Starship Troopers

Hendrick must have caught him just right. But he hadn’t said anything about it and Captain Frankel hadn’t asked — maybe he had just assumed Zim had run into a door and would explain it if he felt like it, later.

“Have the pertinent articles been published to your company, as required?”

“Yes, sir. Published and logged, every Sunday morning.”

“I know they have. I asked simply for the record.”

Just before church call every Sunday they lined us up and read aloud the disciplinary articles out of the Laws and Regulations of the Military Forces. They were posted on the bulletin board, too, outside the orderly tent. Nobody paid them much mind — it was just another drill; you could stand still and sleep through it. About the only thing we noticed, if we noticed anything, was what we called “the thirty-one ways to crash land.” After all, the instructors see to it that you soak up all the regulations you need to know, through your skin. The “crash landings” were a worn-out joke, like “reveille oil” and “tent jacks” … they were the thirty-one capital offenses. Now and then somebody boasted, or accused somebody else, of having found a thirty-second way — always something preposterous and usually obscene.

“Striking a superior officer—! ”

It suddenly wasn’t amusing any longer. Popping Zim? Hang a man for that? Why, almost everybody in the company had taken a swing at Sergeant Zim and some of us had even landed … when he was instructing us in hand-to-hand combat. He would take us on after the other instructors had worked us over and we were beginning to feel cocky and pretty good at it — then he would put the polish on. Why, shucks, I once saw Shujumi knock him unconscious. Bronski threw water on him and Zim got up and grinned and shook hands — and threw Shujumi right over the horizon.

Captain Frankel looked around, motioned at me. “You. Flash regimental headquarters.”

I did it, all thumbs, stepped back when an officer’s face came on and let the Captain take the call. “Adjutant,” the face said.

Frankel said crisply, “Second Battalion Commander’s respects to the Regimental Commander. I request and require an officer to sit as a court.”

The face said, “When do you need him, Ian?”

“As quickly as you can get him here.”

“Right away. I’m pretty sure Jake is in his HQ. Article and name?”

Captain Frankel identified Hendrick and quoted an article number. The face in the screen whistled and looked grim. “On the bounce, Ian. If I can’t get Jake, I’ll be over myself — just as soon as I tell the Old Man.”

Captain Frankel turned to Zim. “This escort — are they witnesses?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did his section leader see it?”

Zim barely hesitated. “I think so, sir.”

“Get him. Anybody out that way in a powered suit?”

“Yes, sir.”

Zim used the phone while Frankel said to Hendrick, “What witnesses do you wish to call in your defense?”

“Huh? I don’t need any witnesses, he knows what he did! Just hand me a piece of paper — I’m getting out of here.”

“All in good time.”

In very fast time, it seemed to me. Less than five minutes later Corporal Jones came bouncing up in a command suit, carrying Corporal Mahmud in his arms. He dropped Mahmud and bounced away just as Lieutenant Spieksma came in. He said, “Afternoon, Cap’n. Accused and witnesses here?”

“All set. Take it, Jake.”

“Recorder on?”

“It is now.”

“Very well. Hendrick, step forward.” Hendrick did so, looking puzzled and as if his nerve was beginning to crack. Lieutenant Spieksma said briskly: “Field Court-Martial, convened by order of Major F.X. Malloy, commanding Third Training Regiment, Camp Arthur Currie, under General Order Number Four, issued by the Commanding General, Training and Discipline Command, pursuant to the Laws and Regulations of the Military Forces, Terran Federation. Remanding officer: Captain Ian Frankel, M.I., assigned to and commanding Second Battalion, Third Regiment. The Court: Lieutenant Jacques Spieksma, M.I., assigned to and commanding First Battalion, Third Regiment. Accused: Hendrick, Theodore C., Recruit Private RP7960924. Article 9080. Charge: Striking his superior officer, the Terran Federation then being in a state of emergency.”

The thing that got me was how fast it went. I found myself suddenly appointed an “officer of the court” and directed to “remove” the witnesses and have them ready. I didn’t know how I would “remove” Sergeant Zim if he didn’t feel like it, but he gathered Mahmud and the two boots up by eye and they all went outside, out of earshot. Zim separated himself from the others and simply waited; Mahmud sat down on the ground and rolled a cigarette — which he had to put out; he was the first one called. In less than twenty minutes all three of them had testified, all telling much the same story Hendrick had. Zim wasn’t called at all.

Lieutenant Spieksma said to Hendrick, “Do you wish to cross-examine the witnesses? The Court will assist you, if you so wish.”

“No.”

“Stand at attention and say ‘sir’ when you address the Court.”

“No, sir.” He added, “I want a lawyer.”

“The Law does not permit counsel in field courts-martial. Do you wish to testify in your own defense? You are not required to do so and, in view of the evidence thus far, the Court will take no judicial notice if you choose not to do so. But you are warned that any testimony that you give may be used against you and that you will be subject to cross-examination.”

Hendrick shrugged. “I haven’t anything to say. What good would it do me?”

“The Court repeats: Will you testify in your own defense?”

“Uh, no, sir.”

“The Court must demand of you one technical question. Was the article under which you are charged published to you before the time of the alleged offense of which you stand accused? You may answer yes, or no, or stand mute — but you are responsible for your answer under Article 9167 which relates to perjury.”

The accused stood mute.

“Very well, the Court will reread the article of the charge aloud to you and again ask you that question. ‘Article 9080: Any person in the Military Forces who strikes or assaults, or attempts to strike or assault—’ ”

“Oh, I suppose they did. They read a lot of stuff, every Sunday morning — a whole long list of things you couldn’t do.”

“Was or was not that particular article read to you?”

“Uh … yes, sir. It was.”

“Very well. Having declined to testify, do you have any statement to make in mitigation or extenuation?”

“Sir?”

“Do you want to tell the Court anything about it? Any circumstance which you think might possibly affect the evidence already given? Or anything which might lessen the alleged offense? Such things as being ill, or under drugs or medication. You are not under oath at this point; you may say anything at all which you think may help you. What the Court is trying to find out is this: Does anything about this matter strike you as being unfair? If so, why?”

“Huh? Of course it is! Everything about it is unfair! He hit me first! You heard ’em!—he hit me first!”

“Anything more?”

“Huh? No, sir. Isn’t that enough?”

“The trial is completed. Recruit Private Theodore C. Hendrick, stand forth!” Lieutenant Spieksma had been standing at attention the whole time; now Captain Frankel stood up. The place suddenly felt chilly.

“Private Hendrick, you are found guilty as charged.”

My stomach did a flip-flop. They were going to do it to him … they were going to do the “Danny Deever” to Ted Hendrick. And I had eaten breakfast beside him just this morning.