William Forstchen - Article 23

Petronovich hesitated. "Even though I'm a cadet, I am a senior cadet holding the rank of ensign and should be addressed as 'sir.'"

"Yeah, sure, sir. Now either he helps me or you help me, what's it gonna be?"

"I've heard nothing from the Captain granting approval for cadets to leave their rooms tonight."

"Well, sonny why don't you just call him on that commlink of yours. And by heavens he'll tell you that at this end of the ship it's O'Brian who runs things and if I want a couple of rats to help me, by God I have them. Now are you coming in to help or are you going back to pacing your beat?"

"I'll remember this," Petronovich snapped. "When things calm down here you'll be on report too."

O'Brian snickered. "Sure, sure. Lose my stripes again. Won't be the first time. Now let us get to work."

Petronovich backed away, trying to maintain his dignity.

" Bell, once things are over with this morning, report to me. We're going to see the Captain about this, and you, too, O'Brian."

"Yes, sir, I'm sorry, sir," O'Brian replied in a wheedling tone.

The cook reached across the corridor and slid the door open into Tanya's room. "Hey, you lazy Russian, get your butt outta the net and in here. I need you."

O'Brian pushed Justin into the galley. Justin went over to the coffee dispenser, filled a container and took a gulp of the scalding brew. The caffeine, lack of sleep and nerves started him shaking. O'Brian went back to work. A minute later Leonov, obviously in a bad mood, came in.

"Close the door," O'Brian snapped, "and get to work."

"Look, O'Brian," Leonov began. "No one calls me a lazy Russian and Her voice trailed off as she looked at Justin.

"You look like hell, Justin, what happened?"

Justin told them the news and the two looked at him, stunned.

"I knew he'd flip some day," O'Brian snarled. "Damn all. It's going to be straight into the fan once we dock."

"What do you think will happen then?" Leonov asked.

"What if this separatist thing on Gustavus goes bad? What if personnel from the Service got killed? I think there might be some who will back MacKenzie up. At least in public. Say that it was an emergency, Everett was talking sedition and mutiny. MacKenzie is shrewd. None of the personal stuff will come out he'll act remorseful, claim that he was reluctantly forced to act to save his ship and he'll be exonerated. Besides, notice how he claims to have compromised by sparing the other eight. That'll make it look like he tried to be fair. And there's one thing that separates Everett from the others. "

"What's that?" Leonov asked."

"That Matt supposedly hit MacKenzie," Justin said.

"So there's two counts against him and your friend gets spaced."

" Thorsson would never sit for that," Leonov replied. "He'd bust his own career to get MacKenzie for killing one of his cadets."

"Would he? Look young lady. There are some who think Thorsson's off his nut with all this talk about the brotherhood of the service and our destiny to go for the stars; the emergence of the new generation of humanity. Chances are Thorsson will fall too because of this."

" Thorsson fall?" Justin cried. "That's impossible."

"There are some folks who think your Academy is nothing but a billion-dollar toy. They'd turn around and say that Thorsson was soft and Everett was the result. The truth of it all will get buried in a lot of mudslinging. And I tell you this, even if MacKenzie never goes a step farther in the Service, he'll have won what he wanted. He showed everyone that he was tough."

"By killing a sixteen-year-old cadet?" Leonov cried.

That will be forgotten. He'll be branded a traitor. What will be worse, though, this will drive a wedge between the two sides. In the Fleet the small core of hard-liners will rally around MacKenzie. But on the broader side of things the separatists will have a martyr and proof for their argument that the Service is an iron fist ready to smash them if they resist. This could take the simmering pot and make it boil over. And that, as well, is exactly what MacKenzie wants."

Justin listened to O'Brian, fascinated by how clear his logic suddenly was. The act of the simple, rough cook was, Justin realized, a facade. There was a depth of understanding to the man he'd never quite seen before. O'Brian looked at Justin and winked as if he knew what the cadet was thinking.

The door slid open and Hemenez stepped into the room.

"Lieutenant, sorry, I just heard the news," O'Brian said.

"Don't worry about me now, that's the least of my concerns."

O'Brian drew a cup of coffee and pressed it into her hand.

"All right, Bell, what gives?" Hemenez asked.

And as Justin began to talk the three looked at him with wide-eyed astonishment.

Alone in his room, Captain Ian MacKenzie stared out the forward view port. Mars was to one side, shining with a brilliant intensity in the center of Gemini.

It was quiet at last, the arguing finished, the task all but accomplished. Finally it will be clear, out in the open, he thought. He could sense what would happen when they finally docked. But it would be beyond recall. They she would portray Everett as a hero. Just like them to take such deceit, such arrogance and turn it about, wrapping it in a shimmering mantle of glory. Let them, he mused. It will drive them further in their madness and then it will be out in the open.

Then it will be revealed, all the poison, the lies and the corruption, and in the end I will be seen for the strength I alone had, to stand against the darkness. There will be a war and when it comes there will be need for such as me. Gone will be the men and women like Thorsson, unmasked as the builders of traitors. It will be a time of action, and command will be in the hands of men like me who will remember my courage.

He leaned over and turned on his computer, punching in the bypass codes. Scanning room by room he listened to all that was being said. In some rooms he heard whispers, yet more talk. He let the recorder run. Here will be more proof, for there will be a time when such things will be allowed to be heard. He switched through the lounge, which was empty, and then the galley.

Again that damnable music. He listened for a moment, then continued on.

He looked at the clock in the lower corner of his screen. Two hours to go. At least it would be over with quickly. He had seen enough good men die in vacuum to know it would be fast. For a brief instant the face of Everett was in his mind. Mouth open, gasping in the nothingness, then the freezing eyes rolling back, features going slack, arms and legs relaxing, limp, slowly curling up into a fetal position.

He hoped the boy wouldn't cry or struggle. At least take it like a man. Not a boy. But then they were deceitful, liars, and he remembered the boarding school so long ago, the taunting because he wasn't of their class, a boy from the east end of London among all that snobbery and wealth. Never good on the playing fields, called a drone for finding solace in study. The bully, Thrackworth red hair just like this one. The late night beatings with the others watching, saying nothing, afraid, or, worse yet, laughing. No one to stand by my side. Well, it was good training for the long watches alone, always alone.

Sighing, he turned the computer off and waited for the beginning of the morning watch.

"All hands, all hands, report forward to witness punishment."

Justin froze, looking over at O'Brian.

"Go, go! Remember, you got fifteen minutes, maybe twenty. It'll take time for them to line up, go through the reading of the Articles. I'll cover for you when roll is called, say I've confined you and Leonov to the galley and Hemenez is watching you."

Justin grabbed "Brian's hand, then looked over at Leonov and Hemenez.