Tipping Point: The War With China - the First Salvo (Dan Lenson Novels) by David Poyer Page B

that. What is it? I am unfamiliar with the terminology.” God, he sounded so stuffy.
    “A skunt’s like a low-class, um, bitch, sir. Sort of like a skank.”
    “So there is such a word?”
    “I don’t know if it’s in the dictionary.…” Peeples glanced at Tausengelt, as if for corroboration, but the senior enlisted’s visage was iron.
    “Let’s set that aside for the moment, and focus on the fact that you intended it as an insult. Is that correct?”
    This was the come-to-Jesus moment Dan had calculated on, and to his relief Peeples rose to it. How does a fish get caught? He opens his mouth. The seaman said, shamefacedly, “Yessir.”
    “And it referred to her, specifically, as a female?”
    Again the seaman said, “Yes sir,” looking at the deck.
    Dan said briskly, “If you intended it that way, the specific wording, seems to me, is beside the point. Petty Officer Scharner, anything to add? Specifically, on the assertion you habitually award him the dirtiest jobs?”
    The petty officer said, “He’s junior guy in the work center, Captain.”
    “Chief McMottie. Any substance to the accused’s statement that Petty Office Scharner habitually awards the scuzziest jobs to male crew members?”
    The senior engineering chief said, “Not to my knowledge, Captain. But we all had to work long hours, there in Crete.”
    Dan polled the division officer, then Danenhower. Neither supported Peeples, though Danenhower added he was a conscientious watchstander and equipment operator. “He does have a smart mouth on him, but when he signs off on a maintenance job, it’s done right.”
    Dan asked the exec, for form’s sake, if this was Peeples’s first appearance at mast. She said it was.
    He looked at his notes, letting silence fall, to give the appearance of deliberation. A chipping hammer clattered somewhere far aft. To dismiss the case wouldn’t help discipline. He could assign extra military instruction, which would make the kid work extra hours. But that didn’t mean much when you were pulling eighteen-hour days anyway. Plus, usually the chiefs or the exec awarded EMI; it was below the CO’s pay grade. And restriction to the ship didn’t mean squat when they were under way.
    The harshest punishment he could impose was thirty days’ restriction and extra duty, reduction in rank to seaman recruit, and dock half Peeples’s pay for three months. Any of that could be suspended, and he’d normally suspend the bust and pay. This way he could give the guy a second chance, and if he screwed up again, he knew he’d get hammered.
    The key was consistency, and Dan cleared his throat. “In previous cases, my predecessor as CO awarded hefty punishments for violating this article. And rightly so. This being my first time holding mast aboard Savo, I don’t see any reason to veer … I mean, vary from that precedent. However, as this is Seaman Peeples’s first time at mast, there may be grounds to—”
    “Excuse me, Captain. If I may?”
    He glanced up, taken aback. “Lieutenant Singhe?”
    Singhe took a step forward, leading Scharner with her. “With all due respect, sir, the typical punishment will not suffice in this case.”
    Dan frowned. “Explain why not.”
    “This isn’t just a case of a seaman mouthing off to his petty officer. However phrased, the fact remains he called her, let’s speak plainly here, a ‘fucking cunt.’ It typifies a widespread and growing problem on this ship: a lack of respect for authority, when that authority happens to be female. We need to make it crystal clear the command supports its female members.”
    The wardroom suddenly seemed a lot quieter. Dan looked from her, to Peeples, to Staurulakis. The exec’s eyes were narrowed, but she wasn’t disagreeing. Then back to Singhe. “Are you acting as some sort of prosecutor here, Lieutenant? Because there’s no such position at a captain’s mast.”
    Singhe said, “I’m acting as a spokesperson for Petty Officer Scharner