sample accounts? And then the tens of thousands to follow?"
The question hung heavily in the air.
"In that case, I am instructed to give you this second letter."
The letter was much plainer than the first, but bore the logo of the California Republic and of its Strategic Defense Force. A bear throwing a javelin.
The banker read it slowly. Stopped. Read it again. Flinched. Put it down slowly.
"Hand it back, if you please."
The banker did, hands shaking.
"We will of course be pleased to work with our new friend and partner the California Republic," he said woodenly and slowly.