John Hemry: Burden of Proof

"Once again you have made my day, sir." Master-at-Arms First Class Ivan Sharpe, the Michaelson 's onboard law enforcement professional, didn't sound thrilled.

"Happy to oblige. You've got…" Paul checked the maneuvering plan Carl was finalizing. "About two hours before we haul in the first one. The rest will dribble in over the next couple hours after that."

"They'll be prisoners?"

"Until we turn them over to the civilian cops on Franklin Station, yeah."

"Fine. I'll set them up in our finest minimal living standards compartments."

"By the book, Sheriff. These Greenspace guys love publicity. We don't want to give them any bones to gnaw on."

"Ah, shucks, there goes my idea for feeding 'em."

"Once you've worked it up, give me a rundown on your plans for confining them until we reach Franklin. I'll brief the XO after that."

"How many hippie peaceniks are we talking, sir?"

Paul checked the number of escape pods, each of which was automatically broadcasting the number of people on board. "Looks like twenty."

"Twenty? What am I gonna do with that many hippies?"

"I'm sure an experienced cop and highly qualified petty officer such as yourself will find a solution."

"Gee, thanks, Mr. Sinclair. Maybe I can stuff 'em into some of the officer staterooms."

"Can't use mine, Sheriff. The starboard ensign locker is already stuffed full."

"What a shame. Speaking of ensigns, are the rumors I hear correct, that you are now a lieutenant junior grade in the United States Navy?"

"That's so, Sheriff. I've been promoted. Any word on whether you're going to make chief petty officer this year?"

"No, sir. But if I do, I'll know it was all due to your inspired leadership, sir."

"I'm glad you appreciate that, Sheriff. See you later."

"Aye, aye, sir."

Carl grunted with satisfaction. "My, that looks purty." On his navigational display, a smooth curve arced from the Michaelson 's current path, aimed at intercepting the nearest of the Greenspace pods. From there, shorter curves leapt from point to point, painting intercept courses to where the other pods would be when the Michaelson reached them. "We should be able to nab those pods on the fly, if their grapple sites are up to specifications."

Paul studied Carl's work. "That's nice. Hey, maybe we ought to make sure the ship's gig is ready to launch, just in case we miss a pick-up on one of the pods."

"An excellent idea. I'm glad I thought of it."

"That's funny, you don't look like Sam Yarrow."

Carl grinned. Lieutenant Junior Grade "Smilin' Sam" Yarrow had a well-earned reputation among the other officers. "Okay, I'll admit you thought of it. Just don't compare me to Sam." He tapped a communications circuit. "Captain, this is the officer of the deck. I have a plan worked out for picking up the pods for your approval. I'd also recommend having the gig ready to launch in case we have a problem with any pick-ups."

Gonzalez's voice came back over the circuit. "Shoot me a copy of your plan, Carl. Okay, got it. Wait." A couple of minutes passed while Carl and Paul waited silently. One of the lessons Paul hadn't needed reinforcing was the foolishness of bantering on the bridge when the captain might be listening in. "Very well, Mr. Meadows. Execute your plan as you prepared it, and notify the First Lieutenant to get the gig ready."

"Aye, aye, ma'am. Execute the plan as prepared and ready the gig." Carl switched circuits. "Hey, Ensign Diego. Are you home?"

"Uh, yeah."

"This is Carl Meadows on the bridge. Have I got a deal for you."

"Carl, I'm working on updating my division's training records — "

"Not any more. The captain wants the gig crewed up and ready to go while we're hauling in those Greenspace escape pods."

"What Greenspace escape pods?"

"Oh, Randy. Being that out of touch with recent events is no way to make lieutenant junior grade. Let me know when the gig's ready." Carl swung and pointed to the bosun mate of the watch. "Broadcast a maneuvering warning when we hit the ten minute mark. Which is about forty seconds from now. Also order the gig crew to stations."

The bosun stiffened into a semblance of attention. "Aye, aye, sir. Maneuvering warning at the ten minute mark, and crew the gig." Carl spent the next few seconds sending a copy of the maneuvering plan to the XO, then the bosun opened the all-hands broadcast circuit and shrilled his Bosun's pipe in the age-old naval call to attention. "All hands prepare for maneuvering in ten minutes. Secure all objects and materials. Undertake no task which cannot be completed prior to maneuvering. Gig crew to duty stations. I say again, gig crew to duty stations."

Paul admired the arcs of the maneuvering plan again. "Are we going to do this manually?"

Carl's eyebrows shot up. "Manually? Hell, no. We'll let the ship handle it. There's too much mass and momentum involved to risk a screw up on these maneuvers."

Paul hid his disappointment, nodding in response to Carl's order. He'd seen Lieutenant Tweed, the officer of the deck he'd first trained under, use manual control to make the Michaelson dance like a horse under a skilled rider. Someday, I want to learn to do that half as well as she could. But Carl's probably right. Right now, we've got the lives of those Greenspacers riding on whether we execute these maneuvers correctly.

The bosun mate repeated his warning at the five-minute point. A moment later, Ensign Diego called in. "The ship's gig is crewed and ready."

"How's its fuel state?"

"Uh…" Carl winked at Paul as the pause lengthened. After a few more seconds, Diego came on again. "Three-quarters of maximum."

"That might be enough, but it'd be a good idea to get the gig's fuel topped off as soon as you can."

"Yeah. Okay. How long will we be standing by?"

Carl checked his plan before replying. "About four hours, assuming nothing unexpected happens."

"Four hours? Man, I've got to get those training plans reviewed — "

"Randy, Randy, Randy. First off, complaining on this circuit is a bad idea because either the CO or XO might well be listening in to see how our preparations for the pod pickups are going, and neither of them is going to be sympathetic to your problem. Secondly, you can link your data pad to your divisional training records via the status panel in the gig's dock. Just make sure you're paying enough attention to what's going on with the pickups that you'll be able to jump into action if we need to order the gig launched."

"Oh, uh, okay."

Carl shook his head, then looked at Paul. "Now you see where ensigns get their reputations."

Paul snorted. "I've had plenty of painful personal experience on that score. Give Randy Diego a break. He's only been aboard about a month."

"True. Let's hoped he's learned enough by now to pay attention to good advice." The bosun's three-minute warning interrupted whatever else Carl might have said.

Paul once again checked the straps securing him to his watch chair, then glanced back to ensure the enlisted watchstanders were properly strapped in as well. "Looks like we're ready to go."

"Yup. Since you've got the conn, go ahead and authorize the maneuver for the ship."

"Authorizing the maneuver, aye." Paul carefully depressed two buttons in sequence, telling the Michaelson' s computers to carry out the preplanned maneuver when the countdown hit zero. "Maneuver authorized." It had taken a while for Paul to get used to the standard Navy practices of repeating back orders and stating information which everyone should already know, but he'd soon learned how important both routines were to ensuring orders had been properly understood and that everyone actually knew everything they needed to know.

The two-minute and one-minute warnings passed, then Paul watched the final seconds count down. After long periods spent without maneuvering, any change of course and speed brought some excitement, as well as extra stresses on the bodies of the Michaelson 's crew.