Chapter Text
Act Five
In the later hours of the same day, Kincaid used his rank and authority to clear the observation lounge of personnel to work. Ordinarily, he would not have done so, but the day's Mast proceedings and decisions handed down by the assembled court wore him thin. He did not need to return to a windowless office on deck two; he wanted to lose himself in the stars when he needed to.
After an hour of quiet paperwork, his enforced solitude ended when Senior Chief Tallan and Crewman Lasseter entered. The executive officer looked up from the PADD and smiled. "Good evening, Senior, Crewman."
"Commander," Tallan said with only the slightest of inclinations of his head. "Reporting as ordered."
Kincaid touched the commpanel. "Kincaid to Chief Brown. Please report to the Observation Lounge." He closed the channel before listening to a response. "He'll just be a moment."
Operations Specialist Chief Petty Officer Wendell S. Brown entered the lounge within five minutes of Kincaid's call. He wore his gold working coveralls rather than the typical uniform of the day that the other three did. "Reporting, Commander," he said in his scratchy baritone. "Hello, Senior Chief."
Tallan acknowledged Brown with a simple twitch of his antennae, while Lasseter remained at an attentive stance.
"Now that we're all here," Kincaid began, lifting himself from his seat, "I wanted to let you know, Crewman, of my decision in the case brought before the Mast."
When Lasseter said nothing, Kincaid nodded shallowly. "All right." He leaned up against the side of the table, with his PADD raised horizontally against his thighs. He used the edge to lean on as he spoke. "You know, I've had a hell of day. I don't mind telling you that I've come to the sad conclusion that I'm serving aboard the world's largest day-care center. I have heard complaining, whining, excuses that would enthrall the most gifted writers... all in an attempt to get out of discipline for petty infractions."
Brown chuckled. "Mast duty is the shit sandwich, sir."
"Well said, Chief," Kincaid replied quickly. "After two full days of it, I'm not going to argue. But, I will say this: Of all of the children brought before me this week, Lasseter here was the lone adult."
Though Kincaid peered at him, Lasseter continued to remain silent.
"I've spoken to a number of people about you, and I've come to the conclusion that we need to give you a change of scenery," said Kincaid. "What do you think, Crewman?"
Lasseter's eyes focused on Kincaid. "I'm not sure I understand. Are you talking about a transfer to another ship, sir?"
"Is that what you want?"
The crewman dropped his gaze to consider the question. "I thought maybe I did, sir, but I don't think that I would want to run away from my problems with my supervisor. I'd rather stay aboard and see what I can do."
"Instead of being the chief scrubber on a fuel transport, you mean?"
Lasseter hedged, "Yes, sir. Instead of that."
Kincaid got to his feet. "Well, Crewman, I'm very happy to hear that. Though, I don't think leaving you to languish under the same supervisor would be a good use of your time aboard this ship." He activated the PADD to check the reports. "According to the logs, you're not eligible to jump departments for another two weeks. Once your term is up, you'll be moving to strike for Operations. That's why I asked Chief Brown to step in. He'll be your new boss starting then."
Brown grinned and offered his hand. "Welcome to the team, Lasseter."
Lasseter looked at the hand and back to Kincaid. "I have to continue to report to Solat until then?"
Tallan grunted. "You have to keep your mouth shut and be a model engineer in order for this to work, Crewman. Any misstep and the deal is off."
Lasseter turned to look at Tallan as the Andorian spoke, then returned to Kincaid to ask, "And no other punishment?"
Brown chuckled, leaving his hand out. "Two to three months under Solat isn't punishment enough for you? Do we have a deal or not?"
The crewman enthusiastically grabbed Brown's hand. "Deal!"
"Science Lab Three to Lieutenant Nieves," said a timid male voice over the commpanel.
Wilson shot upright in bed at the soft voice calling out for him. He felt his heart pounding in his chest as he oriented himself quickly. He cleared his throat and press the keypad to open the channel. "Nieves, here. Go ahead."
"Sir, I'm sorry for waking you. This is Petty Officer Bott. Chief Garrett said that you wanted to be called when we completed our DNA microscan analysis?"
He got to his feet and nearly ran to his desktop terminal to activate it. "Yes, I did. Can you send that up to me? I'll take a look at it right away."
"Transmitting to you, now," replied Bott. "Have you received it, yet, sir?"
Wilson bit off a curt remark and instead answered with, "One moment, please." The screen activated and the report appeared. "I have it now. Thank you for the call. Nieves, out."
The report showed that eight separate profiles that were discovered by the DNA microscans. Six of the profiles corresponded to the members of the forensics team. One corresponded to Comeau, but it was only found on the two fingerprints. The last one, however, was found on every crate.
Wilson slapped the commpanel on his desk. "Nieves to security, I need you to locate and detain the following individual..."
Abbie had just changed into what she thought of as her "bumming around" outfit - a pair of black sweatpants that fell loosely to her ankles and her favorite T-shirt, emblazoned with the logo of her favorite hockey team. She ordered a bowl of popcorn from the replicator in her quarters and added, "Computer, begin playback of the 2368 Stanley Cup Championship Game Six," when her door chimed. With a sigh, she added, "Belay that, computer," set down the bowl on the table and went to open the door.
Greg appeared when the doors slid open. His uniform jacket was unzipped to reveal the grey t-shirt underneath, as though he arrived after coming down from the bridge. "Got a moment?"
"A moment," Abbie replied with a nod, standing to one side and inviting him into her quarters with a lazy gesture of her left hand. "What do you want?"
After stepping inside, Greg turned around to face her. "I wasn't too happy with how we left our conversation yesterday night. I don't like it when we're at odds with each other."
"At odds? What are you talking about, Greg?" Abbie asked. "I'm not going to be friends with your flavor of the month, if that's what you're asking. I'm pretty sure she doesn't want to be friends, either."
He frowned. "You make it sound like I have a rotation of girlfriends or something, which I do not. And Victoria isn't a 'flavor of the month,' either." Greg's features softened. "I think there might actually be something real there."
"You're joking, right? Because that woman is not interested in you. She's interested in what you can do for her, Mister Aspinall."
"'Mister Aspinall?'" Greg wrinkled his nose. "You're going to pull rank on me in your skivvies?"
"Actually, I was making a point about your last name, dumbass."
"My last name? What the hell does that have to do with anything?"
"You can't be this stupid. Your mother, Admiral Aspinall, has a lot of pull being Vice Chief of Starfleet Operations. Getting into her good graces by getting into yours is a pretty standard career move. And if that's not her game, it's something else, because women who actually like the men they are with act much different than she acts with you." Abbie shook her head. "Don't tell me you can't see it?"
He turned his head away to hide his face. "I... I mean, I don't have much else to compare it to."
"You're... not kidding." Abbie rolled her eyes, then muttered something in Vulcan under her breath. "She's using you, Greg, okay? Take my word for it. You're a means to an end. The other day, she was testing to see if you liked me more than you liked her, which would be bad for her little scheme. And now that that's settled, if you don't mind, I have a game to watch." Her tone was condescending, as if she was explaining the concept to a child.
Greg's head turned quickly to look at her with his cheeks red and his eyes wide. "You didn't even give her a chance, I'll bet. I know that she tried to talk to you, but you're so damned guarded. You refuse to let people get to know you, to like you, sometimes. Are you afraid that I'm going to spend more time with her than with you? Is this about me not being around to take your barbs and witticisms?"
Abbie outright laughed in response. "We have lunch together, Greg. We don't really 'spend time together' and that's fine with me. My off-duty time is either spent with Kincaid, or Isira, or now Petra, or alone. Or the Chiefs' card game I was just invited to. Couldn't really say no; it would be impolitic. So this whole 'I refused to let people know me' is a load of shit."
He played with the zipper on his jacket nervously. It dipped down low enough to show off the Academy athletics tee underneath and then with a sudden decisive movement, he zipped it up and fastened it. "Right. I guess maybe I thought our 'friendship' was a little deeper than it was. I'll let you return to your precious game. Good night." Greg moved for the door with quick strides.
"Uh, you clearly didn't think that, if you thought I just wanted you around to insult." Abbie snorted and watched him head to the door. "I'm not Vulcan but I do appreciate logic. Have a good night," she added, unruffled.
"Fell off the wagon again, Boats?" asked Ariel. "Who're you selling the tricorders to? To raise the money to get your hands on whatever it is you need to feel better about your miserable life?"
Comeau sneered at Ariel in response. "I don't care what you say to me. I didn't do it."
Ariel leaned forward and casually mentioned, "Why else would you be brought before the captain at oh-dark-thirty?"
"I have no fucking idea, you overgrown slut. I was ordered to be here!"
She stood upright as though she had been slapped in the face. Reaching behind her, Ariel grabbed the arm of the chair nearest to her and sat down on the star-facing side of the bridge's observation lounge. "Boats, the sooner you come clean with the truth, the easier it's going to be on you. Whatever evidence security has on you, it's good, because they don't wake people up in the middle of the night for nothing."
For the first time since his involvement, Comeau wore a bit of nervousness on his face.
She picked up on it instantly. "You got something to say?"
"Yeah, I do."
"Let's hear it."
"I want a fucking lawyer, bitch!"
Ariel smirked. "No lawyer's going to get you out of the penal colony term they're going to hand down on this one, Boats. Oh, wait... you won't be 'Boats' anymore, either. They'll disrate you, then bust your ass down to Crewman before they send you down."
"Go fuck yourself," Comeau's anger resulted in flying spittle on the word 'fuck.' "I didn't do shit, I don't care what that guy says. You hear me?!"
The two marines standing over Comeau leaned forward to restrain him as he threaten to fly out of his seat. Ariel merely laughed at his predicament. "You keep talking a good game. You should keep it up during your court-martial. It'll sell really good to the jury, but even then I don't think you have a chance."
She placed her forearms on the table and explained, "See, I've known people like you. You get into drugs and you think it's great. Then you have this hard crash and everyone around you is there to help you get clean and sober, right? You feel good about yourself when you come out, like maybe you did nothing wrong. Days and weeks go by, you feel stronger, and after a couple of years... one time isn't going to undo all that hard work you did."
Comeau glared at her furiously. "You don't know shit about me, so knock it off!"
"I know you better than you think, Boats. You got your relapse and guess what?" She lowered her voice for effect. "All those people that were there before when you fell the first time? They're not going to be there anymore. You're alone, now, asshole."
As she spoke, she did not hear the door open and the captain enter. Leone waited for her to finish her sentence before she commanded, "That's enough, Commander Elannis."
Ariel blinked at the sudden interruption. "Aye, sir," she said quickly.
Leone approached Comeau. "Boats, we've never met. I'm your commanding officer."
Comeau nodded. "I've seen you around, sir."
The captain turned around to face Ariel as she spoke. "I apologize for the treatment you've received from Commander Elannis." She looked back to Comeau, "You have to believe that her sentiment is not shared by the rest of the senior staff."
"I... I appreciate that, Captain," said Comeau. He gazed at Ariel defiantly.
Wilson entered with another pair of marines.and a man in custody. "I'm sorry for the early hour, sirs, but I have some new evidence that'll prove-"
"Johnson!" called Comeau when he recognized the other man. "You son of a bitch! I'm going to kill you!" Once again, the marines reached forward to hold him in his seat before he launched himself over the table toward Johnson.
Johnson reacted by hiding behind his marine escort. "Keep him away from me!"
Leone reached up to touch the bridge of her nose with her hand. "It's entirely too early in the morning for this. Both of you, stand fast." She asked Wilson, "Explain quickly."
"In examining the tricorders we found, there was only the minutest traces of Comeau's DNA on two of them, related to two fingerprints we found of his, one each on two tricorders, within the same crate. They were both identical, being full perfect copies of his left index finger. But we found the DNA of Crewman Johnson here on the outside of each of the four crates found by the security team. We also found a skin cell in the inside the crate in which Comeau's fingerprints were found. It didn't make sense to me why Comeau would have opened one of the crates and touched two tricorders with one finger. But, if I wanted to frame someone, I might open up a crate and put the copy of their fingerprint I had inside of it."
Ariel appeared stricken by Wilson's briefing, while Comeau's fury knew no bounds. The marines struggled with him.
Leone snapped her fingers toward Comeau and barked, "At ease, Boats!" When he calmed down under her order, the captain walked to Johnson and said, "You're entitled to counsel. If you want, I'll call down to our local JAG and have him come up to talk to you about this. Otherwise, if you would prefer, you can waive your rights and we can discuss this."
Johnson squirmed under the captain's scrutiny and managed to squeak out a quick, "I want a lawyer."
"Very well. You'll be held here so you can talk to your lawyer, while we figure out your Article 32A session for a general court-martial. There'll be no Mast for you on this one, Crewman."
"But sir, this is my first offense," whined Johnson. "I'd prefer non-judicial punishment."
"It's one thing to commit a crime, and another thing entirely to try and implicate one of your crewmates in the attempt. I have no tolerance for that kind of behavior from anyone serving under my command." She turned and ordered, "Marines, please release the Boatswain's Mate from custody. Ariel, why don't you walk him back to his quarters, and on the way there, you can apologize for your unkind words."
Ariel nodded soberly and rose up from her seat. "Aye, sir." The marines allowed Comeau to join her toward the exit without either of them trailing behind as they had in the previous twenty-four hours.
Before Ariel left the lounge, Leone called out to her, "Once you're done, report to my ready room. We need to have a chat."