“Anyone who joins will have a temporary stay of their sentence and anyone who serves well can expect an overturning or total expungement of their convictions,” he said in an even louder voice.
“Piss off!” that annoying voice blurted out.
“Stand at … ease!” he projected using his command voice.
Mike ignored the voice and kept cool. He had already told the guards not to interfere, though they didn’t know that this was all part of his plan. Heading to his left and the opposite end of the formation he started slowly down the line.
He had worked hard to memorize each of their names, MOSs and their stories. He had already narrowed the ship’s prisoners to this thin line standing before him.
Lt. Collins walked past the first few prisoners nodding to them already sure that they would join. He then stopped in front of one of the two women in the line. She and her girlfriend had been charged with fraternization, dereliction of duty and lewd behavior. Basically, they had been having sexual relations in the engine room during the night shift. Her girlfriend accepted the findings of a Captain’s Mast and was given six months in the brig along with the loss of pay and rank.
She opted for a general court-martial and was found guilty. Her punishment was two years in the brig and a bad conduct discharge sometimes called the big chicken dinner. That was the danger of electing for a general court-martial, sometimes you lose. Her girlfriend had already served her time and had left while she still had eighteen more months to go.
Scanning her face, he saw that she looked like she could give a shit but he needed her as she was a fire control specialist.
Stopping he looked right at her, “Cindy Baker, any relation to a Chief Petty Officer Robert Baker, he would be about your grandfather’s age?”
“No … sir,” she said and added, “Why do you ask?”
“He was my weapons and fire control officer on the Randori. A good man who I miss, may he rest in peace,”
Mike walked on before she could respond.
Moving passed two more men he stopped and looked at a fellow who had stood out when he had read their personnel jackets.
Greg Curtis was without a doubt a con man, a hustler, and a gambler. He had a half-dozen minor offenses, most of them dealing with games of chance and petty theft. He probably would have been drummed out of the navy except it was wartime and he had proven hard to convict. Curtis’s last racket was a pool guessing how many times his ship’s captain would say, “hum” per day. It was a very popular pool that is except with his captain.
To make matter worse when they searched his locker they found a hidden space in its sides in which were stored numerous items of contraband mostly dealing with alcohol. It seemed that he was acting as the ship’s unofficial morale officer. His captain didn’t find that very funny either and threw the book at him giving him the maximum sentence that a Captain’s Mast would allow.
Lt. Collins looked at him for a moment and moved on. He didn’t need those kinds of headaches but he did need a maser operator and maybe he could get him to use his less desirable skills to be his ship’s scrounger. God knew he needed one.
Taking several steps, he centered himself on the next four men - Wallace, Ditz, Santiago, and Perkins. They had all come off the Pallas and were serving sentences from a Captain’s Mast for disrespecting a superior officer.
It seemed that they were bitching about their duty shifts and it somehow lead to talk about the command staff especially Commodore Essex. One of them knew the truth about Granny Essex supposedly being a hero and told the others who made several remarks about his character. Unfortunately, they were recorded by the ship’s computer and were quickly found guilty and shipped off to the Captivity.
Mike made eye contact with all four of them before he spoke.
“My ship’s engineer, one Chief Petty Officer Pieter Schmidt gave me a message for you four. Stop slacken off and get back to work!” he said realizing that this must have been something Schmidty said a lot back when he was a Senior Chief on the Pallas.
The four engineer’s mates looked shocked for a moment but then all smiled, Mike nodded in return knowing that they were all going to volunteer.
Taking a few steps further down the line he stopped not because he wanted to speak to someone but because he smelled something foul.
He looked down at a meek-looking man who had a black eye but worse than that it smelled like he had peed himself. Looking him over confirmed a stain on his trousers but there was no pool of fluid by his feet. His stains and the lingering smell must have been from earlier in the day. The little man’s name was Duffey B. Thach.
He was an E-4 Specialist having certifications in water reclamation and air recycling. Mike needed his skills but he was unsure of his smell and of the man. He was here for dereliction of duty for repeatedly leaving his post during combat drills.
His defense was that he had to go to the head but medical examination showed that he had nothing wrong with him. His file also reported on his inability to get along with others and having a generally negative attitude about everything and everyone.
“Are you all right, Duffey?” he asked while willing to give almost anyone a chance to prove themselves. General George Patton once said that “The real hero is the man who fights even though he is scared.” Mike wondered if this was Duffey Pee Thach.
Specialist Thach looked at him for a moment, glanced down the line and shook his head.
Taking a few more steps, Collins noticed that the men on this end of the formation all seemed to have facial injuries as if someone was using them as a punching bag.
Stopping at the next person he wanted to talk to he saw that he had a black eye and several cuts to his face. He was young, around Mike’s age and had been an Ensign on the Pallas. He was a trained pilot and navigator but had been relegated to shuttle duty rather than bridge duty.
It seemed that he never gotten the word about the A.I. monitoring conversations and their mail. Every time he complained it was filed and if he commented on the worthiness or lack of worthiness of his commanding officer it was also reported. Charges of disrespect quickly sent him here for six months.
“So, Mister Pitt, do you think you can handle piloting an old Battle Class frigate?” Mike asked with a smile.
Jeremy Pitt looked at him nervously and glanced in the same direction that Duffey had earlier, right towards the man who kept calling out.
“That all depends if he is coming along, sir,” he said in a lowered voice as he indicated with a nod of his head towards the large man down the row.
Lt. Collins leaned forward and whispered back to him, “I don’t think you’re going to have to worry about that.”
Walking the last few step, he stopped in front of the loudmouth who had been calling out. Petty Officer Second Class David French was tall and it looked like he was an avid weightlifter or at least had spent a ton of money getting gene muscle therapy to get that big. Mike looked at his hands and saw that his knuckles were cut and raw as if he had been hitting something or someone. It didn’t take him even a second to figure out that French had been beating on the other prisoners in his prison wing.
Petty Officer French was a maintenance technician on the space station and was part of the Maintenance and Material Management Section. While working there he got involved with a civilian administrative secretary. He even moved into her larger quarters after just a few dates. The problem was he liked to get drunk and slap her around. The last time he put her into the hospital and her ten-year-old son, who had tried to defend his mom had ended up with a broken arm.
Mike had put him on his list after he read his file and the charges against him. It seemed that the mom was getting cold feet about pressing charges and that French might be released in the next few days.
The bully was a hand taller than him but he just smiled at him as he asked his question.
“So, Mister French, I don’t think you’d want to serve on a battle frigate, now would you?�
� he asked with a big grin.
“Listen, sir, you can take your offer and …” he started sounding angry but stopped short of saying something that could get him busted for disrespect.
“And?” Mike prompted.
“Nothing, sir,” he said almost spitting the last word out.
“Nothing? I believe that is what your flight instructor said about you in his last report before you were dropped from star fighter school and sent off to be a technician. Let me see if I remember what he said. Yes, I’ve got it now. He said that Mister French has nothing to contribute to the star pilot program or to the officer corps and that he should be immediately released from the service.”
“Where did you get that?” French said in angry.
“It was in your 201 File. It is a shame there is a war on or maybe they would have just released you. Of course, that may have been your plan all along. You know, avoid the fighting and the chance of getting killed. Some people might even call you a coward but not me … I call that smart,” he said taunting him.
“You…” French started again fight to control himself.
Mike then reached up to his pilot’s wing and ran a finger over them.
“Or perhaps you just couldn’t cut it,” he said smiling.
French was fuming at this point. His body was quivering in rage with his fists clenched as he fought to keep himself from ripping this punk officer a new one.
“Maybe it’s better that you just hid behind the lines and kept your fighting to beating up on women and little boys. I heard you’re really good at that,” Mike said and then turned as if he was going to walk away.
French couldn’t take it anymore and let loose a scream of rage as he swung a huge punch at the back of officer’s head just as he turned away.
It was a coward’s attack but that what Mike wanted and expected him to do. After all, his plan was to get him mad and sucker him into making a mistake.
Using his peripheral vision, he saw the blow coming and moved. Taking a quick step, he pivoted away and to the outside as he brought up a sweeping chop block hitting his wrist. His years of martial arts training and his augmented strength meant that French’s wrist snapped like a dry twig from the blow but that didn’t end the fight.
Grabbing his broken wrist, he pulled the arm back as he struck with his left forearm across his elbow. His old karate instructor used to call this a two-action break, pulling and striking in two opposing directions. Needless to say, the elbow made a loud popping sound as it broke, making everyone in the room wince from the sound.
Mike wasn’t done with him yet and while still holding his broken wrist and arm he fluidly brought his leg up and quickly struck downward with a forward on an angle kick. The blow hit like a piston and French’s knee snapped at the joint with a loud crunching sound. At this point, Collins left him go as he dropped to the floor in agony.
The MPs and Lt. Rogen ran to his aid but the whole fight was over so fast that it lasted only a few seconds.
“Are you all right, sir?” Rogen asked concerned for his safety as well as what kind of hell he’d have to pay if a visiting officer was injured by a prisoner on his watch.
“I’m fine,” Mike said and then asked, “What did you see?”
The marine officer looked at him being a little confused for moment but one of the MPs spoke up.
“Sir, I saw the prisoner attack the officer from behind and said officer was forced to defend himself.”
“Mister Rogen?” Collins prompted.
“I saw the same thing,” he said being truthful.
“Good, get a medic down here and I want statements sworn out from everyone that witnessed the incident. I also want Mister French here held on charges of assaulting an officer,” Mike instructed.
Lt. Collins then moved back to the front of the formation and reached into his pocket. He then pulled out his commando insignia and placed under his pilot’s wings. Next, he took out his Knight’s Spur ring and slipped it back onto his finger. He did all of this nice and slow so that they could all see. He had originally taken them off in fear that if the bully had seen them he might not have attacked him.
“I’ll give all of you the next thirty minutes to decide if you want this opportunity to clear your names and your records as well as saving your careers,” he said and then added a little louder, “Dismissed!”
The guards moved in and quickly guided the prisoners out the far door and back to their cells. After they left Mike went over to French who had been placed on a grav stretcher and was about to be moved to the infirmary for treatment. They had given him some non-addictive pain meds which left him a little drowsy. Collins leaned down and whisper to the broken bully who was still conscious.
“If you ever hit another woman or child again, I’ll find you and finish the job,” he said into his ear.
One of the medics nearby moved closer and tried to hear what he had said but missed it.
“What did you tell him, sir?” the curious medic asked.
“Just a prayer for his future good health,” Mike replied as turned about and walked away.
Lt. Collins was there longer than the half-hour he intended. He had to see the ship’s warden for questioning that is after they woke him up and reported the incident. Thankfully, all of the guards and Lt. Rogen agreed with his testimony and after all, no one was all that fond of French.
It took two hours to get it all cleared up and have the official charges sworn out. Mike was hopefully leaving the system in few days but with all of the witnesses’ testimonies and his own written statement, it was almost a sure thing that French would be staying in prison for some time.
Waiting at the shuttle to take him to the Mastodon he saw fifteen former prisoners hustle over to the shuttle. Ensign Jeremy Pitt was leading them and saluted as he approached Lt. Collins who was standing on the ramp.
“All present and accounted for, sir,” he said with a smile.
Mike returned his salute and his smile.
“Have them load the shuttle and let’s get back to the Mastodon. We have a lot of work to do,” he said.
They had all gotten their personal belonging and uniforms back from prison storage. Some of them had even had time to change from their prison coveralls back into their proper uniforms and ranks. Every one of them had a smile on their faces as they entered the shuttle and found a seat.
Mike and Jeremy were the last two to enter.
“Sir, did you plan on breaking that shithead’s arm and leg?” Pitt inquired.
“Now Mister Pitt that would be telling but I can tell you this, he was definitely not coming with us,” he said as he closed the hatch and quickly found his seat.
Chief Petty Officer Schmidt had been working his ass off for the last twelve hours with just two repair droids for help. He knew that Lt. Collins was trying to get them a crew but he was now exhausted and starving. Leaving the Goliad, he headed across the repair bay’s floor to find the lift that would take him up three levels to the mess hall. A little food would do him wonders and then he’d find a bunk in the old frigate and get some sleep.
Halfway across the floor, he saw the corridor’s door open and Lt. Collins came in with fifteen men and women following close behind him. Four of them where his old crewmates from the Pallas who rushed over to him. They kind of circled around him as they shook hands and slapped each other on the back.
“Sir, you did it,” Schmidty said grinning as his friends stood around him.
“Yeah, I got us a crew but we have a lot left to do,” Mike said looking to the frigate on the other side of the bay.
CPO Schmidt nodded, “Let’s get them quarters, and then I’ll assign them repair details for the morning after chow.”
“Sound good, let’s get everyone settled in and we’ll start operations in seven hours,” Mike said wanting to give everyone a few hours of sack time before the fun began.
“Aye sir,” the NCO answered and then started barking orders to everyone nearby.
<
br /> It took nearly an hour but in the end, they all had been assigned crew quarters and settled into their new bunks. They knew that in a few hours they’d be working hard and that it was going to be that way for the next few days or even longer. Still, it was a good feeling for most going to sleep without the sound of a security door closing and locking them in.
The next day with the droids fully charged and his crew fed they got to work. The hull’s armor was almost restored which the repair droids would still be working on this morning. Schmidty took his four engineers and headed down to the bender and fusion drives’ engine room. The new fusion drives were already installed and they were running a full diagnostic on them to make sure they were operating within normal parameters.
The bender drives were old and a diagnostic started the night before showed that they really needed some TLC. These engines were the original bender drives that were installed when the ship was first launched. Schmidty and two of his men were pulling key sections out to visually check them and then replaced whatever was needed.
Parts were a problem and Mike sent Petty Officer Second Class Greg Curtis, his scrounger, to check the refuse bins and open parts locker on the Mastodon for anything on Schmidty must-have list. He also gave him one explicit order – Don’t steal anything! Greg Curtis smiled a pleasant almost innocent smile and assured him that such behavior was the furthest from his mind.
Mike sent Ensign Pitt along with Petty Officer Cindy Baker and two other crewmen to the bridge to run a diagnostic on the helm, navigation, and the sensors unit as well as on the fire control system.
Fifteen minutes later he got a call via his link from Mister Pitt telling him that there was no maser unit or even an older space radar unit. He then related that information to his chief scrounger.
As he was assigning jobs and taking in all of the part requests from his workers he saw Senior Chief Wineburg come across the airlock bridge. He had a scowl on his face and when he spotted Lt. Collins his frown deepened.
Mike smiled when he saw the robust man walking over to him.
Wolves at the Gate Page 18