"From the Dreadnought, sir."
"From WHERE on the Dreadnought!"
The man hesitated, and Hayes really did strike him. He wiped the blood from his mouth, and with his eyes to the floor said numbly,
"Auxiliary Laser Deployment."
As if cued by these words, the young officer that Hayes had berated on the eve of the Schiller conquest rose and came forward.
"I did it, you dirty old son of a bitch. You're not going to destroy MY home." He whirled to address his stupefied compatriots, who had turned from their stations to face him. "It's all been a lie! Stone didn't order any of this, and Plant didn't kill him. It was THAT bastard," pointing, "and Hesse that—-"
He never finished the sentence. Hayes, purple with rage and every vein of his forehead bulging, struck him a savage blow across the head with a conduit wrench, the first object that came to hand. The man fell limply forward, not quite unconscious, emitting a weak grown of pain.
At that moment two MP's rushed into the room, and Hayes ordered them to lift him by the arms and turn him around. The pistol that he always carried at his hip he raised and held at arm's length. It was clear that he meant to shoot the man.
"Stop it!" cried Frank suddenly, rushing between them. "You can't just kill a man without a trial. . .for doing what he thought was right." It was equally clear that Frank himself was unsure of the truth, and had been unnerved by the youth's allegations.
"Who the HELL do you think you are?" bellowed the other. "Giving ME orders! Stand aside or I'll kill you both."