[Conduct Unbecoming 01.0] Conduct Unbecoming

by LA Witt

  And the son of a bitch snapped.

  He flew toward me, and I had just enough time to think “oh, fuck” before his fist came out of nowhere and connected with my jaw. I stumbled back, and he was off-balance, so he went with me, and we both went down. The edge of a table bit into my back and collapsed under our combined weight.

  Shouts erupted all around us. Morris drew his fist back again, but when he let fly, my reflexes beat his alcohol-dulled coordination, and he missed my face. I grabbed his wrist to keep him from trying again, and a second later, Mays and Gonzales hauled him off me. Morris tried to take a swing at her, but Mays shoved him up against the bar.

  “Goddammit, Morris,” Mays shouted in his face. “What the fuck is your damage?”

  “I’m no fucking queer,” Morris slurred.

  “So the fuck what?” Mays snarled. “Jesus Christ, you’ve been asking for that for months. Now calm the fuck down, Commander, or I will calm you down.”

  While Mays tried to get Morris to settle down, Gonzales offered her hand. I clasped my hand around her forearm, and she helped me to my feet. She kept a firm hand on my shoulder, and I had no doubt it was as much to keep me from lunging at Morris as it was to help me find my balance. “You okay?”

  I dabbed the corner of my mouth with two fingers and wasn’t surprised when they came back bloody. Aside from that, a cut inside my cheek and a few places on my back that would certainly be bruised, though, I was no worse for the wear. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  At Mays’s direction, Morris took a seat and wisely didn’t move. I was too wound up to sit, so I just leaned against the bar and tapped the leg of a barstool with my foot.

  The club manager elbowed his way through the gathered crowd. Red-faced and fuming, he snarled, “What the hell is going on here?”

  None of us spoke. One of the bartenders explained, in Japanese, what she’d seen. I didn’t understand everything she said, but caught enough to gather she didn’t think anyone except Morris had thrown a punch.

  The manager barked an order at her. Then, to us, he said, “All of you, sit tight. Eighteenth Security is on its way.”

  I shuddered. All four of us were getting cuffed, of that I had no doubt. That was how these things worked--anyone who laid a hand on anyone during a scuffle was arrested until things were sorted out. At least it was the Air Force. If they called Navy security, I’d be as fucked as Morris. Eric was the watch commander tonight. Shit, we’d both be screwed.

  Beside me, Mays muttered something under his breath. He flipped his phone open and speed-dialed someone. For a moment, I thought he’d called the CO, but when the person on the other end answered, he spoke Japanese. I figured it was his wife, especially when he said, “Ie ni kaetara setsumei shite.” When I come home, I’ll explain.

  After he’d hung up, he looked at me. “Navy no keisatsu o yondara, oretachi yarrareta.” If they call Navy security, you’re fucked.

  “Wakaru yo.” I know.

  Morris and Gonzales shot us both puzzled glances. Neither of them spoke much Japanese, so I wasn’t concerned about them understanding what we’d said.

  The four of us stayed quiet after that. A waitress brought me a bag of ice to put on my jaw. I gingerly pressed it to the side of my face and absently tongued the cut on the inside of my cheek, trying not to look as nervous as I was. All four of us would be arrested, but Morris would take the fall for the fight. That much I wasn’t concerned about.

  I just hoped to God the Air Force handled it.

  About ten minutes after everything went down, four Airmen walked into the club, all of them dressed in the usual desert camouflage and wearing the black gun belts that set cops apart from other Airmen. A sergeant led the pack, and he stopped dead when he saw Morris.

  He rolled his eyes. “Fucking Christ. You again?”

  Oh God. That’s not a good sign.

  To the manager, the sergeant said, “How many were involved?”

  “Four.” The manager gestured at each of us in turn.

  “Everyone who went hands-on,” he said, “read them their rights, cuff them, and take them to the precinct.”

  I swallowed.

  The sergeant looked at Morris, then me, then Morris again. Finally, he said to the junior Airmen, “Don’t bother getting statements. I’m calling the Navy over to sort their own fuckers out this time.”

  My blood turned cold. I looked at Mays. He grimaced sympathetically.

  Yarrareta.

  I’m fucked.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Eric

  “Oh, thank God,” I said as the waitress appeared with our food. “I am fucking starving.”

  Diego laughed. “You know that means your phone is going to ring, right?”

  I glared at him. “Shut. The fuck. Up.”

  Grant and Colburn both laughed.

  Diego, Grant, Colburn and I sat around a table at the Enlisted Club on Camp Shields. Diego and Grant had been standing the gate, and Colburn had responded with me to a call for a traffic accident in base housing. It was one of those days when we hadn’t even been able to think about food for several long hours, but things had finally settled down enough for us to grab a bite to eat.

  I reached for the ketchup. Before my fingers had even landed on the bottle, my radio crackled to life.

  “Whiskey Charlie, White Beach.”

  I exhaled sharply. “Really? Are you fucking kidding me?”

  Diego laughed. “So much for dinner, am I right?”

  “Always when I’m trying to fucking eat.” I swore and picked up the radio. To the guys, I muttered, “I’m almost afraid to ask.” Then I pressed the button and said, “Go ahead.”

  “Whiskey Charlie, be advised: Assault with minor injuries and property damage at the Kadena O’Club. Meet with Eighteenth Security for turnover.”

  Resting my elbows on the table, I pinched the bridge of my nose and tried not to groan.

  There was no sending another patrol for this one. A watch commander was pretty much mandatory.

  “Show me responding,” I said.

  All three guys struggled to keep from snickering.

  “Very funny.” I pushed my chair back and stood. “Colburn, I need you on this one.”

  “What?” His eyes widened. “Why me?”

  I shot him a look. If he knew what was good for him, he heard loud and clear, Because a first class just told you your ass is coming with me.

  He muffled a cough. “Right. Let’s roll.”

  We had the waitress box up our food to go, then hurried out to the patrol vehicle.

  “You mind driving?” I asked. “If I don’t eat, I’m liable to deck someone.”

  “Not a problem.” He took the keys from me. “I can eat and drive.”

  ~*~

  In the ten minutes or so it took for us to get from Camp Shields to the Eighteenth Security precinct on Kadena, I managed to inhale half my sandwich and most of the fries. At least that was enough to stave off the wicked headache that had been brewing between my temples, and with any luck would keep me from killing whoever’s shenanigans had taken me away from my relaxing dinner.

  Colburn pulled up in front of the precinct and parked. “Let’s go see who beat who up.”

  “Probably a bunch of drunks getting an early start on the evening,” I said. “They’re lucky I’ve eaten, or I might’ve kicked their asses myself.”

  He laughed. “I’d pay to see that.”

  Chuckling, I pulled open the door to the Eighteenth Security precinct. We stepped inside and out of the sweltering heat.

  An Airman at the front desk looked up as we took off our covers.

  “MA1 Randall, CFAO Security,” I said. “We got a call you’re holding on to some of our guys.”

  He gestured over his shoulder. “Yeah. Victim, assailant, two witnesses who went hands-on. We’ve got ’em separated so they don’t kill each other.” He started down the hall, and Colburn and I followed.

  “What happened?” I as
ked.

  He shrugged. “Couple of officers had too many beers at the O’Club. Someone threw a punch.” He waved a hand, leaving it to me to add up the rest of the situation.

  “Great.” Glancing at Colburn, I added, “This is why they shouldn’t let officers drink.”

  He laughed.

  To the Airman, I said, “Any injuries?”

  “Nothing serious,” he said. “Just needed a couple of ice packs, and they’re all good. Well, except the one. Fucker doesn’t shut his mouth, he’s going to have an ice pack in it.”

  “Can’t imagine how the fight got started, then,” Colburn muttered.

  “That’s how it always starts,” I said. “Booze, blab, brawl. Morons.”

  The Airman laughed. “Pretty much. Anyway, they’re in holding cells now. Total of four individuals in custody, and our guys took voluntary statements from witnesses at the O’Club.”

  “And they’ve all been read their rights?”

  “Yes,” he said. “They’re all being cooperative. One’s pretty intoxicated, but the other three are lucid. They won’t be driving for an hour or two, but…” He trailed off.

  “Well,” I said, “let’s let the drunk one sober up a bit before we talk to him.”

  The Airman nodded. He pulled open the door of the first holding cell, and I stepped in ahead of Colburn.

  In an instant, my blood turned to ice and my lungs to lead. Shane and I locked eyes, and the panic was as palpable in his expression as the chill running down my spine. The ice pack against his jaw killed any hope I might’ve had that he was just a witness.

  He cursed and shifted his gaze away.

  Oh, fuck. This isn’t good.

  I cleared my throat and turned to Colburn. “You know, you could use the experience. Why don’t you take this case?”

  He blinked. “What?”

  “Take their statements.” I gestured at Shane, then the room across the hall where his assailant was penned up. “I’ll be here if you need help, but you could use the experience.”

  “Uh, okay.” He glanced at Shane and the Airman, then looked at me. “Can I talk to you outside?”

  “Sure.” Anything to get me out of this room before someone caught on that I was sleeping with Shane.

  We stepped out into the hall.

  “MA1, are you sure I should be handling this?” he asked. “I’m not questioning your judgment, but…” He hesitated, his eyes darting toward the door again. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable handling this.”

  “You know the procedures for taking statements in cases like this.” Please, man. Don’t let me down here. “Just take your time, have them each walk you through what happened. If you need a hand, I’ll be right outside, so—”

  “Outside?” He stared at me. “You’re not even going to stay in there and look over my shoulder?”

  I gulped. Fuck, Colburn, don’t make me explain myself here. “This isn’t an interrogation. You’re not trying to drag a confession out of anyone. You’re just getting the facts from everyone in their own words. They’ve already been read their rights, so just run them through that once more to be sure, and then have them walk you through what happened. The only way you’re ever going to get this kind of experience is to just do it.” I gestured toward the door. “You’ll be fine.”

  He eyed me skeptically. Then he dropped his gaze and nodded. “All right. If you think this is a good idea.”

  “If it was anyone else”—I’d be so colossally screwed you can’t even imagine—“I wouldn’t. But I know you can do this.”

  He gnawed his lower lip and shifted his weight.

  “Just ask them what happened,” I said. “Get clarification if anything doesn’t make sense. You’re not the judge and jury here; you’re just finding out what happened.”

  “All right,” he said. “You’re the boss.”

  I clapped his shoulder. “You’ll be fine. It’s not as bad as you think.”

  He took a deep breath. “Okay. On it.”

  Colburn took everyone’s statements, and as soon as he was done, I read them over. Thankfully, he’d done a flawless job. The statements from Shane, Commander Mays and Lieutenant Commander Gonzales all lined up perfectly. Commander Morris, the alleged assailant, didn’t disagree with them, especially the more he sobered up.

  I looked up from the statements. “Nicely done, MA2.”

  He smiled. “Thanks.”

  I owe you so big, kid. Seriously.

  “So what do we do with them?” he asked.

  I hesitated. Watch commander or not, I couldn’t be the one to give the order. Not in this situation. “Well, based on the statements you took, what do you think should happen?”

  He swallowed. “Uh, well, Morris should be turned over to his chain of command, and we should let the other three go.” He raised his eyebrows, silently asking if that was the right answer.

  I turned to the sergeant and gestured at Colburn. “You heard him.”

  I waited by the precinct’s front door as the two commanders and lieutenant commander were released. My stomach twisted and turned, and as the three of them walked out, I avoided Shane’s eyes. A moment later, Colburn came out with Commander Morris in handcuffs, and I gritted my teeth as we led him out to our patrol vehicle.

  I made an excuse about wanting to look over the paperwork one last time and let Colburn drive us back to White Beach.

  And we hadn’t even made it off Kadena before our passenger opened his damned mouth. Gays in the military, women in the military, the kinder, gentler, pussy military; he just didn’t quit. I ground my teeth even harder and tried to ignore him, but when he started ranting about Shane, my patience frayed fast.

  “He had it coming,” Morris slurred. “Motherfucker thinks queers belong in the military. Just what we need. Guys showering with gay guys, fucking pansy-ass pussies out on the fucking battlefield. That son of a bitch thinks I’m a queer? I’ll bet good money he—”

  “With all due respect, Sir,” I growled over my shoulder, “shut the fuck up.”

  His teeth snapped shut.

  Colburn’s eyes widened, and he glanced at me. Keeping his voice so quiet I could barely hear him, he said, “You okay, MA1?”

  “I’m fine,” I said, probably more tersely than I needed to. “Ready to turn him over to his chain of command, that’s for sure.”

  Colburn shot me a puzzled look but let it go. He probably wondered why I was at my wit’s end with this guy. I’d only been in the man’s presence for ten or fifteen minutes by this point, while Colburn had had to question the drunk idiot.

  Neither of them needed to know my reasons. They also didn’t need to know how tempting it was to tell Colburn to pull over so I could show him what a “pansy-ass pussy” a gay man could be. I wasn’t a fighter, but damn if he hadn’t fucked my world up in ways he couldn’t possibly imagine. He was lucky for what little restraint I had.

  ~*~

  The twenty-minute drive to White Beach felt like it took hours, but eventually, we made it. I put in the call to his commanding officer—that much I could handle, since I was merely relaying a message rather than giving the order or making the decision—and had some other MAs babysit him.

  It had been a slow week, so word about the brawling officers spread quickly. Rumors flew, and, of course, Chief caught wind of it. He pulled me aside and had me brief him on what really happened.

  “Now, I’m a little confused about something, MA1.” He looked up at me from his chair behind his desk. “Help me out here.” He held up the statements. “I see Colburn’s handwriting and signature on everything. Looks to me like he took the statements for all four suspects.”

  ”Yes, Chief.” I forced back my nerves. “The case was cut and dry. No one disputed what happened, so it was a good opportunity for MA2 Colburn to get some experience.”

  “You mean to tell me,” Chief said, “that when you responded to a call involving officers whose paygrades are so high above yours you’re lucky you did
n’t get altitude sickness just being in the same room, you dumped it off on a second-class petty officer?”

  I swallowed. “Yes, Chief.”

  He slammed the reports down on his desk. “Why in the fuck would you pull a stunt like that?”

  “He is a completely competent MA,” I said. “He’s a rock-solid patrolman, we don’t get cases like this very often, and he needed the experience.”

  “He needed supervised experience,” Chief shouted. “Not you leaving him alone to take statements from an assault victim and his assailant. From goddamned officers, MA1.”

  I put up my hands. “I reviewed the statements, Chief. They were correct and clear, and the assailant was read his rights by the Eighteenth and by MA2 Colburn. Colburn knows the procedures for taking statements, and he handled it—”

  “Listen here, MA1,” the chief said. “This isn’t a traffic accident. You don’t just pawn this shit off on junior, Sailor.”

  I gulped. “I understand, Chief. But I was there in case he had questions, if—”

  “You are the watch commander,” he snapped. “There’s a situation involving officers and goddamned criminal charges, you step up and fucking handle it.” He gestured sharply. “And handling it doesn’t mean leaving it in the hands of a kid who barely knows his own ass from a radar gun. Am I understood?”

  “Yes, Chief,” I said quietly.

  “If I find anything out of place in your investigation,” he snarled. “If I find a goddamned typo on one of those reports, anything a fucking watch commander should have handled and corrected before it went on paper, I will make sure your ass is sent to captain’s mast. If you value your watch commander qual, not to mention your third chevron, you will step up and behave as a first class and a goddamned watch commander, not pawn shit off on your junior fucking Sailors. Am I clear?”

  I swallowed. “Yes, Chief.”

  “Am I clear, MA1?”

  “Yes, Chief.”

  “Good. Now get the fuck out of my office.”

  I went out into the hall. Leaning against the wall, I groaned and rubbed my temples. This was bad. This was real bad. I’d dodged one bullet, yes, but quite possibly put myself in the path of another. Colburn was a good cop. I’d triple-checked his work today, and I was confident he hadn’t fucked anything up. Even if he had, though, I couldn’t have corrected him. Anything I did or said—if I so much as corrected a typo or told him to move a comma—would have tainted the entire investigation. My hands were tied, and I’d taken the least dangerous route for my career and Shane’s.