Rule of Evidence (9 page)

"Captain's on the bridge!"

Hayes settled into his chair and fastened the straps. "Going to take her in, Sonya?"

"Yes, sir."

"Try not to scratch the paint." Hayes grinned, looking over as Garcia and Kwan pulled themselves onto the bridge. The three senior officers huddled, Hayes' smile fading into annoyance.

Paul leaned toward Sindh. "That doesn't look good."

"No. But we can't worry about that now, Paul. Pay attention to the maneuvering situation."

"Right. Sorry."

The
Michaelson
eased in toward Franklin at an angle, her thrusters firing to match the station's rotation. On the maneuvering displays, curved lines showed exactly where the ship was and where she should be. Sindh ordered the thrusters fired each time the
Michaelson
drifted off the right vector, almost seeming to know when to fire the thrusters before the ship's automated maneuvering systems did. "Send across line six."

"Send across line six, aye," the bosun mate of the watch echoed, transmitting the order.

A line shot out of the
Michaelson
's hull, aimed right for the contact plate waiting at her berth. The magnetic grapnel hit and sealed itself to the station. The bosun sounded his pipe. "Moored! Shift colors!"

More lines went across, fixing the
Michaelson
's mass to Franklin station, then very gently bringing the ship in toward her berth. The ship settled in firmly as Paul tried to readjust to a feeling of constant gravity again.

"Quarterdeck access seals are extending," Paul announced. It was all very superfluous, but he'd quickly learned that saying things over and over again, and announcing things anyone could see on the displays, made certain everybody knew what they needed to know. "Seals matched. Pressurizing. Ready for quarterdeck opening."

"Very well," Lieutenant Sindh replied. "Open quarterdeck hatch and match the brow to Franklin."

"Open quarterdeck, aye. Quarterdeck hatch opening. Brow matching. Quarterdeck reports they are ready to assume the watch."

Sindh looked over at the Captain, who nodded. "Very well. Transfer the watch to the quarterdeck. Secure the bridge watch."

"The quarterdeck has the watch. Securing the bridge watch, aye."

Hayes unstrapped and stood up, slightly unsteady himself on his feet. "Good job, lieutenant. But you might get another chance to do this after all." He headed out.

"Captain's left the bridge!"

Paul unstrapped and stretched. "What do you suppose the captain meant by that?"

Sindh shrugged. "Apparently we may be going out again in the near future."

"Sorry about that."

"I'm still short, Paul. They can keep us in space every day until I'm scheduled to depart the ship as long as get to leave that day! Just be glad we don't have duty tonight."

"I am. I just hope Jen doesn't have duty, either."

"Good luck."

Paul was just leaving the bridge when Kris Denaldo appeared in the passageway and held up her data pad. "Got a brief transmission in comms on the back channel."

Paul read "P— Fogarty's – J." Jen wanted to meet him tonight at the bar where the officers usually hung out. "Thanks, Kris."

"Thanks, he says. Me, I've got duty. I pass romantic messages for people even though I'm stuck on the ship tonight while certain other officers go gallivanting off to suck face with certain other officers."

"Not that you envy Jen and me or anything."

"Not at all. Come back one second late from liberty and I'll make sure your butt's hung out to dry." She paused. "I think I'm joking. You probably shouldn't test it, though."

"Understood. Can I bring you back anything in the morning?"

"Not unless it's a male willing to devote his life to satisfying my every desire." Kris paused again. "A halfway decent-looking male. Of the human species."

"You shouldn't be so picky."

"I know. I should just settle for whatever comes along like Jen did."

"Hey!"

"Kidding! Kidding! You two have fun tonight. Just don't tell me about it in the morning."

"Thanks, Kris." Of course, he couldn't just waltz off of the ship. Not until the ship's workday ended, and not until liberty call went down.
I could ask Garcia for early liberty. . .nah. Who am I kidding? And I couldn't take off early anyway while my sailors have to stay aboard and work. But I don't feel like really working at the moment, not right after coming off watch
. He headed for the wardroom, thinking of coffee and maybe conversation.

Lieutenant Mike Bristol, the assistant supply officer, was there along with another officer Paul didn't recognize. "Hey, Paul. Any word on when liberty's going down?"

"You tell me. Supply always knocks off work the earliest."

Bristol grinned. "That's just a rumor we encourage to ensure a steady stream of new recruits. Have you met Lieutenant Isakov?"

"No." He extended his hand. "Paul Sinclair. CIC officer."

Her shake was firm enough. "Val Isakov. I'm Lieutenant Sindh's relief."

"Oh. She'll be very happy to see you."

"I bet." Isakov smiled, a very quick quirk of her lips, then focused back on Mike Bristol. "Right now I need to get check-in done."

"Sure." Paul got some coffee and left.
Not the friendliest soul, but I've had my share of bad days, too
.

Colleen Kilgary was outside her stateroom and flagged Paul down. "Hey, you seeing Jen tonight?"

"I'm planning on it."

"Good. The
Maury
had that SEERS thingee installed during their last overhaul. Can you ask Jen how it's working out? We're supposed to get it, too."

"SEERS?"

"Ships Engineering something something System. Some sort of unified power management gizmo."

"Uh, okay."

Paul entered his stateroom in the aptly nicknamed ensign locker and sat down at his desk. Sam Yarrow, the only other occupant at the moment, glanced over at him. "Garcia's looking for you."

Garcia's always looking for me. Garcia won't know what to do with his life when he can't look for me anymore
. "What about?"

"Ask him yourself."

"Thanks, Sam." Paul tried to sound sincere, knowing that kind of reaction always threw Yarrow off. He stood up again and headed for Combat. Even if Garcia wasn't in Combat, Paul could catch up on paperwork at his console there.

* * *

Fogarty's tried to look like a comfortable neighborhood pub. The fact that it was located inside an orbiting naval facility made the illusion a bit hard to sustain, but the bar's wood-grain painted steel bulkheads were close enough to the real thing to be a welcome oasis for sailors tired of staring at gray steel bulkheads. Paul took a seat at one of the small tables just outside of the door, watching humanity stream past in one of the wide main "streets" on the station while he waited for Jen to show up.

"Hey, sailor, looking for a good time?"

Paul shook his head without looking behind where the voice had come from. "Nah. I've got a serious girlfriend. I'm not allowed to have a good time anymore." He felt a rap against the back of his head. "Ouch."

Lieutenant Junior Grade Jen Shen walked around and took the other seat, shaking her head. "Why do I put up with you, Paul Sinclair?"

"I've often wondered that myself. I guess I'm just really lucky."

"Maybe I just feel sorry for you."

"I can live with that."

She grinned. "How'd you like operating with the
Maury
?"

"Nerve-wracking, to tell the truth. All those big ships so close." He smiled at her. "But at least whenever things got boring I could imagine you were on watch at the same time I was."

"Boy, are you desperate."

"Hey, I like watching you."

"Watching my ship isn't exactly the same thing."

Paul smiled wider. "You're right. The
Maury
's stern can't compare to yours."

She laughed. "Are you saying my bow isn't better, too?"

"Not at all. But I'm a stern man."

"Whatever spins your gears." She leaned forward. "I want to hug you."

"We're in uniform."

"And in public." Jen gestured with both arms. "Considered yourself hugged."

"Any chance of considering myself kissed?"

"Maybe later. Did you see the
Mahan
out there?"

"Yeah."

Her expression changed to exasperation at Paul's tone of voice. "Pardon me for being happy my father could see me operating my ship. That's pretty rare."

"It'd be pretty rare under any circumstances." Paul smiled ruefully. "Okay. Have you talked to your father?"

"Not really. I got a brief message from him. He thought the exercise went off okay."

"He must've really been impressed."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "He thought the
Michaelson
did okay, too."

"Really?"

"Really. What're your plans for tonight?"

"Well, let's see. I don't have duty on my ship. You don't have duty on your ship. We haven't seen each other for over two weeks. I don't know. What about you?"

"I was thinking about finding some sailor and shacking up for the night."

"Oh, well, I'm free."

"I guess you'll do, then." Jen grinned again. "Keep romancing me like this and I may have to marry you some day, Mr. Sinclair."

His heart literally seemed to skip a few beats. "Does that mean . . . ?"

"Not yet."

"It's been over six months since I asked you to marry me."

Jen put her hands over her ears. "Oh, pressure! Pressure! Somebody get me a survival suit!" She lowered the hands and smiled fondly at Paul. "I'll know when I know, Paul."

He nodded, smiling back to mask his feelings.
I already know. I've known for a long time. But telling Jen I feel put off by her not being sure yet wouldn't make her any more likely to come to a decision. Kris was right. Jen's like a cat. If you push her, she pushes back instead of yielding. If that's what I want I have to live with it
. "Dinner?"

"Real food? You certainly know how to make me feel loved."

About an hour later, fed with passable versions of real food from one of the private restaurants licensed on Franklin to make life there a bit more bearable, they checked into a rent-a-shack. Paul edged inside the small room, just big enough to hold a bed, a tiny toilet, and an entertainment display. "Tight quarters, as usual."

Jen rolled onto the bed. "You never complained about having to be close to me before."

"I'm not complaining now." He lay down as well, just resting for a moment. "This is one exhausting life, Jen."

"Tell me about it. You work in one of those easy-going Operations Department divisions. I'm a snipe, laboring in the bowels of engineering for days on end without rest."

"I've worked in Combat for days on end without rest."

"I've worked for weeks without rest."

"Months."

"Years."

They both laughed. Paul looked over at her, wondering again at whatever luck had brought them together.
Well, it wasn't exactly luck. The Navy brought us together when it assigned us to the same ship. But if Jen hadn't been transferred off the
Michaelson
we never could've had any kind of relationship but friends, and I like this a whole lot better.

Jen propped herself on one elbow and looked back at him. "A dollar for your thoughts."

"Same as usual."

"I should've saved my dollar."

"Truth to tell, I was thinking how the Navy brought us together."

"And then separates us again as often as possible, if not more often." She lay back, staring up at the low ceiling of the rent-a-shack. "I heard a rumor we're heading out again real soon."

"Me, too."

"Both ships again?"

"Looks like it. But that's all I've heard."

"Another attempt to impress the SASALs, no doubt." She exhaled heavily. "Sometimes I just feel like kicking their butts out of space and getting it over with."

"It wouldn't be easy or pretty, Jen."

She rolled her head to glare at him. "Do you think I don't know that?"

"Sorry."
She was on the
Michaelson
, too, when we blew away that unarmed SASAL research ship. And she's still got more time in space than me
. "I hate to think of you facing combat. Not because I doubt how well you'll handle it, but, you know . . . "

Jen looked away. "I know. There's luck, good and bad. There's a lot of things. If shooting starts, either you or I might not come home for the victory parades."

"Or both of us."

"Yeah." She looked at him again. "In some ways, that'd be easier for me."

"Me, too. There's only one Jen out there."

"I bet. There's probably some rule against creating another one of me."

"You and Herdez."

"Do not mention her and me in the same breath!"

"Yes, ma'am."
Even if you have a lot more in common with our old XO than you'll ever admit
. "I don't know. I knew the risks I was signing on to face. I just never really thought about having to worry about my One and Only facing the same risks."

Jen snorted a brief laugh. "I never thought I
wouldn't
have to worry about that. Paul, both your parents were Navy. Why didn't you think you might get involved with another officer?"

"I don't know. Really. Maybe because by the time I was a teenager Mom was retired and Dad followed soon after. But now here we are and maybe next time we go out the SASALs will do something even more outrageous and someone on our side will shoot and this time it won't be an isolated incident that everyone just wants to sweep under the rug."

"Maybe. We're doing our jobs as best we can. We'll keep our ships and our shipmates and ourselves intact if we possibly can, no matter what. If we can't, well, hell, we're both doing this job because we believe it's important. Right?"
"Right."

"So carpe diem and all that stuff." Jen yawned. "Are we going to talk political events and philosophy all night or do you want to get naked?"

"Uh, well . . ."

"Oh, please. Stop trying to pretend you have to think about it."

"I like your mind, too."

"As much as you like my stern?"