Against All Enemies ps-4

by John G. Hemry

  "Do you need anything?"

  "Not right now. Thanks for bringing that stuff earlier. It really helps to know you guys all still believe in me."

  Paul nodded, not willing to say anything. He didn't know whether or not Pullman actually believed that the rest of the wardroom of the Michaelson was supporting him, but it wasn't Paul's job to tell him otherwise. Even if Paul knew for sure how all of the other officers felt. I'm here to make sure he's being treated right before the trial. Maybe he's guilty. Maybe not. But until that court-martial decides, I don't want him treated as if he's already been convicted.

  Pullman leaned forward a little as if sharing a confidence. "I'll beat this, you know. No problem."

  "Brad, Commander Carr is a real good lawyer, and there's some evidence-"

  "No problem," Pullman repeated, waving away Paul's warning. "I've told my lawyers how to handle this. We'll get these stupid charges dismissed. Stupid and unfounded charges, that is."

  Paul couldn't help being impressed by Pullman's confidence. What does he know that I don't? Or that Commander Carr doesn't? Still, he wasn't about to jump off this fence, to commit to believing Pullman, until he saw whatever legal tricks Pullman's lawyers pulled out of their hats. "This may be my last visit for a while. The court-martial is convening soon and I understand they won't want me seeing you while that's going on."

  "Ah, I'll talk to my lawyers-"

  "Your lawyers are two of the people saying they don't want me seeing you."

  "Oh. Okay. I'll talk to them about that."

  Paul gestured toward one of the cameras he knew were mounted in the walls. A door opened and two masters-at-arms entered, eyeing Pullman with disdain and Paul with wariness.

  "All good things come to an end," Pullman noted. "Catch you later."

  "Sure." Paul watched Pullman leave the visitors room to be returned to his cell, then signed out and began walking back to the ship, trying to reconcile Pullman's confidence and calm demeanor with what he knew of the government's case against him.

  As Paul came back aboard, he saw Master Chief Maines talking to Petty Officer First Class Qui, the new master at arms. Ivan Sharpe had told Paul that Qui knew his stuff, and so far Paul certainly hadn't had any complaints. Except for wishing that he still had Sharpe's familiar, trusted presence to bounce ideas off of.

  Maines gave Paul a big grin. "Mr. Sinclair. Petty Officer Qui's just back from the special court-martial of Petty Officer Vox."

  "It's over?" Almost two months to get the special court-martial convened and only two days to conduct the trial. One less thing to worry about, although Paul knew he'd have to summarize the trial record for the Captain and the XO to go over.

  Qui smiled as well. "Yes, sir. Mr. Vox bought himself a Big Chicken Dinner."

  "That'll make the captain happy." Big Chicken Dinner was slang for Bad Conduct Discharge. Not as bad as a Duck Dinner/Dishonorable Discharge, but not something any person would want in their life record.

  "And a year at Leavenworth," Qui added.

  "That'll make the captain very happy. Does he know, yet?"

  "No, sir. Petty Officer Qui was just telling me." Master Chief Maines inclined her head in the general direction of the captain's cabin. "The captain told me a bit earlier to let you know that he wanted to see you when you got back to the ship anyhow, Mr. Sinclair. He wants you to brief Captain Agee on the progress of the Pullman thing."

  Captain Agee. The new commanding officer, who would relieve Captain Hayes in about two week's time. It seemed impossible that Captain Hayes' time as captain of the Michaelson was already coming to an end. Impossible and cause for more than a little uneasiness in Paul. He'd grown to depend on the steady hand of Captain Hayes as his commanding officer. Now an unknown element would be taking over again, though Paul himself would be leaving the ship before much longer, so the practical impact should be very small.

  Both Captain Hayes and Captain Agee were sitting in the wardroom when Paul poked his head inside. He gave Hayes a quick report on the outcome of Vox's special court-martial, earning a grin from the captain. "Vox was a dirtball," Hayes explained to Agee. "But he's gone. You won't have to worry about him."

  "Good to hear," Agree said approvingly. "Sit down, Paul. I want to hear about this Pullman case."

  Paul sat, keeping his back stiff. He knew better than to slouch in any official meeting with any captain, especially a captain who within a short time would be captain of the Michaelson and therefore in control of Paul's fate on a day-to-day basis. "Captain Hayes, sir, about the initial NCIS investigation-"

  "I've already told Captain Agee about that. You don't need to cover it."

  Agee nodded, eyeing Paul. It was hard to tell whether or not he approved of Paul's assistance to NCIS.

  Paul ran down what he knew of the charges and evidence, trying to be even-handed.

  Agee pursed his lips and glanced at Hayes. "It does look like a strong case."

  "Yeah," Hayes agreed. "I'm personally convinced of Pullman's guilt, but it's not over 'til it's over. When's the last time you saw Pullman, Paul?"

  "Less than an hour ago, sir. I stopped by the brig on the way back from the JAG offices.

  "How's Pullman?"

  Paul let his exasperation show. "Confident, sir."

  Agee looked surprised. "Confident?"

  "Yes, sir. Almost cocky. He says he'll be exonerated for sure."

  "Any idea why he's saying that?"

  "No, sir. Nothing specific. He just says he'll beat the charges."

  Hayes pointed to Paul. "I've told Paul to be at the court-martial every day as an observer once it begins. It looks like that's going to overlap with the change of command, though."

  Agee nodded. "It sounds like a good idea. Can your chief cover your division, Paul?"

  "Yes, sir. Senior Chief Imari is very capable. My relief should also be coming aboard any day now."

  "Fine. Do the JAGs mind us having a command representative present?"

  "No, sir. Commander Carr has asked for my presence." Agee looked intrigued. "We've worked together before."

  Hayes was apparently examining his fingernails. "Admiral Silver's son."

  "Oh." Captain Agee gave Paul another look. "You're that guy. Okay, if the JAGs want you there, I don't see any reason not to grant their request. Do you give Captain Hayes daily updates during the trial?" Paul nodded. "Do that for me, too." Agee paused and frowned. "Have you been seeing Pullman in the brig on the captain's behalf as well?"

  "Uh, no, sir. That is, I've kept Captain Hayes informed, but I've been keeping on eye on him on my own initiative."

  "Why?"

  It was funny how the shortest questions could require the longest answers. "I just want to ensure he's being treated appropriately, sir. I thought someone from the ship ought to keep an eye on him, and let the brig know that we were keeping on eye on him. It seemed the right thing to do."

  "Huh." Agee gave Paul a searching look. "You sound like you know somebody who wasn't treated too well in the brig."

  "Yes, sir." Paul paused but Agee kept watching him as if expecting more. "My fiancee, sir." Another pause. "Lieutenant Jen Shen."

  "Oh." Agee glanced at Hayes, seeing the other captain nod to confirm Paul's statement. "Oh. You're that guy, too. Damn, Sinclair, you're high-level radioactive. Do you know that?"

  For some reason the statement almost amused Paul. "So I've been told, sir."

  "Where are you going from the Michaelson?"

  "Mars, sir. Last minute order modification."

  "Well, hell." Agee glared at Paul but his anger seemed directed elsewhere. "Anything I can do?"

  "I'm afraid not, sir."

  "You let me know if there is."

  "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." He meant it, because he was sure Agee meant it. Despite everything, meeting those who were willing to openly stand up for him counted for a great deal.

  After leaving the wardroom, Paul stood on the quarterdeck for a moment, not really aware of the o
fficer of the deck and the petty officer of the watch, who were busy with their own jobs at the moment anyway. His eyes came to rest on the brow leading onto the station. It was odd how such a small walkway could have so much significance. But that was how people came and went from the Michaelson. Some day soon Captain Hayes would walk off that brow for the last time, and not long afterwards Paul would do the same.

  Right now he was wishing some of those who'd left were still around. Commander Sykes would have good advice, or at least an absurd story to tell to get a junior officer's mind off his problems. Sheriff Sharpe would be blunt and practical, a solid sounding board for Paul's own thoughts. Sharpe knew it, too, but had never tried to take advantage of his professional closeness.

  The Sheriff had walked off the brow his last time a couple of weeks ago, grinning when he saw Paul there to say farewell. "Gonna miss me, Mr. Sinclair?"

  "Yeah." Paul extended his hand and they shook. "Thanks, Sheriff."

  "For anything in particular, sir?"

  "For being one helluva master-at-arms and helping a certain new ensign keep his head on straight when he needed it the most."

  Sharpe had grinned wider. "That's just my job, sir."

  "And for being someone I could always count on."

  The grin changed to a close-lipped smile. "Thank you, sir. And may I say the same back. I could always count on you. I know Chief Asher and I appreciated it even if no one else in the damned Navy did."

  "A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, right, Sheriff?"

  "Right. I don't think that's one of the things I had to teach you, though. You seemed to figure it out for yourself." Sharpe stepped back and saluted. "See you around, Mr. Sinclair."

  "Fair winds, Sheriff." Paul returned the salute, then for a moment watched Sharpe saying rough farewells to the other enlisted who'd come to see him off. Chief Imari came over to talk to Paul about a problem with one of their sailors, and when Paul looked over again Sharpe had left.

  David T. Sinclair was taller than Paul. He'd always been taller, Paul thought, as well as better looking and smarter. Which wouldn't have been so bad except that through life David had demonstrated a tendency to bring up those advantages with enough frequency to make Paul want to kick holes in the nearest solid surface. Still, simple courtesy required Paul to go greet his brother after he arrived on the station.

  "Come in." David had, naturally enough, rented a room at one of the two private hotels which rented space to operate on Franklin. Also naturally enough, he'd chosen the more expensive of the two. He was standing in the room when Paul arrived, and staring around as if not able to believe how little space the money he was paying actually bought on a space station. "Hey, little bro. Long time no see." David smiled widely and they shook hands. "Can you believe this?"

  "Believe what?"

  "This closet they call a hotel room. Do you know what this is costing me?"

  "It's pretty spacious for private quarters up here, David."

  "Unbelievable. I guess I can put up with it for a little while though."

  Paul nodded, thinking how much time he'd spent putting up with considerably less personal space on the Michaelson. "Mom and dad will be staying in the other hotel when they come up here. That's where family members usually stay when they come up to visit people assigned to the station or ships that dock here."

  "Sure, they're not on an expense account for their law firm," David chuckled. "How long should this military trial take?"

  "Not too long. I'm told it's a fairly straightforward case."

  "Really?" David seem amused. "Who told you that?"

  "Commander Carr, the trial counsel." He paused just a moment to let David puzzle over the title. "That's the prosecutor."

  "Oh." David waved one hand. "Whatever they call him-"

  "Her."

  "Her. Whatever they call her won't matter. I don't lose cases."

  "Neither does Commander Carr," Paul advised dryly.

  David laughed. "Maybe I'll have a few surprises for this prosecutor. It wouldn't be the first time." He gave Paul an appraising look. "Do you know her? What's she like? What sort of courtroom tactics does she use?"

  Paul pretended ignorance. "I haven't seen that much of her."

  "I guess I couldn't have expected anything else. Besides, you probably couldn't tell me much about courtroom tactics even if you had." David rummaged through his bag, apparently oblivious to the flash of anger on Paul's face. "What are these military lawyers like? The defense lawyer, I mean."

  "They're lawyers."

  "No. I mean, who do they work for? The military right? The same people running the prosecution. Is there any reason to believe this guy who's been appointed to defend Pullman is actually going to do any real work on Pullman's behalf?"

  Paul simply stared for a moment, shocked by the statement. "Of course he'll work to defend Pullman. He'll do everything he can. That's how they work. I've seen them work. They don't roll over for the prosecution. They fight for their clients."

  "Really?" David didn't bother hiding his skepticism. "Of course, you don't really know enough to judge."

  "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do."

  David frowned and gave Paul a serious look. "You sound upset."

  "I know the military legal system. I've worked with it far more than I ever expected to, and I'm speaking from personal experience."

  "Okay, okay. Pardon me for assuming you were just sailing around in spaceships up here."

  Paul realized he could stay mad or he could try to educate his brother, which wasn't a bad idea since it would place him in the role of his brother's teacher. "You'll need to visit my ship." David gave him another frown, this one questioning. "To interview witnesses, get character references, get firsthand knowledge of the places that'll be referred to in the trial, that sort of thing."

  David's expression changed. "You do know something about this game. Yes. I'll want to do that. Who do I talk to about setting it up?"

  "Me." Paul grinned. "I'll also take you down to meet Lieutenant Owings. He's been appointed to defend Pullman."

  "Where's Pullman? I understand he's in pre-trial confinement?"

  "Yeah. In the brig. That's a military jail."

  "Does Owings have any idea how well or badly Pullman's being treated in that jail?" David asked sharply, as if he already knew the answer.

  "Yes," Paul stated. "So do I. I've visited him frequently to check on conditions."

  David nodded, letting approval show. "Good one, bro. Consider me appropriately chastised for assuming you wouldn't have any kind of handle on this. How soon can we get going?"

  Paul checked the time and shook his head. "I'm real limited on time right now, but I can take you down to see Lieutenant Owings. I'm sure he'll take you to see Pullman."

  "Good. Pullman's old man wanted me to send him an update on how his kid's doing."

  Paul hesitated, then asked a question that had been bothering him. "Pullman's father is the one who hired you, right? I know you're not cheap, and I know it costs a fair amount for you to come up here. Pullman's father is a retired warrant officer. I wonder where he got the money to afford you?"

  David shrugged. "He didn't have to tell me that, but he volunteered that he'd had some investments pay off real well. You're not begrudging him spending the money on defending his son, are you?"

  "No. Not at all."

  Lieutenant Owings greeted David Sinclair politely when Paul brought his brother down to the JAG offices. Then both lawyers looked at Paul in a way which clearly conveyed that they wanted to be alone, no doubt to discuss how they'd defend Pullman. On his way out, Paul wondered whether he should drop in on Commander Carr, then decided after another look at the time that he needed to get back to the ship as soon as possible.

  "Hey, Paul!" Randy Diego had the quarterdeck watch. "Guess what?"

  "Am I guessing something good or something bad?" Paul asked, though from Randy's expression he knew it had to be good.

  "Depends on
whether or not you consider your relief coming aboard is good or not."

  "My relief's aboard?" Paul didn't know how, even in the midst of everything else, he could've forgotten his relief would be showing up anytime now. "Where is she?"

  "I think she's in Combat. Senior Chief Imari came down to pick her up."

  "Thanks, Randy." Paul hastened up to Combat, where he found Lieutenant Junior Grade Jane Shwartz chatting with Imari. "Good to see you. Paul."

  "Jane." She shook his hand. "This looks like the same set-up as on the Rickover."

  "Pretty close," Paul confirmed. "There's a few minor differences. Did you work in Combat on the Rickover?"

  "No. Engineering." They talked a while longer. Paul walked Shwartz around the ship, introducing her to other officers and senior enlisted. Shwartz seemed friendly and intelligent, which made Paul feel better about his impending hand-over to her of the sailors and equipment for which he'd spent the last three years being responsible.

  Paul apologized for the amount of time he'd be off the ship for the next couple of weeks. "It's the legal officer job."

  Shwartz nodded. "That legal stuff is so weird."

  "You know something about it?"

  "I just went through the three-week ship's legal officer course."

  "Uh-oh."

  She looked puzzled, then clenched her eyes shut. "I'm going to get stuck with ship's legal officer collateral duty when you leave, aren't I?"

  "I'd put money on it."

  Half an hour later, after Shwartz had met Commander Kwan, Paul could've collected on his bet if they'd actually made one. He took his relief to meet Petty Officer Qui. Paul hoped that after she took over the job Shwartz would have a less interesting time as legal officer than Paul had had.

  He finally left the ship late that evening, having partially caught up on some of his tasks and having spent time jawboning with Shwartz about the wardroom of the Michaelson. Paul emphasized telling her which officers were the best in his opinion and could be trusted, while dropping a few hopefully discreet warnings about those who were less capable or should be watched. The Michaelson no longer had onboard any blatant back-stabbers like Smilin' Sam Yarrow had been, but he wanted to be sure Shwartz at least knew about Isakov. It turned out she did already. "A lot of people know about her. But thanks for the heads-up."