William Forstchen - Article 23

"Enter."

Justin unlatched the door and stepped in.

"Sir, die Captain's dinner," Justin announced, not quite sure what the procedure for this all was.

MacKenzie, hunched over a computer screen, looked up.

"Set it on the table."

Justin went over to the table in the middle of the room and set the tray down, clipping hold-down snaps to the four corners. He stepped back and decided that it was best to come to attention.

MacKenzie's attention went back to the screen as he read a report bearing the letterhead of USMC Headquarters. The image flickered and rolled for a moment, as if a glitch were running through the system. He sat for several minutes, attention fixed. Justin wondered if the man simply read slowly or if he was thinking about the contents of the message. An image flashed on the screen of a USMC ship, one similar to the Somers, with a smaller ship docked to its entry port. A strike frigate drifted in front of the camera, its forward turret guns aimed straight at the two ships.

It was a curious image and Justin stared at it intently. The audio was turned down and the screen was too far away for him to read the text scrolling across the bottom. The image again flickered and rolled, turning wavy as if a magnet were being held to the side of the monitor.

Finally MacKenzie looked back at the table.

"You still here?"

"Ah, yes, sir. I wasn't dismissed."

MacKenzie flicked the screen off.

"Don't tell me what I should and shouldn't do, Mister" he hesitated, leaning forward to read Justin's name tag, "Mister Bell. Do you understand me? Whether I dismiss you or not is not yours to question."

"Sir, yes, sir."

Mackenzie's cold gaze studied Justin's face.

"You were standing next to that red-haired cadet, the one who raised his hand."

"Yes, sir."

"What is his name?"

"Cadet Matt Everett, sir."

"He a friend of yours?"

"Yes, sir, he is."

"I could see that by the way you looked over at him. At least you are honest, Bell. Tell me, are you honest?"

"Yes, sir."

"In all things?"

"I try to be."

"Most boys aren't. Most are deceitful, given to vile practices, vile thoughts. Don't you agree, Mr. Bell?"

Justin hesitated for a second. How should he answer? Kelly had warned him about this. As he looked at MacKenzie he knew there was only one answer.

"Yes, sir," he said quietly.

"And therefore, Mr. Bell, haven't you contradicted yourself? You say you are honest, therefore implying goodness, yet you agree with me that most boys are deceitful."

"Most boys, sir, as you said."

"And your friend, this Mr. Everett?"

"He is honest, sir."

"Somehow I doubt that," MacKenzie declared. "I could see it in his eyes. The eyes, Mr. Bell, they are the windows of the soul as the philosophers once said. Yes, but a momentary glance can reveal much. For example, Mr. Bell, your eyes speak much."

He fell silent staring at Justin. Though the strain was terrible Justin realized that even a momentary glance away might be construed as an attempt to hide something. He stared straight back at MacKenzie. If what MacKenzie said was true, Justin thought, then the man before him was dead. His eyes revealed nothing; they were emptiness as deep as space itself.

He remembered his grandfather talking about the long years in space, especially in the early years. The endless boring watches, the silence, the months upon months trapped within a tiny speck crawling across the endless sea could drain life itself, leaving a man or woman an empty shell.

MacKenzie finally broke contact, looking down. Justin wondered if some sort of power game had just been played out, in which he should have broken eye contact first to acknowledge MacKenzie's superior power.

"You pass, Mr. Bell."

"Sir?"

"Just that you pass. You are guileless. Perhaps even a naive fool. I think you can be trusted."

"Yes, sir."

"Ever read Moby Dick?"

Surprised by the sudden shift in conversation, Justin shook his head.

"No, sir."

" 'And this drama between thee and me was planned a million years before the sea ever rolled'," MacKenzie said, his voice distant.

"Read the book by this time next week," MacKenzie ordered. "It's in the ship's computer library."

"Yes, sir."

"Fine. You are dismissed, Mr. Bell."

"Yes, sir." Justin braced himself and started to turn.

"And Mr. Bell avoid disreputable company. It is the cause of moral decline."

"Yes, sir, I will."

"This Everett, he is rooming with you."

"Yes, sir."

"That is bad," MacKenzie sighed and then his gaze locked on Justin. "But then again, if there is anything inappropriate I expect an instant report. Instant, do you understand me, Bell?"

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir."

"Fine, now get out."

Justin backed to the door, sensing that if he turned his back it might be taken as skulking away. He closed the door and exhaled noisily.

Now what the hell was that all about? he wondered. Suddenly feeling as if he were being watched, he straightened up and headed aft. He reached the galley and ducked inside. O'Brian looked up at him.

"Well?"

Justin hesitated. Though O'Brian was nearly old enough to be his grandfather, Justin realized that in the most technical of senses he himself was defined as an officer, even if he was only a first-year plebe, while O'Brian was an enlisted man. The Code said that one should never reveal what happened between two officers to enlisted personnel or civilians.

"It was OK."

O'Brian smiled grimly and nodded.

"Good for you, lad. Now grab a tray and help your friend."

Justin took up a tray-load of meal containers and stepped out into the mess hall. He saw Matt leaning against a table, talking with a blond female cadet; the others around the table were grinning while Matt obviously spun a yarn to impress her. Justin saw the second flight officer, the younger pilot, come into the galley and take a seat. Going over to her table, he set a tray down. She looked up, smiled and thanked him,

"You enjoy the kick-out ride?" she asked.

"Sure was a long haul, sir."

"Maria Hemenez," she said, extending her hand.

Surprised by her openness, Justin took it.

"We're cruising along at nearly a hundred and ninety thousand klicks per hour now, though it will bleed off as we coast up and away from the sun," she told him. "Anytime I'm on watch and you want to come forward, feel free."

"Thank you, sir."

"No problem."

A gale of laughter erupted, and looking over his shoulder he saw Matt had a band of admirers enjoying his story.

"Better tell your friend there to get back to work," Maria said quietly.

"Yes, sir, I will."

Justin walked over to Matt's side.

"And then, well, then she said"

"Hey, Matt, can I see you a second?"

"In a minute, buddy."

"Now," Justin hissed.

Matt looked at Justin and shrugged his shoulders.

"Old roomie here's gotta problem. I'll be right back."

Justin looked around and realized that there was no hope of privacy in the mess hall. He motioned Justin back into the galley.

O'Brian was in the far corner, banging on some pots and swearing away.

"Look, Matt, the Old Man, MacKenzie, he's got it in for you," Justin whispered.

Music again flooded the room and Justin looked over to see O'Brian looking back at them, his hand dropping from the computer console.

"Why?" Justin asked.

O'Brian pointed to the screen and then at the loudspeaker. What it implied was deeply troubling to Justin. He had never heard of an officer eavesdropping on his crew; first of all, it was against the law, and secondly it implied a lack of trust that was extremely disturbing.

"Hey, what did I do?" Matt asked.

"You exist, that's reason enough. So keep a low profile and knock off making a spectacle of yourself."