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“Permission to speak freely, Captain?” asked Security Officer Lieutenant Henrich Brenhoff.

Captain Tarvis Hanbaum, the commander of the Space Navy cruiser Resolute Venture nodded. “Go ahead, Lieutenant."

“Why does Admiral Machao hate you so much?”

The ship’s adjutant, Lieutenant Commander Argilene, placed a hand over her eyes and lowered her head.

Seated next to her, the beefy Executive Officer, Major Melewes, leaned over and whispered, “Son, I can’t decide whether you’re extremely brave or extremely stupid.”

Tarvis scowled at his XO. “Now who’s scaring the junior officers?” He turned to the young man. “You joined the crew at the last minute and have every right to know what you signed up for.”

“Sir, I’ve heard four different stories through the rumor mill that vary wildly. The one commonality is a mission you served on together went sideways.”

Tarvis laughed. “Sideways hardly does justice to how far off course the mission went. In the heavily redacted official logs, what happened is known as The Incident on UXP-27-01.”

“Sir, is UXP-27-01 a ship designation?”

Major Melewes fielded the question. “Whenever the Astrocartography Section discovers a new solar system with potentially-habitable planets, the solar system is assigned a catalog number. UXP means unexplored. Twenty-seven is the sequence number of unexplored solar systems. The number one is the sequence number of the planet within the solar system.”

“Now I understand why the reports refer to our mission as UXP-29-03. We’re on the third planet in unexplored solar system number twenty-nine.”

“That’s correct. The mission to UXP-27-01 was a little over two years ago, temporally speaking for me and Lieutenant Commander Argilene,” Tarvis said while gesturing toward the still embarrassed adjutant. She had come up through the officer ranks with him, so shared a similar temporal timeline.

“I was on a science mission in real-time putting the story about seven years ago in universal time,” the XO interjected.

Lieutenant Brenhoff looked at the ceiling while calculating the difference between universal time and his relativistic time. “About the time I was entering military academy.”

Major Melewes nodded. “Captain Hanbaum tells me you were in the special forces. You must have racked up quite a bit of relativistic time.”

“Well, sir, my missions were within Federation space so our relativistic flights were short. I’ve accumulated more months in relativistic time for this mission than all the other missions combined.”

Melewes pointed at the ship commander and adjutant. “Don’t let their young looks fool you. Thanks to all the relativistic years they’ve accumulated, they are chronologically older than your grandparents.”

“Ignore the XO,” Tarvis said. “He’s just chuffed about being physically older than us despite being born twenty-seven years after us.”

Lieutenant Commander Argilene interrupted their banter. “I’m aging by the minute listening to both of you. The lieutenant wants to hear the story behind the admiral’s disdain for you.”

Tarvis settled back into his chair to tell the story.

* * *

I was serving as Executive Officer for the then Captain Machao. We were assigned to a newly commissioned Pathfinder class exploration ship for its maiden flight. According to the contact team, the planet UXP-27-01 was a peaceful civilization on the cusp of a Scientific Revolution. They were an amiable people who still embraced mysticism but were excited to join the Federation. The diplomatic mission was considered a milk run intended to give the new ship a shakedown. Our job was simple. We show the natives what’s possible through science and allow them to decide whether to become a technological society or not.

During the third dozen-days on the planet, the ambassadors of the planet invited me and Captain Machao to what we thought was an indoor market. Always on the lookout for a gift for his wife—

Lieutenant Commander Argilene leaned forward, a glint of amusement in her eyes. "Who everyone agrees married beneath her station. If you’ve met the Admiral, you know he’s unremarkable in every way."

The building was a warehouse filled with tables holding various items. There was clothing, pottery and housewares, jewelry and so forth. All the goods laid out like you’d find in a market on any Federation planet. So anyway, Captain Machao saw a broach he knew his wife would love.

In a dazzling city where everything was handmade and decorated with mystical symbology, the broach was indescribably beautiful. Intricate gold and silver threads were woven around spectacular rare gems. It seemed to glow with an internal light.

“Ask them how much they want for the broach,” the captain told me.

Recall, this is a society without computers. Everything is handwritten which meant no digital files for our translator AI to learn from. The AI had a crude language model, which made communication slow. I relied heavily on pantomime and hand gestures during our conversation.

The ambassadors huddled together for ten minutes, debating amongst themselves. Finally, the eldest said, “We entrust the Broach of Yuzut into your care,” as he presented the broach to Captain Machao.

Argilene jabbed a finger at Tarvis. “That should have been his first clue." Tarvis flicked his eyes her way and she dropped her hand. "Sorry. Tell the story.”

Captain Machao smiled as he took the broach and then placed it into a jacket pocket. This resulted in immediate gasps and cries from the ambassadors. I leaned over to whisper, “Sir, I believe they are saying the broach must always be displayed. They want you to wear it.”

To his credit, Captain Machao invented an elaborate ceremony on the spot to fasten it to the left breast pocket of his uniform jacket. He smiled, waved, and then backed out of the building, leaving me to explain why he was returning to the ship.

“He took it and ran?” asked the lieutenant, his mouth agape. “Why?”

The adjutant replied, “The man lives for the adoration of his wife. He ran off to use his limited personal quantum message credits to send her a picture.”

Lieutenant Brenhoff directed his question to Tarvis. “How did the natives react?”

Major Melewes' eyes sparkled as he chuckled. “This is my favorite part.”

Tarvis cleared his throat and continued his story.

The next morning, a small cluster of natives assembled around the security perimeter. An elder we had not seen before, very old and frail, asked the checkpoint security detail for permission to board the ship. I granted permission and went outside to escort him. Captain Machao greeted him warmly, while wearing the broach. The old man mumbled when he spoke, so I had to stand next to him.

“The venerable elder wants the broach back,” I said.

“It was a gift. Tell him in our culture, one does not ask for a gift back.” Then he put his hands on his hips and puffed up his chest in that pompous, self-important way he does.

I spoke slowly, carefully enunciating Machoa’s words and waited for a reply. “He says the broach is priceless to his people.”

The man mumbled some more. “They need it for a ceremony. As is their custom, you must pass it on to him,” I said while looking directly at the captain.

“In their culture,” Melewes said, “property ownership is communal. An individual can’t take something and keep it for themselves.”

d“I see what this is. A shakedown for money. They sent this old man with one foot in the grave assuming I’d take pity on him and not haggle.”

Again, I’d never met this elder, but I was getting a different vibe. “Sir, I’m not positive about the definition of the word he used, but I don’t think he wants money.”

Machoa says, “Give him a box of the gold coins we use for trading and send him away. That should be more than fair compensation.”

The old man looked confused when I explained the meaning of the box. He was unhappy but exited the ship without incident. Shortly afterwards, the crowds dispersed.

A shadow flickered across Lieutenant Brenhoff's face. "Beware the wrath of the silent man.”

“Too true.” That evening, as the last rays of the sun were dancing across the horizon, the old man returned. He was accompanied by a mob bearing torches.

I interrupted the captain during his dinner to inform him. “Sir, we have a situation. The old man is outside with thousands of natives all demanding the broach.”

He says, ‘We paid him for it. Tell them to disperse before we have to demonstrate our power.”

Accepting my duties as XO, I said I would handle it and went to parlay. As soon as I stopped in front of the old man he held the box over his head, opened the lid, and poured the coins onto the ground. He didn’t utter a word before turning around and walking away with the mob following him.

A slow nod accompanied the adjutant’s comment. “An action so universal you don't need a translator.”

The security detail and I were collecting the coins, when in the distance, we hear a deep bass whooshing sound. The sound gets louder and then it’s on top of us. We looked up and saw a giant flaming ball arc overhead and smash into the ship’s bow. The acrid smell of burning sulfur and pitch filled the air. Moments later, a fireball flew from the port side of the ship and scored a hit. Then one from the starboard side, followed by one from aft of the ship. Every fireball scored a direct hit against the hull.

The lieutenant leaned forward in his seat, eyes shining. “Sounds like the peaceful natives had experience with war. They attacked from each cardinal direction to illustrate their tactical advantage.”

“Something I realized as well.” We raced to the bridge. Absolute pandemonium has broken out. At the center of it all is Machao ordering a full-scale retaliation. I took control of the situation. “Sir, diplomatic protocol specifies we fire once at one of their launchers as a show of force. Then we return to orbit and attempt to reset diplomatic relations.”

There’s a look of terror in his eyes and he shouts, “They are trying to kill us, XO. Now is not the time to lecture me about what I can and cannot do!”

I pointed at the monitor screens. “The projectiles are making a spectacle but we’re not in danger. Let’s not use a sledgehammer to swat a flea.” Using one of his pat phrases against him was not what he wanted to hear. His face turned bright red, and you could see veins throbbing under the skin. “Fire a warning shot, but ensure it destroys their weapon. They need to know how accurate our fire can be. Then launch the ship, XO.”

Fireballs continued bouncing off the hull while I’m giving orders. I relieved the weapons officer and took control of aiming the ship’s laser cannon. I blasted the throw arm and the trigger mechanism of a catapult with precise hits. We demonstrated our offensive capability without hurting anyone and forced a lull in their firing. I returned control of the weapons station and ordered an immediate liftoff.

Unfortunately, as the nose pulled up, one of the flaming catapult projectiles rolled into the intake of an atmospheric engine. This forced an engine shutdown and we limped into space while leaving a smoke trail behind us. As we gained elevation, I could see the extent of their forces. The old man must have spent all day to marshal the tens of thousands of troops and equipment surrounding our landing site.

The lieutenant whistled. “I’m guessing the admiral didn’t appreciate how you handled the situation.”

“Not in the slightest.” He was furious and yelled at me in front of the bridge crew.

“No danger? They damaged a brand-new ship. We barely made it into low orbit.” His fists are clenched and his lips are quivering. There’s spittle coming from his mouth as he growls, “Come with me, XO,” and he stomps off to his office.

I followed. Knowing I’m about to get chewed out, I assume the position of parade rest, front and center of his desk. He sees me and yells, “Commander Hanbaum, come to attention!”

Having served as a soldier like yourself, I’m still conditioned to assume the position of attention without hesitation. The rapidity and crispness at which I assumed the position only made Captain Machao angrier. I swear to you, his face turned purple with rage, and he screeched at me. "I am tired of having to explain to you," he spat, with such force that flecks of spittle peppered my face, "that the function of an executive officer is to make the commander—that’s me, in case you forgot—look good!"

For the next twenty minutes, he blamed me for everything that went ‘not as planned’ on the planet. I hadn’t been dressed down so thoroughly since I was an enlisted man. The one complaint that’s stuck with me for its unprecedented level of pettiness, was for his dinner going cold.

Argilene wagged her finger at the young officer. “The admiral is a vengeful man so stay on his good side. Best advice I can give you is to avoid associating with anyone he dislikes. Although I had nothing to do with the incident, he made my life miserable the entire return trip to space dock.”

“No offense intended, sir. How did both of you avoid expulsion or being demoted?”

Both of those punishments were held over our head for months. A period long enough for relativistic time differences to ensure all potential native witnesses were dead of old age. Eventually, the inquest by United Fleet Command absolved both of us of wrongdoing. The inquest blamed the AI translator and ‘native superstition’ instead of us.

Brenhoff shook his head. "He avoided all responsibility and got to keep the broach? He must have friends in high places."

That, and the admiral hadn’t been trained in diplomacy which meant the UFC was culpable. They chose to exonerate us rather than open internal investigations of fleet officers.

For having us chased off a primitive planet they reprimanded Captain Machao for cultural insensitivity. A dozen-days later, they promoted him to admiral. His only significant punishment was assigning him command of a transport ship and having to continue serving with me. He is incapable or unwilling to accept his part in the incident so blames everything on me. That is why he is in space on the transport ship gloating and inventing new ways to make our stay on this dry, dusty, desert planet even more difficult.

The adjutant laughed. “Captain, you misunderstood command’s intentions. His punishment was command of the transport." A slow smile spread across her face. "Your punishment was to continue serving under the admiral.”

Captain Hanbaum shrugged. “I prefer what’s in the official record. Besides, I’m a decorated war hero and therefore always the hero of my stories.” Standing to signal an end to the staff meeting, Tarvis said, “Glad to have you aboard, Lieutenant. Don’t screw up.”