John Hemry - Rule of Evidence

Commander Sykes, until now silent somewhere in the back, spoke out clearly. "Sort of."

Hayes grinned as laughter erupted. "Right, Suppo. Sort of. Let's put on a good show, keep it safe, and let the SASALs know screwing around with us up here would be a bad idea."

More murmurs, this time of agreement. Paul saw Sonya Sindh and they locked eyes for a moment, sharing an unspoken understanding. She remembers the last time the SASALs screwed with the Michaelson. She was officer of the deck when Captain Wakeman gave orders to fire on that unarmed SASAL ship that he thought was attacking us. This exercising together stuff to send a message might work, if everybody involved deals with it rationally. But we're all human, so nothing's certain.

Captain Hayes pried the hatch open to leave. Commander Kwan bellowed out "attention on deck" again in a voice well-suited to a parade ground but which echoed painfully inside the small compartment. Paul and the other officers once again did their best to straighten to attention as the captain left. Instead of releasing them from attention immediately, Kwan favored the group with a long, stern look. "Remember what the captain said. We'll be operating with foreign warships. I want the Michaelson to be the most impressive ship out there. Carry on." Kwan struggled out the hatch as well.

With two fewer bodies in the compartment Paul found he could breath easier. Most of the department heads, talking softly among themselves, headed out next, then the other officers began following. Paul took a moment to stretch in place before moving, then looked to where the ensigns, the most junior officers on the ship, were still standing on the table. "Dismissed," he echoed Kwan with exaggerated sternness.

"Yes, sir, Lieutenant Junior Grade Sinclair," Ensign Gabriel piped back. "This would've been a lot easier in zero gravity. We could've hung off the overhead and left room to breath."

" Easy, Ensign Gabriel? You want things easy?"

Commander Sykes dropped gratefully into his usual chair and made a shooing motion with one hand. "Thank you for chastising Ms. Gabriel, Paul, and saving me the trouble. Now, all of you line officers run off and do your line things. You shouldn't be hanging around the wardroom during working hours."

Lieutenant Denaldo grinned. "Yeah. What do you guys think you are, supply corps officers?" Sykes managed to look wounded. "But Suppo's right. We better get out of here before one of our department heads pops back in, sees us and decides we're all underemployed."

Paul checked over the list of completed maintenance items morosely. Not enough. Garcia's going to bite my head off. Again. "Chief, what're the odds any of the stuff we didn't get done is going to hurt our performance during this underway period?"

Imari shrugged. "Sir, the really critical stuff is done. Anything else goes, it'll give us some trouble, but we'll be able to work around it."

"Thanks, Chief."

"Are you going to be in Combat when we get underway, sir?"

"Yeah. For once." Paul felt he'd drawn more than his share of getting underway watches. Observing the process from Combat wouldn't be stress-free, but at least he wouldn't be giving maneuvering orders to the Michaelson. " Maury 's getting underway first this morning."

"Yes, sir."

And you already knew that as well as I did, didn't you, Chief? Maybe I ought to tell you something you don't already know. "The XO's acting pretty edgy about this exercise, Chief. He really wants us to look good, so assume he's going to be prowling the ship monitoring everything."

Chief Imari didn't quite contain her reaction. "Yes, sir. No problem. I'll make sure the guys look good whenever the XO pops in."

"Even Seaman Fastow?" Paul couldn't help asking.

Imari's grin was slightly pained. "Even her. I may have to kill her and prop her dead body so she looks like she's doing something right, but I'll manage it."

Paul grinned back. "Don't let the Sheriff hear you talking about that."

"Ah, sir, Master-at-Arms Sharpe would understand. He's been watching Fastow."

Paul's grin faded and was replaced by a questioning look. "Really. Anything in particular?"

"You'd have to ask the Sheriff, sir. But I don't know of anything."

"Thanks, Chief. I'll be back in here in about an hour." Paul dropped his tentative plan to review the exercise timeline once again, and instead went looking for Petty Officer First Class Ivan Sharpe. He found him standing near the mess decks, watching the crew file past as they grabbed their breakfasts.

Sharpe touched his brow with one finger in an informal salute. "Mornin', Mr. Sinclair."

"Morning, Sheriff. Got a minute?"

"For my favorite ship's legal officer? Of course, sir."

"I'm the only ship's legal officer." Paul led Sharpe away from the other sailors before speaking again. "I hear you've been watching Seaman Fastow."

Sharpe rolled his eyes. "Me, sir? Perish the thought."

"Come on. She's in my division. I know all too well that she's had an attitude problem since she reported aboard a couple of months back. Is there something else going on with her?"

The master-at-arms rubbed his chin and looked back at Paul. "Nothing for certain, sir. I've just got a feeling there's something else. Fastow's got trouble written all over her."

"Let me know if you find out anything specific."

Sharpe grinned. "Why, sir, I thought you were dedicated to motivating your sailors and helping them maximize their potential."

Paul gave the Sheriff a sour look. "Fastow doesn't seem to want to be motivated. Right now the only thing she's maximizing is the amount of supervision she requires."

"Yes, sir. If I can bust the little lady, I'll make sure you know it."

"Thanks, Sheriff. Anything else going on?"

Sharpe looked around thoughtfully. "Not that I can think of. Things've been pretty quiet lately."

"The XO's all wrapped up in making sure this exercise with the foreign ships goes perfect."

"Everyone needs a hobby, sir."

Paul just grinned, shook his head and walked back toward Combat. Might as well get there early. I can watch the Maury get underway. Jen's ship. I wonder how many more times we'll have to watch the other's ship leave?

His sailors were already at their watch stations, too. Chief Imari nodded a greeting to Paul then went back to discussing something with one of the petty officers. Paul went from station to station, speaking briefly to each sailor, getting some personal idea of how they felt and were doing, and letting them know he was personally interested in them. Little stuff. But it makes a difference.

His rounds made, Paul sat down at his own console, logged in, and centered the display on the Maury. The Michaelson 's own sensors couldn't see the Maury with a big chunk of Franklin Station in the way, but remote feeds from Franklin's own sensor net provided a clear picture. Like the Michaelson, the Maury resembled a slightly elongated football, all smooth surfaces and gentle curves designed to minimize reflections that would help someone spot the ship in space. With her visual bypass system shut down, the Maury 's hull was a dull gray that seemed to soak up light.

Once the system of fiber optic cameras and visual screens covering the hull was activated, the Maury would seem to vanish as the cameras picked up whatever they saw, routed it 180 degrees around the hull, and displayed it on the other side. Effectively, the Maury would bend light around herself, making her very hard to see. But this time out Maury 's not going to turn on her visual bypass system and neither are we. The whole point of this little exercise is to ensure that lots of people see what we're doing. Besides, hiding from the other ships that're going to be maneuvering close around us at high speed doesn't strike me as a very good idea. He wondered at what point in his time in space he'd begun to think of distances of fifty or a hundred kilometers as "close."