Against All Enemies ps-4

by John G. Hemry

  "I can see where that'd be hard to swallow. You got a raw deal."

  "It would've been worse if you hadn't been there. Incredibly worse." Jen gave him a weary look. "But as you've probably guessed, father also suggested I dump overboard something that would immediately cause people to associate me with the court-martial."

  Paul felt a flash of anger and stifled it in a short laugh. "Meaning me?"

  "Of course. Good advice, huh? Give up my pride, everything I care about at work, the man I love, and hope that somehow I'll be able to salvage a 'career' out of what remains. Why the hell would I want a career doing things I don't like, alone, after I've flushed my self-respect down the toilet?"

  "What'd you tell your father?"

  Jen sat a little straighter, put an obviously artificial expression of gratitude on her face, and spoke in a lilting little girl voice. "Why, thank you, sir. I shall certainly give your suggestions all the consideration they deserve."

  Paul coughed, choking on the drink he'd made the mistake of taking just as Jen started speaking. When he recovered enough to speak, he shook his head. "You didn't really do that to him, did you?"

  She was laughing. "No. I was on my best behavior, Mr. Sinclair. Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I'll think very carefully about what you've said, sir."

  "You called him 'sir' that much?"

  "Yeah. He knows when I do that he's stepping over the line. But he kept plowing ahead, anyway. Dad's one stubborn guy when he thinks he's right."

  "Unlike his daughter, who's the soul of reason."

  She grinned at him. "Or his future like-it-or-not son-in-law."

  Paul grinned back. "What if the kids inherit it from both sides?"

  "God help us." Jen smiled wistfully. "It's funny to be talking about kids. About having them."

  "Funny? I think it's scary."

  She laughed. "You're daunted by the prospect, Mr. Sinclair? You've been responsible for an entire Navy warship and all her crew."

  He nodded. "Yep. But kids, I think, will be a lot bigger responsibility. I've never had to worry about screwing up someone else's entire life before."

  "Really?" Jen came a little closer and slipped her arms around his waist. "What about my life?"

  He looked into her eyes, marveling at the emotion he saw there. "What do you mean?"

  "You know what I mean. You could screw up my life something terrible, Paul. If you left me, if you were unfaithful, if you lied and cheated."

  "I'd never do that. Any of that."

  "I know. At least, I believe that, which is why I've got my arms wrapped around you right now and why I'm going to do this." Jen kissed him, long and hard, then slowly pulled back enough to see into his eyes again. "And that's not all I'm going to do," she whispered.

  Roughly half an hour later, Paul looked over at Jen where she lay next to him, awed once again at the emotion in her eyes as she gazed back. I never thought someone would look at me that way. Never really believed it could happen. And there it is. "I love you."

  She smiled with unusual gentleness. "I bet you say that to all the girls."

  "No. Only to the one I'm going to marry."

  "Damn straight, sailor." Jen snuggled close. "Right now, in here, I can forget everything outside, and just be happy. Forget all about careers and ships and sailing out into space without each other. Oh, that's right. There's something I forgot to tell you."

  "What's that?" Paul asked, unable to prevent a sudden sense of tension.

  Her breath was warm against his ear. "Welcome home, sailor." Then she laughed.

  Commander Garcia marched off the quarterdeck for the last time as if even that was a cause for aggravation. The petty officer of the watch bonged the ship's bell and announced, "Commander, United States Navy, departing," then Garcia was gone and the other officers dropped their salutes. Commander Moraine shuffled her data pad and several other items, then lunged off the quarterdeck into the ship's interior as if headed off on a desperate mission.

  Paul had come aboard the Michaelson that morning in the highest spirits he'd had for a while. A few more months and he'd be married to Jen and on shore duty here on Franklin along with her. He'd remembered to get a completed and sworn statement from Garcia before his old department head left the ship. They'd be inport for a while taking care of long overdue maintenance, so while the work would still be brutal it wouldn't be quite as brutal. All in all, things could be a lot worse.

  He went back to his stateroom and started scanning through all the messages which had downloaded upon the Michaelson 's arrival. While the ship was operating out in space, communications were always kept to a bare minimum to keep anyone from using the transmissions to help locate the ship's general position, speed and trajectory. Anything of high precedence or importance had been transmitted before the ship arrived at Franklin, of course, so he didn't expect to find anything except routine administrative and operational matters.

  But Paul's scanning stopped when he saw a subject line with his name on it and the words "order modification." What? They're modifying my orders? This close to my transfer? It's probably just adding some training courses before I report in to Franklin's Operations Department.

  It wasn't. Paul felt a odd numbness spreading across his body as he read. " When detached USS Michaelson (CLE(S)-3) report to transportation office, Franklin Naval Station, for flight arrangements to Theodore Roosevelt Naval Base, Mars. Upon arrival, report to Commander for duties assigned… "

  Mars? They can't- Mars? How the hell-? Paul realized he was standing up and heading for what he still thought of as Commander Garcia's stateroom. He was knocking on the hatch before he remembered Commander Moraine would answer. She gave him a nervous frown as she opened the hatch. "Yes?"

  "Req-" Paul swallowed and spoke again. "Request permission to leave the ship, ma'am."

  Moraine's eyebrows shot up. "Liberty call just expired."

  "Yes, ma'am. But something urgent has come up-"

  "It'll have to wait. I won't have one of my division officers absent for the first officer's call at which I'm head of this department." Moraine shut the hatch, leaving Paul steaming in the passageway and mentally counting to ten to keep from punching the hatch.

  The morning passed in a haze. He didn't pay much attention to Moraine's little speech at officer's call. Senior Chief Imari and Paul's fellow junior officers could tell something was wrong, but Paul waved them off, determined to fix the problem before he vented about it.

  Knock off ship's work was announced for lunch and Paul was off the quarterdeck in a flash, heading for a phone terminal. It'd cost a mint to phone Earth real time, but that wasn't important right now.

  A receptionist answered. "Naval Personnel Command."

  "I need to speak to my detailer. Lieutenant Commander Braun." The time delay caused by the need for the signal to travel at the speed of light between Franklin and Earth wasn't too large, but large enough to be apparent and annoying.

  "Thank you. Please hold."

  The receptionist was reaching for the switch when Paul interrupted her, having anticipated her move and started talking before he heard her reply. "I'm calling from Franklin orbital station. I can't afford to hold long."

  "Yes, Lieutenant. I'll make sure Lieutenant Commander Braun knows."

  A screen saver appeared. Thrilling pictures of senior Naval officers giving no doubt inspiring speeches. Paul tried not to look at his watch, not to let anger get in the way.

  The screen saver blinked, then gave way to his detailer. Lieutenant Commander Braun smiled at Paul, a gesture that came and went too quickly to have meaning. "Lieutenant Sinclair. Nice to hear from you."

  Paul spoke with a carefully controlled voice. "Ma'am, I just received an order modification."

  "Yes?" Braun's face and tone expressed friendly interest but nothing more.

  "To Mars. But I'm supposed to transfer off of the Michaelson to duty on Franklin. I had those orders in my hands."

  "Oh. Yes. Sinclair." Braun spr
ead her hands with an expression of mild regret. "Yes. A sudden requirement came up and you were judged the best fill for the job."

  "Four months out and I'm the only guy who fits the job?"

  "Well, you were the best fit."

  "Fit for what? This order mod doesn't even specify a particular assignment."

  "Ah, well, you'd have to talk to the people at Roosevelt about that."

  Paul tried to keep his temper from flaring. "That's not too practical. Real-time calls to Mars-"

  "Oh, well, yes, it might be a little difficult."

  "Look, ma'am, I'm getting married right after I leave the Michaelson — "

  "Congratulations."

  "— which I know is in your file on me, and I had orders to be stationed on Franklin, which is where my wife will also be stationed."

  Braun spread her hands again. "Yes, well, needs of the Navy. Sorry."

  "There must be some way to fix this."

  "Fix it? No, no. Nothing to fix. Nothing that can be fixed. Mars assignments are locked in to allow transportation planning. If you had any objections, you should've let us know within forty-eight hours of message transmittal-"

  "My ship was underway. I just got the message."

  "We can't make allowances for that. Personnel policy is built around firm rules to ensure everyone is treated fairly."

  " Fairly?"

  Braun ignored Paul's biting rejoinder. "This is a great career move, Paul. Absolutely. People fight for the chance to serve on Mars."

  "It's a hardship tour and if people are fighting for the chance why don't we let one of them fill this job you want to send me to?"

  "Paul, I can't second-guess the judgment of the people on Mars. They judged you best qualified."

  "For what? And why was my name even up for judgment when I already had orders to Franklin?"

  Braun frowned. "Now, Lieutenant Sinclair, you should know by now that personal requests are given full consideration but the deciding factor always has to be the needs of the service. You're needed on Mars. End of discussion."

  "I could put in my papers. Resign."

  "Nooooo. You still have more than two years of obligated duty from your Academy time, and in any case you can't resign within six months of your transfer date."

  "You won't even try to help me?"

  Braun smiled again, looking for all the world like a sales representative on a used car lot. "I'm your detailer. I'm always here to help you. To balance your needs against those of the service. You know, coming off Mars duty you should be able to write your own ticket for your next assignment. Be sure to have a preference on file. We'll do everything we can to make it happen."

  Paul just stared at her for a few moments, unable to think of anything else he could say. Finally, he nodded abruptly. "Thank you." Then he cut the connection. The tone of his words and his action were at least borderline insubordinate, but at the moment Paul didn't really care.

  Who can I ask for help? Captain Hayes. Commander, no she's a Captain now, Herdez. Maybe one of them can do something.

  Once back on the ship, Captain Hayes listened, letting his anger show, then promised to do what he could. "But I can't make any promises, Paul."

  "I know, sir. Thank you, sir."

  Paul left a message for Captain Herdez, then slumped in his stateroom chair and snarled at people for the rest of the day. Once he could leave the ship he went straight to Jen's quarters to wait for her, but found her already home and poured out the story.

  Jen slammed a fist into one of the small cabinets the compartment boasted. "I don't believe he did this!"

  "He?" Paul was momentarily surprised out of his own anger. "He who?"

  "My father! Who the hell else?" She jabbed a finger at the data pad where Paul's order modification was displayed for her to read. "Mars! That's a four year assignment."

  "I know. Believe me, I know."

  "He pulled some strings. He got your orders changed, sent you off to Siberia. No. Siberia would've been a lot closer and warmer. He found a worse place. I guess he couldn't swing getting you sent to Persephone or he'd have probably done that." Jen made a choking motion with her hands. "I'm going to-"

  "Why?"

  "Why?" She glared at him. "Because he-"

  "No, no. I understand why you're ticked off at your father, but what's the point of sending me to Mars? Does he think we won't get married now?"

  "I doubt it. Of course, he might've had help from others who had other reasons to go after you. There's at least one admiral who owes you a payback for your helping to get his son kicked out of the Navy."

  "Silver deserved it! He caused the death of one of his own sailors!"

  "I know that. Don't yell at me. And then there's the people who weren't happy with you for getting me off and proving that someone in the office of the Deputy Assistant Undersecretary of Defense for Acquisition and Development," she recited the full title with angry emphasis, "had covered up problems with equipment being fielded to the fleet. You've got plenty of people who'd be happy to see you rewarded with a trip to Mars." Jen sat down and closed her eyes, obviously trying to calm herself. "But I'm sure my father's involved somehow. Maybe he figures if we're separated that long we'll divorce or something. Mars is notorious for breaking up marriages. Lots of people far from home for a long time." Jen opened her eyes and fixed them on Paul. "And I admit it. I'd worry about that."

  Paul snorted a brief laugh. "I doubt there's any woman on Mars the equal of you. No, that's wrong. None of them could be your equal and I know there's no one better than you."

  "Yeah. Sure. After, say, two years apart you wouldn't be eyeing some babe with a halfway decent body who likes to smile at you?"

  "No."

  "I hate it when you're so positive about something without thinking about it! You're human. You're going to be tempted being alone out there that long."

  "So?" Paul gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Being tempted isn't the same as doing anything. Hell, Jen, you'll be here without me. I'm not worried."

  "Oh? You don't think any other guys would be interested in me?"

  "No! Yes! Dammit, Jen. I trust you. I'll always trust you. And I won't betray your trust."

  "Maybe we should rethink the marriage. To make sure you're not committed just in case-"

  "No! Aren't you listening to me?"

  "I'm thinking. That's all."

  Paul lowered his head, looking down at the floor. I'm in this mess because of everything I've done. Getting involved in things I should've let slide. If I'd just kept my mouth shut and gone along I'd being going to whatever job I wanted now. Wouldn't I? Nobody gunning for me, nobody wondering what the hell I'm going to do next. He looked up again, his eyes coming to rest on Jen. But I know pretty much for certain that Jen fell for me because I did do things I didn't have to do. Because I didn't go along and keep my mouth shut. Maybe I'd have the duty of my dreams… without her. Would I want that?

  Can't I even avoid second-guessing my own second-guessing?

  "What are you thinking?" Jen asked.

  "That I'm an idiot."

  "Hey, I get to call you an idiot because I love you. Nobody else gets to call you that."

  "Even me?"

  "Even you."

  "What are we going to do, Jen?"

  "Have you talked to anybody about getting the order mod rescinded?"

  "Yeah. The detailer-"

  "Who lied?"

  "Like a big dog. Yeah. 'Needs of the Navy,' my ass."

  "Maybe your captain…"

  Paul nodded. "Yes. I asked Captain Hayes. No promises, but he's going to see what he can do. And, uh…" He hesitated.

  "And?"

  "Herdez. I asked her."

  Jen rolled her eyes. "I bet she told you it was a great career move."

  "No. I haven't heard back from her, yet."

  "Hmmm." Jen lounged backward and rubbed her eyes. "Talk about dealing with the devil."

  "Jen, Captain Herdez is a very tough officer
, but she respects you as an officer. You know that." Jen made a noncommittal sound, frowning toward one corner of the room. "I believe she'll do her best. Unfortunately, she's not very political."

  "I'll give you that. Herdez worked us to death but she never played political games." Jen shook her head. "Four years. It's like I'm seeing you being sent to prison, with no visiting privileges."

  "I'm not there, yet."

  "No." She took a deep breath, her face hardening. "Excuse me. I need to make a phone call. In private. Can we meet somewhere? Fogarty's. I'll come there when I'm done."

  Paul nodded, knowing that she meant to call her father. Paul had been present during earlier blow ups between Jen and her father and hadn't enjoyed the experiences, so he had no objection at all to taking a hike this time. "I'll be there. Jen, don't burn any bridges."

  "I-" She glared at him. "Thank you. Go away."

  "Yes, ma'am. Right away, ma'am."

  Fogarty's hadn't changed, but then Fogarty's never changed. The bar that tried its best to mimic an old neighborhood pub somehow magically transported amid the metal and carbon fiber composites of Franklin Naval Station also tried its best to avoid redecorating so that crews returning from long cruises in space would find a familiar place to celebrate their return and drown accumulated sorrows.

  Paul chose a small table and sat nursing a drink, imagining the conversation going on between Jen and her father, and more than a little relieved that he wasn't listening in personally.

  "Hey, Sinclair! Aren't you the guy who used to have a career?"

  Paul looked up, frowning at a short, heavy-set officer standing at the bar. The crowd around the short officer laughed, hoisting drinks in mock-salute toward Paul. He knew the man, knew him well enough not to want to talk to him, so he pretended to ignore him

  But the short officer sauntered over to Paul. "So, what's it like?"

  Paul controlled his voice, trying to keep it even and calm. "What's what like, Kramer?"

  Kramer grinned. "That sucking feeling as your career goes down the flush. Anything like a catastrophic reentry?"

  "I wouldn't know. I've never had one. How many catastrophic reentries have you had?"