Rule of Evidence ps-3

by John G. Hemry

  "No, ma'am. A supply officer."

  "One with a more than adequate supply of wisdom, it appears! Jen, are you having difficulty working?"

  She shrugged. "I haven't had much to work on."

  "What you have been doing. Have you been able to do it?"

  "Of course I have."

  "You're completing tasks assigned to you?"

  Jen glared at the chaplain. "I always complete tasks assigned to me."

  "Do you dream about the explosion? About those events?"

  "No."

  "Nothing? No flashbacks?"

  " No."

  Chaplain Hughes looked over at Paul, then back at Jen. "There's a time for strength and a time for confronting problems."

  "I don't have any problems."

  "I understand your father is commanding officer of the Mahan?"

  "Yes."

  "And the Mahan just departed on a long patrol. Your mother is…?"

  "Dead."

  "I'm sorry." The chaplain leaned forward. "Your father a commanding officer and your mother dead. You must be pretty tough."

  Jen shrugged again. "I'm nothing special."

  "You saved, let's see, twenty-one sailors in the aft section of the Maury. That sounds pretty special to me."

  Jen sat silent for a moment. "Anyone else could've done the same."

  "Maybe. But the fact that you did it counts." Jen didn't answer. "Listen, Jen, this is just a first preliminary session-"

  "I don't need any more sessions."

  "You'll get them, anyway. Courtesy of the U.S. Navy."

  "I don't — "

  "Did I mention the sessions are mandatory? By order of the Fleet Commander?" Jen subsided, looking sulky. "It won't be that bad, Jen."

  "I have other things to do, ma'am."

  "Mary. Sadly, not enough other things. Maybe you won't need much help. But my job is to see if you do and help you through any rough patches."

  Jen leaned forward, her face earnest. "I help myself. I mean that. I can't go running for a shoulder to cry on whenever things get tough. I have to be able to work through it myself."

  "You can't be weak, in other words."

  "I didn't say that."

  "This isn't about being strong or weak, Jen. It's about being human. You've been subjected to tremendous stresses. If you were a piece of this ship and had been stressed, you might need to be reinforced. Not because you weren't strong, but because even the strongest can be overstressed. Do you see?"

  Jen nodded with visible reluctance. "I honestly do not believe I need reinforcement."

  "I believe you. Let me do my job, though." Hughes checked her watch. "Too many people to see and too little time. I'll schedule the follow-up sessions and make sure you're notified." She pointed to Paul. "Use him."

  Jen couldn't help smiling. "I do."

  "I didn't mean it that way. Though if it helps… no, just remember you've got someone to confide in, someone who won't think you're not strong if you need to talk." Hughes looked at Paul. "Right?" Paul nodded. "You've got my contact information, Jen. I'm always available, too. But I have to leave now. Paul, could I see you for a moment?"

  He followed Commander Hughes out of the stateroom. She studied him for a long moment. "Paul, I think you understand Jen's in serious denial about the effect this has had on her."

  "That's who she is, ma'am."

  "Mary! You line officers… I can tell Jen's like that. She never admits weakness, does she? Well, you watch her and you contact me if you think I need to know something. At some point Jen's going to confront her feelings, and somebody'll need to be there for her."

  "What feelings? Do you know?"

  "Not for certain. In a case like this survivor's guilt is common. 'Why did I survive when others died?'"

  "She said something like that. The first time I saw her after the accident."

  "She did? Then she's at least admitted to that feeling. But there'll likely be more. Feeling she should've prevented it, done something, somehow. She's maintaining a protective shell of being professional and controlled because that's what she thinks the world wants to see, but there's got to be a lot of doubts inside."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "Mary!' Chaplain Hughes walked off, shaking her head.

  Chapter Seven

  Carl Meadows didn't seem to have changed much as he grinned out from the display screen at Paul's desk. Paul hadn't expected a video letter from his old shipmate, but it'd been a pleasant surprise. "Greetings from the Pentagon, Paul. Long time no see. I miss you guys." Carl's smile faded. "Truth is, I sent this because I heard about the Maury and you guys. That must've been real tough. Thank God Jen made it okay. Just wanted you guys to know I'm still thinking about you."

  Meadows ran one hand through his hair. "There's been a whole lot of running around in the Pentagon. Admirals and generals bouncing off the walls right and left. All those stars in motion at once reminds me of maneuvering the Merry Mike. Anyway, I get the real feeling they're trying to put a lid on all this. It's no secret that we're not really ready for a war in space with the SASALs, and I don't think they're really ready for a war with us. Nobody wants to start shooting at each other down here on Earth, either. We're seeing a lot of stuff about cooling things down, confidence-building measures and junk like that. There's going to be a lot of pressure on the investigators to figure out what happened to the Maury as fast as possible, and I gather all the military and political brass are keeping their fingers crossed that whatever it was didn't involve the South Asians."

  Carl rambled on some more, with Paul enjoying listening to his friend again, then closed his letter with a list of people to say hi to on the Michaelson.

  Colleen Kilgary stuck her head in his stateroom. "Did you hear?"

  "Hear what?"

  "Preliminary investigation results released."

  Carl had been right. Given the damage to the Maury, that was a very quick announcement. "What did they say?"

  "Bomb definitely ruled out. No residue of any kind that'd be consistent with that."

  "That should calm the war talk a little."

  "Also, external sabotage ruled out. The Maury 's safety interfaces would've kept any software or hardware problems from producing that kind of catastrophic failure of so many components in engineering."

  "Wow." Paul stared at his now-blank display. "Are they saying what they think did happen?"

  "Not yet. But I thought you'd like to tell Jen, just in case she hasn't heard."

  "Thanks."

  Colleen left and Randy Diego entered, dropping into the seat at his own desk. Paul waved in greeting. "Hey, Randy, did you hear what Colleen said? No bomb."

  "Really? That's good."

  Paul gave Randy a curious glance. "What's up? You seem distracted."

  "No. No. Just, you know, busy."

  "Sure." Paul bent back to his own work.

  "Uh, okay if I ask you something, Paul?"

  Paul glanced at Randy again, alerted by his hesitant tone. "What about?"

  "Well, I mean, you and Jen, you're both on active duty and you're dating and all." Randy paused, looking into one corner of the stateroom while Paul waited. "I was just wondering how that's working out."

  "It's working out fine, Randy. You know we don't see each other nearly as often as we'd like. My ship's out, or her ship's out, or we've got duty or have to work all night or something. You know how it goes. And of course there's the hazards of the job. I guess if my girlfriend worked as a stockbroker on Earth I wouldn't have to worry about that kind of thing. But since Jen was on the Maury I had some real heart-stopping moments." He found it easier to talk about, now. Now that the immediate fears of those awful hours had finally begun receding into memory like the remnants of a bad dream.

  "Uh, yeah. But, what about… uh… I mean… you guys must've gotten interested in each other while you were both onboard the same ship, right? While you and Jen were both on the Michaelson?"

  Paul frowned, not sure now whe
re Randy was trying to go. "Not really. We were friends. We didn't do anything beyond that until Jen transferred to the Maury." That wasn't strictly true, since they'd actually gotten very personal a few nights before Jen's transfer, but Paul knew the relationship had remained hidden until Jen had left the Michaelson. Hidden from everyone except the Michaelson 's old XO, that is. But Commander Herdez had trusted their professionalism. Randy, on the other hand, isn't a bad guy, but he's not the sharpest tool in the shed, either. No way Herdez would've cut him that slack.

  Randy nodded rapidly. "Yeah. Sure. But you got to know each other real well before that, right?"

  Alarm bells finally sounded in Paul's mind. Great. Randy's got the hots for one of the other officers. "Not that well. In no way, shape or form. It's a bad idea, Randy. It's also against regulations. Keep it professional until she leaves the ship, Randy."

  "I didn't say-"

  "You don't have to. Look, maybe she feels the same interest you do. If she does, you can try dating after she leaves the ship. If she's not interested after she leaves the ship, then she's not interested now. Right?" Randy avoided Paul's eyes. "There's no way to hide a real romance inside the wardroom, Randy. Anybody'd be able to see you two making goopy eyes at each other." Jen's phrase, though Paul'd never been sure exactly what "goopy eyes" were.

  "But-" Randy interrupted himself this time, still avoiding Paul's gaze.

  Paul felt another suspicion arise. "How recent is this?"

  "Who said it was recent? Who said anything's recent or anything's going on?"

  "Has Isakov been flirting with you?"

  Randy jerked his head around, then tried to pretend nonchalance. "A lieutenant? I wish."

  "Randy, she's been teasing at me off and on. When she's not acting like I'm someone she's never seen before and doesn't want to talk to. I think it's some kind of weird power game she plays. Stay away from her."

  "You know, just maybe there's some good looking female officers out there who don't think you're the only game in town."

  "This isn't about my ego, Randy. I don't want anything to do with Isakov outside of work. She's trouble."

  "I wasn't born yesterday. I can take care of myself."

  Famous last words. "Be careful. Think really hard and don't do anything the crew might find out about." His sailors didn't exactly love Randy from all Paul had heard, which wasn't necessarily a problem except they didn't respect him as much as they should, either. Randy had too great a tendency to insist he was right when he wasn't. If he handed the crew a way to get back at him… "Just think."

  "Sure. Right. Fine. Sorry I brought it up." Randy Diego turned away, hunching forward toward his display, his back clearly communicating an end to the conversation. A few minutes later he stood and left the stateroom without a see-you-later.

  Paul shook his head. Maybe one of the other female officers can talk some sense into Randy. Why couldn't he get interested in Gabriel if he wants to mess around on the ship? Not that Gabriel's acted interested in him. She's got a load more commonsense than Randy does.

  He tried to concentrate on his work again.

  "Mr. Sinclair?"

  Paul threw up his hands. "I give up. What's up, Sheriff?"

  Sharpe looked puzzled. "Something wrong, sir?"

  "Just the usual one-damned-thing-after-another. So, what's up?"

  "Drug bust."

  "Fastow, again?"

  Sharpe shook his head. "Nope. She's either scared straight or lucky. This is some bright boys in Mr. Diego's division."

  "Dealers or users?"

  "Maybe both. I'm going to contact the local special agents to see if they can help run down where our boys are getting their stuff. Commander Kwan told me to 'keep you informed' since you're the legal officer." Sharpe rendered a rigidly correct salute. "I hereby inform you, sir."

  Paul casually returned the salute. "Thanks."

  "My pleasure, sir. Anything to make your days brighter and more interesting."

  "I've had a bit too much of that, lately. How are you at making them darker and duller?"

  "Hi." Jen knocked on the hatch to Paul's stateroom. "Hello, Sheriff."

  Sharpe inclined his head and touched his brow. "Nice to see you, ma'am."

  "Likewise. What're you two plotting?"

  "Mr. Sinclair was just complaining he hasn't had enough legal stuff to keep him busy lately."

  Paul snorted derisively. "That tells you what a judge of character Sheriff Sharpe is. See you later, Sheriff."

  Sharpe moved to leave, but Jen raised a hand to forestall him. "Can you hang around a minute? Something kind of funny happened that you might help me with."

  Sharpe nodded. "Of course, ma'am."

  "Have you worked with special agents much? The guys in the Naval Criminal Investigative Service?"

  Sharpe frowned, but nodded again. "Yes, ma'am. Mr. Sinclair and I were just talking about that, as a matter of fact. I'm a cop, they're cops."

  "I just had a long meeting with some of them. About the Maury."

  "Your ship?" Sharpe eyed her. "They interviewed you about that?"

  "They didn't call it an interview. They just said they wanted to meet with me. But… it was weird." Paul noticed Sharpe's expression grow more intent as Jen continued. "First they made a lot of small talk. Then they finally gave me something to sign before we really talked about the Maury. They said it was all routine and no big deal. I told them I was an engineer and I didn't sign anything without reading it."

  "What'd it say?"

  She glanced from Paul to Sharpe. "The part I really focused on was where it talked about waiving my rights to counsel. I asked them what that was about and they said it was all routine. Then they started asking why I thought I needed a lawyer." Sharpe began frowning. "I don't like that kind of pressure. I gave them back their form and told them I wouldn't sign it. They didn't get upset, seemed not to care, but they started asking a bunch of questions."

  "What kind of questions, ma'am?" Petty Officer Sharpe seemed more concerned every time Paul looked at him.

  Jen shrugged, her expression aggravated. "Why I'd gone aft before the explosion. I told them I'd been ordered to do that. Then they asked who ordered me and I said the chief engineer. I told them it was all in the official statements I'd provided. Then they wanted to know if I had any witnesses to that. Witnesses! Of course not. Everyone who witnessed it is dead."

  She shook her head. "They asked why I'd gone aft, and I told them about the power coupling acting up. They asked about records on that, and I pointed out they'd have been in the engineering logs which were destroyed by the accident."

  Paul let his puzzlement show. "But all they'd have to do is examine the power coupling. That'd show what was wrong with it."

  "No, it wouldn't." Jen bit her lip. "It showed… shows… what is wrong with it. After the shock of the explosions that ripped through the Maury. I never got to the coupling before that happened. I don't know if what's wrong now is what was wrong then."

  Sharpe seemed to be chewing on the inside of his cheek. "Anything else, ma'am?"

  "Just a lot of unconnected stuff. How was my relationship with my father, was work on the Maury really stressful, how things were going with my boyfriend." She glared at Sharpe. "Like I was going to talk about things like that with them! Then they asked if I had any ideas how someone could've caused an explosion like that if they'd wanted to-"

  "Did you answer that one, ma'am?"

  Jen frowned, then shook her head at Sharpe's question. "No. I just said it would've taken a tremendous amount of overloads to cause that strong an explosion."

  "And they asked you about your love life, ma'am?"

  "Yes. I told you they did. And I told them it was none of their business."

  Paul looked over at Sharpe. "Sheriff, why were they asking Ms. Shen questions like that? What are they driving at? You seem to know."

  Sharpe licked his lips, his face uncertain for the first time Paul could remember. "Yes, sir, I know what
they're driving at. At least, I know what I'd be driving at if I asked questions like that, and tried to get my subject to waive rights to a lawyer."

  "What?"

  "Sir, I'd like some time to look into it."

  Jen leaned toward him. "Sharpe, you've got some idea. Tell me."

  "Ma'am, I'd really rather-"

  "Tell me. What's up with those guys?"

  "They think you were involved in some way. In the explosion."

  Jen's face twisted in confusion. "Involved? What-?" The confusion shifted, transforming into rage. "They think I caused it?"

  "Maybe, ma'am." Sharpe took a step back, as if worried what Jen might do.

  Paul shook his head, unable to believe what he'd heard. "Sheriff, why the hell would they believe that?"

  Sharpe eyed Jen with concern as he spoke. "Meaning no disrespect to Ms. Shen, sir, and not implying I believe this is right, but what it sounds like is they think maybe someone caused the explosion, because if I've heard right they're ruling out other causes? So I'm guessing what they're thinking is that maybe somehow someone caused the explosion. Since Ms. Shen reached safety just before it blew, they're looking at her. From what Ms. Shen says they were asking her it looks like they're also trying to find a motive."

  "Why would they reach that kind of conclusion? That's insane!" Paul felt anger flaring within him and fought it down, knowing he'd have to keep Jen from blowing her own top.

  Sharpe bit his lip. "Some guesses, sir. If they can't find a mechanical or software reason for the explosion, they'll look for a human agent. Something must have caused it. If they think they've ruled out hardware, that means they'll look for a sailor. Someone who deliberately or accidentally screwed up. And anyone who escaped while everyone else bought it." He looked straight at Jen. "Ms. Shen, it does sound to me like they're investigating whether you did it."

  Instead of erupting into further anger, Jen sat still, her red face growing pale. "OhmyGod. Paul? How can they?"

  Paul grabbed her shoulder. "They can't and they won't. Sheriff, can you talk any sense into those guys?"

  "They won't be doing this on their own, sir. They'll be following the lead of someone higher up."

  "It's ridiculous! No one who knows Ms. Shen could ever believe it."