| Subject: ...For Meritorious Service, Chapter 24b, part one |
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TxJAG_b
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Date Posted: 17:50:45 10/30/07 Tue
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TxJAG_b
's message, "...For Meritorious Service" on 09:04:26 05/08/07 Tue
A/N: **~~** indicates flashback or dream sequence ( ) indicates the thoughts of a person. *~* indicates a scene shift not otherwise indicated by a JAG time stamp. ~~~ indicates a dream sequence. Thanks to Mary Ann and Janlaw for the team beta! :)
0232 Local
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia
AJ yawned. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.
He’d thought that since he wasn’t getting much sleep at home, he’d just stay late and catch up on his paperwork. There were reports that were coming due and they didn’t care that his command up until a few days ago had been a bullet-riddled wreck.
“…Time and tide wait for no man…” he said to himself chuckling. Of course, all of the people who were requesting these reports would certainly make allowances considering what had happened this past week, but the Navy/Marine JAG was not one to make excuses.
He had a computer, he had paper, he had a printer. He had internet access. There was no reason in the world that he shouldn’t be able to get these reports done….
Except that it going on two in the morning. And he hadn’t slept well in days…Dammit! He sorely missed his Chief of Staff, who would have expertly prepped these reports for his approval. It wasn’t any sort of secret romantic longing for Mac; he really did need a Chief of Staff who could be there when he needed them. Maybe having one of his top troubleshooting lawyers do this job was too much of stretch….
(But she did it so well…) Well, there was that, he grumped to himself, but he needed someone here to help him with this, not someone a half a world away. Still no Chief of Staff or not, the reports needed to be done, and soon. (So just suck it up and keep going….)he told himself. (That’s an order, SEAL!)
He sighed heavily as he took off his glasses and laid them on the desk pad while he rubbed his exhausted eyes, willing them to keep going.
Then his phone rang.
Who in the blue blazes would be calling his office at this hour? He thought irrationally just for a moment, till his brain reminded him it was still early evening in Baghdad and something might be going on that needed his attention.
He picked up the phone receiver and punched the lit button.
“Admiral Chegwidden.”
“Sorry to disturb you, sir,” It was the night duty desk officer, Sergeant Hanson.
“You’re not disturbing anything at the moment, Sergeant. What’s the problem?”
“I have Lieutenant Roberts on line two, sir. He asked to speak with you.”
AJ sat up in his chair. He hoped Bud had some good news, but considering the hour, it might just as easily be bad news.
“Put him through.” he said without preamble.
“Aye sir.”
The phone line clicked for a moment and then the Admiral heard the background noise you sometimes get on an overseas call.
“Admiral?”
“Good evening, Lieutenant.”
“Good morning, sir.”
“I take it this is not a social call, Lieutenant,”
“No sir, though I wish it was.”
The frankness of Bud Roberts’ statement and tone surprised him.
Before the Admiral could ask him what he meant, Bud continued.
“I apologize for the frankness, sir. The reason I’m calling is to tell you that Captain Branch, Lieutenant Burns, and Lieutenant Seaforth have been released into Lieutenant Commander Lexington’s custody.”
AJ shot up out of his chair. “Why Lieutenant?”
“Captain Branch’s report sir. What they have to say ties directly to a plea bargain agreement, sir. They wanted to be moved from their cells temporarily while they negotiate with Commander Lexington. They have a very strong case, Admiral.”
AJ didn’t know what to say.
Bud was telling him that the JAGMAN report from Captain Branch held more information than it appeared to on the surface. Especially if Commander Lexington was willing take personal charge of them while they ‘negotiate’. Luckily he picked up on the Lieutenant’s cues or their mole would know even more than they did. All of this – the attack on JAG HQ, Secord’s confession, Bud’s discovery – all of it, had to be tied to that renegade Force Recon CO. So just what had Bud discovered? Trumped up charges? Coercion?
“Admiral?”
AJ focused on the matter at hand. He could play ‘what if’ later. “Where are they now, Lieutenant?”
“They’re in the Brig Commander’s office, sir. Agent DiNozzo is with them.”
(Good job, Gibbs, I knew I could count on you wanting your men everywhere mine are ….)
So they’re not in danger at the moment, the JAG thought. But once word got back to that wayward Force Recon CO, their life expectancies could be shortened considerably.
“Lieutenant, listen to me carefully; stay with the Commander and Agent DiNozzo at all times. You’re not to buy into their plea-bargaining. Do you read me?”
“Y-Yes sir. I understand.”
“I’ve already said enough on the matter. With Agent DiNozzo in attendance, it will show we’re not trying to run any sort of mustang operation. NCIS oversight is crucial.”
“Understood Admiral.”
Great. With Harm recalled to active pilot duty, Mac undercover, Sturgis in Baghdad and now Bud in Bahrain, his folks were stretched dangerously thin. All it would take would be one mistake, one misstep and Darcy Livingston would be able to add four more JAGs and maybe a few NCIS agents to her scorecard.
“As soon as you get what you need from Lexington’s people, you and Agent DiNozzo get back to Mirbullah.”
“Aye sir.”
“And by the way, Lieutenant, good job.”
“Thank you sir, but it was a team effort, JAGC, NCIS, and NLSO BROFF. Commander Lexington has been most helpful sir.”
“Understood Bud. Let me speak with her.”
The line clicked as AJ figured the phone was being passed from Bud to the NLSO BROFF.
“Sir I--”
“Before you say anything, Commander, listen very carefully to me. You will listen completely and with the utmost concern to whatever deals these officers have for you. Understood?”
“Uh, y- yes sir.” she said hesitantly.
“When they have finished, you are to escort them back to their cells, do you understand me, Commander?”
“Absolutely sir.” Good. She was on board with whatever plan Bud and Agent DiNozzo had cooked up.
*~*
Up on the bridge of USS Patrick Henry, Captain Tobias Ingles observed the COD pull off the flight line and disgorge its human cargo. (Well, well, well; if it isn’t Harmon Rabb, Jr.….)
Commander Alfred Aldridge, the Strike Group’s Judge Advocate, made his way to the Captain’s chair and saluted the CO. Ingles, keeping his eyes on the aviator/lawyer, returned the salute.
“Evening sir,”
Ingles studied the men getting off the COD for a bit longer before turning and acknowledging the presence of the his JAG Corps officer. “Evening Commander, you’re just in time….”
“In time for what, sir?”
Tobias looked away from Aldridge to the Oriskany’s Expeditionary Strike Group’s Staff Judge Advocate (SJA) who had just made her way to the Bridge.
He gave the dark auburn haired SJA a sardonic smirk. “In time to see a celebrity of sorts, Captain.”
The Strike Group Judge Advocate was the first to spot him. “Commander Rabb?”
“In the flesh, Commander.”
Alfred couldn’t help feeling a little ill at ease at seeing Harmon Rabb stepping off the Grumman Greyhound. The last time they had met at JAG Headquarters, Commander Aldridge had felt out of his league. His work with Rabb had enabled him to work at JAGC while Patrick Henry was in port at Norfolk for routine maintenance.
It had been both an awe inspiring and humbling experience. It was during that tour that Lieutenant Commander Aldridge learned he wasn’t ready to be a JAG Corps troubleshooter. He really felt like he had failed to live up to Commander Rabb’s expectations of him. After all, it was Commander Rabb who had invited him to fill a temporary position at JAG Headquarters.
The Naval Commander hadn’t said anything to him about his performance, but then he really didn’t have to. Alfred knew that he’d better stick with being a Staff Judge Advocate.
As Alfred stood looking down at the replacement pilots being directed off the flight line, he didn’t notice the ESG-JAG glimpsing down at the desk as well.
“So why is he here?” Her voice startled Aldridge. He turned to her. Sometimes she was like a cat, being able to sneak up beside someone in that manner.
“The Commander’s here to fly planes, Captain. Specifically my planes. He’s not going to stick his nose in your affairs.” Then a sly smile crossed the carrier commander’s face. “Well, not unless you two do something that will cause him to want to stick his nose in, that is.”
Both JAGs snapped to attention. “Understood sir.” they echoed.
Captain Ingles was making an observation. And in this case, the CO’s observation was as good as an order.
All three watched as Harmon Rabb made his way across the weather deck and toward the ladders that would head to the Bridge.
“Sir, if I may, who is Commander Rabb replacing?”
“You may, Commander. Rabb is replacing Commander Graffington as squadron leader. The Commander succumbed to the unfortunate effects of the flu this afternoon.”
“What about ‘Undertaker’ sir?” added Lawboss. “I thought he was second in command….”
“He was, Captain, until he succumbed to the flu as well.”
Ingles looked out at the darkening sea. “We’re down below 60% in terms of pilots who can fly right now.” He turned back and faced the JAGs “We have to plug people in where they are needed.”
“Understood sir.” they echoed again.
“I thought so,” Ingles said smiling.
As the Patrick Henry’s CO turned back to out the window again, Lawboss leaned in close to Alfred’s ear. “My fun meter’s pegged, I’m going below….”
Ingles turned back to the JAGs. “Stick around, Captain, you’re going to enjoy this….”
Lawboss straightened up as if someone had struck her with a cattle prod. “Aye sir…”
2008 Local
BOQ/VOQ
Camp Chesty Puller
Near Mirbullah, Iraq
Stuart Dunston didn’t think much of these pre-fabricated housing units. Scuttlebutt going around the camp was that if the 3-2 Marines stayed here much longer, the Corps was going to replace all the temporary buildings with containerized housing units, like those being brought into Baghdad.
He hoped he wouldn’t be here that long.
Stuart reflected on past few days’ events. After the attack on Welles building, aka, JAG Headquarters, he and his cameraman Sully had traveled all over this region getting local reaction to the attack. It was surprising to him how many Iraqis – not just those in positions of power – were angry and incensed something like this could happen. More than once the terrorists were referred to as ‘cowards’ or ‘dogs’. Some of the braver ones even smacked shoes on pictures depicting ‘Muslim volunteers’ working with Saddam’s soldiers during the closing days of the Coalition invasion. Hitting a likeness with a shoe is considered the ultimate form of insult as a shoe/foot is considered to be the dirtiest part of a person.
Still, as was always the case in Iraq, it all depended on who you talked with. There were a few they met who openly spoke of joining Osama bin Laden’s cause and were glad that terrorists had attacked the American military facility.
Surprisingly, very few if any of the Marines spoke about revenge or blood lust. All interviewed agreed that they should find out first who perpetrated the act and then respond ‘appropriately’. Even the Naval personnel attached to the unit felt the same way.
To do otherwise, they said, would only antagonize the locals.
Then the Court Martial of the Cobra gunship crew came to a surprise ending, and just like Rabb had promised, Stuart received exclusive reporting rights for the story. Interviews in the aftermath of Secord’s public meltdown ranged from shock to disgust. Many could not believe a Marine would kill someone in cold blood, much less a brother Marine. A few stated that Gitmo (military slang for Guantanamo Bay) was too good for the likes of him.
It was great stuff. Added to the exclusive interviews with the accused Cobra crew, the prosecuting and defending attorneys, and the Cobra crew’s CO, they had a story which would decimate the lead on every other network and cable news station.
Stuart figured after this kind of exclusive he would be able to write his own ticket.
He imagined at any moment he’d get a call from Chuck DePalma and be told to ‘pack your gear, you’re headed to Afghanistan’ or some other hotbed in the Global War on Terror. It could even earn him that coveted anchor job he had been gunning for since he arrived at ZNN.
Yeah, if he got that job, that would show that blowhard, Tom Nevens, the current afternoon anchor….
As he tried to settle deeper into his cot/bed and relax, his cell phone chirped. He pulled it out of his pocket and flipped it open.
“Dunston…”
“Stuart?” It was an overseas call. The feedback in the line suddenly cleared. “Stuart, can you hear me now?”
Stuart broke into a broad smile. “Hey Chuck, what a pleasant surprise.” He remembered that when you smile, you sound cheery on the phone.
As usual, the Executive Producer for ZNN wasn’t buying it. “Always the charmer, aren’t you, Stuart?”
“Pays to be charming in my business. What can I do for you, ‘Boss’?” He added the ‘boss’ because it was a private joke between them that went back to when Dunston was fresh out of journalism school. Chuck DePalma had been his mentor at ZNN back then.
“I’m sending someone out there to you….”
Stuart sat up on his cot. “You’re sending me someone?” he repeated.
“Yeah. He’s a new guy we hired away from CBS.”
“What’s his name?”
Chuck sounded like he was rifling through a pile of papers on his desk. “Holliman, yeah, Brad Holliman.”
“Why are you sending him here?”
“He was their top Middle East correspondent. Wanted to find a replacement for you.”
“A replacement?” Stuart couldn’t believe it. After all his hard work, he was being reassigned?
Chuck laughed at Stuart’s nervousness. It was good to keep subordinates on their toes. “Don’t tell me after your exclusive you didn’t figure on me moving you to that anchor spot you’ve salivated after for so long.”
Stuart still couldn’t believe it. “He’s replacing me out here?” And why him?
Chuck’s voice turned sarcastic. “What’s the matter, you don’t want the anchor job? You’d rather be slaving away in the dust and rocks of Iraqistan?”
Stuart hurriedly tried to head off that line of thought. “No, Chuck, it’s not that…”
“Well, what is it?” Chuck seemed to be growing annoyed with Stuart’s reluctance to accept this plum job.
“I’ve built a pretty good reputation with the military here, Chuck.”
That drew a long pause from the ZNN Executive Producer. “Meaning?”
“I don’t want him blowing it with sloppy reporting.”
“Sloppy reporting?” Chuck obviously didn’t believe Stuart’s accusation.
So the senior ZNN reporter tried to explain. “Chuck, in his last report he described dozens of tanks descending on that Palestinian village….” He hoped Chuck would pick up on what he was saying.
“So?” He didn’t.
Stuart spelled it out for him. “They were personnel carriers!”
If he expected the Executive Producer to understand now, he didn’t get his wish. Instead, he got more sarcasm. “Oh I get it, you’ve been out there so long that you’ve become an expert on military vehicles….”
Now Stuart was getting annoyed. “Chuck, you know what I’m talking about. Yeah, it’s a little thing, but it adds up. Every time we get it wrong, the military folks place a little less trust in us…we lose a little credibility.”
Chuck DePalma didn’t see this as any major roadblock. “Then you’ll just have to teach him to ‘talk the talk’.”
“And there’s also my relationship with Rabb,” he added.
“You two going steady now?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Teach him to respect that as well. I’m counting on you Stuart. I want you on that anchor desk by the end of the month.”
Stuart gave in. Maybe this would work. He’d need a few days to get ready for this hotshot. But that was all right. He probably wouldn’t be here for another week or so. “Okay, okay. So when does he get here, next week?”
“He should be arriving in Mirbullah sometime tomorrow morning.”
2030 Local
NCIS Field Headquarters/Criminal Investigative Division
Green Zone - Baghdad, Iraq
Faith walked the long corridor past rows of empty workstations down to the Regional Investigative Coordinator’s office.
Her driver had called it the ‘jewel in Emerald City’. She wondered if the driver knew this jewel was flawed. He hadn’t come into the building with her. Said he had some other business to take of.
She hoped that didn’t mean he was following her movements with a sniper scope.
She reached the end of the hallway and turned right as she had been instructed to do. She thought her footfalls sounded unusually loud in this hallway. At the far end was an open door with a desk/workstation to the right side of the entrance.
Faith took a deep breath and approached the Petty Officer Shore Patrolman occupying the desk.
The 2nd Class Master-at-Arms, who had been reading a stapled set of papers, stood up as soon as she came into his field of vision.
She pulled out her ID badge for him to see. “Lieutenant Commander Faith Coleman, JAG Corps. I’m here to see Special Agent in Charge, Sedrick Phillips?”
“Yes ma’am, he’s been expecting you.” He moved an open book toward her. “If you’ll just sign in right here, ma’am.”
Faith ignored his proffered pen and took a pen out her BDU tunic, clicked it and scribbled her name with a flourish. Then clicked it again and reinserted it into her pocket.
He gave her a momentary odd look which quickly vanished. After all, she was a Lieutenant Commander and he was only a Petty Officer. If she didn’t want to use his pen, that was her prerogative.
“This way, ma’am.”
*~*
“ ‘This way ma’am….’” Gibbs and Sturgis heard through their headsets. This was followed by sounds of movement as they made their way through the room and they guessed towards Phillips’ office.
Back at MTAC, Tom Morrow had a split screen that he was watching intently. On one side was the Gibbs’ HMMWV sitting silently in the building parking lot. The other half of the screen was devoted to a moving picture view of the room Faith was being lead through.
“We have a visual on Nightingale, Bravo Two,” Morrow intoned as he focused his gaze intently on the screen.
“Copy that, Bravo One,” Gibbs replied.
Sturgis in the meantime had dug out a pair of night vision goggles and was entranced by the eerie green and white view of the building and Faith’s image as she passed a couple of windows.
“ ‘Sir, Commander Coleman, from JAG Corps Headquarters….’” the SP’s disembodied voice announced.
As Coleman and Sedrick Phillips exchanged pleasantries, the passenger door behind Gibbs opened and a burly African-American Marine slid in the back seat and shut the door.
Sturgis fought the urge to look back at the man. Because Gibbs hadn’t moved, he had to assume the senior NCIS Agent knew this Marine.
Gibbs’ face broke into a wry grin “Glad you could join us, Master Sergeant,” he said without looking back
The big man smiled back. “Pleasure to serve with you again, Gunny,”
*~*
“Commander Rabb, reporting as ordered, sir.” Harm threw a sharp salute.
“As you were, Commander,” The Patrick Henry CO replied shaking his hand, “It’s good to have you here.”
“It’s good to be here, sir.”
“You remember my JAG, Commander Aldridge?”
Harm reached out and exchanged a handshake with the Patrick Henry Strike Group JAG, noting the change in his shoulder boards. “Congratulations on your promotion, Commander.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Harm gave Alfred Aldridge a friendly smile. “You don’t have sir me now, we’re of equal rank.”
“Sorry; force of habit, s- uh, Commander.”
Lawboss suppressed a grin as she stuck out her hand. “Captain Seranovich, Oriskany SJAG. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Harm gave her a chagrined look. “All good, I hope.”
“Oh yes sir,” she said quickly. A little too quickly.
That comment had the four sharing uncomfortable looks until Ingles decided to mercifully end the embarrassing silence by clearing his throat and changing the subject.
“Well, um, Commander, we’re putting you to work as soon as you finish your check-in with the flight surgeon.”
Harm was momentarily taken aback. “The flight surgeon, sir?”
“Commander, you don’t intend to dump anymore of my Tomcats in the drink, do you?”
“No sir.” The aviator/lawyer said emphatically, somewhat surprised by the comment. He’d thought they were past this.
“That’s good to hear, because we have very few we can spare. You’ve heard about the influenza ravaging the fleet. That’s why you’re out here in the first place.” It was obvious that Captain Tobias Ingles was trying to make a point.
That pulled Harm up short. “Ah, yes sir.” he said stoically.
“We can’t have you out there sick, flying my planes, Commander. Report to the flight surgeon.”
Harm snapped to attention. “Aye, aye, sir.”
2048 Hours Local
NCIS Headquarters Office/CID
Regional Investigative Coordinator, Sedrick Phillips motioned to a chair in front of his desk. “Commander, please take a seat.”
Faith looked at the dirty chair and decided since she was wearing BDU’s anyway, a little more dirt wouldn’t matter at this point. Still, she wanted to at least try to brush it off before she sat down. But she didn’t want to appear to look odd. She decided to resist the urge to clean it off -- this time.
“Thank you Special Agent.” She politely took a seat.
Sedrick gave her friendly smile. “What can I do for Admiral Chegwidden’s office?”
“We’re following up on leads to the terrorist attack on the JAG Corps’ Headquarters.”
“Oh?” Sedrick said trying to sound casual. Faith could tell though that he was surprised by her saying ‘we’re’.
“Yes.” Was her one word answer to his comment.
“You’re in charge of the investigation?” he ventured.
Faith shifted in her chair. “Actually Special Agent Gibbs is in charge of the investigation, but we report to Admiral Chegwidden.”
“I see,” he said blandly, however, beads of sweat had started to appear on his forehead. “Well then, what do you need from me?”
She noted he was even more unnerved by this information. After all what would the top NCIS Major Case Response Team from Washington be doing in Iraq? Maybe it had to do with the terrorist attack, but then again maybe it had to do with something else. Either way, Special Agent Phillips decided to act nonchalant about her comments.
Faith reached down and pulled her briefcase across her lap. Snapping it open, she removed a folder and closed the case, laying the open folder on top. “Just a couple of minor things, Special Agent. Private Krivstad’s body was found in a stream north of Mirbullah.”
Sedrick appeared to visibly relax. He leaned back a little in his chair. “By Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. as I recall….”
Faith didn’t like his smug attitude or his insinuation. “Yes; well, what’s troubling us is what you said in your official report.”
The tenseness returned to the Regional Investigative Coordinator’s body. “Come again?” he blurted out.
Faith looked at her folder and then at him. “You stated that PFC Leonard Krivstad died as a result of drowning and that the injuries he received were the result of his having been tossed into the creek.”
“Sure, that’s the way it looked.” he said dismissively.
“The official autopsy report indicates that PFC Krivstad had been severely beaten, strangled and a karate chop administered to his larynx.”
“Whose report?”
[part two, tomorrow night...]
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