Court-Martial (Horatio Logan Chronicles Book 2)

by Chris Hechtl

  “Tough.”

  Chapter 11

  Special Agent Ahuja shook his head as his NCIS team sorted through everything all over again. They had gotten priority with the forensics, but it hadn't told them anything they hadn't already known. The real problem was rewriting everything to suit the director and the powers that be point of view. Director Chews Slowly was not a happy bug, and he wasn't shy about saying so. The Neodog had found out that up until a week prior the T'clock had been an assistant director. What had happened to his predecessor was anyone's guess.

  Even though Logan's case was their number one priority, the service was so overwhelmed by other cases that his team had been sent off to investigate other cases as well. He was well aware that minor crimes were getting ignored. Hell, even some of the major cases were getting only a cursory investigation. His team was being pulled in every direction and balancing their caseloads, and time off was nigh on impossible.

  ONI's screwup at the market wasn't helping either. Civilian witnesses weren't helpful. The help lines were flooded with angry people crank calling. It was a never-ending nightmare it seemed. He was starting to long for the peace and tranquility of the jump point command fortress.

  He sat back and scrubbed his muzzle with his hand paw to see the T'clock standing on the other side of his assigned desk in the bullpen. That he'd gotten a desk at all was testimony to the shaking up in the service, not his popularity he knew. Though his willingness to play ball and the need for people like him had kept him in the powers that be grudging good graces.

  At least, for the moment, he reminded himself as he ejected a chip and held it up.

  “Boss, we've got a real mess here,” the agent said as he shook his head.

  “Don't I know it,” the T'clock said as Ahuja handed over another completed case chip to only be handed five more fresh case chips in its place.

  He clenched his fist around the chips and then set them down on the blotter in front of him. He could see Sito craning his neck from his seat. When the agent saw the number of chips, he couldn't quite stifle a groan of dismay. The Neodog flicked his ears, and the director bobbed his antenna in amusement and sympathy.

  “What about the Logan case? We've still got petabytes of electronics evidence to process. Cybercrimes and security is starting to pass out the files but only in dribs and drabs.”

  “I know. That case has been pushed to the back burner for the time being since there is too much evidence and testimony to wade through I'm afraid,” the T'clock stated.

  They had to be available at all times, which limited how far they could go on the various cases in front of him. “Anything on the schedule, sir?”

  “No. But that could change, you know that. ONI is keeping us all on a short leash,” the T'clock said, wiggling his mandibles in annoyance. The Neodog's ears went back. They had been repeatedly interviewed by ONI, which bothered some of the team. They had also been ordered not to discuss the case with anyone, which was a no-brainer.

  “We're getting ambushed by the media everywhere we go,” Agent Sito said as he got up from his desk.

  The director's heart-shaped head turned to him. “So? Give them a no comment.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “ONI doesn't want anyone talking out of turn. Nor does JAG, so keep your mouth shut,” the director stated flatly.

  “Like we would jeopardize a case, sir,” the human said rolling his black eyes. “We've got a solid caseload. Can you get them off our back and on someone else’s, sir? We don't talk. Loose lips sink ships and careers; we know that,” the human programmer growled in exasperation. “I don't need the constant reminders.”

  “It's not just the media. Just talking to family and friends can be dangerous. Remember, we are watching you,” Commander Onslo warned as he came into the bullpen.

  “Right. Who watches the watchers?” Agent Sito demanded scathingly.

  “Just remember to keep your trap shut. You aren't doing it now, Agent, so you apparently need the reminder,” the commander replied.

  The human agent stilled as fury boiled behind his black shark-like eyes. “I do not need this crap.”

  “There is the door,” the director said, stepping aside and pointing to the elevator.

  The room became hushed. Several people stood to look over the walls of their cubicles to see what was going on.

  All eyes were on Sito for a long moment. The young man's face was impassive as he pulled his badge off his belt and looked at it.

  “Sito,” Agent Ahuja said in dismay.

  The young man finally grunted and came out from behind his desk. He handed the badge over and his ID and then went back to his desk and began to clean it out.

  “Damn it,” the Neodog muttered.

  “It seems you can't control your team, Special Agent,” the commander said, staring at Sito as he crossed his arms.

  The Neodog growled deep in his throat. That got the commander's attention. “You have no idea how tempting it is to follow him. Damn you! We're supposed to be on the same side, and you treat us like dirt!” he growled.

  “Yeah, I got the full reminder last night,” Agent Nogales protested. “I was at a birthday party, and ONI agents came to the door and lectured me about talking. And of course because they did that, everyone wanted to know why and what was going on. You are making it harder on us,” he said.

  “They woke me up. I'd gotten the first sleep in two days,” Agent L'v'll clacked.

  “They stopped me while I was picking up my kid at school—right in front of everyone. I felt like a suspect. Everyone was wondering what was going on, and my kid was scared shitless,” another agent said. That sparked a murmur around the room.

  “Enough,” the Director said. He turned to Sito. “If you do this, there is no coming back. No references, you'll be blackballed. I'll tank your career.”

  “Fine with me,” Sito said, not looking up as he tucked his box under one arm. He pulled out his sidearm, checked it, and then holstered it. “This is mine,” he said as he headed to the elevator.

  “Where do you think you are going?” Commander Onslo demanded. “You have to go through exit interviews.”

  “Funny, when someone fires you they escort you right out of the building. I'm gone. I've heard enough. You want me; you know where to find me. Come near me again … well, I'll let you guess,” he said as the lift doors opened. A pair of agents stepped out and then stopped as he stepped inside.

  “Have a nice life,” Sito said as the doors closed.

  “Anyone else?” Commander Onslo demanded.

  Special Agent Ahuja stared at the T'clock. The T'clock clacked his mandibles but said nothing.

  One by one a few of the other agents began clearing out their desks.

  “Damn it ….” That got the T'clock to react. “What the hell is wrong with you people?” he demanded.

  “A boss who won't stand up for his people and even threatens them isn't one worth working for,” Agent L'v'll stated as he began to pack too.

  Commander Onslo scowled as he realized he'd pushed the situation into a growing crisis. “Hang on, people; you've got active crimes to investigate!” he protested.

  “Yeah, well, find someone else. I'm done doing your dirty work,” the Veraxin stated as he roughly handed over his badge, ID, and gun and headed to the lift. An exodus followed him.

  The director's antenna bobbed as former agents came and dropped their gear on Special Agent Ahuja's desk and then left. It was a virtual exodus the Neodog thought in wonder.

  “Ahuja! Get control of your people!” The commander ranted, fur on end in shock and anger. He knew things were bad all over, but he hadn't anticipated it coming apart right in front of him.

  “You caused this. You stupid paranoid …,” the Neodog shook his head as the last person left. “Son of a bitch!” he snarled, ears back, teeth bared. “You caused this! And now you want me to fix it! Well, guess what. Frack you! Do it yourself!”

  “How could things go
that bad that fast?” the T'clock asked softly. “It's not supposed to be like that. Don't they even care about their careers?”

  “I think they were pushed too far. You allowed this to happen,” the Neodog said, looking at him.

  The bug shook himself.

  “We'll pick them up. Make a few examples of them,” the commander snarled.

  “You'll leave them the hell alone. You pushed them into this. Push them any further and one will break and do something you'll regret. Sito warned you. But, you don't care. You aren't listening,” the Neodog sighed as he pulled his own badge off.

  “Not you too!” the bug protested.

  “Yeah, well, I thought if I played your game, kept my head down, I'd keep my career. I didn't even care whose career I tanked as your hatchet man. But I just realized some things aren't worth the sacrifice.”

  “This will throw the entire branch into chaos!”

  “I bet. Word is spreading,” the Neodog said as he began to pack.

  “Sit. Stay. I'll … I'll make you an assistant director! Just get control of our people!” the director said desperately.

  The Neodog paused and then cocked his head. He then turned to the spook. “You get them off of us—hands off, no more warnings, no more crap. I don't so much as want to see a spook—no checking our computers, no monitoring our communications, nothing. And we do the case by the book—all the cases, no more crap.”

  “Fine. We'll do it your way,” the bug said as more people filed out of offices with their things. “Just put an end to this!”

  “You can't do that!” the commander growled. “That's blackmail!”

  “See?” the Neodog said. “He's not willing to play ball,” he said in disgust as he went back to packing.

  “I'll deal with them. You get our people back, all of them.”

  “You'll need pay raises, overtime, all sorts of incentives. We do everything by the book, no more deals or looking the other way and no reprisals.” He stared directly into the director's eyes for that warning. “Our hands are clean from now on, no more of his shit.” He nodded to the commander. “Keep him and Childress the hell away from all of us. We do our jobs the right way whether they like it or not.”

  “I'll do my best,” the bug said as he handed the badge and ID back desperately.

  “Frack me … fine. I'll try,” the Neodog said with a shake of his head. “I've got to be nuts.”

  The ape scowled at him for a long moment and then stormed off.

  @^@

  “So, you see, Ma'am …”

  “Stop there,” Rear Admiral Hill said, raising a restraining hand. “The answer is no. You are not getting a blanket arrest warrant for NCIS. Are you insane?” she demanded of the ape. She was having enough trouble keeping the rank-and-file in line and now this? Her reign of terror was dependent on NCIS and JAG working hand in hand with her.

  He scowled at her, but then remembered who he was shooting a dark look at and schooled his face into an expressionless mask. She shook her head. “Sometimes I wonder if we all are.” She threw her hands up in the air. “Frackin'-A!”

  “Ma'am, I was following orders …,” the ape said, changing his tone.

  “Stop that too,” the ONI admiral said, brown eyes narrowing as they came down to look at the commander. “There is such a thing as going overboard. Your people blew it. I know what the brass wants. They want a reign of terror to make everyone keep their heads down. They are getting that, but there are limits. We need to temper that with a healthy respect for people and reality. Obviously, you blew it.”

  “I …”

  “I said you blew it, Commander,” she said in a stern voice. The commander came to attention and shut up instantly. “Better. You pushed and pushed, and something broke. And once it broke, you didn't have the sense to back off. You kept pushing, and it turned into a mess. Damage control is already in the works. So, you and your people are hands off as of now. You'll stand back, passive monitoring only. No more visits, no more interviews, no more veiled threats.”

  “Ma'am, they could be talking out of turn now! We know they are talking with each other …”

  “I know. And they know you are watching. But I bet they are venting and cooling off. Let them. If it means some things get out, oh well,” she said, glaring at him. “We'll clean it up later.”

  “Yes, ma'am,” the commander replied miserably.

  “I appreciate zeal. But temper it next time, Jean,” the admiral said as she looked away. “We'll leave the bug and the Neodog to clean up the mess. They'll hopefully get enough of their people back in line for this to blow over. She was holding out hope it wouldn't reach the media. She had given up hope that the head snake didn't know. He hadn't said anything, but she knew he was aware of the problem.

  So far, he'd remained mostly neutral when dealing with Admiral Childress. She wasn't certain about whose side he was on, other than his own. She wondered if she should even be involved.

  “Brief your people to back off. We don't want to push this too far on other fronts. We've got enough of a mess with the public and the fleet as it is,” she stated.

  “Aye aye, ma'am.”

  “Dismissed,” she said, and watched as he about-faced smartly and left her office.

  She wondered as she tucked her elbows under her on the desk and cradled her hands in front of her if any of her warnings stuck. Maybe. He definitely needed a bit of trimming down. A reign of terror was beginning, and that, she was finding out, was a mixed blessing. Eventually resistance would stiffen. Eventually some would get sneaky and do something everyone would regret.

  There was a reason the Office of Naval Intelligence was such a massive organization within the Bekian Navy, despite their being confined to the Republic itself. ONI monitored not only the public but also the civilian government as well as their own brother and sister sailors. Terrorism had reared its ugly head from time to time over the centuries, but that wasn't the real reason they continued to exist. No, it was for times like these, when they had to deal with their own people. They were effectively the secret police, hated and feared.

  She could live with that as long as they didn't get out of hand. She wasn't certain though if it wasn't already too late. She did know that the commander had too much on his plate. He was overseeing the people who were monitoring the trial prep, the participants in that, Logan, plus all of the other transplants. She needed to lighten his load and shorten his leash. She was definitely going to need to keep a closer eye on him she thought, making a note to herself.

  “Yeah, fun. Now, who do I get to help him when I don't have anyone I can trust?” she said softly as she rubbed the fur on her head with her fingertips.

  @^@

  Vice Admiral Ss'k'ttthhh listened to Patty's reprimand of the commander and nodded his head sagely. First the civilians, then the civilian authorities, and now this. He'd thought of her as his designated successor, but now he wasn't so sure. She had been foolish to commit herself to Omar. He might have to switch to one of his other protégées and trim her. It would be sad to prune such potential, but it would be for the good of the service if she kept making such stupid mistakes.

  He wondered briefly about how things were going to work out with the Republic. He was tempted, oh so tempted, to take Omar out. It wouldn’t be that hard to arrange an accident. It would, however, be messy since all eyes were on the stupid bastard. It would send the wrong message, one that someone had arranged the accident, something he didn't want.

  Then, of course, there was direct action. He had two teams on standby that could get in and take Omar and Sherman out. They would be messy he knew, an extreme measure he would instantly regret. But he'd set them up as an insurance policy.

  In some ways, he regretted turning over so much to Patty, especially his action groups. A simple medical problem would have taken Omar out, but again, would have looked suspicious given his recent regen therapy experience. Oh, for the simplicity of having the man die in his sleep
or from a stroke or heart attack! He scratched at an itch. That wasn't possible now; things were getting too ugly. In order to act outright, he would have to expose himself and his assets, something he was loath to do.

  His tail flicked as he thought about the problem. His tongue picked at a piece of meat stuck in his sharp teeth as he swished his head from side to side. He was the only other senior officer other than Omar to undergo regen therapy. He had come to realize that his renewed body was both a blessing and a curse. It did nothing for instance to help with his established habits and thought patterns. In Omar's case, he was certain the human had started in on dementia and had frozen in that state. He snorted softly as he wondered if the same could be considered of him.

  Always the one watching, that was what he'd been taught. Watch, but don't interfere. Keep watch, that was what he'd been taught. He was aware of the reign of terror in the fleet. He was also aware of something Patty, Sherman, and Omar hadn't thought of. They could reign in Bek A’s fleets and naval bases easily, but positive control would erode with the distance to Bek B, especially with the starships laid up. It would be interesting to see if a rebel faction formed there and how long it would take to do so.

  Would they really go into a civil war? Would they take it to that extreme? He wasn’t certain. It would, however, be interesting to watch.

  Chapter 12

  “This isn't a hearing, this is an informal session to discuss a plea deal,” Commander Cord said as Horatio was escorted into an office in the JAG complex. What it really was, was an attempt to clean up a mess and get it put to bed quickly and quietly since NCIS was in shambles, Trent thought. If they could get Horatio to see reason and save his own neck, or at least get sloppy and mess up while on camera, then they might have a better wedge to use against the orders he'd carried with him.

  “Funny, I don't remember agreeing to one,” Horatio stated mildly as he surveyed the room. It was someone's office, quite possibly one of the two JAGs present. It had wood paneling and some old-fashioned printed volumes in shelves on one wall. There was a table too, just large enough to seat four people.