Rule of Evidence (32 page)

"Ma'am, I need your help." Paul glanced at the time. Zero Seven Hundred. Three hours left before the court-martial resumed. As Sykes had predicted, Paul had found Herdez in her office.

Commander Herdez kept her own expression noncommittal. "What about, Mr. Sinclair?"

Paul licked his lips, aware he looked as nervous as he felt. Commander Herdez' office ashore looked much as her stateroom on the
Michaelson
had. A few personal mementoes, reminders of her earlier duty assignments, but otherwise sparse and professional. "Ms. Shen, ma'am."

Herdez let regret show. "I'm sorry, Mr. Sinclair."

"You know she couldn't have done it."

"Yes. I was, in fact, approached as a possible member of the court because of my experience on a ship similar to the
Maury
, but informed my superiors I could not render impartial judgment in the matter."

That alone would surprise Jen. She's sure Herdez has been gunning for her from the first minute they met
.

"But," Herdez continued, "I'm afraid I know of no concrete information which would exonerate Ms. Shen. I cannot help with that."

"That's not what I'm asking for, ma'am. Lieutenant Shen is . . ." Paul struggled for the right words. "She's feeling abandoned."
And she'd scream bloody murder if she knew I'd told you that
.

"Not by you, surely."

"No, ma'am. I'm there as much as I possibly can be. But that doesn't seem to help her enough."

"That's understandable, Mr. Sinclair." Commander Herdez seemed slightly amused by Paul's reaction to her words, then sobered. "Your support is a given. It's assumed. Thus it means less to Ms. Shen than it probably should." She fell silent for a moment. "Just as sometimes my own support to Navy is assumed."

Paul eyed her with amazement. It was the only time he'd heard anything approaching criticism of the Navy from Herdez. "Jen— I mean, Lieutenant Shen, needs more than I can give, ma'am. But she knows how professional you are. She really respects your judgment, even though . . . uh . . ."

"Even though Ms. Shen believes I hold her in low regard as an officer and as an individual?" Herdez asked dryly. "Yes. I'm aware of that. You want me to express support for her?"

"Yes, ma'am. Just a message would mean so much, I think."

"It will be more than a message, Mr. Sinclair. Whatever the cause of the
Maury
's incident, my professional and personal judgment tells me Ms. Shen could not have been responsible. For whatever it is worth, I will ensure she knows that."

"Thank you, ma'am. Thank you." Paul made to rise, but Herdez waved him back to his seat.

"How are you doing on the
Michaelson
, Mr. Sinclair?"

As if you didn't know. I bet Commander Sykes sends you daily updates
. "Pretty good, ma'am. There's still a great deal to learn, but I'm getting there."

"No Open Space Warfare Officer pin as of yet, though."

Paul hoped he wasn't flushing with embarrassment. "Not yet, ma'am. Within the next few months though, I think."

"Good. It still appears I will receive my own command when I leave this assignment. New construction perhaps. Would you be interested in serving on her?"

Oh, wow. New construction. A bright, shiny new ship with all the latest stuff on it. But
— "When would that be, ma'am?"

"About a year and a half."

"I should be on shore duty, then, ma'am. In the middle of my tour of duty."

"It could be truncated, Mr. Sinclair."

Yeah. It could be. Instead of having some nice shore job for a couple of years I could go back to spaceship duty early. No way. But Herdez is
asking
me. What a compliment. Especially from an officer like her. What would Jen say? She'd be real unhappy. Wouldn't she? We don't know where we'll be serving next. Maybe it wouldn't matter, if one of us was stationed on Persephone and the other had duty on one of the submerged coastal platforms. Then we'd be separated a lot worse than if I was on ship duty again. I don't know. How can I know now
?

Herdez nodded as if Paul had said something out loud. "I understand, Mr. Sinclair. It's hard to make a commitment at this point in time. Please keep it in mind, however. When does the court-martial convene?"

"Ten hundred, ma'am."

"Ten hundred?" Herdez let some exasperation show. By ten hundred, Paul knew, she expected anyone to have put in half a day's work already. Even if it was a Saturday. "Pleasant working hours, indeed. I'm sure I can arrange something for Ms. Shen prior to that late hour of the day."

Paul rose again at the implied dismissal. "Thank you, ma'am."

From Herdez's office in the fleet staff complex, Paul moved as fast as he reasonably could to reach the courtroom. He was very early, of course, but preferred that to sitting somewhere else alone with his worries and fears.

Lieutenant Bashir arrived well after Paul but still fairly early. "Can't chat, Mr. Sinclair. I've got some preps."

"I understand. A lot of witnesses, I hope."

Bashir glanced at Paul. "Not exactly." Then he bent to his work, leaving Paul to ponder what Bashir's words might mean.

The room gradually filled. The ranks of high-level spectators seemed much thinner this morning. Paul looked around, not seeing nearly the same number of admirals and captains.
They've already seen what they wanted to see, the evidence against Jen. They're not interested in whatever she says in her defense. No. That's not entirely fair. The one's who're here are obviously interested, and I don't know how many yesterday were drawn by the chance to see and hear Captain Halis
.

A pause in sound told Paul that Jen had arrived. Once again she came up the aisle, her master-at-arms escorts moving in tandem. As she reached the front of the court-room she saw Paul and he actually saw her stumble slightly in reaction. Then she had moved on to stand at the defense table.

Jen and Bashir conferred quietly for several minutes. Then she turned so she could just see Paul out of the corner of her eye. "I didn't think you'd be here," she murmured so softly he barely heard it.

He tried to answer at the same volume but still give his reply force. "I'll
always
be here, Jen."

Jen's jaw quivered, but she just nodded. Then someone came to stand at the seat next to Paul's and Jen's face went rigid again. He looked over, seeing Commander Herdez, who was gazing steadily at Jen. Herdez inclined her head slightly toward Jen in greeting, then sat with calm deliberation in the seat next to Paul, publicly and unmistakably placing herself in support of Lieutenant Shen.

"Ms. Shen," she murmured. "Do your best today. Your best is exceptional."

Jen's fixed expression altered a bit as she stared back at Herdez. Paul could see disbelief there. He spoke just loudly enough for Commander Herdez to hear. "Thank you, ma'am."

Herdez acknowledged his words with a small gesture.

Then the bailiff was at the front of the courtroom again, eyeing the spectators. She repeated her instructions for the benefit of those who might not have heard them the day before, then went to notify the judge. "All rise."

McMasters took a moment to look at the defense table, his expression impossible for Paul to read, then he gestured to Lieutenant Bashir. "Proceed."

"The defense calls as its first witness Lieutenant Harold Falco, United States Navy."

Paul watched Falco stride to the witness stand. Despite his relatively junior rank, he carried enough age on him to make it obvious he must have had extensive enlisted service before being commissioned. Falco sat and stared out across the court-room, his manner almost defiant.

Lieutenant Bashir approached the witness. "Lieutenant Falco. What is your current duty assignment?"

Falco shifted his seat as he answered. "Assistant Plans Supervisor, Franklin Naval Shipyard."

"What does that job entail?"

Lieutenant Falco shrugged. "A lot of things. But they all have to do with making sure jobs in the shipyard are well-planned and well-executed."

"Jobs on U.S. Navy ships, you mean?"

"Usually, yes."

"Are you familiar with the contents of the investigation into the damage suffered by the USS
Maury
on 21 February of this year?"

"Yeah." Falco nodded brusquely. "That's required reading, in my line of work."

Bashir turned to face toward the members of the court-martial. "Before I go any further, Lieutenant Falco, would you describe your experience in the field of engineering?"

"Certainly. I enlisted as a space systems machinist mate. Served on one research platform and on the
Carpenter
. When I reached petty officer second class the Navy wanted fewer machinist mates and more space system electricians, so I passed all the tests and switched rates. Worked on system upgrades for the
Glenn
, the
Carpenter
, the
Grissom
and a lot of other old ships. Then Admiral Genghis Conner Michaelson asked for me to help set up Franklin. I was a chief petty officer by then. A couple years later I applied for a commission. Since then I've served on the
Mahan
and in the shipyard. Two back-to-back tours in the shipyard, actually, because they asked me to stay."

Paul tried not to look impressed. The resume Falco had recited covered much of the actual engineering involved in the history of the U.S. naval space effort. He couldn't tell if the members of the court were also impressed, as all maintained poker faces.

Lieutenant Bashir nodded to acknowledge Falco's words. "Thank you. Now, as an extremely experienced engineer, do you agree with the conclusions of the investigation into the damage suffered by the USS
Maury
on 21 February?"

"No."

A rustle of interest followed Falco's very brief reply.

Bashir nodded again. "Why not, Lieutenant?"

Falco leaned forward in his seat. "Because they made too many assumptions that stuff would work as designed. I'm here, every engineer in the space fleet is up here, because stuff doesn't always work as designed. Any engineer with an ounce of experience could tell you that."

Bashir walked slightly to one side, making Falco turn also so he faced the members of the court better. "You don't agree that an accidental cause for the
Maury
's damage was impossible?"

"No. I don't. That's garbage. You can try to make stuff work perfect and you can try to make it sailor proof and you can try to make it safe, but nothing is one hundred percent."

Bashir faced Falco squarely, speaking in a slightly louder voice to emphasize his next words. "Then, as probably the most experienced naval engineer in space, you do not believe sabotage is the only possible explanation for what happened to the
Maury
?"

"No, I don't."

"As an experienced engineer, who would you send to investigate a piece of equipment which was giving you problems?"

Falco grinned. "Whoever was best qualified to find out what I wanted to know. Maybe that's a new seaman. Or maybe that's my most senior engineer. It depends."

"Would you blame the only surviving officer for an accident based solely on the fact that she by chance survived?"

"Objection." Commander Carr gave Bashir a tired look. "Counsel for the defense is leading the witness and making prejudicial statements."

"Sustained." McMasters leveled his gavel at Bashir. "That's two, Lieutenant. Make it three and you'll regret it."

"Yes, Your Honor. No more questions at this time."

Commander Carr approached Falco with a calm demeanor that worried Paul.
She seems too confident. What does she know about this guy
?

"Lieutenant Falco, when you said you switched ratings from machinist to electrician, isn't it true that you'd failed to advance three times running to Machinist Mate First Class even though there was a shortage of such machinists?"

Falco's mouth twisted in a stubborn expression. "People weren't advancing in that rate. That happens sometimes."

"And when you said Admiral Michaelson asked 'for you,' didn't you mean he assigned your entire unit to the construction of Franklin?"

"He knew I was part of the unit."

"Lieutenant Falco, you were commissioned as an ensign nine years ago. Normal promotion periods should have you a Lieutenant Commander by now. Can you explain why you haven't made rank?"

Lieutenant Bashir stood up. "Objection, your honor. Trial counsel is harassing the witness."

McMasters shook his head. "Trial counsel is asking legitimate questions, Lieutenant. Overruled. Proceed, Commander Carr."

"Thank you, your honor." Carr turned back to Falco, who was now openly glowering at her. "Lieutenant?"

"I don't always rub people the right way, Commander. I may not be the most diplomatic man in the Navy but by God I know my job!"

"Why were you asked to do back-to-back tours at the Franklin Naval Shipyard, Lieutenant Falco?"

"Because they needed me!"

Carr consulted her data pad. "Do you want me to quote from the recommendation of your superior, Lieutenant Falco?"

Falco flushed. "I told you I rub people the wrong way, sometimes. That b— excuse me, my superior didn't know her job and wanted me to stay so I could cover for her."

"Didn't she actually say, in a memo endorsed by each of your superiors, that you needed to be closely supervised and were best held in that position at Franklin until you could be forced to retire next year?" Falco just glared at Carr. "Lieutenant?"

"I don't know what that memo said. I don't know what my superiors said. None of them know half what they should know to do their jobs right!"

This time, Paul tried not to let his despair show.
Oh, great. Falco's a blustering braggart. His credibility just got shredded
. Paul looked toward Lieutenant Bashir, who had the expression of a gambler who had just failed to draw to an inside straight.

Commander Carr audibly sighed. "Lieutenant Falco, are you an expert on engineering systems on
Mahan
-Class warships?"

"I'm as expert as anybody!"

"Lieutenant Falco, you're under oath. What do you believe qualifies you as an expert on the engineering systems on
Mahan
-Class warships?"