William Forstchen - Article 23

Sighing, Justin looked up and saw O'Brian in the doorway of the galley. Tanya was at one of the counters unpacking a carton of freeze-dried meals.

O'Brian slid the door shut and Tanya came over.

"What happened in there?" she asked. "He only grilled me for a couple of minutes and I was out. You were in there more than half an hour."

Justin sighed and shook his head. "I'm not sure what the hell is going on here any more. This whole thing is like a bad dream."

He stopped and looked over at O'Brian.

"Hey, O'Brian a straight answer?"

"Yeah, sure. Go ahead."

"Is this some sort of test? You know, a game of some kind. A simulation to see how we'd act."

"Yeah," Tanya interjected, "because if so, it's gone far enough."

"I only wish," O'Brian replied. "Look, I've been on this bucket for four years now, all of it with Mad MacKenzie. And let me tell you, he's been slipping a gasket the whole time I've been aboard.

"He wasn't too far gone at first. Long runs, though, resupply all the way out to Saturn, one trip of fourteen months. He'd sit up there, reading them old books, talking to himself. But whenever we'd get near Mars, he'd start climbing the wall."

"How come?" Tanya asked.

"His wife. She's a big leader with the separatists. Apparently she said some things about him that weren't too nice. Heard how just before I came on board he went over to the base at Deimos. Got in a terrible row with some prospectors who laughed at him. Well, it put a black mark in his folder, picking a fight with a civilian. That was the kiss of death for his career; that's why he's never gotten off this bucket and been kicked upstairs to a commodore's slot before retiring. Been a captain now for twenty years."

"You'd think they would have transferred him down to a desk job on Earth or the Moon," Justin said.

"Yeah, none of us could figure it. Well, he has old Doc Zhing under his thumb. Zhing is scared to death of him, so scared he'd never file a bad Fit-Rep for fear that MacKenzie would find out. His pilots, they just stay for the usual one or two tours then move up. Remember that piloting an old ship like this is a beginner's slot. People like young Hemenez, they do their stint and move on to heavier stuff. A negative report from a co-pilot on her first tour usually doesn't carry much weight. If they dare to say he's crazier than a March Hare, well, someone higher up might think it was the pilot who's nuts and not the captain, and bango no more flying. As for those like Lewis, well they've gone as far as they will go and don't want to make waves."

"But what about the Independent Board of Review?"

O'Brian laughed. "Come on, Bell. People like MacKenzie are too shrewd to fall afoul of that. How do you think crazy captains like him act? Do you think they walk around ranting and raving before a board, squinting, juggling steel balls in their pockets, and doing imitations of Captain Bligh? No, they're smart enough to play it straight. Besides, nearly everyone is slightly nuts after fourteen-month runs on an old bucket like this, and the Board takes that into account. No, lad, men like MacKenzie, they're out there cruising the back lanes, just ticking away, and on occasion they explode."

"The meals are ready," Tanya announced as she carefully took a stack of trays out of the microwave.

"Good. Those kids haven't eaten since they were arrested. Bell, why don't you take this grub forward? Give you a chance to see your friend."

O'Brian double-checked the straps on Justin's anti-radiation suit.

"A bit hot down below, so don't take too long."

"Hot?" Justin asked, and then he remembered that the lower deck was not as well shielded.

"What about them?" he asked nervously.

O'Brian shook his head. "I doubt if Zhing protested too much. They'll just have to sweat it out."

Justin nodded sadly and took the trays.

"See me when you get back. OK?"

"Sure, O'Brian, and thanks."

O'Brian escorted Justin down the hall and stopped before Petronovich.

" Bell here is bringing grub forward to the prisoners."

"Ah, I have no orders regarding that."

"Well, listen here, youngster, according to Regulation Sixteen Twenty-seven of the Code regarding the treatment of prisoners, it is stated that they are entitled to three square meals a day, or the officer in charge will be held responsible. Now open that door!"

Petronovich spoke into his commlink and then finally opened the door.

Justin, awed, looked over at O'Brian.

"Regulation Sixteen Twenty-seven?" he whispered, surprised at the cook's knowledge of regulations.

O'Brian simply shrugged his shoulders and grinned, then turned and headed back to the galley.

Justin followed the guard, who led him down a narrow flight of stairs to the lower deck and then headed aft. Another guard, who was standing by a padlocked door, unlocked the room and stepped aside. Justin stepped in, surprised at how cramped the tiny room was. The air was thick and stank of unwashed bodies. If not for zero gravity, it would have been impossible to fit everyone in.

"Hey, Justin, how goes it?" Matt asked, trying to sound cheery.

"O'Brian sent some food down for you guys."

Justin passed the containers out to eager hands.

"Any word on what's going on up there?" Madison asked.

"Nothing."

"Why are we even in here?" It was Marissa Iivollen, her face pale. "It'd be nice to get out of here and stretch a bit."

Justin figured it was best not to share what he had experienced in the Captain's cabin.

"Any of you go up to see the Captain yet?" Justin asked.

"Nope, we've been down here in the lockup since he grabbed us," Madison replied, "except for the two that got sent down after questioning this morning."

From what little he knew of Fleet Regulations he realized this was yet another violation. No one could be held for an extended period without at least being told of their offenses before a hearing board and given the opportunity to offer an explanation.

"I think the whole thing will get straightened out soon," Justin replied softly

"Not on this ship," Madison replied. "Any contact to the outside yet?"

Justin shook his head. The morning report from Doctor Zhing was that the storm was intensifying and radiation levels inside the ship were climbing steadily despite the fact that they were pulling away from the sun at over a hundred and fifty thousand klicks per hour. All communication was down and expected to remain that way until they were within close proximity of Mars.

'The guy's a nut case," Matt whispered, "a total nut case."

"Listen, all of you," Justin whispered. "All of you just keep your mouths shut. Sing, dance, do anything, but absolutely not a word about anything going on here," and as he spoke he motioned towards the speaker grill and blank computer screen.

Matt nodded.

Justin drew closer to Matt.

"Are you really OK?" he whispered.

"Scared crapless," Matt sighed, his voice near to breaking. "I didn't hit him. It was just that he scared me half to death, grabbing me like that in my sleep. I was dreaming that Colson was after me with that baseball bat with a spike in it like you and Malady played around with."

"I know."

"I think he's going to execute me, maybe the others too," Matt said.

Startled, Justin shook his head. "He can't. He's gotta go through a court-martial board first and that means going to a base. And then there'll be automatic appeals and believe me, when Thorsson hears about this it's gonna be fat in the fire. You'll be OK."

" Thorsson is nearly ten million klicks away," Matt sighed. "Communications are down so he might as well be sitting somewhere out past Betelgeuse. And besides, remember, Article Twenty-Three?"

Matt lowered his head and began to whisper, "in a time of war or emergency mobilization, the commanding officer shall have, within his powers, the right and privilege to summarily execute the offender, by agreement of those staff officers on board who are in good standing, if the actions of the offender do jeopardize the safety of the ship or mission of that ship. If a member of the Service under those above listed conditions should strike an officer, the punishment shall be summary execution with the agreement of those staff officers on board who are in good standing.'