Rule of Evidence ps-3

by John G. Hemry

  "No." He extended his hand. "Paul Sinclair. CIC officer."

  Her shake was firm enough. "Val Isakov. I'm Lieutenant Sindh's relief."

  "Oh. She'll be very happy to see you."

  "I bet." Isakov smiled, a very quick quirk of her lips, then focused back on Mike Bristol. "Right now I need to get check-in done."

  "Sure." Paul got some coffee and left. Not the friendliest soul, but I've had my share of bad days, too.

  Colleen Kilgary was outside her stateroom and flagged Paul down. "Hey, you seeing Jen tonight?"

  "I'm planning on it."

  "Good. The Maury had that SEERS thingee installed during their last overhaul. Can you ask Jen how it's working out? We're supposed to get it, too."

  "SEERS?"

  "Ships Engineering something something System. Some sort of unified power management gizmo."

  "Uh, okay."

  Paul entered his stateroom in the aptly nicknamed ensign locker and sat down at his desk. Sam Yarrow, the only other occupant at the moment, glanced over at him. "Garcia's looking for you."

  Garcia's always looking for me. Garcia won't know what to do with his life when he can't look for me anymore. "What about?"

  "Ask him yourself."

  "Thanks, Sam." Paul tried to sound sincere, knowing that kind of reaction always threw Yarrow off. He stood up again and headed for Combat. Even if Garcia wasn't in Combat, Paul could catch up on paperwork at his console there.

  ***

  Fogarty's tried to look like a comfortable neighborhood pub. The fact that it was located inside an orbiting naval facility made the illusion a bit hard to sustain, but the bar's wood-grain painted steel bulkheads were close enough to the real thing to be a welcome oasis for sailors tired of staring at gray steel bulkheads. Paul took a seat at one of the small tables just outside of the door, watching humanity stream past in one of the wide main "streets" on the station while he waited for Jen to show up.

  "Hey, sailor, looking for a good time?"

  Paul shook his head without looking behind where the voice had come from. "Nah. I've got a serious girlfriend. I'm not allowed to have a good time anymore." He felt a rap against the back of his head. "Ouch."

  Lieutenant Junior Grade Jen Shen walked around and took the other seat, shaking her head. "Why do I put up with you, Paul Sinclair?"

  "I've often wondered that myself. I guess I'm just really lucky."

  "Maybe I just feel sorry for you."

  "I can live with that."

  She grinned. "How'd you like operating with the Maury?"

  "Nerve-wracking, to tell the truth. All those big ships so close." He smiled at her. "But at least whenever things got boring I could imagine you were on watch at the same time I was."

  "Boy, are you desperate."

  "Hey, I like watching you."

  "Watching my ship isn't exactly the same thing."

  Paul smiled wider. "You're right. The Maury 's stern can't compare to yours."

  She laughed. "Are you saying my bow isn't better, too?"

  "Not at all. But I'm a stern man."

  "Whatever spins your gears." She leaned forward. "I want to hug you."

  "We're in uniform."

  "And in public." Jen gestured with both arms. "Considered yourself hugged."

  "Any chance of considering myself kissed?"

  "Maybe later. Did you see the Mahan out there?"

  "Yeah."

  Her expression changed to exasperation at Paul's tone of voice. "Pardon me for being happy my father could see me operating my ship. That's pretty rare."

  "It'd be pretty rare under any circumstances." Paul smiled ruefully. "Okay. Have you talked to your father?"

  "Not really. I got a brief message from him. He thought the exercise went off okay."

  "He must've really been impressed."

  She stuck her tongue out at him. "He thought the Michaelson did okay, too."

  "Really?"

  "Really. What're your plans for tonight?"

  "Well, let's see. I don't have duty on my ship. You don't have duty on your ship. We haven't seen each other for over two weeks. I don't know. What about you?"

  "I was thinking about finding some sailor and shacking up for the night."

  "Oh, well, I'm free."

  "I guess you'll do, then." Jen grinned again. "Keep romancing me like this and I may have to marry you some day, Mr. Sinclair."

  His heart literally seemed to skip a few beats. "Does that mean…?"

  "Not yet."

  "It's been over six months since I asked you to marry me."

  Jen put her hands over her ears. "Oh, pressure! Pressure! Somebody get me a survival suit!" She lowered the hands and smiled fondly at Paul. "I'll know when I know, Paul."

  He nodded, smiling back to mask his feelings. I already know. I've known for a long time. But telling Jen I feel put off by her not being sure yet wouldn't make her any more likely to come to a decision. Kris was right. Jen's like a cat. If you push her, she pushes back instead of yielding. If that's what I want I have to live with it. "Dinner?"

  "Real food? You certainly know how to make me feel loved."

  About an hour later, fed with passable versions of real food from one of the private restaurants licensed on Franklin to make life there a bit more bearable, they checked into a rent-a-shack. Paul edged inside the small room, just big enough to hold a bed, a tiny toilet, and an entertainment display. "Tight quarters, as usual."

  Jen rolled onto the bed. "You never complained about having to be close to me before."

  "I'm not complaining now." He lay down as well, just resting for a moment. "This is one exhausting life, Jen."

  "Tell me about it. You work in one of those easy-going Operations Department divisions. I'm a snipe, laboring in the bowels of engineering for days on end without rest."

  "I've worked in Combat for days on end without rest."

  "I've worked for weeks without rest."

  "Months."

  "Years."

  They both laughed. Paul looked over at her, wondering again at whatever luck had brought them together. Well, it wasn't exactly luck. The Navy brought us together when it assigned us to the same ship. But if Jen hadn't been transferred off the Michaelson we never could've had any kind of relationship but friends, and I like this a whole lot better.

  Jen propped herself on one elbow and looked back at him. "A dollar for your thoughts."

  "Same as usual."

  "I should've saved my dollar."

  "Truth to tell, I was thinking how the Navy brought us together."

  "And then separates us again as often as possible, if not more often." She lay back, staring up at the low ceiling of the rent-a-shack. "I heard a rumor we're heading out again real soon."

  "Me, too."

  "Both ships again?"

  "Looks like it. But that's all I've heard."

  "Another attempt to impress the SASALs, no doubt." She exhaled heavily. "Sometimes I just feel like kicking their butts out of space and getting it over with."

  "It wouldn't be easy or pretty, Jen."

  She rolled her head to glare at him. "Do you think I don't know that?"

  "Sorry." She was on the Michaelson, too, when we blew away that unarmed SASAL research ship. And she's still got more time in space than me. "I hate to think of you facing combat. Not because I doubt how well you'll handle it, but, you know… "

  Jen looked away. "I know. There's luck, good and bad. There's a lot of things. If shooting starts, either you or I might not come home for the victory parades."

  "Or both of us."

  "Yeah." She looked at him again. "In some ways, that'd be easier for me."

  "Me, too. There's only one Jen out there."

  "I bet. There's probably some rule against creating another one of me."

  "You and Herdez."

  "Do not mention her and me in the same breath!"

  "Yes, ma'am." Even if you have a lot more in common with our old XO than you'll ever ad
mit. "I don't know. I knew the risks I was signing on to face. I just never really thought about having to worry about my One and Only facing the same risks."

  Jen snorted a brief laugh. "I never thought I wouldn't have to worry about that. Paul, both your parents were Navy. Why didn't you think you might get involved with another officer?"

  "I don't know. Really. Maybe because by the time I was a teenager Mom was retired and Dad followed soon after. But now here we are and maybe next time we go out the SASALs will do something even more outrageous and someone on our side will shoot and this time it won't be an isolated incident that everyone just wants to sweep under the rug."

  "Maybe. We're doing our jobs as best we can. We'll keep our ships and our shipmates and ourselves intact if we possibly can, no matter what. If we can't, well, hell, we're both doing this job because we believe it's important. Right?"

  "Right."

  "So carpe diem and all that stuff." Jen yawned. "Are we going to talk political events and philosophy all night or do you want to get naked?"

  "Uh, well…"

  "Oh, please. Stop trying to pretend you have to think about it."

  "I like your mind, too."

  "As much as you like my stern?"

  "Uh…"

  "Men."

  "Would you rather I was a woman?"

  She reached for him as she answered. "No way."

  Chapter Four

  "The SASALs weren't impressed enough by our little display." Commander Garcia almost snarled the words. "We're going out again."

  "Second time's the charm," Taylor murmured.

  Garcia ignored her. "No nonsense with foreign ships this time. We're going out with Maury. We'll head for the border of the region of space claimed by the South Asians, and when we get nice and close we'll deactivate our anti-detection devices."

  Taylor snorted. Denaldo raised her eyebrows. Paul nodded. So this time we're going to try to scare the SASALs by sneaking up on them and then going "boo." "Just us and the Maury, sir?"

  "That's right. And here's the fun part." Garcia bared his teeth. "They want us within ten kilometers of each other when we reveal ourselves. Going on the same vector right along the border at high speed."

  "How the hell are we going to coordinate that when we can't see the Maury any better than the SASAL's can?"

  "Because we're good, Mr. Sinclair. And because our fine communications officer Ms. Denaldo is going to figure out a way to pass information between the ships without giving ourselves away."

  Chris spread her hands, looking dazed. "Sir, we can use visual signaling vectored only toward where the Maury 's supposed to be, but if both ships are moving at high speed she might not see the signals in time to react even if she is where we think she is."

  "Then figure out a way they will see them in time to react. Feel free to consult with Ensign Taylor on the matter." Garcia grinned again without any trace of real humor, his expression reminding Paul of a hungry bear. "This is a chance to look good. I expect you all to look good. Is that clear?"

  So you can look good, right, boss? Garcia's got orders coming up before long, too, and pulling this off might help him get real good ones. Paul glanced at Denaldo's face, now tight with repressed annoyance, and then addressed Garcia. "Sir, just how close are we supposed to be to the border?"

  "Twenty kilometers."

  Paul barely kept his jaw from dropping. "At high speed? That's no margin of error at all."

  "We don't need a margin of error, Sinclair. Now stop complaining about the orders and start getting ready to execute them." Garcia checked his data pad, then glared at them again. "Oh, yeah. We're getting underway for this the day after tomorrow. Make sure your divisions are ready."

  Ensign Taylor leaned against the nearest console. "I guess there's no sense in worrying about getting that back-logged maintenance taken care of."

  Garcia focused on her. "Are there any equipment problems that I'm not aware of?"

  "No, sir. Just all the stuff you are aware of. But that's okay. I'll tell my boys and girls to break out the chewing gum and duct tape again and hopefully everything important will hold together until we get back home."

  For once, Garcia's grin held some real humor in it. "It'd better. Now, get to work. Denaldo, I want a workup on your communications plan before noon."

  After Garcia left, Kris Denaldo looked at Taylor. "I sure hope you know a way to do this."

  Taylor nodded. "Matter of fact, I do."

  "You're kidding!"

  "Nope. Ever hear of moon bounce communications?" Denaldo glanced at Paul and then they both shook their heads. "Didn't think so. It was pre-communications satellite stuff. Very primitive. To get a radio signal sent over a real long distance on earth, one station'd send the signal straight at the moon. The signal'd bounce off the moon, and get picked up by the receiver back on earth."

  "That'd take a lot of power. And how did they aim the signal?"

  "It did, and they didn't aim it. As long as the sending and the receiving station both had the moon up, they could bounce signals back and forth. But if we're just sending signals through vacuum we wouldn't need much power. And the spread from a reflected signal makes it real hard to trace back the angle to the sending station. Here's what you propose, Chris. Low power, high frequency signals."

  "HF? That's Stone Age communications. You can't get any decent amount of information into an HF signal."

  "What do you want to send 'em, movies? HF will spread real nice and nobody's going to be monitoring those frequencies for military communications. Just set up a simple code with Maury that'll let you pass basic location, course and speed data. Then every once in a while you guys bounce a signal at each other. You'll be transmitting away from SASAL space to bounce the signal off the moon, and by the time the reflected signal gets back to where we are it'll have spread out so much nobody'll be able to get a decent fix on the place it originated from even if they can work out the reflection angle."

  Denaldo rubbed her chin, her expression showing she was thinking intently. "I can't see why it wouldn't work."

  "Kris, you got Senior Chief Kowalski working for you. 'Ski was probably around when they were doing that moon bounce stuff."

  "I don't think he's quite that old."

  Taylor grinned. "Nah, but tell him I said so. 'Ski won't have any trouble setting up a system like that for us and the Maury to use."

  "Thanks, Akesha."

  "No prob. You need any brilliant plans, Paul? I got a two-for-the-price-of-one deal going this morning."

  "I don't think so."

  "Guess again."

  Paul watched the older and much more experienced but technically more junior officer warily. "What?"

  "The systems will provide proximity alert warnings when we get too close to something, like say that boundary of SASAL-claimed space, right?"

  "Right."

  "But we're already going to be within twenty klicks of that boundary."

  "I… oh, hell. That's inside the parameters, isn't it?"

  "Yup. You'll get continuous alerts. Drive you crazy and the captain won't like it. What do you do?"

  "I have a funny feeling you know what to do already."

  "Hey! You're right, college boy! Use the docking maneuvering system to set the alert distance."

  "But that system won't work at transit speeds-"

  "It will if you manually override the speed settings and input a simple fraction of our real speed. Then you just multiple any warning times by the appropriate factor."

  Paul shook his head in amazement. "Wow. That'll work?"

  "Of course it'll work."

  "It's amazing what I can learn from you."

  The former-enlisted officer gave Paul an exaggerated leer. "That's nothing. Boy, I could teach you things that'd make that girl of yours real happy. Though since we're assigned to the same ship that Wouldn't Be Appropriate," she intoned, emphasizing the capitals. "Your girl might wonder where you learned all that stuff, too. Then again,
she might be so happy she wouldn't care." Taylor laughed, then rubbed her hands together. "Now, let's go tell our sailors the good news about getting underway again in two days and watch morale head for the nearest event horizon."

  Kris Denaldo grinned at Paul as Taylor left. "She likes teasing you about sex because whenever she does you look like some ten year old boy who got caught sneaking peaks at a dirty vid."

  "I do not!"

  "Well, excuse me! Being so innocent and all myself I don't know enough to be embarrassed." Her smile faded and she looked out the hatch. "Fun time's over. Like Akesha said, let's go tell our troops the good news."

  The rest of the day turned into a frantic swirl of activity as Paul huddled with Chief Imari to make sure everything important would be working well enough within two days, tried to plow through due-yesterday paperwork that had already been postponed to deal with other operational matters, and handled a sudden personnel emergency with Petty Officer Daniels when they got word both her parents had died in an accident back on Earth. The last thing he wanted to have to worry about at that moment was dealing with arranging emergency transport for her back to Earth for the funeral, but Paul also knew he didn't have any choice. Luckily, Commander Sykes had connections with the transport office and was able to get an unknowing officer bumped off the next shuttle home to make room for Daniels.

  Sometime late in the day Paul realized he'd already worked into the early evening hours. He put in a hasty call to Jen, who peered blearily back him from the phone display. "Hi."

  "Hi."

  "Bad day. You know why."

  "Yeah. Same here."

  "Bye."

  "Bye."

  And then there was one day left.

  "Bring in all lines." If Sonya Sindh was disappointed about taking the Michaelson out again, she didn't show any sign of it. "Bosun. Shift colors."

  The familiar wavering whistle sounded as the bosun of the watch blew his pipe over the ship's general announcing system. "Underway. Shift colors."

  They were heading out before the Maury, this time, which left Paul no leisure to watch Jen's ship. He focused all his attention on Lieutenant Sindh, acutely aware that her place on the watch team would soon be taken by Lieutenant Val Isakov. Isakov herself was strapped into an observer position near the back of the bridge, hopefully learning by watching. Paul stole a glance back that way, seeing Isakov looking around with an expression that might've described as either calm or unimpressed. She's supposed to be experienced. Qualified as an officer of the deck on the Isherwood. So Sonya Sindh had told him, anyway, since Isakov herself seemed totally uninterested in talking to Paul about anything. Not that I'm looking to be buddy-buddy with every officer I stand watches with. But I'm not looking forward to losing a great officer like Sonya, who I know I can depend upon, and getting an unknown quantity in return, supposedly qualified or not.