Honor

By Matt Yocum

The Honor Code at the U.S. Air Force Academy is a string of 14 words setting a high standard for its cadets. We will not lie, steal, or cheat, nor tolerate among us anyone who does.

It sounds black and white. Cadet Tom Matthews learns it’s truly a long gray line of moral guidance marching against the realities of cadet life and the threats in today’s world. Having Honor Code investigative duties for his squadron, Matthews is handed a difficult case – a fellow senior cadet and the school’s champion football player may have lied, and if found guilty could be expelled. Outside forces pressure Matthews to do a less than thorough job as he pursues the investigation. Someone wants this case to go away and will do anything to make that happen.

An adventure that begins in the Colorado foothills at the Air Force Academy and travels through the halls of Capitol Hill and into the deserts of Iraq, HONOR will leave you guessing on every page where the conspiracies end and the truth begins.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Matt Yocum
• Release date: Jan 13, 2012
• ISBN: 9781466163966

Matt Yocum

Matt Yocum's writing covers the literary map, from technical engineering articles to literary fiction. In addition to his science fiction novel, The Calling, he has a conspiracy thriller titled HONOR set at his alma mater, the U.S. Air Force Academy, both available electronically. Matt is also a writer for Marvel Comics and has written stories including the Avengers, Spider-Man, Wolverine, and Captain America. His independent comics are showcased at www.ComicCritique.com. Born in Kentucky in 1971, Matt currently serves as a lieutenant colonel in the Air Force assigned to the Joint Special Operations Command at Ft. Bragg, NC. You can learn more about Matt and his writing and military background at www.MattYocum.com.

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PART ONE: LIFE IN THE ZOO

Sunday, 21 October

The Near Future

Chapter 1

1

As I looped onto I-25 heading north, I wondered if there was blood on my Jeep’s front bumper. My heart pounded. I never thought I’d be on the giving end of a hit-and-run.

I felt my foot press hard on the accelerator, and my mind spun in reverse, reliving the moment in instant replay slowness. I’d been driving fast through the subdivision, parked vehicles strewn along the street sides, the driveways empty. It was always like that. Clean driveways and cluttered streets.

I’d seen him cross the street, then, for no apparent reason, dart back the way he’d come. The Jeep slammed into him. I remembered feeling him hit my front bumper, a yelp jerked out of him as he was spun around. Then his body had smacked into the bumper of a parked Honda to my left.

I hadn’t thought, just hit the accelerator and got out of there in a hurry. No one was around, and I didn’t know what to do. I’d made for the closest interstate on-ramp.

I slowed my Jeep down, letting cars pass on my left. Should I have stopped? He had to be dead. Would I have gotten in trouble if I’d stopped? Would I get in trouble if I didn’t and somebody found out?

Then I got mad, thinking about who would let their dog out on its own in a busy neighborhood. I mean, whoever did that knew they were taking a risk. No matter how smart a dog was, it was still a dog. They just couldn’t be allowed to walk themselves.

But I still couldn’t stop feeling I’d done something wrong. Even if he didn’t die, I’d hurt the little guy, bad. On the drive back to the Academy, I couldn’t stop thinking how it felt through the car when I hit him, softness and breaking conveyed through steel.

I exited at the sign marked for the north entrance to the Air Force Academy. I approached the guard shack, slowed down.

The gate guard came out, green battle dress uniform starched and pressed like only security police would do. He looked at the Academy sticker on my windshield. It struck me again there might be blood on the front of my Jeep.

The guard looked a long time.

He waved me through, and I went by him, careful to keep my speed below the ridiculously low limit for the base. As I headed west toward the mountains and to Sijan Hall, my thoughts slowly relaxed regarding the incident with the dog. I felt in that moment as if the base were protection, like it had hidden fortress walls so the outside world couldn’t intrude.

2

Tom Matthews. Killer. And here I never pictured you as the cold-blooded type.

Shut up, Brent, I said. I didn’t mean to hit him.

My Academy roommate, Brent, fingered the crumpled mess of my front license plate, the only testament that something had happened. The rest of the front bumper appeared normal, not a fleck of paint missing or scratch anywhere. And no blood.

And to think, poor Sparky was just trying to cross the road, Brent said.

I fired Brent a look and said, Shut up, Brent. I feel bad enough as it is. I tried to stop, but he just turned and ran back the other way, right in front of me.

My parking slot behind our dormitory, Sijan Hall, sat beside Brent’s, and as I swung my Jeep into the slot, Brent had been pulling out. He’d stopped to say hello. I didn’t need to tell Brent what happened, but there were no secrets between us. There were little to no secrets between anyone at the Academy, not with the Honor Code. Of course, information not volunteered was not lying, but when Brent asked me about the license plate, I couldn’t exactly dodge the question or fabricate an answer.

Maybe I would have spilled it anyway. Maybe I needed absolution, a confessional with someone I knew wouldn’t condemn me. Rib me, maybe, but not condemn me. Brent was only times my confessional.

He said, Apparently you didn’t feel bad enough to stop and check on the little guy. That must have been quite a crack, hitting him like that.

Brent, enough. I didn’t know what to do. I just froze.

Brent straightened up from the license plate and asked, Shouldn’t you be studying instead of killing small animals?

Be quiet before I slash your tires. And yes, I’ve got a test in one of my major’s classes. That’s why I’m back. I thought you had a test tomorrow, too.

I do. That’s why I need to get away for a while. The thought of studying is wearing me out.

Brent smiled his broad, innocent, I’ll-get-through-anything smile. He’d tried out and made the baseball team our sophomore year, one of the few walk-ons. He’d worked his way up, and now that we were seniors, he was the starting third baseman. His glove was better than his bat, and his meager batting average tended to be better than his grade point average. Brent defined classic procrastinator – why do today what you could put off until tomorrow?

You see little Heather today? he said.

Yeah, for a little bit. She was out of it since she’s got a big test for her ‘Philosophy of Movies’ class. She had to head back and study.

"You’ve got to love what they get to take at a real school. How come we can’t take the ‘Philosophy of Movies?’ That’s something I could probably ace. ‘List five thematic elements corresponding to five different animals in Ace Ventura: Pet Detective.’ Give me a class like that any day over thermodynamics. I’m just going to fly after graduation anyway, so I don’t know why I need to understand entropy or enthalpy or whatever it is I’m supposed to understand."

Brent looked back down at the mangled license plate and said, Heather witness your killer rage?

No. And I’d prefer she didn’t know about it.

Brent shook his head and said, It’s kind of hard to miss.

I’ll think of something.

Something without lying, Brent said. Awful how that little old Honor Code gets in our way sometimes.

I’ll think of something without lying.

Brent turned to leave and said, Good luck with that. I’m off to contemplate studying. Wish me luck as I dream about entropy.

As Brent got in his car and pulled out, I stared another moment at the plate. The letter O sat smashed in a way that hid the right portion, turning it into a twisted, drunken C. I shook my head and looked to my left, staring at the sharp tip of Eagle’s Peak and the long expanse of the Rocky Mountains to the west. Fall snows had yet to grace their presence on the peaks. As I started to turn away from my Jeep, a beat-up, blue Toyota pulled through the lot, and the window rolled down.

Tom! I heard from the occupant.

The glare from the sun prevented me from seeing inside. I shielded my eyes, walked closer and spotted Neil Bellows, the fourth group honor chairman. I found it strange to see another senior cadet on a weekend, especially wearing his uniform.

Neil, what’s up?

Neil said, Lucky timing on my part. I’ve got work for you. He spotted the license plate from my Jeep, took a long look, and said, Everything okay?

Sure, no problem, I said, moving up to his car as a distraction. So what’s up?

How about I park, and we go to your room to talk. I’ve got what may be the granddaddy of all Honor Code investigations for you. This could be a volcano of an investigation.

3

Two years ago, during my three degree, or sophomore, year, my fellow Academy squadron-mates voted me to be one of the two future honor representatives for Squadron 37. It was a great responsibility to teach honor lessons to all four year groups and to investigate cases of cadets in possible violation of the Honor Code. I was humbled and honored they had chosen me. It meant they’d placed a trust in me and respected me to always stay true to the Code. It was a responsibility shared with few others at the Academy.

Neil Bellows was one such person, and as group honor chairman, his position ranked one level above me. His job, at least as it related to me, was to make sure we had the correct lesson material for the entire semester. And his other job, as it now appeared was happening, consisted of handing off any cases that needed investigating when our turn was due.

Well, Neil said. I hope you’re ready to get bloody on this one. Figuratively speaking, of course.

I wondered if you’d ever get to us. Must have been a slow year so far.

Neil sat in my desk chair and said, It has been actually, which is nice in this sort of thing. Too many cases mean too many people screwing up.

True.

Squadron 36’s reps handled a case about three weeks ago, and we just now got a new one. This one’s going to be huge, and it’s going to be a mess.

Why? I asked, sitting on the edge of the sink countertop in the front corner of the room. What do you mean?

It’s with Sol Singletary.

Sol Singletary. The star football player Sol Singletary. The one who packed the Air Force Academy Falcon stadium each week with forty to fifty thousand screaming fans. The one who it seemed brought as much revenue to the Academy as the federal government. A superstar quarterback who was also a first-rate military cadet and had a shot to be Wing Commander next semester, the top ranked cadet over the entire Cadet Wing.

"This is going to be crazy," I said.

4

Well, so far it’s a case of he said versus he said, Neil said.

What do you mean?

I walked around Neil and closed the blinds, then sat on a chair opposite him.

He said, It was an officer in the behavioral science department. Apparently he was at a bar pretty far south, somewhere near Ft. Carson. He heard Sol talking to a girl, talking out of his ass. Making stuff up, so the officer claims.

Was he drunk?

Who? Sol or the officer?

Sol.

Yes, Neil said, but the officer doesn’t think he was that drunk. He seems to think Sol knew what he was saying and was well out of bounds making things up."

I said, Was anybody else there?

Of course the girl Sol was talking to. And off somewhere else was one of Sol’s friends. Not sure who.

So, I said, it’s really going to be a case? There’s been a clarification of the events and everything?

Yes, there’s been one, and the officer wasn’t satisfied with what he heard. At the urging of those from above, we’ve been asked to do another clarification. To try and resolve this without it going to a full-fledged honor investigation.

Then why go ahead and bring me in on it? I said, swiveling in my chair. A clarification should only deal with Sol, the officer who had the problem, and the honor rep from Sol’s squadron. Not me.

Neil nodded and said, Yeah, you’re right. But I wanted another party there, the one who’s going to get the case, in case it goes forward. I want you there just as an observer, nothing else. Don’t say anything when you’re there, just keep an eye on it. It’ll give you a chance to get some of the background details in case you have to start digging and doing an investigation.

I nodded and got up to get a glass of water. It was near impossible to stay hydrated in the 7200-foot elevation at the Academy. I said, I forget, which squad is Sol in?

Squadron 40.

And who’s their honor rep?

Kevin Normal, Neil said, smiling a knowing smile.

I smiled back.

Great. Kevin. Another football player.

Monday, 22 October, Afternoon

Chapter 2

1

Someone once told me that the West Point and Naval Academy campuses could both fit on the Air Force Academy’s athletic fields. I believed it as I finished my PE class, a wonderfully easy softball class (to the firsties go the spoils), and headed to the gym. I had just enough time to shower, change, and rush to the clarification meeting. Kevin chose an office in the gymnasium building as the site of the clarification. I arrived at 1550, Kevin the only one there, sitting at a long table with ten or so chairs around it, white boards with scribbled football plays looking like the invasion plans for D-Day surrounding the walls.

Kevin, I said, nodding a greeting.

Tom, he said. Neil told me you’d be here. Not sure why though. That’s not the process.

I don’t know. Neil told me to be here. I’m here.

We weren’t really friends. We’d never had classes together since I was majoring in engineering mechanics and Kevin in history. But we were acquaintances as we’d sat in numerous honor meetings together and we’d had some of the core classes together a few years back, English or history as I remembered.

I said, Obviously it’s your show. I’ll just be a chameleon and blend with the walls.

That would be best, Kevin said.

An uncomfortable silence stretched as we waited for the others to arrive. Chair squeaks magnified. Kevin sighed. Finally I said, Why an office here, and not somewhere in the academic building?

Supposed to be a non-threatening environment for a clarification. And personally I’ve always thought clarifications in Fairchild Hall were a threatening environment when it’s an instructor bringing up a cadet for honor.

And Fairchild Hall, the academic building, was far away, making the officer walk an incredibly long distance to get here after class. Sometimes cadets did what they could to snub an officer, especially when the cadet had authority, which in this case Kevin did.

Kevin said, Plus we’ve got football practice that even now we’re missing. I want to get through this and get to the fields. It’s a crucial time for us in the season.

Why now then? Why not earlier today?

Just didn’t work out earlier.

Sol walked in then. Sol and Kevin couldn’t have looked more different. Sol was short, maybe five foot nine, black, had short-cropped hair, and visible, wiry muscles under the workout sweats and T-shirt he wore. Kevin was tall, six four or so, white, hair as long as he could get away with (long on top, short at the sides), and wasn’t so much muscled as thick. His workout T-shirt seemed about to burst at the neck. Sol was clearly the quarterback to Kevin’s lineman.

They may have looked different, but they were brothers. Football brothers.

What’s up, S-man, Kevin said, giving him a fist-to-fist hit as greeting.

What’s up, big guy, Sol said. He seemed reluctant to give the fist-to-fist, maybe given the circumstances of the meeting.

Sol, Tom Matthews, Kevin said, introducing me. I noticed in the introduction that Kevin assumed I would know Sol’s last name but not vice versa. Of course I would know his last name. Every home football game saw close to fifty thousand people screaming his name.

Sol surprised me, though.

Yeah, I remember, Sol said, shaking my hand. You were in my core math class, freshman year. You aced it while the rest of us fought through it.

I was impressed. It wasn’t always easy to remember details from three years ago, especially when time at the Academy seemed to stretch much longer than other places. Three years here was more like six in the real world. That’s the way it seemed, anyway.

I said, Good to see you again, Sol.

Obviously I wish it were under better circumstances, he replied.

I nodded. I had no definite memories of Sol from that math class, but any time you had a class with someone, it was enough to form background impressions. I remembered Sol as being a good guy, not brilliant, but certainly a hard worker. I remembered that he had a way with people, putting them at ease. He had an easy humor that caught with people around him. Some football players walked through the Academy without ever noticing those around them, and there were others like Sol that were all-around good guys.

So where’s Captain Summers? Sol asked.

As the officer in question came in, Kevin whispered, Here we go.

Sorry I’m late, Captain Summers said, out of breath. I got caught with a student wanting some quick extra instruction. And it’s a long hike over here.

Summers’ thinning hair lay scattered in a wind-blown rumple. He’d clearly run over here, his blue shirt pulled out a bit in places from his dark blue uniform pants. He tucked it in, smoothing out the creases and hand-combing his hair.

No problem, sir, Kevin said with a politician’s smile. It’s great you could come. Please, he said, gesturing to the seats, let’s get started.

2

Now, Kevin said, just to explain again what it is we’re doing here, this is simply a clarification to try to resolve the question before proceeding further. If Captain Summers feels all right with what comes out of this, we won’t pursue things further through the honor system.

Sol and Captain Summers nodded. I sat in the corner, watching the exchange.

Kevin said, This isn’t an interrogation, and if it were to become one, I’ll step in to make sure things don’t get out of hand.

As Kevin said this, he raised himself up in his seat and stared directly at Captain Summers. I saw Kevin knew the psychological advantage his size gave him and how it intimidated others. Captain Summers didn’t cave under it, merely nodded and stared at Kevin. Kevin held his gaze on Captain Summers a moment longer, then looked away.

To begin with, Kevin said, we want to start the clarification with Captain Summers detailing everything he saw and heard and why he feels a possible honor violation occurred. Sir, if you could step us through things.

Captain Summers nodded, leaned forward and said, Right. Well, it was last weekend, and I was at a bar, talking to some girl. We were seated at the bar, and eventually some cadets showed up, including Cadet Singletary and a friend of his. Of course I knew Cadet Singletary from the season he’s having. The whole city’s talking about it. He smiled and nodded to Sol as he said this.

Sol nodded back and smiled in thanks.

Anyway, Captain Summers continued, eventually he and his buddy split up. And Cadet Singletary ended up at the bar right next to me, talking to a girl.

Do you know what his friend was doing? Kevin asked.

Playing darts I think.

Captain Summers paused a moment. When no question came he said, After a while, I heard some of what Cadet Singletary was saying, and I could tell he was … well, it seemed he was really pouring it on, bragging and trying to pick up this girl.

Kevin said, Could you tell if he was drunk?

I think so. It sounded like it, based on what he was saying.

Such as?

Such as he could run the 40 in 3.8. That he could bench press 500 pounds. He said – and this I really remember – ‘they give things to me that make me incredible this year.’ Started trying to make it sound like he was some kind of superman.

I found this funny as Sol had developed the nickname S-man, short for Superman, with the season he was having.

Sol shook his head at this, and Kevin waved him off and said, In a sec, S. You’ll get a chance to talk. Go ahead, sir.

Captain Summers said, "At first he just sounded like any other drunk guy hitting on a girl. But the stuff he was saying went way beyond drunk talk. I didn’t really want to, but we all have a responsibility to the Code, so I felt it was important to bring it up. Then I talked to the Honor Liaison Officer for my department, and he told me what to do next. And here we are. Although I really don’t know why we’re doing this again. I told you last time that I wasn’t satisfied and I thought it should go forward."

Kevin ignored his last comment and said, Isn’t it possible Sol was so drunk he wasn’t aware of what he was saying?

It just didn’t seem so to me.

Silence for a moment. Then Kevin said, All right Sol, now it’s your turn to respond.

3

Sol leaned forward and said, "First, sir, I want to say that I was drunk. I will admit to that, but I wasn’t so drunk that I don’t remember everything I said. I may have been bragging a bit, but I don’t think it was quite as bad as you say. And one thing I clearly remember saying was that ‘they did things to me,’ not that ‘they give things to me,’ and because of that I’m doing things I’ve never done before this season."

Captain Summers shook his head and said, But what does that mean anyway?

Sol said, I don’t know. I guess I meant coach really did something to me this year. He lit a fire under me that’s making me do better than I’ve ever done before. Making me work harder than I ever have. And it’s paid off. I’ve never had a season like this.

Captain Summers said, And the bench pressing 500 pounds? And running the 40?

Sol answered, Honestly, sir, I vaguely remember saying something like that, but a lot of the details from that night are fuzzy.

I could see it coming. Kevin jumped in to assume control again. Kevin said, He was drunk, sir. That much is clear. I still don’t see a problem with someone saying something in a bar to a girl that’s harmless bragging. We’ve all done it.

I know, Captain Summers said, shaking his head. But it still bothers me the degree of things Cadet Singletary was saying. It’s one thing to brag a little. But there comes a point when bragging gets so extreme, it becomes outright lying. I don’t know. That’s just the way I see it.

So you really want to pursue this? Kevin said.