No Honor in Death (19 page)

"It's got to stop, Vince, before someone gets killed."

"Too late for that," the bosun's mate replied.  "How do you want to make it stop, eh? Nobody saw what happened."

"Yeah, but the Captain believes you got the shaft, buddy.  Just tell her what happened."

"My word against the word of a Petty Officer?  Do you think I'm that stupid?"

Banger hated doing this, but she could see Vincenzo was going to be intractable.  "It's too late, Vince.  You gotta talk.  Captain knows and pretty soon Zavaleta and his buddies 'll know.  If Dunmoore don't get some reason to stop 'em, I'll be the next on Zavaleta' list, and he ain't stupid enough to take me on like he did you.  More'n likely I'll fall down a maintenance shaft and break my neck."

"Shit!"

"Yeah, shit.  C'mon, Vince."

He thought about it for a good long time.  Then, "Okay, Banger, I talk."

"I'll tell the Cox'n.  Hang tight, buddy."  Rownes smiled at Vince, repressing an urge to squeeze his heavily bruised shoulder in reassurance.  Then, she rose and left, feeling guilty at her successful blackmail, but relieved nonetheless that things were going to move.

Alone once more, Vincenzo stared at the bright ceiling, trying to calm the shiver of fear running through his abused body.  He knew he wasn't a very courageous man, but Banger was right.  It had to stop.

"Come."

Leading Spacer Jallaba stepped into Petty Officer Second Class Zavaleta' cabin, a grim look on his face.

"We got trouble, PO."

"Trouble?"  Zavaleta laughed, an ugly sound from an ugly soul.  He took another sip from his juice bulb, the orange pressings heavily laced with vodka, in violation of Captain Dunmoore's orders.  "Anyone gives trouble and I take care of him."

"Maybe not, PO."  Jallaba leaned against the wall, wrinkling his nose at the sour smell of sweat and unwashed clothes that permeated the small compartment.  Zavaleta shared his bunk space with another Petty Officer who was currently on duty.  The latter's tiny private area was immaculately clean.  "Rownes spent some time in the Captain's ready room an hour ago, then she went to see Vincenzo in sick bay.  You figure it out."

"Figure nothing, Jallaba,"  Zavaleta snorted.  "The bitch was trying to get her little buddy outta the shit but it won't work.  Maybe I'll go have a talk with the grease-ball, just to remind him where his best interests are. Then, during the night watch, maybe Rownes has an accident, just to make sure everyone understands."

"Dangerous, PO.  Rownes ain't a wimp."

"Fuck it.  No one pisses around with me, and stoolies get special attention.  In fact, I'll go see the little grease-ball now."  Zavaleta shrugged on his tunic and downed the rest of his drink.  "You come with me, and stand watch at the sickbay door.  Doc oughta be off duty right now, but the bitch could come back any moment.  Fucking officers!"

Vincenzo was asleep when Zavaleta got there.  The single medic on duty, a young Able Spacer on his first tour, came out of the pharmacist's cubby when he heard the door slide shut.  Zavaleta looked at him with a sneer.

"Get lost, junior.  Me and my man Vincenzo here have some business to discuss."

"Sorry, PO,"  the medic replied, obviously scared of Zavaleta, but more scared of Luttrell's fury if he disobeyed her orders and let Zavaleta near Vincenzo.  "Doctor's orders.  No visitors."

"I said, piss-off, kid.  Or do you want to join the grease-ball in feather merchant's heaven?"  Zavaleta smacked his right fist into his left palm.

The medic shook his head and backed into the cubby, intending to call Luttrell over the intercom the moment he was out of sight.

"Good lad," Zavaleta smiled.  Then, he walked over to Vincenzo's bed and prodded the sleeping man with his finger.  "Wake-up grease-ball, we gotta talk."

"Huh?"  Vince blinked, still groggy from sleep.  His disfigured nostrils twitched at the non-com's sour breath.

"A little birdie's told me you're going to tell the Captain some things that'll make me look like a big bad wolf.  You aren't gonna do that to your PO, now are you?"

"Piss-off, Zavaleta," Vincenzo rasped, "you beat the crap outta me because you get your jollies that way, and I won't let you get away with it this time."

Zavaleta snorted.  "You suddenly grow some
cojones
, grease-ball?  But hey, go stool to the Captain, and I promise you what I'll give you later is gonna be a hundred times worse than what I gave you this morning.  And just for good measure, your little friend Banger Rownes is gonna get the treatment too.  Nobody fucks around with me, you oughta know that by now."

"Does that include the Captain of this ship?"  A hard female voice suddenly asked from the door to the operating theatre.  "Or do you confine your violence to those who can't fight back?"

Zavaleta whirled around, panic spreading across his face, then utter fear.  The sight was almost comical, and Vincenzo would regale the lower deck mess with stories of it for a long time.  But give the bastard his due.  A second or two later, Zavaleta snapped to attention, wiping all expression from his brutal features.  Only his bloodshot eyes moved, taking in the Captain, the Cox'n and the Second Officer in turn as the filed out of the operating theatre.

"G'day, sir.  I was just seeing how Able Spacer Vincenzo was doing, sir.  After all, he is my responsibility."

"Spare me the hypocrisy, Zavaleta.  Mister Drex, place PO Zavaleta under arrest and escort him to the brig."

"What charges, sir?"  The Second Officer asked in a flat voice.

"Oh, we'll start with uttering threats.  Then, I think, assaulting a subordinate, giving false testimony and," she smiled cruelly, "consuming alcohol, contrary to orders."

They had the satisfaction of seeing Zavaleta' look of wounded innocence collapse into an expression of utter terror.  The last charge, that of consuming booze, had been a stab in the dark.  Siobhan was pleased to see it hit home.  If nothing else, it would give the other assholes on board notice that very little escaped Captain Dunmoore.

"Take him away."

Out in the corridor, Jallaba was standing at attention between two burly bosun's mates, his face a mask of stone.  He said nothing when Zavaleta looked at him as he marched by, led away by an infuriated bosun.

Guthren stepped up to Jallaba, his broad nose only centimetres from the other's face.  "Now listen, and listen good, asshole.  Zavaleta is going down for what he did to Vincenzo.  If you and the other assholes don't want to go down with him, I suggest you forget any notion of revenge and start doing your jobs by the fucking book.  Is that understood?"

"Aye, aye, Cox'n."  Jallaba barked out.

Guthren smiled.  "Carry-on, then, Spacer, spread the new gospel according to Captain Dunmoore, and tell 'em those who won't convert better learn how to swim through vacuum."  He nodded at the guards who released Jallaba.

Watching the retreating back of the bosun's mate, Guthren grinned to himself.  Cap'n Dunmoore was something else.  When she proposed they wait for Zavaleta to appear in the sickbay, he thought she was playing at cops and robbers, and wouldn't get anything out of the effort.  But she'd known the stupid bastard would condemn himself out of his own mouth.  The Cox'n reached over to the nearest intercom panel.  "Bridge, this is Guthren.  Call a Chiefs' and Petty Officers' meeting in the mess in ten minutes.  I want everyone there."

"Aye, aye, sir."

"Cox'n, out."  Time to make like a disciple and spread the good news himself.  Coupla Petty Officers were gonna have to watch their step real close.  Bullshit time on the
Stingray
was over!

Word spread through the frigate like wildfire, and when Siobhan came off watch, she noticed many crewmembers looking at her with renewed respect.   The ugly mood was breaking.  She still faced the unpleasant task of trying Zavaleta, but if nothing else, it would be a good occasion to cement her hold on the ship.

"March in the accused."

"Sir."  The Cox'n opened the door to the passageway.  "Charge parade, quick-MARCH."

Petty Officer Zavaleta, in full service dress, minus beret, quick-stepped into the ready room, escorted by a gunnery PO of the same rank, also wearing formal uniform, but with headdress.

"Charge parade, HALT.  Right TURN."

Siobhan looked up from the sheaf of paper on her desk.  The trial had lasted for over an hour, with witnesses, sworn depositions and the whole paraphernalia of a summary trial in deep space, in time of war.  Ten minutes earlier, she had ordered Zavaleta marched out while she considered her verdict.  Captains of warships on active duty had broad disciplinary and punishment powers, much more so in a war zone, and she had to use the occasion to pass a clear and unmistakable message.

Zavaleta literally smelled of fear, because he knew already what the minimum verdict would be and the resulting punishment.  His escort's face was hard and unfeeling, the man chosen by Guthren because he disliked Zavaleta intensely.  No one in the room showed any signs of triumph or anger, only anticipation at seeing justice done.  Commander Forenza had not used her powers of discipline for nearly all her term as Captain of the
Stingray
, and Zavaleta' trial had attracted considerable attention.  No doubt several off-duty crewmembers were finding reasons to be near the bridge, to spread word about the outcome the moment Siobhan pronounced her verdict.

In the three days since the incident, morale had shown heartening signs of improvement, and that had been most obvious in the performance she obtained from the crew during the last few drills.  Guthren had told her about the talk he'd had with the Chiefs and POs, putting the bullies on notice.  He laughed when he described the way some of the non-coms had edged away from Zavaleta' friends, now that their power over the lower decks was being throttled.  A few might give some problems, but the big Cox'n would take care of them in a way befitting his job as Chief of the frigate.

"Petty Officer Zavaleta, I have carefully considered the evidence given and I must find as follows.  Charge number one, Article 129 of the Code of Starflleet Discipline, uttering threats: guilty.  Charge number two, Article 120 of the Code of Starfleet Discipline, unlawful use of force: guilty."  She could not find him guilty of the more serious charge of assaulting a subordinate, thanks to the lack of direct evidence, but unlawful use of force would do just fine.  "And charge number three, Article 130 of the Code of Starfleet Discipline, conduct prejudiciable in that you consumed alcohol while the ship was dry: guilty."

For a moment, Dunmoore thought Zavaleta was going to faint.  And so he should, she repressed a cruel smile.  His life would become a living hell until she found a way to transfer him.

"Before I pronounce sentence, I will ask your divisional officer for anything that would mitigate your sentence.  Mister Drex?"

"Sir."  The Second Officer came to attention, his face carved in stone.  "PO Zavaleta' performance of his duties has been satisfactory."

Siobhan raised her eyebrows in surprise.  Damning with faint praise.  Not that the wretched bosun's mate didn't deserve it, but usually a divisional officer made more of an effort than that.  Drex was probably feeling the heat.  Zavaleta had been one of his non-coms, and his long history of bullying was a direct indictment of Drex's leadership.  After high hopes, the mustang was proving to be a disappointment.

"Very well.  Petty Officer Zavaleta, I sentence you to reduction in rank to Able Spacer,"  Zavaleta whimpered in despair, as the reduction would condemn him to life on the lower deck with the ratings he had tormented.  "And you will serve thirty days of detention on board this ship, said detention to occur when you are off-watch.  March Able Spacer Zavaleta to the brig, Cox'n."

"Sir."  Guthren saluted.  "Left TURN.  Quick MARCH."

When Zavaleta and his escort were gone, Siobhan rose and stretched her long limbs.  "He will be beached the moment we touch port again.  In the meantime, Cox'n, make sure nobody takes it out on the bastard's hide.  There will be an end to the violence on his ship, period."

"Aye, aye, sir."  He saluted and left.

Siobhan looked speculatively at the Second Officer.  "Tell me, Mister Drex, were you aware of what was going on in your department?  This informal counselling bullshit, I gather, has been happening for a long time."

"No, sir."  Drex's tone was sombre, but his eyes refused to meet hers.

"I see."  Siobhan wanted to scream 'bullshit' at him, but it would have been undignified.  "I must say I'm disappointed in you.  You were a Chief Petty Officer and Chiefs are supposed to know everything that's happening on a ship.  More than that, a officer must know what's going on in his division.  In my opinion, you have been derelict in your duties.  I could slap you with a report of shortcomings for this, but I shall let it slide,"  her tone hardened, "as long as there is no repeat performance.  You will do your duty to me, the ship and the people under your care, or you will find yourself a new home.  Understood?"

"Sir."  Drex's face was carved in stone.  Not a hint of emotion crossed his eyes.  For a brief moment, Siobhan found his lack of human reaction disturbing.

"Dismissed."