Swords and Saddles

by Jack Campbell

  No one had yet heard who the attackers were. Aside from the Marines and the surviving masters-at-arms, few had even caught a glimpse of the attackers. “I don’t know,” Jen kept repeating to everyone who asked her. “I didn’t see any identifying markings on them. I’ll lay you odds there’s nothing on them that ties them to anyone.”

  At some point in the endless hours of labor, Jen sat down for a moment to eat a ration bar and didn’t so much fall asleep as pass out from exhaustion. She was awakened by the sound of her name and bolted upright, staring around in confusion as she tried to shake the fatigue clouding her mind. Focusing, Jen saw a man wearing admiral’s stars standing in front of her. But as she tried to spring to attention, the man held out his hands to almost hold her down.

  “Relax, lieutenant. You’re Shen?”

  “Yes, sir.” It just felt wrong to sit down while an admiral stood looking at her, but Jen couldn’t very well ignore his order to remain seated.

  “From all I hear we owe you a great deal, lieutenant. You did one hell of a job, and your quick reactions kept things from being worse. Maybe a lot worse.” The admiral gazed soberly at her for a long moment. “Maybe you don’t know, but I signed the charge sheet for your court-martial after the accident on the Maury. I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my time, Lieutenant Shen, but today proved that was by far the worst. They teach us never to apologize, but I’m doing it now. I deeply regret what the Navy put you through, and I’ll do what I can to make it right. Thank you, lieutenant.” The admiral extended his hand and Jen shook it reflexively, feeling even more stunned than before. Then the admiral nodded and moved off with his aide trailing.

  Commander Nuevos walked up beside Jen. “Looks like you might get a medal out of this, Jen. You deserve one.”

  “I don’t need a medal,” Jen whispered, watching the admiral leave. “I’ve got what I’ve wanted.”

  Somebody in authority had finally said they were sorry.

  #

  Almost exactly six weeks later, Jen stood uncomfortably in ranks as medals and commendations were handed out. When her name was called, Jen marched smartly forward, standing at attention as Captain Dila read a long citation, her mind only catching parts of the recitation. “For meritorious service in military operations against irregular forces on 6 July, 2104 . . . extremely rapid and effective response . . . outstanding initiative . . . coolness and courage against an aggressive and determined enemy . . . in keeping with the highest traditions of military service . . .”

  Admiral Yesenski stepped up, pinning a bronze star medal on Jen, then saluted her.

  She saluted back, wishing that Paul could be here.

  Afterwards, as the ranks dissolved and everyone mingled, Jen’s data pad chirped to announce an incoming message. Bravo Zulu, Lieutenant. She didn’t need to check the ID to know the Navy’s version of “well done” came from her father, currently serving in the Pentagon.

  Even if Paul was sitting waiting to see the ceremony, it would take at least half an hour for the video to reach Mars and any message to come back. Sighing, Jen pocketed her data pad again.

  A moment later a female chief master-at-arms sidled up to Jen. “Lieutenant Shen? Chief Sharpe has mentioned you a few times. Do you remember him?”

  “Ivan Sharpe? Yes, of course. I knew him when we were both on the Michaelson, and Sharpe worked directly for my husband for a couple of years.” As the sole law enforcement professional on the Michaelson, Sharpe had been nicknamed “Sheriff,” a title he took some pride in.

  The master-at-arms nodded, looking nervous. “Lieutenant Sinclair? That’s who I really need. Ma’am, Sharpe’s in trouble. Could your husband -?”

  “My husband is stationed on Mars at the moment.”

  “Oh.” The master-at-arms appeared crestfallen.

  “What’s the matter? What kind of trouble is Sharpe in? I thought I saw him in ranks earlier.”

  “He was here, ma’am, but I can’t say anything else.” The master-at-arms began to back away.

  Jen closed the distance. “Can’t say? Why not?”

  “Ma’am, it’s all classified, I can’t say anything, I’m sorry I troubled you.”

  Jen stepped closer. “It’s just you and me, chief, and then this conversation never happened.”

  The chief looked around nervously. “It’s classified, ma’am, and nobody told me you have an authorized need to know.”

  “If Sharpe needs help, I need to know in order to help him. But I heard nothing from you. Not a word. Now what’s going on?”

  “There’s going to be a court-martial,” the chief spoke quickly and quietly. “I shouldn’t be telling you even that. If anyone finds out I could get busted for it.”

  “A court-martial? Sharpe is facing a court-martial?” That sounded too ridiculous to be true. Aside from being a wise-ass on occasion, Sharpe had been a model master-at-arms. “Why? And why is it being kept secret?”

  The chief grimaced. “Security. Stuff about the attack on the station and vulnerabilities. That’s all I know. The charges are secret. Sharpe knows them but can’t tell me or anyone else. I can’t even find out the names of the officers and chiefs assigned to the court-martial.”

  “You mean the counsels? The prosecution and defense?”

  “No, ma’am. I got the defense counsel’s name out of Sharpe. I mean the, what do you call them –“

  “Members?” Jen asked with a tightening in her gut.

  “Yes, ma’am, members.”

  A classified court-martial. Even the charges kept secret. “Chief, the only courts-martial that have members are general courts-martial.” The most serious kind.

  “I know, ma’am.” The chief looked around again. “Sharpe thinks he can convince the members that whatever he’s charged with isn’t true.”

  Jen let out a half-scornful/half-pained laugh. “Being innocent doesn’t always work. Will Sharpe talk to me?”

  “No, ma’am. I asked. He says you’ve seen enough trouble and violating orders by talking to you would just get both him and you in more trouble.”

  “Thanks for letting me know.” Jen looked down at the new medal on her breast, thinking of how her re-won professional status might vanish again if she took the wrong steps now. But that just made her mad, and she knew exactly what Paul would do if he were here. “What’s the name of that defense counsel?”

  #

  Lieutenant Turen didn’t seem thrilled to see Jen. “I can’t discuss it. I’m sorry.”

  “Since when are courts-martial classified?” Jen demanded.

  “National security. I can’t say any more.”

  Jen took a deep breath and spoke calmly. “I want to help.”

  “Lieutenant Shen, I’ll give Chief Master-at-Arms Sharpe the best defense possible.”

  “Defense against what?”

  “I can’t discuss the charges.”

  Feeling her jaw tighten, Jen stepped back. The best defense possible? Turen couldn’t provide that. She knew who could. She also hated the idea of dialing that number and talking to that person. It’s not about you, Jen. It’s about Sharpe, and Paul. They never let you down. “Fine. Excuse me.”

  Do you really think I can be blown off that easily, Lieutenant Turen?

  #

  Jen waited, fighting off a constant urge to shut down the call request. Punching in the number had actually been harder than forcing herself to crawl into the wreckage of the Maury, harder than dealing with the attack on the station.

  The alert finally beeped and the screen blinked once before steadying into the image of a female commander sitting at her desk. Partially visible behind her was a window opening on a blue sky flecked with clouds. Earth. An open window. Blue sky. The longer Jen was out here the more alien her home world seemed.

  “Yes?” the commander asked, conveying the impression of someone interrupted in the middle of important tasks. Then she focused on Jen and jerked with surprise before her expression settled into controlled wariness. “
Lieutenant Shen. This is a surprise.”

  “Commander Carr.” Jen swallowed, now trying to overcome an urge to speak angrily. “I . . . I . . .” The words wouldn’t come, sticking in her throat.

  Carr leaned forward slightly, wariness mixing with concern now. “Is something wrong, lieutenant?”

  “Not with me. Not this time.” Jen almost winced as those sentences shot free. “I’m . . . sorry, commander. I didn’t mean –“

  Even with the time-lag between Earth and Franklin Station, Carr had time to interrupt Jen. “You don’t owe me any apologies, lieutenant. What’s the matter? Legal trouble?”

  “A friend of mine.” The words finally came in a rush. “A friend of Paul’s. Chief Master-at-Arms Ivan Sharpe.”

  “Sharpe?” Carr frowned in thought. “He helped us get Lieutenant Silver, and Lieutenant Pullman.”

  “Yes, ma’am. There’s a court-martial. A classified court-martial.” Jen spilled what little she knew, speaking as if briefing a superior officer, while Carr listened intently. “I was hoping you could tell me how to help Chief Sharpe.”

  “You think I can help?” Carr settled back, eyeing Jen.

  “Yes. Paul made me download your contact info because he said you told him to contact you if he ever needed it. He’s not here, he can’t help, but I know he’d want to do what he could for Sharpe. Paul always said you were a very good lawyer, and . . . and you always did what . . . what you thought was right.”

  “As opposed to doing what really was right?” Carr closed her eyes for a moment, before sighing and focusing back on Jen. “I’m still haunted by the thought that I might have won your conviction, lieutenant. I don’t know if that brings you any comfort. Let me look into this. I can’t give any decent advice without knowing more. How long do we have?”

  “I don’t know, ma’am. Every time I try to find out anything I’m told it’s classified and I have no need to know.”

  Carr stared at Jen. “That’s one hell of a way to run a legal proceeding, lieutenant. It sounds like they’re trying to keep this as quiet as possible. What kind of court-martial is it? Could you find that out?”

  “Yes, ma’am. It’s a general.”

  Commander Carr’s stare intensified. “Give me a contact address for you, lieutenant. I’ll call you back. Soon.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  But Carr had already broken the connection. Jen glared at the blank screen, wondering if she had debased herself by asking for help from Carr for nothing.

  #

  Two days later her data pad chirped urgently. Jen blinked herself awake, wondering what in engineering had broken this time. Either that or someone had fallen sick and needed someone else to stand their watch.

  But when she answered the call, Jen saw Commander Carr. The lawyer seemed to be somewhere crowded and her image was slightly tilted, so she was making her call using her own data pad. “Lieutenant Shen?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Listen, we’re not going to have much time. You and I need to hit the deck running on this. Can you get any leave from your current job?”

  “Ma’am?” Jen nodded. “Leave? Sure.”

  “Good. I want you to meet me the day after tomorrow at 0800. That’s when my shuttle is supposed to be off-loading. It’s cutting it close since the court-martial is supposed to start at 1000 that morning, but it’s the best I can do.”

  Jen stared at the screen. “You’re coming up here?”

  Carr nodded, her eyes on Jen’s. “I owe you, lieutenant. Even if I didn’t owe Paul for his assistance in the past, I owe you for the role I played in what almost happened to you and the effect of that on your career since. I had to pass off the cases I was working on to other lawyers in my office and get a priority shuttle lift arranged, but I’ll do everything I can for Chief Sharpe. I assume you won’t object to me acting as his military attorney.”

  “No.” Jen kept staring stupidly at the screen.

  “Good. Don’t tell anyone I’m coming up there. I’ve coordinated already with the defense counsel, but we want to surprise the trial counsel.” Carr grinned fiercely in a way that Jen remembered from the courts-martial of Silver and Pullman.

  To her own surprise, Jen felt herself smiling back. “I honestly did not expect this, ma’am.”

  “It’ll take a lot more than this to balance the scales, lieutenant,” Carr assured her. “Besides, classified trials offend my sense of fair play. I’ve never approved of the idea.” She paused. “Stay away from Sharpe until I get up there. I need you untainted by claims of improper contact.”

  “Why?” Jen asked, suspicions arising again despite her best intentions.

  “Didn’t I tell you? You’ll be my assistant. That’s the only way to get you into that courtroom, and I want you in that courtroom.”

  #

  The familiar shape of Commander Carr came striding briskly through the crowd. Jen waved to catch her attention, then waited as Carr came up. “All right, lieutenant. Do you have the time off you need?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good.” Carr started walking again and Jen followed. “The government really wants to keep a lid on this and is insisting that in order to protect classified information only people with legitimate roles in the trial will be allowed to attend. I hope you can live with being my gofer for a while.”

  Jen nodded. “As long as you don’t expect me to get coffee for you.”

  “No. I don’t drink the stuff,” Carr confessed. “Herbal tea is my speed.”

  “Ugh.” Jen shuddered. “I need my caffeine, ma’am.”

  Carr checked the time and exhaled heavily. “I could probably use some of that myself today. I wish they’d served breakfast on that shuttle.”

  Jen pulled out a breakfast bar. “I thought you might need this. I can’t do anything about the tea, though.”

  “You’re forgiven. Thanks.” Carr looked around, then focused back on Jen as they moved onto one of the station’s main thoroughfares. “Okay. By all appearances no one really planned for this to turn into a general court-martial. Someone insisted on pressing charges, they seemed plausible, and by the time anyone realized the seriousness of the charges would mandate a general court-martial instead of just a summary or a special the ball had rolled far enough downhill and gained enough momentum that no one could stop it. Now the government wants to do it quick, wants to do it clean, and wants to keep it under the radar.”

  “Why?” Jen asked.

  “Because it deals with too many sensitive security issues, and it’s happening at a time when the government still wants to be publicly focusing on the heroes who defended Franklin, instead of one of those defenders it alleges criminally failed in his duty.” She held out a warding hand before Jen could speak. “I can’t lay out the charges for you, yet. You’ll hear them at the trial. I’ve been talking to Turen and he’s got a decent foundation of material and witnesses together. But I want you backstopping me because you’re a very good engineer.”

  “Oh, is that a good thing, now?” Jen asked.

  Carr grimaced. “Yes.”

  Jen realized that she’d just twisted a knife, and to her own surprise felt contrite about it. “Sorry,” she muttered almost too low for Carr to hear.

  “I used that against you once. I deserved the dig.” Carr halted suddenly and turned to face Jen. “I had a choice on whether or not to take this case. I promise you I’ll do my best to win it. Major Hue, the trial counsel, is a very good and very experienced lawyer. Lieutenant Turen is well intentioned but inexperienced. Hue would have had him for dinner.”

  “I guess the government wants to win this case,” Jen said.

  “The government wants to win every case,” Carr corrected. “But we work under a system that forces the government to give defendants a fighting chance, when that system is allowed to work. You have precious little reason to believe that, I know, but it’s true.”

  Jen let a pained smile show. “I believe you, commande
r. After all, when it turned out the government had broken the rules my own case was thrown out by the judge.”

  “Exactly. Mind you, I don’t think anything like that is happening this time. The case seems based on Sharpe’s actions and different interpretations of what he did do and should have done, and the consequences of all that.”

  “I didn’t go near Sharpe, but I talked to the master-at-arms who first tipped me off to the court-martial. Master Chief Wilmont, who initiated the charges, doesn’t like Sharpe,” Jen said. “Hasn’t liked him since well before the attack on the station.”

  “Is that so?” Carr made some quick notes on her data pad. “Do you know why?”

  “Yes, ma’am. A bar fight.”

  “A bar fight? Sharpe?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Master Chief Wilmont had a few, claimed I got away with murder and he and Sharpe ending up punching each other out. The senior enlisted community covered up the whole thing, but Wilmont didn’t forget.” Jen shrugged. “More fall-out from my court-martial.” More collateral damage to those who knew her.

  Carr looked steadily at Jen for a moment, then a grim smile appeared on her face. “We may use that, lieutenant, and maybe educate Master Chief Wilmont a little in the process. Thanks. What’s the name of the enlisted who told you about this?”

  “Henga. Chief Master-at-Arms Jan Henga.”

  “Are she and Sharpe involved?”

  “Not as far as I can tell. I think she’d like that but it hasn’t happened so far.”

  “Good. Now, you get to the courtroom. You’ll be listed as Lieutenant Turen’s assistant on the access list. Sit behind the defense desk and wait.”

  “You’re not coming now?”

  “No.” Carr smiled reassuringly. “I have a few tasks to do first. Don’t worry, I’ll be there.”

  Fifteen minutes later Jen arrived at the courtroom and found an unusual level of security. The panel beside the main entry which was supposed to display case information instead declared “Proceedings closed by order of Commander, U.S. Space Forces.” Outside the entry three masters-at-arms stood, turning aside the curious. Jen felt a quiver inside as memories of her pre-trial confinement came back, memories of a hundred small indignities inflicted by cops like these who had been certain she was guilty. Setting her jaw and squaring her shoulders, Jen walked steadily up to the masters-at-arms. “Lieutenant Shen. I’m authorized entry.”