Metal Boxes - Rusty Hinges (18 page)

Stone’s heart sank. He was guilty and knew it, but to hear it spoken aloud was painful. “Yes, Captain Butcher.” Even at attention, in his peripheral vision he could see Missimaya smirking in victory.

Butcher said, “Further, it’s within my discretion to determine if the timing is inconvenient or if any subject is irrelevant or frivolous. Such decisions aren’t within the prevue of any gatekeeper, unless the time, the subject, or the applicant is specifically listed. Do you understand this?”

Stone said, “Yes, sir. I understand that I overstepped my bounds.”

“Are you then prepared to accept punishment?”

Missimaya let a snicker of triumph escape.

Butcher glared at Missimaya and said, “Lieutenant, I thank you for bringing this egregious lack of military courtesy to my attention. However, this complaint is far and away too long in coming. Any further such complaints should be filed in a timely manner.” Before Missimaya could speak, he continued. “That will be all, Lieutenant. You may return to your assigned duties.”

Missimaya’s eyes flicked from Butcher to Stone and back again. “But sir, shouldn’t I be allowed to be present for the administration of the punishment?”

Butcher asked, “Why? Surely you don’t wish to revel in the misery of a fellow officer or — the gods forbid — be the master of the whip?”

Stone almost lost his composure at the mention of a whip. Corporal punishment was still on navy books as an acceptable punishment, as was hanging for certain offenses, but he hadn’t heard of anyone being punished with either in his short time in the navy. Could he take a whipping without breaking down? Could he even stand it?

Missimaya obviously wanted exactly what Butcher had suggested that he didn’t want. “No — no, sir, of course not. I just thought that …” His voice faded away as Butcher’s face told him he wasn’t staying. He began pulling his reports back into his dataport.

Butcher said, “Ensign Stone’s punishment is between him and his captain. I will not subject a fellow officer to the humiliation of a public chastisement.” He waited until Missimaya had gathered up his things and left. Glaring at Stone, he said, “I believe that man would have you submit to a public flogging. I know enough about your medical condition to know your thick skin wouldn’t raise a scar from a whipping.”

Stone almost smiled. His skin was probably tougher than standard navy whips, thanks to his mixture of drasco DNA and military nanites. It was as tough as inch thick leather. Not that he wouldn’t feel a whip against his skin, it just wouldn’t hurt.

Butcher nodded, seeing the relief in Stone’s eyes. “So, whipping you is out — not that it was ever really in. However, there are appropriate punishments I can mete out. Are you ready to accept chastisement?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

“Master Chief Thomas on the bridge,” someone shouted.

Thomas wasn’t an officer, so no one jumped to their feet or snapped to attention like they would for the captain or a watch commander. As the highest ranking enlisted on the ship, acknowledging the master chief’s presence was a tradition dating back a few hundred years when a woman of similar rank took over a navy spaceship after all the officers had died, saving the ship and crew. No one expected Captain Butcher or the other officers to die, least of all Captain Butcher and those officers, but everyone knew it could happen. No one doubted Master Chief Thomas’s ability to guide the ship to safety, if needed.

Thomas patted Stone on the shoulder on the way past. “How’s it going, boy?”

Stone smiled up from his seat. Since Thomas wasn’t assigned to babysit him like his early days on Lazzaroni Base or his first few months as governor on Allie’s World, Stone decided the man wasn’t a complete pain in the rear. “It’s slow, Master Chief. Whizzer and his team have had their computers cranking through the inventory database of the Hyrocanian warehouse ship for a week now. Nothing unexpected has popped up, so now we’re manually trying to match any visuals to words or numbers that we don’t have in our database.”

Stone noticed Lieutenant Missimaya waiting at the hatch. Without the captain’s permission, he and the three officers with him, couldn’t set foot on the bridge. That was fine with Stone; he hadn’t liked the man even before he’d dragged him before a captain’s mast. His smile of greeting to Master Chief Thomas turned into a grin as he remembered Captain Butcher’s punishment: having to stand at attention in front of the captain’s desk for ten minutes — time off given for time already served. There was an official letter of reprimand in his file. It had an expiration date and would be expunged in six months, assuming the Hyrocanians didn’t discover them and kill them first.

Lieutenant Missimaya was obviously antsy waiting in the corridor, shifting from one foot to the other. Lieutenant Barnes, the officer who had countersigned the complaint against Stone, looked relaxed and comfortable. Tander wasn’t one of the officers. The two midshipmen looked too old for their rank and appeared more than a little nervous about coming to the bridge without a specific invitation.

Stone nodded to Missimaya, recognizing the man’s rank. He actually had to put a calming hand on Emily’s head to keep the drasco from hissing at the man.

The master chief hadn’t slowed his stride, since his first real order of business on the bridge was to report to the captain or watch commander, depending on who had the con. Coming to a stop slightly to the side of Butcher, so as not to block the Captain’s view of the bridge, the monitor, or the conference table, he said, “Captain. We have —”

Communications blaring from the monitor interrupted him. A fat Hyrocanian, naked from the waist up, wearing hideously colored pants popped onto the monitor. “What in #$%@# name do you want?”

“Comms, Captain. Incoming transmission is on, but outgoing is off.”

The captain turned slightly in his chair. “Whizzer?”

Wyznewski turned in his chair and looked at Doctor Emmons. “Kat?”

Emmons nodded, “We’re prepared for this call, Thom.” Doctor Emmons had taken to calling everyone by their first name, even the captain. “I don’t know all the words the Hyrocanian said, but from the context, I can guess they were obscenities.”

Butcher shook his head, “Really, Doctor Emmons? As a spacer, I would never have guessed.”

Emmons took the sarcasm in stride and answered. “Playing response now.”

The Rusty Hinges Hyrocanian avatar appeared on the split screen. Their avatar was as fat as any Hyrocanian admiral. Its upper body oozed a slick film of slime that collected and pooled in the creases between the rolls of fat cascading from its hinged ears down to the blubber rolling over its garishly colored pants — the pant’s color was taken from a shirt often worn by 1LT Hammermill when he was off duty. It had the usual double set of sharp cutting teeth, one set designed to chew horizontal and the other set to chew vertically. An artistic scientist had actually managed to add a dangling piece of meat with a small blood vessel hanging from its teeth. The meat looked about half rotten and even from a distance, a viewer could swear they smelled the stink. Like all Hyrocanians, their admiral had four arms, the first two hinged in front and the second two hinged at the shoulder to grasp behind.

The admiral avatar grunted in disgust. “We’re busy here. What do you want? You called me, remember?”

“Your ship is closer to mine than it is supposed to be. Back off, *&(%%$@.”

“Hey! Right back atcha! Look. We were coming to get resupplied, but our engines glitched. Give us a minute.”

The warehouse ship caller said, “All right. Just this once. What do you need from stores?”

The avatar looked around as if searching for something. “I got a list around here somewhere. I’ll get it to you as soon as I find it. Okay? We’re out.”

Emmons shut off the monitor.

Everyone sat waiting for the warehouse ship to call back, to raise their shields or power up their weapons, but nothing happened. A collective sigh of relief was heard across the bridge.

Butcher said, “Tactical, is your finger getting tired of hanging near the trigger?”

“Tactical, Captain. Yes, sir. We’ve been poised to shoot and throw up shields for a month now. Our finger is getting a bit cramped.”

Butcher grunted, “Use a different finger then. Stay alert, people. We have a plan.” He looked at Thomas. “What now, Master Chief?”

Thomas nodded his head toward the hatch. “Lieutenant Missimaya and friends have a petition to float past you.”

“Bring it on, Master Chief.”

Missimaya, Barnes and two other officers traipsed past the conference table. Missimaya made a wide circle around Emily laying at Stone’s feet. They lined up in front of Butcher and stood at attention. Stone easily caught their odors. Missimaya was oozing a mint fragrance with tinges of vanilla. His feelings of loyalty were strong and he was determined in his set course of action. Barnes was exuding a strong grapefruit smell. His fear was clear, but not as strong as the almost over powering lime scent of fear from the two midshipmen with them.

Stone had long since learned that just because a person emitted the minty odor of loyalty, it didn’t mean they were loyal to him, the captain, or even the emperor. Evil men always thought they were justified and what they were doing was the right thing. Barnes’s fear may be a simple matter of being nervous about approaching the captain on the bridge or it may have everything to do with the fact they were behind enemy lines, in the middle of an enemy fleet and in an enemy ship, or just that he had to step carefully around Emily. Not all crew members were used to drascos running free on the ship.

Butcher said, “Gentlemen, what can I do for you? Have you gathered enough data on me to prove that Shorty is controlling me mentally?”

Shorty laughed.

Emily translated something Shorty said.

Stone wisely decided to keep Shorty’s comments to himself about how someone should be controlling Missimaya’s mind for him, because he wasn’t doing a good job of it.

Missimaya said, “No, sir. We’ve been unable to document any proof that the control link is real, although I believe it’s a contributing factor in your command.”

Butcher said, “I really appreciate your honesty, Lieutenant. Captains should always have someone like you to keep them on their toes.” He rolled his eyes upward when Missimaya missed the sarcasm. “So, what can I do for you?”

Missimaya called up a file on his dataport and passed it to Butcher. The lieutenant said, “Captain, the undersigned officers believe our continued presence in Hyrocanian controlled space is contrary to our — your specifically cited orders. We’ve been unable to locate the Hyrocanian homeworld or cause any damage to their ships. However, we have collected more than enough information to consider this mission a success.”

Butcher asked, “You believe we have done all we can do, is that right, Lieutenant?” He looked at the petition on his dataport. “So, of all the officers on this ship, you managed to find four of you who agree, correct?”

Stone had long since returned to scanning through screen after screen of data on the Hyrocanian warehouse ship’s stores. Everyone was trying to identify useful items to determine if it would be worth boarding the vessel to steal what they needed. A full company of marines was sure they could take the ship without any other ship in the sector realizing it’d been done. He was listening with only one ear to Butcher.

Missimaya said, “We four may not be a majority, but we are in such agreement that we believe our voices should be heard, sir.”

“Oh, I’m hearing you, Lieutenant. I want to ask a question of every officer on this bridge, you four included. While this ship isn’t a democracy, I want your honest input. How many of you think we have accomplished all we can on this deployment?”

Missimaya and Barnes rapidly raised their hands. One of the midshipmen raised his hand tentatively. The other midshipman hesitated long enough to see that no other officer on the bridge even made a hint of movement with their hands. A good many turned their backs on the conversation, resuming their duties. The second midshipman kept his hand at his side, nudging his companion, who finally lowered his hand.

Butcher said, “If this was a democracy, you’d be so overruled it would hardly be worth the time getting on the ballot. Midshipmen, get off my bridge.” He waited until the two left. “Now —”

“Crap!” Stone interrupted with a shout. “You’ve gotta see this.” He looked up, realizing he’d yelled. “Sorry, Captain. I didn’t mean to interrupt, but you need to see this.”

Stone could hardly contain himself. Shorty was standing behind him, yanking on his arm, silently yelling. Emily raised herself up on her hind legs, wonking excitedly. She flapped her wings, snapping them back and forth, obviously startled by Shorty’s excitement.

Stone shouted, “Emily, settle down. Get Jay for me. Easy, Shorty. I see it.” He waited while Emily exited the hatch. Everyone heard her wonking down the corridor, shouting for Jay. “Captain, sorry for the interruption.

Butcher said, “One moment, Lieutenants Missimaya and Barnes. What do you have, Ensign?”

Stone said, “Sir, we’re working through the Hyrocanian inventory list as the computer flags various items for review. This list popped up as urgent, but it must be at the bottom of the Hyrocanian’s priority lists. This is what I first saw, sir. It’s what set Shorty off.”

Jay skid past the hatch, her speed down the corridor causing her to miss the hatchway. Her talons screeched on the rusty deck plates as she scrabbled to correct her course. “
Mama! Mama! Emily said you were in danger. She said Shorty said he was going to kill someone.
”

“Shorty, I saw what you saw. Jay, please talk to Shorty. Tell him to remain calm.” He punched a few buttons and sent a picture to the table monitor and to the main screen. There was a picture of a small one armed piglet. “Captain, this is a listing of available foodstuffs.”

Someone muttered something about a-hole sons-a-bitches. No one disagreed.

Stone said, “Jay tells me that Shorty actually knows this piglet.”

Emmons looked like she was about to vomit. “They … they ate his arm!”

Stone looked at Emmons and back at Shorty. “No, Doctor Emmons. Shorty said the lazy old bastard — his words, not mine — lost the arm in an engineering accident about fifty years ago. The fellow looks older, but Shorty says it’s him. He understands this is a sample picture and this fellow may not still be alive, but others probably are.”

Butcher said, “I’m sorry, Shorty. Hyrocanians have eaten both our races, we will —”

“No, Captain,” Stone interrupted again. “I’m as upset as Shorty is about the piglets, but I saw more.” He turned another dial, changing the picture. The next item was a pair of humans, standing naked. The man was scratching his eye with a middle finger. The woman had both arms crossed across her breasts, but both middle fingers were extended.

Even Jay had the good sense to honor the deep silence that settled over the bridge.