Against All Enemies (18 page)

Maines checked her watch. "Gonna be a long one today, sir."

"Yeah. The crew went a little nuts on us the first days back in port."

"It happens, sir. Not that we didn't try to keep a lid on things, but after all the crap we went through during that last underway period, a lot of people had a lot of pressure to vent off."

"Too bad they couldn't have vented a little more gradually and avoided explosive decompression."

Before Maines could answer, Sharpe stuck his head in the compartment. "All present and accounted for, Mr. Sinclair. I'm going to get the captain."

"Very well." Paul let his mind wander, trying to plan which fires he'd concentrate on putting out for the rest of the day once Mast was over.

Before he knew it, Sharpe was back. "Attention on deck."

Paul and Master Chief Maines straightened to attention as Captain Hayes entered. Nodding to both of them, Hayes ordered them to "carry on" as he went to the small podium set up facing the center of the compartment. As Paul went from attention to parade rest, Hayes pointed at Sharpe. "Let's go."

Sharpe leaned back into the passageway. "Petty Officer Timbale," he called.

Timbale entered, his uniform well turned out, marching up to stand at attention facing the captain. Behind Timbale, his division officer Ensign Abacha and the chief of his division entered and came to attention on the other side of the compartment, facing Paul and the Master Chief so that the accused sailor was in the center of a three-sided box formed by his superiors.

Hayes eyed the sailor for a moment, then looked down at his data pad. "Petty Officer Second Class Timbale. You are charged with violation of Article 92 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice, Failure to obey order or regulation. You're also charged with violating Article 108, damage to military property of the United States and Article 134, disorderly conduct/drunkenness." Hayes fixed Timbale with a demanding look. "What do you have to say?"

Timbale licked his lips nervously before starting to speak. "Captain, I
was
drunk."

Hayes waited a moment, then prodded the sailor. "That's all?"

"No, sir. I mean, yes, sir. I wasn't disorderly, sir."

"Why were you charged with being disorderly?"

Timbale let his unhappiness show. "I believe that's the result of a misunderstanding, sir."

"A misunderstanding."

"Yes, Captain." Timbale's expression became earnest. "I don't deny me and my shipmates had been hitting the bars and maybe hitting them a little too hard. But we weren't making any fuss. Maybe we were a little loud, but when we got thrown out of— I mean, when we decided to leave that last bar we was going to head back to the ship and sleep it off. But then Johnson started feeling a little dizzy and he laid down and we couldn't get him up again and we had a problem."

Captain Hayes waited again, then once more posed a question. "And?"

"Captain, we wasn't going to leave Johnson just lying there. He could've got in trouble. But he's a big guy, sir, and for some reason we was having trouble trying to carry him back to the ship. Then Petty Officer Ghi remembered there was a first aid locker real close."

"Did you think Johnson was sick?"

"No, sir. We knew he was drunk as a pig. But those first aid lockers have stretchers in them. So we popped open the seal on the first aid locker and pulled out the stretcher and put Johnson on it and carried him back to the ship that way. Then the officer of the deck got kind of upset when she saw Johnson in the stretcher and told us we'd messed up. But we never tried to hurt Johnson, sir!"

Hayes looked perplexed. "Who said you did?"

Sharpe cleared his throat. "Excuse me, Captain, but the XO screened out an assault charge against Timbale and the others. It was brought because of some injuries Johnson sustained."

The Captain looked around, then focused on Timbale. "How did Johnson get injured?"

"Captain, that wasn't my fault. Ghi dropped her end of the stretcher a few times—"

"Okay. I understand. To summarize, then, you all got drunk, Johnson passed out and you broke into a first aid locker to steal a stretcher." Hayes looked around the compartment again. "Why wasn't he charged with theft?"

Paul took a moment to realize that after all the Captain's Masts at which he stood by just in case he was needed, he'd finally actually been asked a question during Captain's Mast. "Sir, we couldn't charge Timbale or Ghi with theft because they didn't plan on keeping the stretcher. They were going to take it back."

"It's only theft if they plan on keeping it?"

"Yes, sir. Legally, sir."

"The Uniform Code of Military Justice says that?"

"Yes, sir. It's that way in civil law, too."

Hayes shook his head, then looked at Timbale again. "But you're charged with damaging property, so I assume the stretcher was damaged?"

Timbale nodded, his nervousness showing again. "Yes, sir. When it got dropped and when we were getting it out of the locker. And I guess some folks were upset that we popped the locker seal, and they said that was damage, too."

Hayes looked at Paul again. "What order or regulation was violated?"

Paul nodded toward Timbale. "The first aid lockers are only supposed to be opened to provide emergency medical assistance. That's by order of the station commander. The order is posted on the lockers."

"But, Captain," Timbale protested, "it
was
an emergency. We couldn't leave Johnson just lying there."

"Why didn't you simply call for assistance?" Hayes demanded.

Timbale hesitated. "Uh, Captain, we didn't want anyone to get in trouble."

Hayes shook his head again, looking down at his data pad for a moment, then gazed over at Ensign Abacha. "What kind of sailor is Petty Officer Timbale?"

Abacha looked almost as nervous as Timbale but spoke in a firm voice. "He's a good performer, Captain. He rarely gives us any trouble. Just an occasional incident on liberty. There's never any problems on the job. He's a good petty officer when he's on the ship." Timbale's chief nodded in agreement.

Captain Hayes gave Timbale a searching look. "Petty Officer Timbale, do you think you handled that situation properly?"

"Captain?"

"Do you think you did the right thing or do you think you screwed up?"

Timbale nodded heavily. "I screwed up, sir. We shouldn't have taken that stretcher."

"Or gotten so drunk you got thrown out of a bar and Johnson passed out?"

"No, sir. Not that, either. But, Captain, honest, we didn't think we were violating any order. It said open that locker in an emergency and it sure seemed like an emergency to us."

"All right." Hayes glanced at Ensign Abacha again. "Your division officer and your chief stood up for you here. But they also said you get in trouble on liberty sometimes. You're a member of the United States Navy twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, Petty Officer Timbale. That means your job doesn't end when you walk off of this ship. You still need to think about what you're doing and make sure you don't get so drunk that damaging government property sounds like a good idea. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir, I do."

"I could really hammer you, Petty Officer Timbale. Instead, I'll go pretty light because your chief and division officer say you're a good performer and you've got a clean record. But not so light that you won't remember this next time you have to think about what to do on liberty. I'm fining you one-half month's pay for one month and giving you a reduction in rate to seaman, suspended for six months. Keep yourself out of trouble and you won't have to worry about being busted to seaman. Understand?"

"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!"

"Dismissed."

Timbale pivoted on one heel and marched out of the compartment, followed by Ensign Abacha and his chief. Master Chief Maines shook her head and muttered something under her breath. Hayes gave her a wry look. "What was that, Master Chief?"

"I was just commenting to myself on the eternal nature of sailors, Captain. If they ever design a machine that can replace them,
it'll
probably go out and get drunk and do something stupid."

Hayes grinned. "No doubt. Next case, Sheriff."

Petty Officer Chi came next, getting the same treatment as Timbale had. Then a still slight battered looking Petty Officer Johnson, then more sailors, each with some variation on drunk and disorderly, provoking speeches and gestures, insubordination, and the occasional assault charge from a bar brawl. The captain varied his punishments depending on their individual records and the severity of the offenses. Hayes was shaking his head by the time the last case came up. "At least we didn't have a riot," the captain remarked. "What's this last one?"

"It's a bad one, Captain," Sharpe warned before leaning into the passageway. "Petty Officer Vox."

Vox entered, his uniform neat but his face still bearing a black eye and a visible series of healing but deep scratches on one cheek. Hayes frowned, then checked his data pad as Lieutenant Isakov entered and took up position along with a female sailor who avoided looking at Vox. The captain's face visibly hardened as he read. "Petty Officer Vox. I see you're charged with Violating Article 112a, wrongful use of controlled substances, Article 134, assault with intent to commit rape, and Article 134, drunk and disorderly. What do you have to say?"

Vox's eyes flicked from side to side before he spoke, then looked straight ahead to avoid meeting the captain's eyes. "I don't remember doing any of that, Captain."

"That's all? You just claim you don't
remember
committing these offenses?"

"Yes, sir."

"
Did
you commit them?"

"I . . . I don't remember, sir."

Hayes glared at the sailor, then over at Isakov. "Lieutenant Isakov, what's the story?"

Isakov kept her face expressionless as she spoke. "As command duty officer on the night in question, I was notified by the shore patrol that Petty Officer Vox had been placed under arrest. I arranged for his release into the custody of Chief Sharpe the next morning. As Vox's division officer, I investigated the report the shore patrol provided. The report states that Petty Officer Vox became belligerent while on liberty and was asked to leave a bar where he and a number of other sailors from the
Michaelson
were drinking. About one hour later, as Seaman Kanto was returning to the ship alone, she was assaulted by Petty Officer Vox, who attempted to rape her. Seaman Kanto fought off her assailant and called the shore patrol, who took Petty Officer Vox into custody a short time later not far from the scene of the attack. While Petty Officer Vox's injuries were being treated at the brig, blood tests revealed he had ingested an illegal synthetic substance known as Joy Juice earlier that evening."

Hayes gave Vox another hard stare, then looked over at the sailor next to Isakov. "Seaman Kanto, is that an accurate account of events as you know them?"

Kanto nodded, studiously avoiding looking toward Vox. "Yes, sir."

"How certain are you that Petty Officer Vox is the individual who attacked you?"

Kanto gave a brief, nervous smile. "I marked the son of a bi— Excuse me, sir. That's him."

Isakov spoke again. "The shore patrol investigation matched the blood under some of Seaman Kanto's fingernails to Petty Officer Vox, Captain. One hundred percent certain match."

Hayes stared silently at Vox for several seconds. Vox quivered once but said nothing. Finally, Hayes shook his head with slow finality. "And you
don't remember
trying to rape a shipmate, Petty Officer Vox?"

"No, sir."

"Do you
remember
taking Joy Juice?"

"No, sir."

"Lieutenant Isakov," Hayes asked, keeping his eyes fixed on Vox, "what kind of sailor is Petty Officer Vox?"

Isakov's voice stayed cool and controlled. "Middling at best, sir. He does what's required and nothing more."

"Does he have a history of trouble?"

Isakov nodded. "Petty Officer Vox has had frequent minor disciplinary problems. He just came off a suspended bust to seaman."

"And now you've graduated to trying to rape a shipmate, is that right, Petty Officer Vox?" Captain Hayes's face had reddened as he glared at the accused sailor.

"Captain, I don't remember—"

"You said that. Even if it's true, it doesn't excuse the act in the least. Nor the use of a controlled substance which has long-term effects on a person's judgment. You're a menace to this ship and to your own shipmates." Hayes shifted his glare to Paul. "This is too serious an offense to dispose of at mast. I want this . . . individual . . . court-martialed."

Paul nodded. "Summary or special court-martial, sir?"

"See if the station will approve taking it for a special. If not, we'll do a summary." Hayes looked back at Vox. "Regardless, you are going to get hammered, Petty Officer Vox. Chief Sharpe."

Sharpe came to attention. "Yes, sir."

"I don't want this man on my ship. Will the brig take him for pre-trial confinement?"

"I believe so, sir."

"Make it happen. Today. Notify me if I have to talk to the brig commander in person. Master Chief."

Maines also came to attention. "Yes, sir."

"I want to ensure Vox doesn't come back to this ship. If the court-martial doesn't discharge him I want to make sure he's transferred somewhere else."

"Yes, sir."

"Dismissed," Hayes snapped.

Vox, his face rigid, marched out of the compartment, followed by Isakov and Seaman Kanto. Hayes shook his head. "Inexcusable," he said to himself, then walked out.

Sharpe pointed to one of his deputy master at arms who was standing by and then to Vox. "Lock him up in the confinement compartment."

Paul let out a long breath as he relaxed. "Let me know how the brig goes, Sheriff."

"Aye, aye, sir," Sharpe replied grimly. "It shouldn't be a problem. I know they've got a few vacancies." He sketched a salute and hastened away.

Master Chief Maines rubbed her chin. "I'll go talk to Kanto."

"She handled Vox real good," Paul noted.

"Oh, yes, sir. Real damn good. But that sort of thing still rattles a person something fierce. I'll talk to her and listen to her."