“Hey, Dekker,” another voice yelled. “You son of a bitch, was that your mama on the news?”
Shit. Dekker was at the bars and that knot was back in his jaw. “You want to discuss it? Is that Sook?”
“No way,” another voice yelled out. “Sook’s not guilty. That was J. Bob.”
Catcalls went one way and the other. Shouting racketed up and down the hall, until starting with the far end, it got suddenly quiet. Quiet traveled. Ben leaned against the bars and tried to see what was going on, and all he could make out was UDC uniforms and MPs.
“That’s better,” someone said. “Keep it quiet. Fleet personnel are being released—“ A cheer went up.
“—to Fleet Security, for your own officers to sort out. You’ll file outside, you’ll give the officers your full name, your serial number, your rank, in that order. You’ll be checked out and checked off…”
“Where do / go?” Ben muttered, suddenly with the notion he didn’t necessarily want to go into a pool of UDC detainees with a grudge. “Shit, where do / go?”
“You go with me,” Dekker said. “You’re in our barracks, you go with me.”
Doors had started opening. You could hear the clicks and the guys moving out.
Their door clicked. Dekker shoved it and they both walked out. Walked down the hall toward the MPs and it was only UDC guys left in the cells on the right, staring at them. They’re not going to let me out, Ben kept thinking, they’re not going to let me out of here…
“Wrong flock, aren’t you?” an MP asked him; but the other said, “That’s all right, that’s Pollard.”
It wasn’t highly all right. Hell if it was. He was all but shaking when they got through the doors and out of the cell block, into the outer hall where sure enough, a couple of Fleet Security officers were waiting with a checklist. “Dekker,” Dekker muttered, “Paul F….” and didn’t get further than that before the senior officer said,
“Dekker, go with the man. —You Pollard?”
Ben nodded. Saw one of the Security officers motion Dekker toward another set of doors, saw Dekker look at him and had this panicked sudden notion that if he let Dekker off alone something stupid was bound to happen—Keu and the lieutenant had tagged him with Dekker, and the only way to ensure Dekker didn’t drag him into worse trouble was to stay with him. “Excuse me,” he said, “but I have orders to keep an eye on him—lieutenant’s orders …” Highest card he knew.
But the guy said, “You have the commander’s orders to go to your barracks and stay put until further notice. The lieutenant’s not in command now. Comdr. Porey is.”
He must have done a take. He felt his heart stop and start. “Commander Porey?”
“Follow orders, mister. This whole station’s under the commander’s orders. The UDC’s command’s been set aside.”
He wasn’t the only one in the area now. Mason and Pauli had shown up under escort. “Hot damn,” Mason said.
But Ben thought, with a sinking feeling, Oh, my God….
Graff was extremely glad he didn’t have to hear what happened inside what had, until an hour ago, been his office. Occasional words came through the closed door, while he stood outside in the hall with Tanzer’s aide Andrews, neither of them looking at each other, with MPs and Fleet Security at their respective ends of the corridor.
It was not a happy situation. He didn’t like Tanzer. But he felt only discomfort in seeing the man finally walk out of the office white-lipped and red-faced. Tanzer swept up Andrews and walked back the way he had come, with, as Graff understood Porey’s intentions, no transfer out of here, no resignation accepted, and a hardcopy of an order from Geneva that in effect put Edmund Porey in charge of Tanzer’s office and Tanzer’s program.
He still didn’t know how it had happened, or what might have shifted in the halls of power, as the captain would put it. He hadn’t talked to Demas or Saito in any informality, hadn’t exchanged anything with them but ops messages as they coordinated internal security with the marine details and Porey’s own Fleet Security force.