Chapter 3

“Suteshonmaindo, how are crews selected for a new ship?”

<Crew are selected from among the personnel at Artemis base who have completed training or are awaiting reassignment.>

“Do you have an opinion as to the suitability of those personnel to effectively operate a ship of the Shimakaze’s design?”

<Previous new ship classes such as the Archerfish required either extensive retraining or specialized personnel before being successful. Evidence suggests a similar issue may be the case with the Shimakaze.>

“Are personnel available who may provide the necessary skills?”

<Artemis base does not have all the specialties deemed critical. The training program is designed to provide a consistent set of skills. Some specialties useful for this ship are not trained at Artemis base.>

“What alternatives are available?”

<Key personnel possessing the needed specialties may be assigned from your design team in BuShips, or obtained from Earth, but will require additional training.>

Hiro smiled inwardly, but as always kept his emotions concealed. “Is it correct that one of the specialties of importance is knowledge of Imperial Japanese Navy during the twentieth century?””

<Such knowledge may be useful, but is not critical. This ship requires operational skills that are not required on other ships. To effectively use this platform a crew must also employ a different doctrine than is currently trained. Full evaluation of the requirements for successful staffing cannot be sufficiently determined given the number of undetermined variables. Crew efficiency models therefore cannot be adequately established.>

Hiro considered this. Yes, you could train a westerner to wield a katana with great skill, but making him a samurai was difficult at best. The mind made the warrior, and the weapon must suit the mind. If spirit and weapon do not fit both are wasted, and performance will be unacceptable.

“What are the current plans to produce a crew for the Shimakaze, Suteshonmaindo-kun?”

<Those are still under consideration.>

Hiro silently considered this for some time.

The upper area of Hiro’s pod had become a large traditional Japanese dojo, and the Mitsubishi team gathered there each morning for exercise and meditation. The walls had racks of practice swords, even though none of the team had previously had the time to devote to martial arts training sufficient to develop a high degree of skill with them by Japanese standards. They were mostly, but not entirely, decorative.

The team had exercised this morning and had settled into meditation poses as they prepared their minds for the coming day. Preparation was important. Kokoro was supreme.

Westerners have a difficult time fully grasping the full meaning of this Japanese word, often translated as “heart.” It actually represents the mind, the spirit, consciousness, and soul all linked together as one thing, the center of one’s being. Concepts established by language and custom such as this have a subtle but profound impact on a person, and culture made those impacts consistent across large groups. It made the Japanese quite unusual among those in the Confederacy, a group that could work within it, but which would always do so with some difficulty.

“Hiro, what the hell is this? Commodore Howell pointedly questioned.

Howell was displaying a model of the Shimakaze design on the holo projector and held his hands up in frustration.

“It is the Shimakaze design, honored Commodore.”

“Dammit, I know that. Where the hell did this come from?”

Hiro kept his face lowered. “It was a product of the requirements analysis and design document that you approved, sir.”

Howell forced his eyes shut. “Look, you had a pretty simple task to perform, and I’ve got to admit you were thorough as hell on it, but this wasn’t what we had intended.”

“This was the design that best suited the task we were given. We were very diligent in ensuring that all the features and capabilities addressed the work we were asked to do. If there was a different intent, it should have been provided to us, but we had no such instruction.”

“And now I’m hearing from the AI that we’re going to have trouble finding a crew for this. How are we going to solve that problem? You designed a ship we can’t use!”

“Begging your pardon, sir, we have anticipated the potential issue and may have a solution for your consideration.”

“OK, let’s hear it. This oughta be good.” Howell muttered.

“There is a source for personnel that we believe may perform very well with this design and make use of many highly skilled personnel that the Confederacy has not previously taken advantage of. I understand you have the capability to obtain specific individuals if needed for important purposes. Is this not correct?”

“Yeah, there’s always OTE, but that’s not my wheelhouse. I don’t do personnel.”

“If you are questioned about this, you may direct those questions to my team, and we shall resolve them. You will not suffer any indignity.”

“I don’t give a crap about my dignity, Colonel. I just want results. Fine, I’ll hand that mess over to you and you can work it out with the admin guys who are crawling up my ass. You fix this, you hear?”

“Hai, Commodore. It shall be done.”

We have no parents; we make the heavens our parents
We have no home; we make our kokoro our home
We have no gathering place; we look to the celestial river

Chuichi Yushida would have no problem understanding this calligraphic work. It borrows in style and substance from a well-known Edo period poem by a samurai warrior that he would immediately recognize but altered to impart a welcome message: prepare your people for the stars.

Hiro was quite pleased with how things were developing. The Admin section had indeed sent their bitter complaints his way after the AI had thrown their staffing plans into disarray. Yes, Admin could have assembled a crew from hither and yon, with repostings coming from distant colonies, and individual extractions of people across the globe. But that would take time and demand resources that Admin couldn’t tolerate.

Western administrative personnel love to blame someone else for their problems, and it is rather simple to apologize for the inconvenience one might have caused and promise to resolve the issue on their behalf as an act of penance. It worked, of course. Although this added to his responsibilities, there were people who could help him.

Hiro sent a message to Mitsubishi about gathering the needed industrial products needed for the Shimakaze ships. Although only one was scheduled to be built immediately, ordering multiples of the needed units was more efficient, and Hiro would require Mitsubishi personnel to assist in the installation and integration of the equipment.

When he requested clearance from Commodore Howell to obtain the required storage space for the equipment and temporary housing for the Mitsubishi personnel, Howell not unexpectedly was frustrated. Nobody else was bringing up components from Earth for ship construction, the replicators did all the work. Why not just scan a copy and have the replicators do their thing? And why the technical personnel? Nobody at Jupiter Base had ever needed them before. It seemed Howell was on the brink of canceling the project, which had gone from being a source of pride to becoming an enormous pain.

To smooth things over, Hiro invited Commodore Howell to his pod for dinner. Social interactions between company personnel were an important element of the way Japanese did business, and Hiro had seen how much westerners enjoyed the exotic nature of a true traditional Japanese dining experience. The hours-long event would offer plenty of opportunities to assuage Commodore Howell’s concerns and even bring him on board.

Since the evening promised something different than the usual replicator fare at a dining hall, Howell accepted. Howell knew Hiro was trying to make up for the trouble he was somehow causing, and that rejecting the offer would be seen as an insult.

“Honorable Commodore, you honor our humble home with your presence,” Hiro said in greeting as Howell arrived at the door. The pod’s AI, katei no koe, whispered in Howell’s implant that in this household shoes were removed before entry. Nomi was happy to take them and place them by the door with the others of the household.

Nomi was dressed in a traditional kimono, and Hiro had on the business suit he’d worn on the day he was picked up. Having an honored visitor required formal attire, even if Howell was only wearing his usual duty uniform.

“It is an honor to have such a distinguished visitor,” Nomi effused. “Please follow me,” she begged, before leading them all into the house, and after sliding a screen open, bowed to indicate they should enter the small room where the meal would be served.

There was of course no replicator in the room. Instead, bowls of ingredients and previously-prepared dishes sat next to a rice cooker and brazier towards the center where Nomi would actually prepare the dishes. There was no furniture in the room besides a low table and some cushions, but comfortable mats covered the entire floor. To Howell, this was one of the most unusual things he’d seen not just in his Confederacy life, but in his entire life.

Isoroku and Kido followed the men into the room and took places at the near end of the table, while Howell was directed to the far end. Hiro took the side opposite from where the cooking would be done, leaving that other side of the table open for Nomi’s work. The Yakazuki family knelt on the cushions, and Howell copied their behavior.

Nomi began to fill small bowls of rice and another small bowl of soup and carefully placed them on the table while everyone knelt in respectful silence. Howell was a bit unsure of what to do, but figured he would wait and react to what the others did. Hiro poured himself and Howell a modest glass of warm sake.

Hiro raised his glass, and Howell mimicked him. “May our ancestors smile warmly upon our families and our friends,” he offered, and took a sip. Howell followed suit.

When everyone was served, Hiro, knowing that the Commodore would not know that everyone would wait for the guest of honor to begin, took responsibility for starting things off and said in English “I gratefully receive” to Nomi and picked up his soup bowl. Everyone else followed suit.

Hiro thought the soup excellent, as usual, and loudly showed his appreciation as did the boys. Howell glanced around, surprised by what he thought were uncharacteristically rude manners but no one seemed bothered by the slurping sounds. Nomi hid a small smile, noticing his discomfort.

As soon as the soup was finished, Nomi started arranging new bowls with an aromatic, spicy fish dish, and as they waited for everyone to be served, Hiro started off the conversation. Of course, pleasantries such as inquiring about Commodore Howell’s family started off, as it would be rude to do otherwise. Howell soon relaxed, enjoying this unique meal.

Different dishes followed, some of which were previously prepared, and some which were prepared on the brazier. There were vegetable dishes, various meat dishes, another soup, a rice dish with vegetables and even a dish of pickled vegetables. Each one was beautifully arranged, and even though Howell struggled a bit with the chopsticks, they seemed to make the meal even more interesting. It was as if the challenge of developing this skill, along with the great rewards for being successful at it, made the evening rather memorable.

Howell couldn’t think of when he’d had a more interesting evening, even though the meal had gone on for well past an hour at that point. And to think he had even been tempted to excuse himself for being too busy, and might have missed this!

“Honored Commodore, I have need for your wise counsel on an important matter. You are more familiar with the Confederacy, and I do not know if an idea I have may work,” Hiro opened, finally getting to the evening’s true purpose.

“Sure, how can I help?” Howell answered.

“We have many needs, but maybe they are all not separate, but may be solved together. We have need for an appropriate crew and we have need for technical specialists for systems integration. I wonder if the same personnel could fulfill both needs, making the solution easier. What are your thoughts? Could we have the technical specialists volunteer for service and be assigned as crew? Or would that not be acceptable to the Confederacy?”

“I don’t see why not, but they wouldn’t have concubines I think. How would they find some? We don’t have a lot of spares around here.”

“Would it be possible to have this ‘OTE’ secure the concubines, if they were assembled in one place?” Hiro questioned.

“Yes, but the Confederacy doesn’t give warnings about when those are to happen. I suppose to make it work they’d have to get together for some time before a pickup happened. AI, would this work?”

<Theoretically this is possible. Mitsubishi technical personnel appear to have a number of sponsor-level individuals and would likely fit the requirements needed for crewmembers. An effort to extract concubines would be efficient as the sponsors would have already been screened and made their way to Jupiter Station as contract workers.>

“What if the contract workers were extracted along with their families from Earth? That more conventional approach may satisfy common protocol,” Hiro observed.

Howell broke in without waiting for the AI. “Do they usually have some sort of send-off with the families before they go?”

“Of course. This would be the first time Mitsubishi personnel have performed a contract off-world. It would be a cause for great ceremony,” Hiro offered.

“Well, I think that’s a better way to do it. How about you and I talk to Admin tomorrow and see if they can arrange it?”

One kind word can warm three winter months.

Hiro was pleased to accept the offer of help. With just a bit of effort, he had repaired his relationship with Commodore Howell to the point that Howell would be his ally. But how would he arrange to transfer himself and his team to the ships? He had an important shipment on the way and he desperately needed some flexibility that would allow him to collect a few bouquets of purple blossoms. Sitting behind a desk certainly didn’t offer such an opportunity.

After Howell gave his praise for the meal and his thanks to the Yakazukis at the conclusion of the meal, Hiro retired to his study to contemplate the problem.

Hiro followed Commodore Howell into the Admin office and watched as Howell described his idea for extracting Mitsubishi contract workers and their families. The Colonel he had enthusiastically engaged was trying hard to keep up with the speed at which Howell was detailing “his” idea, but seemed open to the idea of having Howell solve his problems for him. In about fifteen minutes, the staff officer was reaching out to OTE to see if they could handle a pickup in the Far East.

That officer’s only push-back to Howell’s request was his understanding that the Confederacy had never done an extraction in Japan before. He thought they were prohibited.

When the AI was asked to clarify, it gave a surprising answer. Japan as a whole was restricted from pickups, but Okinawa, the location of a number of US military facilities, was excepted from that restriction. Conveniently enough, Mitsubishi’s facilities for spaceflight were located on Okinawa and it would be the port from where Mitsubishi’s finished components would depart. That was the only way to avoid Chinese interference.

All they needed was a time and a location to give OTE, and perhaps a targeted extraction could be done.

That decision allowed Hiro to request a full itinerary from Mitsubishi about all of their personnel and equipment transfers without causing attention. All he had before was a delivery date for the reactors, engine components, CIWS systems and other systems Mitsubishi was providing, but now he could ask for specifics. Mitsubishi helpfully responded with a detailed schedule of all their Okinawa activities for the next two months. All in exhaustive, perfect detail.

Hiro responded with polite thanks and asked to be copied on any updates to the schedule.

The personnel schedules, manifests and itineraries were forwarded on to Admin so they could give them to OTE. Hiro doubted such detailed information had ever been available to OTE before, as the Confederacy certainly hadn’t much visibility into what was going on at that Texas steakhouse he had been at on that fateful day. If they knew much about the people they were being asked to pick up, all they’d have to do is make a phone call to one individual, and the entire group would not only be fully ready to step on transporter pads, but local security would have the area entirely locked down.

But they’d do it their own way, he knew.

One particular name on the list of personnel caught his attention. Akihito Shinno. If he had noticed this person at Mitsubishi he certainly would have remembered him as an employee, but then if this individual had been around, there was no way he’d be an underling.