Burden of Proof (18 page)

"What?"

"Chief Asher, sir. I think. Some of what was left of him."

Hayes closed his eyes for a moment. "Chief Asher was in Forward Engineering when the explosion happened?"

"He must have been, sir. I don't see how after the explosion he could have run as far inside the compartment as where we found his . . . remains." Paul gulped, fighting down a wave of nausea.

"Okay. Did you sign-off on any maintenance activity in Forward Engineering tonight?"

"Sir? No, sir. I hadn't seen Chief Asher since morning quarters."

"No other engineer came by and asked you to sign off on a work chit?"

"No, sir."

Hayes shook his head, his mouth a thin line. "I understand Chief Asher was a good sailor."

"I didn't know him much, sir, but I never heard anything bad about him."

"Asher was by the book? He didn't take shortcuts?"

"As far as I know, Captain. We never had any problems with him during duty days, and nobody ever told me he needed to be watched."

"How'd you end up leading that Damage Control team?"

Paul looked down at his coffee. "Uh, well, sir, Lieutenant Silver and Chief Imari and I were on the quarterdeck, and DC Central told us the team had to go in and knock down the fire but Chief Asher wasn't there to lead them. Chief Imari had the deck and Lieutenant Silver was command duty officer, so that left me."

"Lieutenant Silver told you to go down there?"

"Um, he, uh, agreed to it, sir." Paul blinked, then looked up again. "Captain, Petty Officer Santiago did a great job. She really deserves a medal. Petty Officer Yousef, too. The whole damage control team did well."

"I'll keep that in mind, Paul. Go ahead and rest for a while." Captain Hayes started to leave, then paused in the hatch. "What about you, Paul?"

"Sir?"

"How'd
you
do?"

Paul's gaze was fixed on his coffee again. He felt a great reluctance to speak, to talk of his time in Forward Engineering. Chief Asher was certainly dead, and offering up any praise for himself felt not only inappropriate but simply wrong.
I don't want any commendation, not one earned by Chief Asher's death
. "I did my job, sir."

Not long afterwards, Kris Denaldo came in. "Colleen Kilgary showed up to relieve me and check out Forward Engineering herself. Why isn't Silver doing that?"

Paul shrugged. "I guess because he's command duty officer."

"The captain, XO, and just about everybody else is back on the ship. Silver doesn't need to worry about running things anymore. What could he be doing that's more important than checking out his gear and trying to confirm what happened to Chief Asher?"

"Do I look like I can read Silver's worthless mind?" Paul glanced up at the resulting silence, seeing Kris watching him. "Sorry. I've been under a little stress."

"That's a given, and you're forgiven for that. But I read some real hostility there."

"I don't like him. Okay? Silver's a no-load."

"I heard he handled the fire okay."

"He was paralyzed! Chief Imari and I were pushing things. I never heard a word from him when I was down there."

"Really. Have you told anyone else this?"

"No." His earlier conversation with Lieutenant Sindh came back. "And I'm not going to. It'd just make me look like I was trying to claim all the credit."

"For heaven's sake, Paul, everyone knows you don't do that sort of thing. Do you really think they'd feel that way?"

"I don't want to find out." A vision from the burning compartment came back to Paul. "And I sure as hell don't want to seem to be trying to hog the spotlight from a tragedy that killed one of our own."

She nodded slowly. "I can understand that. Paul, you really ought to try to sleep."

"Have you got any tranquilizers?"

"I could get some."

"I wasn't serious."

"I was."

Paul shook his head and stood up. "No. I need to handle this without chemicals. I'll go lie down. I guess if anyone needed me they'd have come by already."

"If they do need you later, I'll make sure you know."

"Thanks."

Before reveille sounded the next morning, Paul stumbled into the wardroom in search of more coffee, his mood unimproved by a short, restless night which had featured only fitful sleep. Commander Sykes, seated in his accustomed place at the wardroom table, raised his coffee mug in greeting. "Good morning, young Sinclair."

"It's morning, sir." Paul got some coffee, took a big slug, then shuddered as the bitter liquid ran into his stomach. "What are you doing up so early, Suppo?"

"Early? I'm wounded. My work ethic is well known."

Paul managed a small smile. "Yes, sir, Commander. That's why I'm wondering why you're up so early."

"There will be, I assume, much ado today over the need for replacement parts. I prefer to be ahead of that game rather than being pulled along behind the mob." Sykes waved to a chair. "Take a seat."

"Thanks, Suppo, but -"

"Consider it an order, young Sinclair."

Paul frowned, but sat. "What's so important?"

"You are. I feel certain your haggard appearance has little to do with the stress of your firefighting efforts last night."

Paul closed his eyes, trying to breath calmly. "Chief Asher's dead."

"So I understand. I, like everyone else on the ship, regret that deeply. But what's bothering you isn't that kind of regret, is it?"

"Suppo, he was part of my duty section! My responsibility! And he died. So I'm also responsible for that."

Sykes sipped his coffee slowly. "In a moral and professional sense, yes, that's true. In a practical sense, I'm unaware of any action you took which led to that death."

Paul inhaled deeply. "I don't know of any, either."

"Being a limited duty officer, I have little familiarity with the handling of fires and other emergencies, but my understanding is that Chief Asher must have died within seconds of the explosion, if not immediately. Is that true?"

"I'm sure it is."

"Within seconds, then, meaning he died even as the alarm was sounded. What could you have done to save the man, Paul?"

"I . . . don't know."

"Yes, I believe you do." Sykes leaned back, gazing into the distance. "I believe you know there's nothing you or any other human being could have done to save Chief Asher. Since God, or whichever deity you care to cite, did not see fit to intervene, the man's fate was sealed before you even knew he was imperiled."

Paul sat still for a long moment, then shook his head. "I know that. I also feel like there should've been something . . ."

"A word of advice, if I may. Focusing on things you
couldn't
have done will bring you nothing but sorrow."

"What else should I focus on?"

"Things you
can
do. Investigating and determining the cause of the accident. Finding the answer to that may save lives in the future. I understand you spoke highly of the Damage Control team you led into the fire."

Paul smiled again, wider this time, and nodded. "Yeah. They were great, Suppo."

"You can work at seeing such actions are properly rewarded. Drafting and shepherding medal recommendations through the approval process is tedious, but it can both reward the deserving and give you a meaningful sense of accomplishment."

"That's true." Paul leaned back as well, closing his eyes. "Thanks, Suppo. Why
aren't
you a line officer?"

"My dear Mr. Sinclair, since I lack masochistic tendencies, I have no wish to expose myself to the daily miseries endured by line officers."

Paul actually found himself laughing briefly. "You have a point there. Can I ask you something else, Suppo?"

"If it's about spare parts, my office hasn't opened, yet."

"Do you think Commander Herdez would've approved of what I did last night?"

"Hmmm." Sykes took another slow drink. "Many details are not known to me or to her at this time, but she seemed appreciative of your work."

"What? She knows what happened already?"

"The grapevine works at speeds exceeding those of light, although I'm unfamiliar with the physics which permit this. Yes, Commander Herdez and I spoke of the matter not long ago. As I'm sure you can guess, Commander Herdez is reserving judgment on all issues until a thorough investigation has been conducted."

Paul nodded.
Which is exactly what I should have expected. No more, no less.

"However," Sykes added, "she did state it was 'a good thing Sinclair was on duty.'"

"Really?"

"Or words to that effect. The statement does not bring you comfort?"

"I can't help wondering if I lived up to them. Living up to Commander Herdez's expectations is - "

"Probably impossible." Sykes gave Paul an unusually serious look. "Give yourself due credit for attempting to do so. And listen to the advice of your elders."

"I will, Suppo. Thanks."

The day from that point on seemed almost surreal to Paul. Life and routine continued, but the aftermath of the fire kept appearing. Liberty was cancelled for much of the crew on Sunday, as they were needed for the clean-up and assessment of damage to Forward Engineering. The regular duty section came on, with Lieutenant Kilgary as command duty officer. Paul overheard part of her turnover with Scott Silver, in which Kilgary kept pressing Silver for details that apparently weren't forthcoming. Captain Hayes, Commander Kwan and all the department heads remained onboard. The black cloud of sorrow which seemed to perpetually follow Commander Destin, the chief engineer, appeared to have grown into a virtual storm. About noon, a small caravan of medical personnel arrived, equipped with isolation suits, and went down to Forward Engineering. They left a couple of hours later laden down with a large sealed box whose proportions made it clear it contained the remains of Chief Asher. Many of the crew, somehow forewarned of the sad procession, lined the passageways to see it pass.

Most personnel avoided asking Paul about Saturday night's fire, something he appreciated. His friends made a point of having conversations about different issues.

Late in the afternoon, Paul received a page to report to the executive officer's stateroom. He went there quickly, afraid it was about the fire and so wishing to confront the meeting as fast as possible. "Lieutenant JG Sinclair, sir."

Commander Kwan looked up from his chair, then passed Paul a hardcopy printout. "Fleet staff wants a thorough investigation. They've appointed an investigating officer. He's the captain of another ship. Find out what he needs from us."

"Yes, sir. Uh, sir, my actions are also going to be investigated -"

"I know that. That shouldn't prevent you, as ship's legal officer, from seeing what the man requires for his investigation."

"Yes, sir." Paul headed back from his stateroom, paging Sheriff Sharpe as he did so.
The ship's master-at-arms needs to be in on this
. Once in his stateroom, he finally read the print-out.

He was still staring at it when Sharpe arrived. "You asked to see me, sir?" For once, Sharpe didn't display his usual irreverent attitude.

"Yeah."

"What's the matter, sir? Aside from the obvious, that is."

"They've appointed an officer to conduct a full investigation into the explosion and fire. Captain Shen of the USS
Mahan
."

"Captain Shen? Is he any relation to Lieutenant Shen, sir?"

"He's her father."

"The father of your main squeeze is the guy in charge of raking us over the coals? That's way harsh, sir."

"I was just thinking the same thing."

"And you're one of the prime objects of the investigation."

"Right again, Sheriff. Are you trying to cheer me up?"

Sharpe leaned against the hatch opening, staring contemplatively into space. "This Captain Shen. You ever meet him, sir?"

"Yeah. Once."

"What's he like?"

"He's Ms. Shen's father. What do you think?"

"Ouch. No offense intended to Ms. Shen, sir."

"None taken. She'll be proud to know she's remembered that way on this ship." Paul leaned back and looked upward. "What'd I do? Somebody up there seems awful mad at me."

"You're better off than Vlad Asher, sir."

Paul frowned, looking toward Sharpe again. "He was a friend of yours, wasn't he?"

Sharpe nodded abruptly. "Yessir. A fine man. A fine sailor. I don't know what happened in Forward Engineering, but I can't believe it's his fault."

"Something screwy happened, that's for sure. Not just the explosion, but the fire suppression systems not working. What're the odds of that?"

"Dunno, sir. I'm not a snipe," Sharpe pointed out, using the common slang for engineering personnel.

"Do
you
know why Asher would have been in there at that time?"

Sharpe frowned at the deck. "Sir, with all due respect, that touches on testimony I might be called upon to give in the investigation. I shouldn't discuss it with you."

Paul nodded. "Or anyone else. I suppose the automated engineering logs will tell us something."

"Uh, no, sir, apparently not."

"
What
?"

"I have this reliably, sir. The engineering logs are badly damaged. They're not sure how much of them will be recoverable."

"How the
hell
could those logs have been damaged? They're supposed to survive having the ship blown apart."

"Sir, I don't know. There's some guesses about the explosion and the fire."

Paul stared at nothing for a moment, then shook his head rapidly. "That's just weird. But I suppose it's not impossible. I guess that's something the investigation will really have to dig into."

"Yes, sir. I really want answers to this one, sir."

"I understand. We'll get them, if I have anything to say about it. I'm really sorry, Sheriff."

"Thank you, sir. Can you tell me one thing? You saw him, right?"

"Yeah." Paul closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing. The brief, close-up glimpse of Chief Asher's remains kept coming back to him as if burned into his memory.

"Could you tell if he'd suffered any?"

"Honestly, Sheriff, no. There wasn't much left." Paul looked away as Sharpe flinched. "Sorry. I don't know. But I can't believe he lived through that explosion. I don't think he ever knew what hit him."