A Just Determination

by John G. Hemry

  The other ship stood out easily against the backdrop of space, but then most objects did. Like all warships, the USS Michaelson carried a wide variety of eyes with which to scan the heavens for items of interest. Some were devoted to watching for natural objects that might pose a hazard to the Michaelson herself by blundering through the same location in space at the same time as the ship. Others watched for human artifacts, which could generate hazards of a different nature.

  "Space is cold." Jan Tweed pointed at the read-out beneath the symbol representing the intruding ship. "Look how much hotter that ship is than the temperature of space around it. It's like seeing a campfire in the distance."

  "Do we have any visual yet?" Paul leaned closer to the display as if that could somehow resolve details on the distant ship better.

  "Just background occlusion." As objects moved through space they might not be directly visible themselves, but their movement could be spotted by watching them block the view of stars behind them. "Nothing detailed."

  "Strong temperature variation and background occlusion. Then it's not a warship."

  Jan shrugged. "Or it is a warship, and he's turned off his can't-see-me system and is broadcasting vented waste heat instead of recycling it."

  "I guess that could be true, couldn't it?" Paul glanced upward, as if he could somehow see the sophisticated system which made the Michaelson and other warships so hard to spot. Almost the entire outer hull was covered with micro-lenses interspersed with video displays. Anything a lens saw on one side of the ship was looped 180 degrees to the opposite side of the ship and displayed on a screen. With all the lenses and screens working, all you saw when you looked at the Michaelson was whatever the lenses on the opposite side were seeing, just as if the ship weren't there at all blocking the view. Effectively, the Michaelson bent light around her and remained invisible inside her cocoon. It wasn't a perfect system because small gaps existed in the lens/screen array, but you had to get pretty close to spot those gaps. With waste heat disposal minimized and directed out along an empty vector away from the ship, neither visual nor infra-red sensors had much chance of seeing the Michaelson from a distance.

  "Yup." Tweed eyed him dubiously. "Did you read the intelligence assessment on Q-ships?"

  "Yeah. 'Insufficient evidence exists to either prove or disprove the existence of Q-ship type combatants, so caution is advised when approaching other ships.'" Paul quoted. "That's a lot of help."

  "Sir?" Paul turned at the question, seeing both enlisted watch standers eyeing him and Lieutenant Tweed. "Sir, we've heard these Q-ship things mentioned a lot. What are they?"

  Jan made a deferring gesture to Paul, who ordered his thoughts before speaking. "The basic idea's been around a long time. You make a warship look like an innocent merchant ship, and when your prey gets close enough you drop the disguise and open fire."

  "I saw a video where pirates did that," the bosun mate of the watch offered. "Way back when, with sailing ships and stuff. How come they call 'em Q-ships?"

  "Because that's what the Brits called them during World War One. They had a serious problem with enemy submarines attacking their merchant ships, so they made these ships they called Q-ships as sort of a secret name. If a submarine approached on the surface to sink what it thought was a helpless merchant, the Q-ship would try to surprise and sink the sub."

  "That's a nasty trick. So that guy we're heading to intercept might be that kind of trap?"

  "It's . . . possible. There's no proof any Q-ships actually exist in space."

  "Ships go missing," the quartermaster of the watch insisted. "Just gone."

  Lieutenant Tweed smiled indulgently. "Accidents. Unfortunately, they happen."

  "Well, maybe, Ma'am." Plainly unconvinced, the quartermaster exchanged glances with the bosun mate, then the two enlisted watch standers launched into a whispered discussion of the pirate video one had seen.

  "I don't think you convinced them," Paul muttered.

  Jan smiled crookedly. "I know a little bit about fear, Paul. I don't like that we don't know more about this other ship, I don't like the way he's heading straight into our area so brazenly, and I don't like all the rumors about covert warships."

  "A lot of rumors are just garbage. Totally wrong."

  "How many rumors do you have to bet your life on them being garbage?"

  "Not a lot." Paul tagged the ship's symbol and read the associated data as it scrolled by. "They think it's a South Asian Alliance ship?"

  "That's what they think."

  "The South Asians have been pretty aggressive lately, back on Earth.

  "I read the same intelligence reports you did, Paul. If you're trying to reassure me, you're doing a lousy job."

  "Do you think he knows we're here? If our transmission of the death investigation report betrayed our general location, why would he have decided to make a dash inside our sovereign claimed area?"

  "You said the SASALs have been aggressive lately. Maybe knowing we're here is why that ship decided to come in. The timing's about right, anyway."

  "But, why . . . ?" That's what a Q-ship would do, wouldn't it? If it was looking for a victim to come running up to it. But it's also what any other ship trying to challenge our sovereign claim would do. If we didn't react to the incursion when we had a ship nearby, it would make a stronger case that we hadn't enforced our claim. "I really don't like this. I hope we handle this intercept real carefully."

  "Why don't you let the Captain know that?" She smiled briefly to rob the words of offense, then rushed to change the subject. "You ready for the zone inspection?"

  "The zone inspection?" Paul rubbed his eyes. "I've hardly thought about it. With everything going on . . ." His voice trailed off as he caught the look on Jan's face. "The XO's just going to check our spaces, right? She's going to walk through and see how clean and well-maintained they are. I'm sure Chief Imari—"

  "Have you talked to Chief Imari about it?"

  "Uh . . . I think I did."

  "Paul, the XO is death on zone inspections. You better make sure the spaces you have responsibility for look good." She checked the time. "Not that you'll have much chance to fix them if they're not. The inspection is half an hour after we get off watch. Maybe you ought to give Chief Imari a call?"

  "Yeah. Maybe." But I've been doing so much extra work for Herdez on this legal stuff, and that's one of the reasons I didn't remember to do more preparations for this inspection. Surely the XO will take that into account. Still, I guess I better check with Chief Imari anyway. Paul was reaching for the comm pad when their watch reliefs arrived. It wasn't until he was leaving the bridge that he remembered the aborted call to Chief Imari.

  As it turned out, Paul wasn't able to locate Chief Imari before having to join Commander Garcia and Commander Herdez, who were ready to begin the inspection. "Where's Lieutenant Tweed?" Garcia barked, a question which now tended to instantly generate a headache in Paul. Fortunately, Jan Tweed rushed up a moment later, apologizing for being last in a swift, low voice and looking away rather than face Garcia and the XO directly. Breathing a silent prayer, Paul followed the others as the inspection party trooped through the Operations Department spaces assigned to the Operations Specialist Division.

  For the most part, Herdez remained silent as they went through Tweed's spaces, occasionally checking a detail up close or nodding in brief approval over some well-maintained equipment. A gleaming knife-edge on an emergency hatch actually drew a few words of praise.

  "Mr. Sinclair." Paul winced inside at the XO's tone as she pointed at a similar but tarnished edge in one of his spaces. "Unacceptable." His guts got tighter as they proceeded and Herdez issued head-shakes and frowns over discrepancies in cleanliness and maintenance.

  At the end of the excursion, Herdez faced the others. "Good job, Lieutenant Tweed. Ensign Sinclair, your spaces need considerable work. I will conduct another inspection of them at fourteen hundred tomorrow. I expect them to meet standards by then." With a nod
to Commander Garcia, she turned and headed away.

  Garcia, his face darkening more with each passing second, waited until the XO turned a corner before rounding on Paul. "What the hell excuse do you have for not properly preparing for that inspection?"

  A million possible answers flooded through Paul's mind, even though he knew only one answer would not only keep him from being verbally ripped apart but also be true. "I have no excuse, sir."

  Garcia glowered, raising both hands in a threatening gesture he converted to a single finger not far from Paul's nose. "You will make sure your spaces are ready for the XO's reinspection tomorrow. There will be no discrepancies. Is that understood?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "If you ever fail a zone inspection in my department again, I will make sure you wish you'd never been born. Is that understood?"

  "Yes, sir."

  Garcia seemed to be on the verge of saying more, but choked off whatever it might have been then left, somehow managing to stomp even in zero g.

  Paul took a deep breath, shuddering slightly. "Damn."

  Jan Tweed, her head slightly lowered, was looking at him out of the corner of her eye. "You made Garcia look bad, Paul."

  "I know. The cardinal sin. Dammit, I thought Chief Imari would take care of the spaces!"

  "Paul, Chief Imari isn't your servant. She's got plenty of her own responsibilities. If you never indicated to her that you placed a priority on making sure your spaces were ready, why should she worry about it?"

  "But—"

  "But nothing. You can't put any of your jobs on automatic and expect Chief Imari, or any other enlisted, to do them for you. You have to show an interest and be involved." Tweed shook her head, her face reflecting past miseries. "Believe me."

  "I do."

  "This hurts worse, you know."

  "What hurts worse?"

  "The times you get chewed out and you really deserve it. They hurt a lot more than a chewing out you don't deserve."

  "I won't argue with that. Thanks, Jan." It's funny. Most people on the ship think of Jan Tweed as a failed officer, just putting in her time until she gets out of the Navy and can find a place to hide forever from the Commander Garcias of the world. But she just gave me a constructive leadership lesson, and chewed me out in way I didn't even recognize as being chewed out until this instant. She could be ten times the leader Garcia is. Or I guess she could've been that someday, if she hadn't screwed up too much too early and been ridden too hard as a result.

  Chief Imari, when eventually found, expressed contrition for the state of the spaces and walked through them with Paul, noting specific items to be corrected no later than noon tomorrow. "Chief, I'll do another walk-through with you at noon, and if we spot anything that's been missed we'll have some time left to correct it."

  "Good idea, Mr. Sinclair. Sorry again. We should have done this walk-through before the inspection."

  "Right. Next time I'll make sure we do." He headed back towards officer's country, praying he wouldn't encounter Sam Yarrow, who surely had already heard of the inspection's disastrous outcome and would just as surely express mock sympathy while prying for any word or action he could use to dig Paul's hole a little deeper. Instead, he almost collided with Jen Shen.

  She took one look at his face, then grabbed his arm. "This looks bad. Come and talk."

  "Jen, I don't really—"

  "Yes, you do. Whatever happened, we've all been there, Paul." A few moments later he was sitting in the port ensign locker, Jen hovering nearby and Kris Denaldo handling e-paperwork while keeping one ear tuned to the conversation. "What happened?"

  Paul described the inspection, his lack of preparation, and its outcome. "Herdez went over those spaces like a Marine drill sergeant. She didn't cut me any slack at all."

  "What'd you expect?"

  "Well, hell, Jen. I've been busting my butt on stuff she assigned me to do. I thought, well . . ."

  "You expected Herdez to give you some special treatment because you'd been doing extra work for her."

  Paul flinched. "I guess that's right. Pretty dumb, huh?"

  "Very dumb, even for an ensign."

  "Thanks. But doesn't Herdez, well, owe me something for all that extra work? She must think I'm doing a decent job of it."

  Jen laughed. "Oh, I remember when I was as young and innocent as you are now."

  Kris Denaldo's eyebrows shot up. "Innocent? You?"

  "I don't need any comments from you, Saint Denaldo. Okay, think carefully, Paul. We're talking about Commander Herdez here. If she likes the work you're doing, what does she do?"

  Paul took a moment to think through the question, then grimaced. "She gives you more work."

  "And harder work. Because that's how the XO thinks. She thinks that's a cool reward system. The more Commander Herdez likes you, the more work she gives you." Jen pointed toward Kris. "Case in point. Miss Perpetual Motion here. Look at her work-load. Commander Herdez must love her."

  Kris Denaldo sighed. "I think it's gone beyond love. If I get any more duties assigned I'll assume she wants to marry me."

  Jen chuckled, then swung down to hover at Kris' feet. "Oh, Ensign Denaldo, will you make me the happiest XO in the world and be my aide? All I can promise you is twenty-eight hours of work in every twenty-four hour period."

  "Really?" Denaldo squealed like an infatuated teenager. "Oh, Commander! I don't know what to say!"

  "Try 'Aye, aye, ma'am.'" Jen glanced at Paul as he started laughing. "Somebody's feeling better."

  "You two are insane."

  "So? It helps us cope with the wonderful lives we lead." Jen came back to perch near Paul, peering into his eyes. "Okay, so what have we learned?"

  "Not to expect any favors from Commander Herdez."

  "Because . . . ?"

  "She figures riding me like an overloaded pack mule going straight up a mountain is doing me a favor."

  "Very good. Kris, you got about an hour free anytime soon?"

  "Uh, let's see." Denaldo checked her data link, then looked skeptically at Jen Shen. "How about half an hour? Forty-five minutes? That's it. Tops."

  "Okay. Forty-five minutes it is. Paul, we've both been through this drill. You need those spaces to be immaculate tomorrow but you have to concentrate on the right kind of immaculate. Kris and I will do a run-through of your spaces and try to spot the problems the XO will fixate on so you can focus on fixing them."

  "Jen. Kris. That's a real big favor. I can't ask—"

  "You didn't," Denaldo pointed out. "We volunteered. Well, Jen volunteered both of us, but the principle's the same. You'd do the same for us, right?"

  "In a heartbeat."

  "Right. All for one and all that crap. Now will you please get out of here so I can get some work done?"

  "Sure. Thanks. Jen, if there's ever anything . . ."

  "Ask me that next time we're in port and I can't afford to buy any more drinks."

  "You're on."

  "Careful," Kris warned sotto voice, "or Smiling Sam Yarrow will start spreading rumors about you two."

  Jen grinned nastily even as she shoved Paul out the hatch. "I doubt it. Ever since I threatened to break his arm unless he moved his hand real quick, Yarrow's invested too much time spreading rumors I'm a lesbian. Paul, we'll run you down after we've done our spot-check."

  Paul's guts still seemed like they'd never unknot, but he felt a lot better nonetheless. Live and learn. I just wish the learning could be a little less painful.

  * * *

  "How'd the reinspection go?" Jan asked as Paul assumed the watch and slid into his chair.

  "Good enough, I guess. The XO said it was 'acceptable' and Garcia didn't rip my head off."

  "You can't ask for much more from a day, can you?" She grinned in an uncharacteristic display of happiness, then rubbed her hands. "Plus we get to fire off a burn on this watch. How long's it been since the Merry Mike maneuvered?"

  "I can't even remember." Most of time they coasted. Every ti
me the ship maneuvered, changing course and/or speed, it threw out signs that someone watching for ships could see. They could localize the Michaelson from such signs, though the longer the Michaelson remained silent after such maneuvers the greater the uncertainty such watchers would have of her current position. However, in order to intercept the intruder ship, they'd have to maneuver now. Paul checked his display, calling up the maneuvering information. Digits were counting off in one corner, showing the time remaining until the ship's thrusters pivoted her to a new heading and her main drives pushed her a little faster in the right direction. "Sweet."

  "And simple. Mind if I take it?"

  "Be my guest." Jan hadn't had to ask, since as Officer of the Deck she could assume any function of Paul's she wanted, but he appreciated that she didn't take advantage of that. Besides, the entire firing sequence of both maneuvering thrusters and main drive would be orchestrated by the ship's computers after they were given the go-ahead by the human watch standers. Pushing that single button would be a minor thrill, but one he was willing to let Jan Tweed experience.