No Honor in Death (17 page)

The Russian gunner snorted.  "Not to waste time on your idiotic comments, Vince," she said, "but I think Banger and Nosey are right.  This ship will become better.  Captain Dunmoore is okay.  She is top-notch."

"How d'you know, Demmi?"  Bertram scratched the side of his huge proboscis.

"She was Second Officer in cruiser
Sala-Ad-Din
, where I served my first tour after Fleet School."

"You never told us," Vince complained accusingly.

Demianova shrugged.  "Was not important.  I tell you she is a-okay, do you believe me?"  When the others didn't reply, she shrugged again.  "So I keep quiet and wait.  Maybe she is not as a-okay as Captain.  But I see no difference until now.  Hard and demanding,
da
, but fair too.  She keeps us alive on the line, you see."

"Okay, slack-
asses
," an unpleasant voice interrupted the conversation before either of Demmi's comrades could ask any more questions.  "Get your butts in gear.  Watch change is in a few minutes and you'll be late by the time you get to your stations.  Vincenzo, that means I'll be taking care of you personally."

Vincenzo groaned under his breath and turned to look at Petty Officer Zavaleta, his immediate supervisor, who was smirking with barely suppressed glee.

"It is still ten minutes before the change, PO," he replied in a resigned voice, "and I will be on time."

"No you won't asshole.  When you get to your station you'll be late, because I said so.  Now move it, grease-ball.  I get the feeling you need a fucking counselling session, I do."

"Hey," Banger stood up, "you've got no call to be insulting and threatening Vince, PO."

"Stay out of this, Rownes.  If you know what's good for you."

"Listen, PO, if you're pissed-off at life, don't take it out on Vincenzo."

"What did you say?"  Zavaleta advanced on the bigger woman menacingly.  Rownes stood her ground defiantly.  He was a bully who had thrived under Forenza, and like all of his kind, was a coward.  Banger easily outweighed and outreached him, and knew she made the man nervous beneath his bluster.

"Take it easy, Banger," Vince laid a restraining arm on Rownes.  "It's all right.  The PO needs someone to pick on, and these days, it's me."

"Only because you're too fucking placid to defend yourself,"  Banger growled, eyes never leaving Zavaleta.  Vincenzo pushed back his chair, rose and headed for the door, ignoring Zavaleta' dangerous smile as he went around the non-com.

"You're gonna pay for this, Rownes," Zavaleta whispered, before turning to follow Vincenzo.  He was scared of the gun captain and knew she knew it.

"I think not," Banger replied, too softly to be heard by anyone but Nosey and Demianova.  "I think Cap'n Dunmoore ain't gonna stand for assholes like you.  I sure know Chief Guthren won't."

Out in the passage, but still within view of the other three, Zavaleta gave Vincenzo a brutal shove.  "You and I are gonna have one hell of a little talk about your attitude, grease-ball."  Rownes knew that was more for her benefit than anything else and a sick knot of fear for Vincenzo hardened in her gut.

Nosey swore.  "You think the Cap'n 'll make Zavaleta change?  She don't know what happens down here, nor, I bet, does she care, even if ya say she's top-notch, Demmi.  Zavaleta and his friends 'll continue, just as long as she gets her ship into fightin' shape."

Banger shrugged, hiding her concern.  "Then we will have to take care of Zavaleta, and his friends."

She was about to add something else, when the battle stations siren went off, for the second time in twelve hours.  Whatever she wanted to tell Bertram and Demianova was drowned in the strident noise, and the thought lost in a flurry of activity.

"Much better, this time, Mister Pushkin," Siobhan nodded, "but not good enough yet."

"Aye, sir.  Four and a half minutes, but they're still not prepared by the time they man their stations."

"At least there's progress.  I-"

"Excuse me, sir,"  the Cox'n stuck his head into Dunmoore's ready room, "I think you'll want to know about this sooner rather than later."

"Come in, Mister Guthren.  As I was telling the First Officer, there's been a gain in speed, if not in efficiency."

"Aye, it's a start at least, sir."  The Cox'n clearly had something else on his mind, and wasn't interested in the results of the drill.  "What I came to say, sir, is that we've got a discipline problem I have no choice but to report."  Siobhan raised her eyebrows questioningly.  "One of the ratings struck a Petty Officer," Guthren continued.  "The PO is bringing charges of striking a non-commissioned officer, insubordination and mutiny."

"Mutiny?"  Siobhan sounded incredulous.  She glanced at Pushkin, who shrugged.  "Who's the PO, and what exactly happened?"

Guthren grimaced.  "PO Zavaleta has brought the charges.  One of his ratings, Able Spacer Vincenzo, bosun's mate, refused to move as fast as ordered by Zavaleta, and when the PO gave him a push to get him going, Vincenzo turned around and apparently assaulted him."

"Any witnesses?"  Siobhan remembered Zavaleta.  Somehow, it didn't surprise her that he'd be one to get into a scrap with a rating.  He was a born bully.

"No, sir.  It happened by the lower port airlock, Vincenzo's station at general quarters.  Judging by what I've seen, Zavaleta gave back as good as he got and more.  Says he was defending himself and trying to subdue Vincenzo."

"Damn!"  The last thing she needed on this ship was a summary trial, especially if it was what she thought it was.  It'd kill what little progress morale had been making on the lower decks.  "What's your opinion, Cox'n?"

"Frankly, sir?  Zavaleta tried some informal counselling and it backfired.  He's a brutal bastard, but a coward.  Knows who he can and can't piss around with.  I guess he misjudged Vincenzo, for all the good it did the kid."  Guthren scratched his beard thoughtfully.  "Come to think of it, Vincenzo is a quiet guy.  I wouldn't have pegged him for a shit-disturber."

"Was informal counselling used often under Commander Forenza?"

Pushkin looked ill at ease.  Informal counselling was the euphemism for beating the living shit out of a subordinate in private.  It was a court-martial offence, though some commanding officers of questionable competence tolerated it because it was an easy, if short-term means to enforce harsh discipline.  Siobhan had never believed in the practice, though she did tolerate taking the hard cases to the gym for some corrective martial arts training.

"Unfortunately, yes."  Pushkin sounded deflated.  "Morale had gotten to the point where the worst among the non-coms were getting better at bullying than leading.  Those assholes have ruled the lower decks for a long time.  Lot of bosun's mates among them, come to think of it."

Which means our good Mister Drex, under all that hard-assed mustang competence, either closed his eyes on the brutality, actively condoned it or is in fact an incompetent who doesn't know what's going on under his nose.  So much for relying on him to help.  I'll have to watch him too.
  Dunmoore mentally sighed.

"I hope this incident was the first since I took command, for it will certainly be the last."

"You can count on it, sir." Guthren nodded.  "So what do we do about Zavaleta and Vincenzo?"

"I'll see them both in my ready room.  Zavaleta first.  Now would be best, I think."

"Petty Officer Second Class William Zavaleta, reporting to the Captain as ordered, sir."  He stood ramrod straight, a regulation three paces in front of Dunmoore's desk, his hand at his brow in salute.  For once, his uniform was immaculate, he was freshly shaven and Siobhan could find no overt fault with the man, if she ignored the visible marks of hand-to-hand violence on his face.

"At ease, PO."  With precise movements, Zavaleta adopted the parade rest position, his piggish eyes staring at the bulkhead above Siobhan.  "What the hell happened with Vincenzo?"

"Well, sir, I -"

"Relax, Zavaleta, and look at me when you're speaking."  Siobhan's tone was sharp and biting.  When the man's eyes met hers they kept contact briefly before sliding away to the side.  If eyes were indeed the mirrors to the soul, then Petty Officer Second Class Zavaleta was none too happy having his Captain look in.

"Aye, sir.  Anyways, Vincenzo's a slacker with an attitude problem.  He's been giving me trouble ever since he joined my division.  And it's been getting worse since we sailed."  Zavaleta smiled ingratiatingly.  "The man can't get his mind back to proper Navy discipline, sir, now that you're our skipper.  Always a few assholes like that in any crew."

Siobhan felt her stomach contract at the man's gross hypocrisy and blatant attempt at flattery.  She particularly resented his using the word 'skipper'.  Her crews on the
Shenzen
and the
Don Quixote
before that, had started calling her 'skipper' once they had become a tight, effective group, where such affectionate familiarity denoted respect.

Guthren had seen his Captain's face change and knew the reason why.  He growled into Zavaleta' ear, "You call Captain Dunmoore 'Captain' or 'sir'.  You ain't earned the right to call the skipper 'skipper'.  And stick to the facts."

"Aye, Cox'n."  Zavaleta replied, anxious to keep his superiors' good will.  "Like I said, Vincenzo's attitude's going downhill.  He started giving me lip even in the mess when I went round to make sure the slackers came on watch on time.  Then, the battle stations siren went off, and I sent him off to his station.  When I went down to inspect, as is my job,"  Zavaleta drew himself even straighter with self-righteousness, "I found Vincenzo slacking off at his post.  He weren't with the proper kit, or in the proper position to defend the airlock from boarders.  So I gave him the order to straighten-up and get going.  When he didn't move fast enough, being an insolent bastard, I gave him a shove, to get him moving, like and that's when it happened.  He turned around and tried to punch me out, calling me all sorts of names in that bastard language of his."

"You mean Italian," Siobhan asked coldly, her voice soft and menacing.  Though Pushkin and Guthren recognized her rising fury, Zavaleta seemed oblivious.

"Oh, aye, sir,"  Zavaleta grinned.  "Gibbered away in it as he jumped me.  Landed a few before I could stop him.  Man's a bleedin' demon.  Dangerous, sir."  The PO pointed at his face.  "Good thing he dropped his weapon before he attacked.  Otherwise, he might just have used it to break my skull open."

He's lying
.  Siobhan looked briefly at Guthren and saw her conclusion reflected in his eyes.

"Mister Guthren, march PO Zavaleta out and Able Spacer Vincenzo in.  Have the PO stand by."

For a moment, Siobhan read confusion and worry in Zavaleta' eyes.  Her tone and manner had finally registered on him, and he felt the first tendrils of fear worming through his gut.  The feeling increased when he saw Guthren's broad, unsmiling face.

Vincenzo, when he marched in between two armed bosun's mates, looked terrible.  Contrary to Zavaleta, he had not been given time to change and get his appearance in order.  His face also showed far more damage than Zavaleta and he walked with a limp.  If the Spacer had indeed instigated the assault, he had certainly gotten the worst of it.  Was Zavaleta so stupid as to think she could see the state of his putative attacker and still believe his version of events?  Most likely Forenza had believed any story fed to her, as long as she didn't have to make too much of an intellectual effort.

"Able Spacer Vincenzo brought before the Captain, as ordered, sir," the senior of the two bosun's mates, a rough Leading Spacer, announced in a precise tone.

"At ease."

The two escorts adopted the parade rest position, like Zavaleta had done before them, but Vincenzo took the opportunity to relax with a silent sigh of relief, as if he was in pain and didn't want to show it.

"Able Spacer Vincenzo, you have been charged by Petty Officer Zavaleta with assaulting him while he was performing his duties.  A very serious charge indeed.  I'd like to hear your side of the story."

Vincenzo glanced left and right, at his two escorts, in an involuntary movement, before aiming his gaze at the bulkhead behind Siobhan.  The action was not lost on the Captain, who knew enough to realize the man was wary, if not scared, of the bosun's mates at his side.  His tongue gingerly probed his swollen lips as he formulated a reply.  Vincenzo's left eye was already swelling shut, and would completely vanish behind the puffy, blackened flesh before the interview was over.

"Well, sir," Vincenzo's tone was hoarse, probably from a blow to the larynx, and his words were slurred.  "What PO Zavaleta said is true, sir."

Siobhan was caught unprepared by his answer, even though she should have seen it coming.

"How do you know what PO Zavaleta said, Vincenzo?"  Siobhan's tone was brittle as she felt her face flush with anger.

"He-he told me what he would tell you before he marched in, sir."

Siobhan glanced at Guthren, standing behind and to one side of Vincenzo and his escorts.  The big Cox'n shrugged, a look of disgust on his flattened features.  That's it, then.  No complaint, no case against Zavaleta.  The bastard wins.  At least officially.  Guthren's expression promised something entirely different, however.