The Command

“That you protect your shipmates, even when they’re not at their best.” The petty officer nodded miserably. “All right, everybody’s got a nice buzz on, you take some shots without thinking too much about it. But the next day, you’re sober. You could toss the film over the side. You could ask the women what they want you to do with it. Instead you take it up to the cryppies. Then pass the prints around for everybody to drool over. Whose idea was that?”

A swallow, a pause. Finally Goldstine murmured, “Mine, sir.”

“Nobody else involved?”

“No, sir.”

Marchetti watched the skipper turn this over. He didn’t look like he was buying it. Of course, it wasn’t Goldie’s idea. He’d told everybody in forward berthing about the pictures, and somebody told him, hey, why not take them up and get prints for everybody. He’d told the chiefs this. But Marty had taken him aside afterward and asked him why he wanted to get other people in trouble. Why not take the rap like a man. He was glad to see he was taking his advice. A stand-up attitude was better in the long run. Down in the spaces, when no khaki was around.

“Very well,” Lenson said. He looked at Marchetti. “Senior Chief? What have you got to say for your man here?”

Marty cleared his throat. “Sir, Goldstine’s a hard worker. This was an error of judgment, but think about what he was looking at.”

Lenson had been regarding the man in front of him; now he looked startled. “Sorry, Senior. What exactly do you mean?”

“Well, sir, just that he probably ain’t had any since we left the States, and suddenly there’s these chicks with their boozooms waggin’ in the sea breeze. It’d be hard to look away. He probably didn’t think twice about taking a picture.”

“That’s the point. That we think about what we’re doing.”

“Seems to me they should of thought about what they were doing, too.”

The captain’s gaze sharpened. Marty met it, not giving any ground. Goldie was getting railroaded, and the fucking exec was driving the train. The girls start stripping, he’d have done the same thing. At least nobody’d tried to grab a handful. CO had to see that. Unless he was getting confused by cunt, too. Marty looked from Lenson to the exec. Possible? Likely? There were rumors.

“I’ll be dealing with them in a few minutes, Senior. Let’s stick to what I asked you.”

“Goldie’s good to go, sir. Doesn’t need supervision. I don’t keep non-performers around.”

The division officer spoke up, too: he was dependable, this was a momentary lapse of judgment, and so forth. Lenson turned back to Goldstine. “Well, performance counts. You seem to be someone who contributes to his division and his ship. Anything else to say?”

The petty officer mumbled he was sorry, he’d apologize to the women involved. Lenson listened carefully, examining his face.

“All right, I hear you. Making a personal apology, that’s a good start. However, the fact remains you’ve damaged Horn’s camaraderie and trust. I’m going to hold you to account for that.

“You’ll be restricted to the ship for the next forty-five days and perform extra duty for that period of time. Reduced in rate to the next inferior rate … to be suspended for six months. If you come before me again, anything of this nature, expect to be hammered.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Any questions?”

“No, sir.”

“Dismissed,” Lenson said to the master at arms.

Everyone relaxed, shaking out the kinks. The captain checked with the bridge on his radio. Then it was time for the petty officer who ran the darkroom, or what passed for one, a small compartment with a sink. Lenson came down harder on him than he had on Goldstine, pointing out he was a first class, expected to be preparing himself for the responsibilities of chief, who’d misused government facilities for a frivolous purpose.

“You’re married. Right? A family man. Got a little boy. Davy. Do you take cheesecake shots of Rhonda and pass them around on the mess decks?”

“No, sir.”

“Why not?”

“I respect her, sir.”

“And your shipmates? Who keep the ship running, keep you in steam and hot water and hot chow? Keep that 440-hertz power going for your listening equipment? You respect them, too?”

“Yes, sir. I respect them, too.”

He stood rigid, and Marty knew why. With a first-class crow and a security clearance on the line. The captain went on about how he’d violated his trust, misused his position, abused his shipmates. He kept asking why he’d done it, but the best the IT could come up with was how it was all a joke.

“Yeah? Tell me why it’s funny,” the captain wanted to know. At last the accused just stood there. He got forty-five days restriction to the ship, extra duty for forty-five days, and a bust to second class … suspended for six months. His shoulders dropped in relief.

This time when the accused was dismissed some of the khaki started to leave, too, but the CO said sharply he wanted them to stand fast.