Against All Enemies ps-4

by John G. Hemry

  Paul paused outside the door to Jen's quarters for a moment, reveling in the feeling that the place was a home of sorts. Jen had keyed him into the entry system, but he still pushed the buzzer out of a desire to avoid seeming to take her or the quarters for granted.

  "You're late. Rough day?" Jen asked.

  "Busy day. My relief showed up."

  "Good day, then." Jen held up her data pad. "Speaking of good days and not-so-good days, guess what? Your movement order came in."

  Paul just nodded, not really wanting to look ahead that far.

  "Aren't you curious as to when your ship leaves for Mars?" Jen prodded.

  "Why?" Something about the question sparked concern in Paul. "When's it leave? About a month after I detach from the Michaelson, right?"

  "Try three days."

  " Three days?"

  "The morning of the third day, to be exact. You will have two days between the time you detach from your ship and the time you leave Franklin for Mars."

  "I don't believe this." A realization finally hit Paul. "The wedding. That's supposed to be a week after I leave the Michaelson."

  Jen smiled mockingly. "Yeah. Sweet, isn't it?"

  "What are we going to do?"

  "I've done it." Jen sat forward, her face serious in that way Paul had seen it get when there was a job to be done quickly and right. "Miraculously, the chapel is available the day before you detach from the Michaelson. Only for a one hour window, but it's open. We'll have to do the wedding then, quick and dirty, after which you'll have to go back to the ship the next day, go through your check-out, and detach. That will leave us a glorious two days for a honeymoon before you sail off to Mars for at least two years."

  Paul sat there, slowly absorbing the information. "I don't believe it."

  "Think of all the days of leave we're going to save."

  "Oh, yeah," Paul agreed. Jen seemed about to laugh. That puzzled Paul for a moment, then he got it. What else was there to do? They could get enraged, they could scream bloody murder, and it wouldn't make any difference. They might as well start enjoying the ride because it wasn't going to get any better. "Somebody up there must hate me."

  "No, somebody down here hates you, but somebody up there loves you. That chapel is never available on this short of a notice. Talk about a miracle."

  "Like my meeting you?"

  "Oh, please…"

  "Forty-eight hours." Paul thought about it. "That's going to be one short honeymoon."

  "Short and intense, sailor," Jen advised with another smile. "Make sure you've been taking your vitamins. You'll need your strength."

  This time he laughed, too.

  To Paul's surprise, NCIS came aboard again just a few days before the court-martial was to begin. To his even greater surprise, Special Agent Connally was with them. "Hi, Paul." She seemed unaware of the others watching them, some of them no doubt recognizing Paul's guest from the days before Pullman was arrested, but her next words belied that. "I didn't tell you that time I visited the ship, but I'm working for NCIS now. I thought I'd surprise you today."

  The first part was, literally, true. She hadn't told him then. She'd told him before that. But those listening would draw another interpretation from the statement, that Paul hadn't knowingly squired an NCIS agent around officers' country. Another lie by omission, in the service of truth. It still didn't feel right to Paul, even though he couldn't think of any other way it could've been handled. There wasn't any doubt he'd been surprised by Connally's coming to the ship, though. "Really?" he managed to reply. "What brings you here now?"

  "We're doing another sweep of the ship for bugs and taps." She grinned at the look on Paul's face. "No, we don't think we missed any. We don't expect to find any at all."

  "Then why are you doing another sweep?"

  "It's a request from the trial counsel. She didn't explain why, but we know the reason."

  Paul made a questioning gesture. "What is it?"

  "One of the things Pullman's lawyer is certain to try to claim is that Pullman isn't the one who planted the taps and bugs we found last time, that it was someone else who wasn't arrested. But if our sweep shows that no new bugs or taps have been planted since Pullman was arrested, it sort of sandbags that claim."

  Paul nodded as comprehension finally hit. "If Pullman didn't do it and someone else who's still free did, then why haven't more been planted?"

  "Right. It's not proof that Pullman did the original plants, but it undercuts any claim that the real bad guy is still running loose." She looked around. "Can you take me to your commanding officer?"

  "Sure." Paul led the way.

  Captain Hayes greeted Connally in way that clearly revealed that they'd met before. They spoke for a few minutes as Connally described the sweep her team had come to perform and formally requested Hayes' permission. Captain Hayes, of course, granted it, then went on the general announcing system to order the crew to cooperate with the NCIS team to the best of their ability.

  The NCIS agents and the technicians they brought with them went over the Michaelson carefully, searching painstakingly for any taps or bugs that might have been installed since the last sweep of the ship.

  They didn't find any.

  Special Agent Connally bade Paul farewell before she left the ship. "I'm one of the witnesses for the trial counsel, so I'll see you in court."

  Paul pretended to flinch. "Women keep saying that to me lately."

  "It must be the company you're keeping." She left, walking away with the rest of the NCIS agents.

  Paul watched them go, thinking about the times he'd spent with Special Agent Connally and wondering if they would've really been old friends had they somehow met years ago. He thought so, that Pam Connally would've been a good friend to have, then and now. He couldn't help also wondering if she had felt the same, whether her friendliness was purely a public act or if she enjoyed being around him. I'm not playing with fire here, am I? he wondered. No. I'm not getting any spark around Connally, like we'd get emotionally involved. She just feels sort of like Kris Denaldo. Somebody who'd be a friend.

  But then, given the odds he wouldn't be seeing Connally outside the courtroom again, the whole issue didn't matter. Perhaps that was just as well, given that Jen might have already heard about the fact that Paul had been seen with Connally after working hours on the ship. He knew it had been part of the investigation, and Jen would give him the benefit of the doubt (he hoped), but why risk anything else?

  It wasn't like he didn't have enough other things to worry about. Not with Pullman's court-martial starting the day after tomorrow.

  Chapter Eight

  Paul walked slowly into the courtroom, taking his time since he'd arrived early and he knew Commander Carr had reserved a seat for him near the trial counsel's table in any case. The courtroom was one of three on Franklin, a multipurpose room able to fulfill other functions if necessary but currently dedicated to administering the ultimate form of military justice. Rectangular in shape, it was dominated by the slightly elevated judge's bench centered in the back, with the witness stand beside it. Slightly in front of and to either side of the judge's bench sat two tables. The defendant and his lawyer would sit at one table, the trial counsel at the other, all facing the judge. Off to one side sat a longer table, facing the judge's bench as well as the tables for the prosecution and the defense. This table, with five chairs behind it and a navy blue cloth draped over the top to add some dignity to the furnishing, would be where the members of the court would sit.

  Two blocks of chairs filled the rest of the room, facing the bench and divided by a path leading up the middle from the main entry door. There were two other doors visible, one behind the judge's bench that led to the judge's chambers, and from which the judge would enter and leave courtroom, and one behind the member's table, which would be used by those officers to arrive and depart.

  In the apparently bare walls, unseen cameras and microphones were emplaced to allow a complete and t
otal record of any legal proceeding to be automatically recorded.

  All in all, despite the color lent by the flags of the United States and the United States Navy posted behind the judge's bench, the room felt bare and utilitarian. It served the function of cradling the administration of military justice, and that was all that was demanded of it.

  Paul reached the row behind the trial counsel's desk and sat down, though not without a glance to the other side of the room. He still felt oddly uncomfortable to be aligning himself with the prosecution against an officer who'd shared his stateroom, who'd stood watches on his ship, who'd been a trusted comrade right up until the moment of his arrest.

  "Good morning, Lieutenant Sinclair." Commander Carr strode in with wide, quick steps, dropping her data pad onto the table but remaining standing, scanning the room. "Ready?"

  "I guess so, ma'am."

  Paul didn't turn around, but he could hear people entering and going to their seats. The court-martial was open to the public, and a fairly big crowd was expected due to the nature of the charges against Pullman and the fact that he was an officer charged with espionage.

  Lieutenant Owings went past, walking to the defense counsel table, followed closely by David Sinclair. They stood talking to each other in low voices, then looked up as a sudden surge in conversation erupted in the courtroom. Paul finally looked back as well, seeing Brad Pullman entering in the custody of two masters-at-arms. The masters-at-arms walked Pullman to the defense table, then walked back to the main entry and took up sentry positions on either side of the door, their eyes constantly on Pullman.

  Pullman talked to his lawyers for a few moments; then the three of them nodded and sat down at the defense table. Pullman glanced around and saw Paul, then grinned and made a small wave in greeting. If Pullman was feeling any uncertainty, he was doing a great job of hiding it. Paul just nodded back, wondering what Pullman made of the fact that Paul was sitting near the trial counsel.

  The low surf of conversation which had risen when Pullman entered dropped noticeably. Paul watched as the bailiff walked to the front center of the courtroom to stand near the judge's bench. She waited, outwardly patient, as some conversations continued in the background, then finally cleared her throat loudly. "Quiet in the courtroom, if you please."

  The bailiff waited a moment longer to ensure everyone was paying attention, then turned slightly to point toward the door to the judge's chambers. "I will announce 'all rise' when the military judge enters. Everyone is to rise at that time. You are to remain standing until the military judge directs everyone to be seated. The judge will direct me to summon the members of the court. Everyone will rise again. Once the members of the court have entered and taken their seats, the military judge will direct you to be seated. Are there any questions?"

  The bailiff, apparently neither anticipating questions nor being interested in answering them, immediately went to the back of the courtroom. Paul thought she was the same bailiff who'd been present for Jen's court-martial. Barely opening the door behind the judge's bench, the bailiff spoke, listened to a reply, then came back to stand in her original position. "All rise."

  Paul and everyone else in the room came to their feet, the military personnel also automatically coming to attention. The military judge, Captain Elizabeth Campbell, walked quickly to the bench and sat down, then looked around the courtroom. "This Article 39 (A) session is called to order. You may be seated." Paul could have recited the same words in his sleep. Every court-martial started with them, invoking the legal article under which a court-martial was held.

  Everyone sat, but almost immediately Commander Carr stood up again and began reciting the next words mandated by the Manual for Courts-Martial for opening the legal proceedings. "The court-martial is convened by general court-martial convening order 0330, Commander, United States Space Forces, copies of which have been furnished to the military judge, counsel, and the accused. The charges have been properly referred to the court-martial for trial and were served on the accused on 6 October 2102. The accused and the following persons detailed to the court-martial are present: Captain Nguyen, Captain Campbell, Commander Sriracha, Commander Carr, Lieutenant Commander de Vaca, Lieutenant Kilgary, Lieutenant Mahris, Lieutenant Owings."

  Captain Campbell nodded. "Thank you, trial counsel. Bailiff, please ask the members of the court-martial to enter."

  The bailiff went to the door behind the members' table, opened it, spoke briefly inside, then stood to one side. "All rise," she called again.

  Paul came to attention again as everyone else stood. Captain Nguyen led the way inside, pointing out their seats to the other members of the court. Nguyen, as most senior, would sit in the center, the other officers alternating taking seats to either side in decreasing seniority.

  Lieutenant Kilgary appeared to sweep her eyes across Paul when she took her seat, but didn't react. He hadn't expected her to. This wasn't exactly the time or place for renewing acquaintances. Lieutenant Pete Mahris looked pretty much like he had the last time Paul had seen him, during commissioning ceremonies at the Academy. Paul noted that Mahris had twisted his chair very slightly so that he could more easily watch Captain Nguyen out of the corner of his eye, no doubt the better to ensure he followed Nguyen's lead on events.

  Judge Campbell waited until she was sure the members of the court were all seated, then looked out across the courtroom. "You may be seated." Then, after a brief pause while everyone took their seats again, she pointed her gavel at Commander Carr. "Continue, trial counsel."

  Commander Carr turned to face both the member's table and the judge. "I have been detailed to this court-martial by order of the fleet judge advocate general's office. I am qualified and certified under Article 27(b) and sworn under Article 42(a). I have not acted in any manner which might tend to disqualify me in the court-martial."

  Lieutenant Owings then stood up at the defense table. "I have been detailed to this court-martial by order of the fleet judge advocate general's office. I am qualified and certified under Article 27(b) and sworn under Article 42(a). I have not acted in any manner which might tend to disqualify me in the court-martial."

  Judge Campbell turned her head toward the defense table. "Lieutenant Bradley Pullman, you have the right to be represented in this court-martial by Lieutenant Owings, your detailed defense counsel, or you may be represented by military counsel of your selection, if the counsel you request is reasonably available. If you are represented by military counsel of your own selection, you would lose the right to have Lieutenant Owings, your detailed counsel, continue to help in your defense. Do you understand?"

  Brad Pullman gave a brisk nod as he answered. "Yes, ma'am."

  "In addition, you have the right to be represented by civilian counsel, at no expense to the United States. Civilian counsel may represent you alone or along with your military counsel. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "Do you have any questions about your right to counsel?"

  "No, ma'am."

  "Who do you want to represent you?"

  "I wish to be represented by civilian counsel, Mr. David Sinclair, along with my detailed military counsel, Lieutenant Owings."

  "Very well," Judge Campbell stated. "Mr. David Sinclair, your qualifications to practice law have been provided to this court?"

  Paul's brother nodded, his civilian suit looking out of place amid the military uniforms on all sides. "Yes, Your Honor."

  "Counsel for the parties have the necessary qualifications, and have been sworn, except for Mr. David Sinclair, who will now be sworn." The judge waited while the bailiff marched to the defense table and swore in David Sinclair, then she said, "I have been detailed to this court by order of the judge advocate general's office of the Commander, United States Space Forces."

  Commander Carr walked away from her table, then once again turned to face the members of the court-martial and the judge. "The general nature of the charges in this case allege the commission of ac
ts of espionage against the United States by Lieutenant Bradley Pullman. The charges were preferred by Commander, United States Naval Space Forces, and forwarded with recommendations as to disposition to Commander, United States Space Forces." She fully faced the judge's bench. "Your Honor, are you aware of any matter which may be a ground for challenge against you?"

  "I am aware of none."

  "The government has no challenge for cause against the military judge."

  David Sinclair looked over at Lieutenant Owings, nodded and made a gesture. Lieutenant Owings stood. "The defense has no challenge for cause against the military judge."

  Judge Campbell focused her attention on Pullman. "Lieutenant Pullman, do you understand that you have the right to be tried by a court-martial composed of members and that, if you are found guilty of any offense, those members would determine a sentence?"

  Pullman kept his voice and actions crisp and confident. "Yes, Your Honor."

  "Do you also understand that you may request in writing or orally here in the court-martial trial before me alone, and that if I approve such a request, there will be no members and I alone will decide whether you are guilty and, if I find you guilty, determine a sentence?"

  "Yes, Your Honor."

  "Have you discussed these choices with your counsel?"

  "I have."

  "By which type of court-martial do you choose to be tried?"

  "By members, Your Honor."

  "Very well. The accused will now be arraigned."

  Commander Carr spoke with a crisp authority that more than overmatched that of Brad Pullman. "All parties and the military judge have been furnished a copy of the charges and specifications. Does the accused want them read?"

  Pullman glanced down at David Sinclair, who looked at Lieutenant Owings. Both lawyers nodded to each other; then Owings answered. "The accused wishes the charges to be read."

  Paul wondered why, then noticed how his brother was intently watching the members of the court-martial. He wants to see how they individually react to the reading of each charge. Clever.