Chapter 5: On the Auction Block
Excerpt from the Disciplinary Action Record for Captain Jake Debacca, Year 295
Captain Dawson, Captain of the WNV Mace, on or about Four, September, 295, was made aware of a number of complaints brought by junior sailors to Petty Officers concerning the quality of the contraband alcoholic beverage being sold illegally on board the Mace. Specifically, the sailors were concerned that the beverages they were buying, in fact, contained no alcohol.
Captain Dawson initiated an investigation into both the sale and consumption of contraband beverages on board, along with the misrepresentation of such beverages. The investigation came to a number of conclusions concerning Marine Captain Jake Debacca.
First: Captain Debacca sold a beverage of indeterminate origin to several sailors. The sailors who purchased this beverage were under the impression it contained alcohol (though none could say that they had heard directly from Debacca that this particular beverage contained alcohol). The beverage did not contain a significant amount of alcohol.
Second: The investigation uncovered a number of sources on board for varying qualities and quantities of alcoholic beverages. Captain Debacca was not in possession of any of these, nor is there any evidence that he collaborated with any of the individuals involved with their distribution.
Third: While persistent rumors may imply otherwise (many said rumors likely started by Debacca), there is no evidence that Captain Debacca has ever illegally distributed alcoholic beverages on board this, or any navy vessie.
Fourth: Contrary to Captain Debacca’s claims, the liquid he was selling had no properties advantageous to human health.
The investigators make the following recommendations in regard to this case:
First: Captain Debacca be put on a six-month probationary punishment. During this time, he will not be eligible for promotion, reassignment, increase, transfer, nor will he be able to nominate any marines.
Second: During said time, Captain Debacca will be barred from the sale or trade of any items while on board any vessie. He may purchase items, but only for beads.
Third: Captain Debacca will be barred from collecting liquids from any source aboard any vessie. This includes, but is not limited to: exhaust pipe condensation, galley tray drippings, and/or runoff from the laundry.
The King’s Mace was bringing up the tail end of the fleet. She stood as rear guard, behind the fuel haulers, as the Whybarrian formation turned and headed south a few minutes before sunset. The patrol was assigned to drive through the rough country in the northwest of the realm, working from outside in, to try and locate and eliminate any hostile barbarians. Deep in her decks, directly above the lower guns, on the port side of the ammo storage, sat the barracks of 1st platoon, Baker Company, of the 2nd battalion, 3rd Regiment.
Sergeant Fields squinted down the dim corridor. “Captn’s coming.” He turned toward the other guard, Sergeant Quill, standing inside the doorway “An’ he don’t look too pleased.”
Quill repeated the call, just loud enough for those inside the room to hear. “Captain Debacca’s coming.”
Jake Debacca stepped quickly down the narrow wooden corridor, his tall, solid frame brushing against each wall in turn as the vessie bumped along the rough road. He ducked under a plastic pipe and slowed as he approached the door marked “Baker, 2/3 quarters.” He paused to speak to the guards. “Colonel Scott’s caught wind of our little operation; we need to make as big a haul as we can tonight, then shut down for a while, until the heat dies down.”
Fields surveyed the room. “Got a fair crowd Captn’, might do the auction tonight, just in case the heat don’t die down this trip.”
All the bunks had been pushed along the walls, with tables set in front of them. A mural of the battalion insignia, featuring a mace-wielding mouse, covered the far wall. At each table, marines and sailors huddled around as cards were dealt and money wagered. Most were shirtless, but the days were getting warmer and the heat below decks still left them sweating, shirt or not. No one wore any armor, and none had any weapons, save Fields and Quill, posted at either side of the door. They each had their swords slung in their scabbards at their sides, and they served both to keep the gamblers honest and to look out for the approach of anyone that might frown on the goings on inside.
“Yeah, we’ll have the auction, and I think we’ll have a fight as well.” He scratched gently at the blonde stubble on his square chin, missing the beard that he’d shaved off before the fleet left Cauls. He slid past Quill and into the room, “Keep an eye out for Scott’s guys.”
The stench of sweaty men was overwhelming in the room, and the leaky keg of stale beer that Baker Company had managed to smuggle aboard did not help the matter. The barracks had a door at both ends, but when they set off from Cauls, Captain Debacca had the door along the main corridor closed and blocked off. The only way in or out was through the narrow emergency exit, or to move a half dozen beds and make the primary door available again. Jake nodded to a few men and stopped to visit with Lieutenant Crane, who was the operation’s cashier. Then he turned, put on a jovial air, leaned on an empty table, and addressed the room.
“Gentlemen, I hate to interrupt, but could I have your attention.” His voice was subdued, but commanding. The noise slowly died out as the dealers drew everyone’s attention to the officer. “I’d like to thank you all for coming to our little morale events, here at Baker Company two three. But more importantly, thank you all for bringing your money and barter.” A few laughs and groans lilted up from those sitting at the tables. “Listen, listen,” Jake waved his big hand, “I’m so grateful that you all could be a part of this, it’s been so much fun, but all good things must end. I’m sad to say, we’re going to be closing up shop. Tonight is our last night before we take a nice long break.” The groans re-erupted, this time more genuine. “I know, I know. It’s a heartbreaker, but I’m afraid we have to. But don’t worry; you still have a little longer to win back all your money. And we’ll get back to that here in a minute, but first, I have a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for you. An auction like no other.” He stood up straight and meandered toward the center of the room as a few of his men shuffled along the wall.
“For you sailors that have joined us, let me give you a little background on the marines. You see, there are many paths to becoming a marine, but only one gate. That gate is an appointment from a marine officer. Now that appointment doesn’t guarantee you’ll get in, no no, the commandant has final approval, but without an appointment, you don’t become a marine. It is a long and storied tradition, that frankly, I wouldn’t want to bore you or myself with the details of at this moment. The point is, there is no application, no tryouts, no trials. You must be appointed by a marine officer.” He paused, reeling them in a little.
“And not just any officer, mind you. It has to be a marine officer, Captain or above, in good standing, who has not appointed a marine into service in the last six months. And it just so happens, that I am a marine Captain, whose disciplinary probation, which so unjustly prohibited me from making appointments for the last six months, expires in six days…” Jake let the murmuring build, growing until a second before it burst out into a full-blown clamor. “First, the terms: this is fully transferable, so enlisted marines, get in on this so you can pick an appointment, rather than letting the officers have all the fun; the man I appointment must have at least a chance of getting past the commandant, so if you have a disciplinary against you, I’ll gladly take your money, but I won’t be appointing you; and last but by no means least, this is a cash-only auction, no barter, no credit. If you want to trade something with us, get in the cashier’s line now so you have the money you need during the auction.” A handful of sailors looked towards the cashier, “Now then, let’s start at a nickel, who’s got a nickel to become a marine?”
No one seemed to believe it. The sailors that stared at the cashier all seemed poised to get up, but were stuck in their chairs. Others looked at each other, unsure of what was going on. One table burst out in nervous giggles, and some marines from Charlie Company began to make angry grumbles. Jake had expected this. While his little speech was full of exaggerations and lies, a few morsels of truth had made their way out. The appointing of marines was a long and storied tradition, and one highly honored in certain circles. Apparently, circles that occasionally came to play cards in unsanctioned casinos. “I know that some will say this auction cheapens the marines’ honor, the spirit that flows through the marines is tarnished by selling an appointment. But listen, being a marine means being willing to get the job done, to win the fight, no matter what. That’s the marine spirit, doing what it takes to meet the challenge. And if the only way you can get a marine officer’s attention is to wave a few beads in his face, then I guess that’s what you’ve got to do to be a marine! Now come on, who’s got a nickel for me?”
“I do,” A slim sailor raised his arm,
“At a boy, who’s got two?”
“I do.” The bidding picked up quickly, and while the grunts from Charlie Company didn’t look particularly happy, no one stopped the auction or got up to leave. Captain Debacca was relieved to see it.
“Three silver and three nickel!” a guy from Echo Company that had just won a big hand with triple threes piped up from next to Captain Debacca, startling him, though he didn’t show it.
“Three silver, three nickel from the overly exuberant young man right here. Do I have Thirty four? Thirty four?” He noticed a line at the cashier's table and gave a quick nod to someone in the back as he realized that this might work.
“Three silver and a copper,” came the response.
In a moment, the bidding slacked barely under ten silver beads. The sailors who had been in line to trade were now trying to trade back, but the value of barter had of course fallen in minute that elapsed and all but one kept the cash. “Nine silver, six nickel going once, nine and six going twice…sold for ninety-six nickel beads.” The marine from Echo Company had won, although he had borrowed thirty of it from his comrades.
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“It’s for my kid brother, he’s a cook on the Lance,” the young private shook Jake’s hand. “He’ll be so thrilled.”
“I’m sure,” Jake took his hand, “now just make sure all ninety-six make it to Lieutenant Crane and have him write your brother’s name down. I’ll make sure he gets the appointment.”
A voice came up from near the door, “Now just wait a minute, Captain!” A hulk of a mechanic came lumbering up toward Jake. “I’ve been bidding this whole time and you never called my bid, not once.”
Jake was a fit young man, twenty-three years old and six foot tall, broad-shouldered and built. The sailor that waded through the tables made Jake look malnourished. He was close to seven foot, likely half again as heavy as Jake, and hairy, with a scar from a burn across his chest. Captain Debacca talked to him as if he was an insolent child. “You never bid, not once Bobby Brewer, and you know it. You sat back there with your hand up on the rafter the whole time. You weren’t bidding, you were leaning!”
“I was too bidding, and you’re crooked for saying otherwise. It was a crooked auction, just like every other game in here.” Bobby leaned in and leered at Jake.
“Hey, we run honest games here, not our fault you want to cheat everyone here and bid after the auction’s over. Listen Bobby, it’s done, this guy won, he and I shook on it and I’m appointing his kid brother. It’s over, now shut up!” Jake’s dark tanned skin was showing a tinge of red.
“Or what?” The mechanic stepped in a little closer.
“Captain?” Jake had lifted his fist when Lieutenant Crane called out for him. David Crane was utterly unassuming, medium build, medium height, medium length straight brown hair, and a voice that was neither shrill nor base. He was the kind of guy that was entirely too easy to overlook, if he wanted to be overlooked. That, and his quick wit had earned him the spot of right-hand man and cashier to Jake’s brash, charismatic ring leader. “Perhaps we could open the floor to bets on the fight that seems to be about to get underway? If you can restrain yourself long enough to figure the odds, I think everyone would enjoy the contest a little more.”
Jake hesitated to take his eyes off the oversized sailor. “I’m agreeable to that, how about you, tiny?”
“Fine, but if I beat you, I get the appointment.”
“And if I win I get every bead you have.”
“You won’t.” Bobby took a step back and spat on the floor. A few marines from Baker Company hurried to move the tables out of the way while most everyone else placed a bet. Jake turned to Crane. Private Ortega was whispering in Crane’s ear.
Jake gave the Lieutenant a big smile. He always smiled before he fought. Whether it was a brawl in a tavern or a sparring match with marines, Jake enjoyed fighting, for the sake of it, but a considerable wager sat on the line with this one. Crane looked nervous and motioned with his head like he wanted the captain to come to him, his short locks bouncing. Jake’s smile got bigger and he waved him off then turned around.
“You ready Bobby?” he asked. The tone of his voice sounded both inviting and harsh all at the same time.
“What, no sissy rules, captain?”
“No, just fight with what God gave you. So, unless you were made in a furniture factory, don’t go picking up any tables.” Bobby’s answer was a grim nod, followed by a slow lumbering walk toward Jake, like a crow, edging along, swaying. Jake stood, bouncing on the balls of his feet. His plan was to outmaneuver the big man, slide to his side, and hit him hard in the jaw. He faked right then moved to the left.
Bobby was slower than Jake, but his hands were steel traps. He snatched Jake's right arm with his own right hand and slung him back in front. With a massive paw of a hand, he grabbed Jake by his cropped blonde hair. He proceeded to hold the captain with his left and pummel him with his right. Jake’s face crumpled with every blow. His plan seemed to have gone awry. He wrapped his hands around the meaty arm attached to his scalp, lifted his legs up, then drove them into the sailor’s thighs. Bobby leaned forward a little, stumbled, but then regained himself. He slung Jake around behind him and into the crowd of cheering sailors and marines. Jake landed on the floor, but was back on his feet and moving before Bobby could turn. Jake faked him again, but this time the big mechanic’s momentum got the better of him. He lunged, as Jake pulled back, striking at the bigger man's temple as he did, knocking Bobby back. Debacca circled his dazed opponent, jumped on his back, and put him in a chokehold. He whispered in his ear “You’re supposed to take the fall! What are you doing?!”
“No dice Debacca, I had a friend bet everything I have on me, and I want that appointment.” Bobby leaped back, flopping down and catching Jake between himself and the floor. He rolled over and got to his feet, expecting to see Jake sprawled and crushed, but the Captain was back up first and kicked hard at the big man’s knee.
“Give it up Bobby; you know you can’t beat me.” Bobby apparently did not know. He charged at Jake, swinging madly. The marine sidestepped him punching him in the lower back. Bobby let out a low groan, turned, and caught Jake with a backhand that hurt more than a jab from most men. Jake was not deterred. He dove back in and wrapped his hands around the back of his rival’s thick neck. He pulled down and drove his knee into Bobby’s soft gut, once, twice, a third time before the mechanic wrapped him up and fell forward, trying to pancake him again. This time, the captain was quicker and squirreled to the side. The two men were locked eye to eye, and Jake head-butted him as they lay there. Bobby rolled onto his back and Jake leaped up, kicking at Bobby mercilessly. Then there was a snap, loud and clear over the crowd.
Colonel Scott’s quarters were likely the most pristine place on the entirety of the Mace. It was situated directly below the top decks, with a window that opened up over the bridge, letting sunlight, that rarest of commodities below decks, shine into a tiny bedroom and the small office that lead into it. On the starboard wall of the office, behind a desk that nearly filled the space, hung a portrait of King Isaac. On the other wall, looking back at the king and the desk was a slightly smaller portrait of the commandant. On the wall between the office and the bedroom was a mural of a mouse swinging a short sword. Colonel Scott, 3rd regiment’s commander, sat behind the desk, while Major Fellows, 2nd battalion’s commander and Debacca’s commanding officer, sat in the corner, trying for all he was worth to disappear.
“Please, please, please explain to me how it is that a marine Captain comes to find himself having broken a sailor’s jaw!!” Gary Scott was young for a Colonel, not quite thirty, by Jake’s estimate. He had been aboard the King’s Club when she was sent to put down the rebellion at Chef’s Town, and though the fighting hadn’t been too heavy, word was that Scott had been in the thick of it. His efforts fast-tracked his career. He was tall, slender, with smooth skin the same color as the polished pine desk he sat at, spotted with nearly black freckles. He was in his full underway uniform and although the Colonel’s silver didn’t particularly compliment his complexion, he wore it impeccably. He was the picture of a perfect regiment commander, and he was as mad as a man could be.
“Is there any possible explanation?!? Is there a single reasonable reason; a solitary solid story; that makes it okay for you to have injured a sailor at all, let alone hurt him so bad he’ll likely be headed back to Cauls!?!” Jake had been standing at attention for over a half hour, listening to the Colonel spew a steady stream of insults and insinuating rhetorical questions. Scott was finally beginning to lose steam, he was repeating himself and his insults were becoming convoluted and hard to follow. “Well!! Come on Debacca, say something! ‘Aye Colonel, some shit,’ something.” And with that, the well of derision finally ran dry.
Jake had one chance to pull this off, he had to say precisely the right thing at precisely the right time, and this was that time. “Aye Colonel, Bobby and I made a bad mistake. Listen, we thought we would put on a little show, not real sparring, just something to entertain our guys.”
The well recharged quickly, “And encourage gambling, and fraternization, and a host of other things?!”
Jake was losing him, “Colonel, you and I both know that keeping these guys from gambling is nearly impossible, hell they take bets on what’s for lunch, on the color of the next bird they see, on who has the bigger...”
Scott leaped to his feet, veins bulging in his forehead, “CAPTIAN!! Are you trying to get kicked off this ship?”
“…sword, Colonel, I was going to say sword.” Jake glanced over at Fellows, as if to plead his case to a third party. In response, Fellows impersonated a statue, dead-faced. Jake turned his eyes back to Scott. This was it, the dim little light at the end of the tunnel. “Bobby and I, we agreed, it wasn’t going to be a real fight, but then halfway through he got awfully mad, must have thought I was trying to make him look bad or something, so he starts coming at me for real. Honestly, I thought he was going to kill me. So, I defended myself, I kicked him in the jaw, but I can’t believe it’s broken. Those guys need more bones in their broth if it broke that easy. And I didn’t take in any bets, didn’t make any money off of that. I know some guys did, but not me. It was a bad mistake, Colonel Scott, no doubt, but that’s all, I didn’t intend for this to happen, and certainly didn’t knowingly break any rules.”
“That is bull!” It had worked; Jake could tell by the tone in Scott’s voice, it had worked. He wasn’t out of trouble, he would still face consequences, but they would be the sort of consequences meant to punish him and make him a better marine, not the kind meant to make an example of him and remove him from the marines. “And I will get to the bottom of this. Every inch of that barracks is going to be searched right now, and I will be speaking with Sailor Brewer personally. As for you, you and Baker Company are hereby ordered to twenty-four-hour deck duty, effective immediately, until I say otherwise. And I want the doors to their barracks and your quarters taken off their hinges. Do you understand me?”
“Yes sir!” It was all Captain Debacca could do to withhold a smile. It was a stiff punishment, but far less than he deserved, and not much worse than he had anticipated.
“Dismissed!!” Jake faced right and exited swiftly, the door slamming behind him, leaving Major Fellows to do his statue act for an audience of one.
Lieutenant Crane was waiting for Captain Debacca on the top deck. “We squared away, Davey Crane?” Night had fallen and the Mace was escorting the Mobile II on her refueling run.
“We are, I’ve got the platoons on a rotation, sleeping guys get a mat and a spot out of the wind. If it’s not your turn to sleep, you’re out of luck. All of our weapons are stowed in a stairwell at the rear of the ship, hung up nice and neat and out of the weather. I posted guards there. The doors are off your cabin and our barracks, as per Colonel Scott. The money is squirreled away inside that pipe in the back exit, all cards and poker chips have been sold to marines outside the company. We’re clean.”
As the vessie accelerated, the wind began to whip at their black tweed cloaks. Jake looked over at Crane, smiling. “And Bobby?”
Crane wasn’t much for smiling, but cracked the faintest of grins when he heard the big sailor’s name. “You definitely broke his jaw, but I doubt he’ll starve before he heals.”
Crane didn’t crack many jokes, and in Jake’s opinion, he needed more practice. “Yes, but is he going to pass our little secrets to Colonel Scott?”
“Not likely, it will be a while before he can talk, and I told him that, if he went along with your ‘play fighting’ story, we’d cancel half his bets, but only after he leaves the ship. That should keep him from double-crossing you again.” Crane had returned to his usual even demeanor, the grin gone, but not actually frowning either.
“That was pretty dirty, even by my standards.” Jake’s smile was waning too. “So how much did he bet on himself?”
“Two Gold, but we won’t miss the one we give him. We hauled in over twenty tonight.” Lieutenant Crane said the sum as if he was talking about the odd beads in a miser’s pocket.
It was all Jake could do not to shout, “Twenty Gold Beads!!, you have got to be kidding me!!” He paused for a minute. He looked up at the sky full of stars, stretched out his arms, and breathed deep of the cool night air. “That’s about enough, isn’t it?!”
The Mace was cursing well out ahead of the fleet, speeding toward the refueling stop, Mobile II close behind. Crane’s minimal grin returned, “Yes sir, just about enough.” The two Marines stared off at the ridge in the distance, as a full moon, crimson on the horizon, rose over the badlands of northwest Whybarr.