John Hemry: Against All Enemies

"Terrible."

"It's good to know there's some things we can always count on," Kris remarked, shuddering as she took a drink. "Too bad Suppo's not here for us to complain to." She looked toward the same chair. "I miss the old Suppo."

"Who doesn't? I have to admit the new guy has a hard act to follow. But I don't see much of the new guy," Paul confessed.

"Nobody does. Commander 'Silent-E' Smithe spends a lot of time in his stateroom. I don't know what he's doing in there, but it's not anything that's helping me get the spare parts I need."

"Yeah. I'm having more trouble getting parts than I used to. Mike Bristol tells me he's doing his best to get us what we need, but it's not like it was with Commander Sykes and his forty thieves 'acquiring' whatever we needed. Smithe insists on doing things by the book."

"Heaven help us." Denaldo make another face, either from the coffee or the situation. "We'll never get the stuff we need if it all has to run through official channels." She shook her head, then took another look at Paul. "Hey, you look worse than I feel. Anything wrong?" Paul hesitated. "I saw that."

"Kris, you've got enough troubles of your own-"

"Shipmate, when I walk off the Merry Mike for the last time you'll be the longest serving officer onboard. The old guy who personally remembers the ancient past a couple of years ago. Until then, you and I are still friends of some years standing who can lean on each other. What's up?"

Paul shrugged. "Nothing. Not really. I haven't been getting much sleep."

"None of us have. Are you sure there's nothing else?"

"Um…" Paul grimaced. "I guess I haven't been able to sleep some of the times I could've."

Denaldo looked alarmed. "You haven't been able to sleep sometimes? You know that's bad in a sailor. What's the problem, Paul? Level with me."

Paul hesitated again. I need to get this off my chest, and Kris is probably the last person left on the ship I can talk to about something like this. "I have these nightmares every once in a while. You remember when the Maury blew."

A shadow fell across Kris' face. "That's not something I'll ever forget. But you're still having nightmares about that?"

"Sort of. I mean… I went over there."

"Yeah. Most of us did at one point or another. But I remember you were on one of the first teams sent over to help."

"It's sort of about that." Paul took a deep breath. "I dream I'm back on the Maury right then, climbing through the wreckage, assessing the damage, wondering what'd happened to Jen."

He paused for a long time, while Kris watched him closely before she spoke again. "We found out Jen had survived in the after part of the Maury. After you got back. You just didn't find her."

"In the nightmares, I find her."

Kris frowned, then her eyes widened. "Oh. Nightmares. You find her in the wreckage."

"Yeah." Paul looked away, feeling immense relief as he finally blurted out the story. "Caught by the explosion and the decompression."

"Mary, mother of God." Kris shuddered. "You see that? No wonder you can't sleep sometimes. But it didn't happen, Paul. Your mind's torturing you over something that didn't happen. You didn't find Jen's body. She was safe, and she's still alive now."

"Accidents still happen, Kris. Could happen anytime."

Kris Denaldo sighed. "That comes with the territory, Paul. Jen's not going to live in a gilded cage. Not for you or anybody else. She's a Navy officer, like you. Hell, she's not even on shipboard duty now. Jen's sitting safe in a temporary job on Franklin Station while you and I cruise around out here with various foreign warships and religious fanatics pointing weapons at us. She's the one who ought to be worried. About you. But she'll never tell you she's worried, you know."

Paul smiled wryly. "Yeah. I know."

"Jen's a lot safer than you are. Is this about something else?"

"What? What else?"

"I don't know." She made a vague gesture. "Some problems your subconscious might be twisting around. Are you and Jen doing okay?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure we are."

"The wedding's still on?"

Paul knew his irritation at the question was showing. "Of course it's still on. Right after I detach from the Michaelson."

"All right. Don't bite my head off. Something's got you worried, that's all."

"Not with me and Jen." Paul felt a slight twinge inside as he made the firm declaration. There isn't anything wrong! Jen's not the easiest person in the world to live with, but I'm not exactly perfect, either. "Maybe it's just all the stress here. I've only got a few months left onboard, I'll make lieutenant in a month, we're facing off with all these other warships and the civilians, and… well, everything."

Kris smiled sadly. "Oh, yeah. Everything."

They both looked over as two more officers came in. Commander Garcia, Paul's department head and immediate superior for the past two and a half years, gave Paul his habitual glower. Paul suspected there were times when Garcia wasn't in a bad mood, but he'd never caught Garcia at it. "No work to do, Sinclair?"

"I just came off watch, sir," Paul answered.

Garcia turned to look at the nearest clock, obviously implying how many minutes ago Paul must've actually come off watch, then shook his head and headed for the coffee. Paul and Kris slid to the side to avoid him and leave the wardroom, but had to wait as another officer followed Garcia inside.

Commander Angie Moraine nodded absent-minded greetings to them, her attention focused on Garcia. She was Garcia's relief, due to take over as Paul's new department head and busy trying to learn everything Garcia could show and tell her about the job in the next couple of weeks. Then she'd become Paul's immediate superior, and determine just how pleasant or unpleasant his own last few months on the ship would be.

"Sinclair." Paul stopped himself halfway out the hatch and looked back at Garcia. Garcia tilted his head to indicate the general direction of the asteroid. "Anything happen last night?"

"No, sir." Paul became aware that Moraine had also fixed her gaze on him, watching him with unnerving intensity. "Just a minor repositioning by Gilgamesh."

Garcia's scowl deepened. "Why wasn't I told?"

Oh, hell. Why didn't I tell Garcia? He didn't need to know it even though he's the Operations Department boss. But I should've guessed he'd want to know. "We informed the Captain, sir, and-"

"Did I ask you if you'd told the Captain?"

Paul fought down a flare of anger and tried to keep his voice level. "No, sir."

"I expect to be kept informed of any change in the situation, Sinclair."

"Yes, sir." At least I've learned that when somebody like Garcia is screaming at me the best thing to do is to just keep no, siring and yes, siring. He wants me to say something else he can scream at me for, but I'm not going to give him that.

Garcia turned away. Moraine's gaze on Paul had sharpened, but she looked away as well to follow Garcia's movement.

Paul took advantage of the moment to finish exiting the hatch. Kris glowered toward the wardroom. "I can't wait to get away from him," she snapped in a voice too low to carry far. "At least you'll have Moraine for the next few months."

"Yeah, but what's she going to be like?"

"She can't be worse than Garcia."

Paul shook his head, not trusting himself to make any other comment as some other officers came into view. But he thought to himself that so far experience had shown him things could always be worse.

Half an hour later Paul and Kris Denaldo were facing Garcia and Moraine again for officers' call. Along with them was Ensign Taylor, the ship's Electronic Materiel Officer. Despite her lowly officer rank, Taylor was a mustang, a former enlisted sailor who'd come up through the ranks and therefore had immensely more knowledge and prestige than the average ensign. As a result, she also had a lot more attitude than the average ensign.