Bristol's jaw dropped as he looked from Paul to Sharpe. "Oh. Where's Silver?"
"Off the ship, I think, and not coming back."
"Geez. It happened? You found what you needed?"
"Yeah."
"Geez." Bristol stepped back automatically as Sharpe went to work, then finally snapped out of his shock. "Hey, all my stuff's in there!"
"Sorry, Mike." Paul let his helplessness show. "I'll loan you stuff. It's only for a few days."
"Thanks. I guess." Bristol stared wide-eyed at the Do Not Enter notification Sharpe was posting. "What's happening to Scott?"
"Court-martial."
"Oh, man." Bristol looked at Paul. "How am I supposed to be feeling?"
"I don't know, Mike."
Sharpe finished his work, then turned to Paul. "Sir, with your permission, I'll contact the Naval Criminal Investigative Service agents attached to fleet staff and see how soon I can get them over here to search this stateroom."
"Permission granted. Let me know when they'll be coming."
"Aye, aye, sir."
Paul watched Sharpe leave and Mike Bristol head in search of Commander Sykes so he could get new temporary living quarters. After a few minutes, Paul realized he was still looking at the seal on the stateroom hatch. He went back to his own stateroom, which happened to be blessedly empty, and sat down, staring at nothing in particular while emotions and thoughts swirled inside him without coalescing into any clear images.
Randy Diego came in, tossed some work on his desk, and glanced curiously at Paul. "Aren't you coming to lunch?"
Paul, startled, checked the time. "Yeah. Let's go."
They passed the sealed stateroom, causing Ensign Diego to do a double-take. "What happened here?"
Good old Randy. Always the last to know. "It's a long story."
When Paul entered the wardroom, it was immediately obvious at least part of the story was known to everyone else. They all watched as Paul took his seat, no one saying anything. Finally, Paul looked around irritably. "All right, already. Doesn't anyone feel like talking?"
Mike Bristol forced a smile. "Well, under the circumstances… is Scott Silver really being charged with murder?"
Paul shook his head. "No. Manslaughter."
"What's the difference?"
"Well…" Paul thought for a moment. "I'm sure a lawyer would have all sorts of problems with this definition, but basically it's murder when you set out to kill or injure someone and they die. It's manslaughter if you're not setting out to hurt anyone but someone dies because your actions were so careless and reckless you should've known they'd result in someone's death."
"You mean like if I was, uh, firing a gun randomly and hit somebody it'd be manslaughter?"
"Right. It's the difference between aiming at someone, and pointing a gun in their direction without looking and firing. Except if you deliberately kill someone but do it in the heat of passion. That's manslaughter, too."
Lieutenant Kilgary mimicked surprise. "You can kill somebody when you're having sex and it's not murder?"
Paul laughed with everyone else, grateful for the diversion. "That's not exactly what the heat of passion is supposed to mean."
Kris Denaldo grinned. "Have you ever killed anyone while you were having sex, Colleen?"
Kilgary smiled. "Wouldn't you like to know."
As the next round of laughter died out, Kris aimed her next question at Paul. "Then Silver's not being accused of trying to kill Chief Asher?"
Paul nodded. "Right. He's being accused of doing something so reckless he should've known it could cause Chief Asher's death."
Lieutenant Sindh smiled wryly. "I suppose that means a total idiot couldn't be charged with manslaughter."
"Yeah. That gets into stuff like mental competence. Did the accused have the ability to understand they were doing? Did they know it was wrong? I wouldn't want to get into that."
"Am I correct in assuming such a defense on Lieutenant Silver's part would be counterproductive? Arguing that he was incapable of understanding the recklessness of the acts he's charged with committing?"
Paul snorted a brief laugh. "They could try saying that, yeah, but like you said, arguing that an officer couldn't understand the danger would be a career-killer even if it worked as a defense. I don't expect that, though. I'm not a lawyer, needless to say, but I'd guess the defense will try to say Silver never did any of the things he's charged with."
Sindh smiled again. "That's better, isn't it? I imagine issues of mental competency are raised when guilt is otherwise certain based on evidence."
"Probably."
"Are all of the charges against Silver of that nature?"
"No." Paul looked down, uncomfortable with the questions but understanding why his fellow officers wanted to ask them. "Most of them do require an intent, a decision to do something wrong. Like making a knowingly false official statement. You can't be charged with that if whatever you say is correct to the best of your knowledge, even if what you say isn't actually right. It comes down to intent, like a lot of other crimes. Often, you need to prove an intent to carry out a certain crime. But not in manslaughter. That just needs the fact it occurred."
"Or like being absent without leave," Colleen Kilgary suggested. "You don't have to intend to be AWOL to miss the deadline for getting back to the ship. You're not back, and that's that."
Commander Sykes finally chimed in. "Not entirely, dear Lieutenant Kilgary. Since most AWOL incidents are handled via non-judicial punishment, anyone who committed the offense is allowed to offer an explanation or excuse. A plausible argument that AWOL was not intended can suffice to limit or prevent any punishment. Call it a case where a lack of intent to commit the offense is important as a mitigating factor."
Everyone looked at Paul. "Suppo's right," Paul agreed.
"Of course Suppo's right," Sykes stated. "You should all practice saying that several times a day. 'Suppo's right.' It's an excellent guiding philosophy."
Mike Bristol nodded with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Suppo's right."
Paul looked down at the table while Bristol tried to fend off various objects hurled at him. I didn't expect to see horseplay in the wardroom again this quickly. Call it whistling past the graveyard, or just coping with another bad thing. We're getting good at it, I guess.
"Paul?" Randy Diego leaned closer. "When's the court-martial going to happen?"
"I don't know. There'll be a convening order issued, then time for the lawyers to put together their cases. They can't even issue to convening order until they locate enough officers to serve as members of the court."
"Oh. I thought maybe it'd happen real quick."
"No. I can guarantee it won't be quick. It could easily be months." Weird. Chief Asher dies in a heartbeat, but everything else takes a long time. Why is a death so fast, and figuring out who caused it so slow? That old poem talked about the wheels of the gods turning slowly. Who's going to get ground up by those wheels when the finally get moving? Silver? Or maybe me.
Chapter Nine
Commander Carr glanced up as Paul knocked on her doorframe. This deep inside Franklin, the compartments were larger, and subdivided into rooms which could've been somewhere on Earth, except for the nagging sense that gravity wasn't quite right. Carr stood in greeting, smiling politely, and offered Paul a handshake. "Lieutenant Junior Grade Sinclair? I'm Alex Carr. I'll be the trial counsel for Silver's court-martial."
Trial counsel was the military term for the prosecutor. Paul tried not to wince from the pressure of her handshake. Commander Carr may have been a bit height-challenged, but what there was of her slim body obviously included plenty of toned muscle. A chin-up bar fastened to one wall offered a hint as to where the muscle came from. "Pleased to meet you, ma'am."