Rule of Evidence ps-3

by John G. Hemry

  Gabriel shook her head. "I was talking to Chief Meyer and Colleen. They say all we can tell right now is that the engineering spaces were destroyed by internal explosions."

  "Explosions? Plural?"

  "They think so. Very close together, though, so it seemed like one big explosion."

  Mike Bristol shook his head in turn. "We'll find out for sure, right?"

  "Well, Colleen wasn't sure of that. A lot of stuff was destroyed, including the engineering logs, and a lot of the, uh, fragments that might contain evidence were blown into space and dispersed so wide we'll never find them all."

  Randy leaned forward. "Maybe it was a bomb." Everyone looked at him. "I mean it. The SASALs don't like us. Maybe they figured out how to get a bomb onboard the Maury."

  "That's ridiculous," Kris Denaldo insisted.

  "How do you know? Nobody else seems to know what caused the explosion. I'm not going to be the only one who thinks the SASALs might've had something to do with it."

  Paul stared at the ensign. He's right. Remember the Maine. Did the SASALs sabotage the Maury somehow? If they did, could we prove it? If they didn't, will that matter to those who want war? He found himself torn inside. I don't want to think those sailors on the Maury died because of an accident. Just by chance. But do I want their deaths to lead to war? He became aware people were looking at him again. "What?"

  "We were just wondering if Jen'd said anything about what she thought'd caused the explosion," Randy explained.

  "No. And I haven't asked her and I won't ask her." Paul checked the time, eager for an excuse to leave. "I need to be in Combat. See you guys."

  It was only partly a lie. It seemed Paul usually had to be in Combat, but he didn't have any specific requirement at the moment. He reached Combat, had a few words with the sailors from his division who were standing watch, then sat down at his console and stared at the screen. He wasn't sure how long he sat like that.

  "Hi, sailor."

  Paul looked up at Jen. "Hi. What brings you to Combat?"

  She hooked herself through the tie down on Paul's console so she could float nearby. "Boredom and a desire for decent company. That and I have no appetite and the rest of my wardroom is eating at the moment."

  "You should eat, Jen."

  "Yeah. Yeah. I'm eating enough. Do you need anyone to stand watch up here?"

  "You?"

  Jen seemed unable to decide between angry and amused. "I was standing watches in Combat while you were still staging panty raids in college, Mr. Sinclair."

  "I didn't go to college. I went to the Naval Academy."

  "Oh, yeah. Trade school. Don't avoid the question. Can I do some work up here?"

  "Well, I'm sure-"

  One of Paul's sailors called out "attention on deck" as Captain Hayes entered Combat. "Good afternoon, Paul. How're you doing, Ms. Shen?"

  Jen smiled politely. "I'm fine, sir. Thank you for asking. My shipmates and I are very grateful for the hospitality the Michaelson has shown us." The reply sounded to Paul almost mechanical, as if she were reciting a script, but he didn't think anyone who didn't know Jen as well as he did would detect that.

  "It's the very least we can do. Do you personally need anything?"

  "Yes, sir. I need something to do. I'm a line officer, sir. I'm going crazy with all this free time."

  Captain Hayes grinned. "That's not a complaint I'm used to hearing from junior officers. I may be able to do something about that. A ship can always use another officer, but I'll be frank. I've been advised to minimize the stress on you and your fellow officers from the Maury. Watch standing is out."

  "Sir, right now I'd do paperwork and be glad for it."

  "Can you concentrate on that sort of thing?"

  Jen's smile grew strained. "It beats concentrating on other things. If you know what I mean, sir. I've served on the Michaelson. As auxiliaries officer, before I went to the Maury. I'm familiar with the ship."

  "So I understand, Lieutenant Shen." Captain Hayes gave Jen a long, appraising look, as she gazed back at him. "I'll talk to our chief engineer about getting you some gainful employment, Ms. Shen."

  Jen didn't bother trying to hide her reaction. "Thank you, sir. That really means a lot to me."

  "I try to look out for my officers, Ms. Shen, and if you're unhappy then Paul here would be unhappy, too." Hayes winked at Paul, smiled, and left.

  Jen kept her eyes on the hatch after the Captain had left. "What's he like?"

  "Hayes? Really good." Paul hesitated. "He served with the Chief Engineer on the Maury. They were on the John Glenn together."

  Jen's face froze for a moment, then she smiled sadly. "Juko was a good boss, too. What about your Chief Engineer?"

  "Commander Destin?"

  "Yeah. What's Destin like?"

  "She's an exile."

  Jen laughed for just a moment. "Do you remember when I explained that stuff to you? Exiles and slackers and all? A few days after you joined the Michaelson?"

  "Oh, yeah. I remember. You scared the hell out of me."

  "Me personally or what I told you?"

  "Both, I think."

  She smiled briefly. "So Destin's an exile."

  "And she doesn't like me, and something must've happened to her once that really hurt, because she's always walking around looking melancholy."

  "Wonderful. But I'd be happy to settle for a boss like that if I can just get something to do. Let's see if your captain can wrangle some work for me from her."

  Paul just nodded back, not wanting to share what Ensign Gabriel had told the other officers at lunch, and hoping Captain Hayes would change Destin's mind. Once she's seen how well Jen works, even Destin will have to admit Jen's really good.

  After chatting a bit longer, Jen finally admitted to hunger, so Paul escorted her to the wardroom, then headed for his own stateroom. Paul's path took him by the executive officer's cabin. Just before he reached it, the hatch opened and Commander Destin swung out, her face flushed and her mouth tight. Commander Kwan followed, also looking unhappy. Seeing Paul in the passageway, Destin glowered at him for a long moment before turning and heading away. Kwan spotted Paul as well and gave him an annoyed look before going back into his stateroom.

  Oh, great. Now what? Destin hasn't liked me since Silver's court-martial, but this seems pretty recent. Wait a minute. The captain said he'd talk to Destin about putting Jen to work. I guess he already did. Too bad I couldn't overhear that conversation. Destin must've just been venting to Kwan about it, and Kwan's not thrilled, either.

  But it'd make Jen a little happier, and that made it worth it.

  "Hey, Paul, have you seen this stuff?"

  Paul looked over to Ensign Randy Diego, who had a news feed visible on his terminal. This close to Franklin, they could pick up the local data stream without much delay, and with the whole world knowing the Michaelson was bringing most of the Maury 's survivors home there was no reason Franklin shouldn't maintain a constant stream of communications to the ship. "No. What is it? Something about the Maury?"

  "You might say it's about the Maury! They're blaming it on the SASALs. Just like I said they would!"

  "What?" Paul punched buttons, hurriedly bringing the news feed up on his own display. Remember the Maury. Just like I feared. Paul switched news channels several times, finding the same stories being reported on each. He finally settled on a channel with several talking heads who seemed marginally more civil to each other than the average commentators.

  An angry man held up his fist. "It's obvious the South Asian Alliance had to be behind this. There's no other explanation."

  Another man held up both hands, palm out. "Now, George, it's a possibility. There's no evidence-"

  "Evidence? Ships don't just blow up! You've seen the Navy's statements on this."

  "The Navy says they don't know what could've caused such explosions. That's not the same as saying they know it was sabotage!"

  "Sabotage, hell! Try act of war!"

&
nbsp; Paul muted the sound, shaking his head. Act of war? Somebody's trying to get us to start fighting a hot war with the SASALs because of what happened to the Maury? Well, Randy was right. Too bad. Unless the SASALs did do it. Then I want them to pay.

  Randy cleared his throat. "Paul? How could the SASALs blow up the Maury like that? Our engineers won't really talk about it. I mean, you can't exactly smuggle that much explosives onto a ship without someone noticing, right?"

  Paul sighed. "I'd guess people are claiming they did smuggle a bomb on board because they don't understand how hard it'd be. Or that it was some other kind of sabotage. Messing with software or hardware so all the systems in engineering on the Maury blew."

  "A virus? Could a virus do that?"

  "They're not supposed to be able to do that. Nothing's supposed to be able to do that, from what I've heard. I'm not sure how we'd ever prove it anyway, with all that equipment blown to hell along with whatever software it carried."

  "Do you think the SASALs did it?"

  Paul hesitated, thinking through his answer. "I don't know they did, and I don't know they didn't. But I haven't seen anything to make me believe they did. And I can't believe the SASALs would risk war with us in order to take out the Maury."

  "A lot of other people believe it. I saw some public opinion polls."

  And what's true sometimes isn't nearly as important as what people believe to be true. There's been wars fought in the past because of that. But, dammit, if I'm going to fight a war I'd like there to be a solid reason for it. "Randy, a lot of people are being told that right now. Hopefully everyone'll have time to think things through before rushing off to avenge the Maury."

  "I'd think if anybody'd want to get even with them, it'd be you!"

  Paul stared back at Diego for a long moment, fighting down a wave of anger before he replied. "If they did it, I want them to pay for it. But I don't want to start a war because some people didn't want to wait until we got answers."

  "But if Jen had-"

  " That's my business. Not yours." And I'm getting pretty tired of people trying to leverage my relationship with Jen.

  It was Randy's turn to stare, blinking at the uncharacteristic outburst from Paul. Then he flushed a bit, shrugged, and turned away. "Sure."

  Paul gritted his teeth, concentrating on relaxing. "Sorry I blew up like that." He was out the hatch of the stateroom before Randy could reply.

  Combat didn't seem to offer much refuge any more, and the wardroom was likely to have some of the officers from the Maury hanging out to kill time. Paul wandered through the ship, wishing they were docking at Franklin right now instead of the next morning.

  "Mr. Sinclair?"

  Paul looked up to see Senior Chief Kowalski regarding him, and realized he was right outside the chiefs' quarters. "Hi, Senior Chief."

  "You doing okay, sir?"

  "I think so, Senior Chief."

  "May I ask how Ms. Shen is doing, sir?"

  Paul smiled. He knew Senior Chief Kowalski had always respected Jen. "She's about as okay as she can be. I think. You know."

  "I understand, sir. Helluva thing."

  "She's glad she managed to get assigned some paperwork, but, uh…" Oh, hell, I shouldn't discuss this with the senior chief.

  But Kowalski nodded. "She don't feel too welcome in engineering, right, sir?"

  "How'd you know?"

  "Sailors, sir. Superstition. Ms. Shen survived while the rest of the Maury 's engineering department got wiped out. There's people who worry about that."

  Paul stared. "Like she's cursed or something?"

  "No one's saying that, sir, and I sure as hell ain't saying it. But, it's there."

  Maybe that's why Destin didn't want Jen working for her. "I don't believe it. She's not exactly unscathed by the experience, and now they want to slap some sort of scarlet letter on her to keep her out of the work she loves and knows best?"

  Senior Chief Kowalski held his hands up in a calming gesture. "Sir, I wouldn't get all upset. It won't help. I'm just telling you so you'll maybe understand a bit better and help Ms. Shen through it. It'll pass. Ms. Shen's one fine officer. You know that. She'll do okay."

  Paul nodded. "Thanks for caring, Senior Chief. I wish I could do more."

  "Me, too, sir. For her and a lot of other people."

  "Yeah."

  It felt very odd, coming into port this time. No festivities, despite some joy at the Michaelson 's return. No one wanted to look like they were celebrating while the survivors of the Maury filed off the ship. "We'll be staying at temporary barracks near the shipyard section of the base," Jen told Paul. "When Captain Halis brings the Maury in, we'll be there to start putting her back together."

  First aboard the Michaelson was the Fleet Commander. Bells bonged, bosun whistles wailed and sideboys snapped to attention as the admiral boarded to talk personally to the Maury 's survivors. Right after the admiral came what seemed like an army of others — chaplains and secular counselors to deal with trauma, Navy technical investigators to interview the survivors from the Maury and members of the Michaelson 's crew, shipyard workers to assess the state of the Michaelson, check her for exterior damage from the Maury 's debris field, and determine how much maintenance she'd need to be fully capable again.

  Paul found himself in Kris Denaldo's stateroom again, this time not only with Jen but with a chaplain who extended her hand in greeting. "Mary Hughes. I'm here to talk with Ms. Shen, and it was suggested that you be present as well."

  "Okay, Commander Hughes."

  "Mary."

  "Yes, ma'am. Uh… Mary."

  They sat, close in the confines of the women's ensign locker, Jen sitting with the rigid correctness of an officer in a formal meeting with a superior. The chaplain leaned back a bit and smiled at her. "Ideally, this sort of thing should happen within a few days of the event. We couldn't do that this time for obvious reasons. I understand Paul was able to give you some comfort immediately afterwards, at least."

  Jen flicked a glance at Paul, who made an expression meant to convey "I didn't tell her that." Then she focused back on the chaplain. "Ma'am, immediately after the… event I was focused on saving the lives of the sailors trapped with me in the aft end of the ship. I didn't see Mr. Sinclair until some time after that."

  "I'm sorry. I should've stated that differently. Could you please tell me what happened to you? I mean, just before and after the event."

  "The explosion, you mean." Paul saw the muscles in Jen's jaw tighten for a moment. "I've already provided statements about that. I can get you copies."

  "I'd prefer to hear it from you."

  Jen blew out a breath in apparently barely controlled exasperation. "All right. I was ordered aft to check out a malfunctioning power coupling."

  "Ordered by…?"

  "The-" Jen paused to take another breath. "Chief Engineer."

  "Commander Juko?"

  "Yes. He sent me aft, told me to see what I could figure out from looking at the thing directly because we kept getting odd fluctuations in the remote readings."

  "Why'd he send you? Because he trusted you?"

  "Yes." Jen smiled for the first time, though defiantly. "I'd just cleared the after survival bulkhead when…. whatever happened happened. It blew a lot of holes in the bulkhead, too many to patch. I gathered what intact survival suits and survivors I could find, took them to an interior compartment to await rescue, and when conditions began to look critical I went looking for help."

  The chaplain waited several seconds after Jen stopped talking. "That's all?"

  "That's all."

  "You must have been severely affected by the explosion, even before you knew how bad it had been."

  "I was worried," Jen admitted. "But I didn't have time to dwell on it. I had a job to do. That's all I thought about."

  "But later, sitting in that interior compartment, there was time to think then. Time to feel."

  Jen shook her head, her face unyielding. "I was focus
ed on keeping those sailors alive. That's all I thought about."

  "What you had to do to save them?"

  "That's right."

  "You didn't think about yourself?"

  "Only to the extent that I needed to stay calm and in charge."

  The chaplain leaned back some more, eyeing Jen. "You had to stay calm. You couldn't relax, couldn't think about past events."

  "That's right."

  "Did you have any thoughts or emotions about the other personnel in engineering?"

  Paul noticed Jen's cheek twitch and wondered if the chaplain had seen it, too. Jen took several breaths before answering. "I… hoped they were okay."

  "You were worried about them."

  "Of course I was!"

  "But you couldn't do anything to help them." Jen's mouth opened for a moment, then closed. "Do you think perhaps you focused so intently on saving those sailors with you because that was something you could do?"

  Jen finally looked fully over at Paul, her eyes wide, then back at the chaplain. "That was all I could do at the time," she agreed in a soft voice.

  "All you could do. You wanted to do more?"

  "Yes! Of course! But I couldn't even get out through the damned internal airlock! And when I wanted to find another route forward I had all those sailors looking to me for help. To me. I couldn't go forward until I did everything I could for them. I had to do that."

  The chaplain nodded. "Yes. You did. You couldn't go to try to help the others in engineering because those sailors needed you."

  "That's what I said. Ma'am."

  "And you learned later that there never was anything you could've done. They were already dead." Jen flushed, though with anger or other emotion Paul couldn't tell. "You were able to save those sailors, though. You made the right decision."

  Jen looked down, then back up as she suddenly grinned tightly. "Yes. Someone advised me I should try to focus on what I could and did do and not on what I couldn't have done."

  Chaplain Hughes' eyebrows rose and she looked over at Paul. "You told her that?"

  Paul nodded. "I received that same advice some time ago, after a fatality on my ship."

  "It's good advice. You talked to a grief counselor?"