Burden of Proof

by John G. Hemry

  Paul's console lit up with close to a hundred unknown contact markers, each on a different path and each radiating different information which had to be evaluated in order to guess at its identity. Oh, this is going to be ugly. "All right, everybody. I want a threat evaluation for all contacts based on current trajectories, then threat IDs for all contacts, then a threat hierarchy based on trajectory and probable ID. Don't depend on the targeting and tracking systems to get all that automatically. They're sure to have thrown in some curves that'll confuse the automated systems."

  "You heard the lieutenant!" Chief Imari added, then she quickly divided up the tasks among the operations specialists.

  The next fifteen minutes passed in a blur of activity. Paul tried to monitor everything his sailors were doing without trying to do their jobs for them. With all the information at his fingertips, it was entirely too easy to focus on the details of one small part of the job instead of keeping an eye on the big picture.

  A majority of the contacts had been assigned identification when Operations Specialist Second Class Kaji called in. "Chief? I've got something funny here."

  "Show me. Give the lieutenant a copy, too."

  Paul frowned as his display focused on a small segment of the incoming contacts. "What's up, Kaji?"

  "Sir, right here." Kaji highlighted an almost invisible contact. "It's very faint."

  "What do you think, Chief?"

  "I'd call it a system echo off the stronger contacts, sir. Except this is a simulation and they don't show echoes because the sims assume the systems work perfectly."

  "Then what is it?"

  Petty Officer Kaji spoke up. "It could be a warship, sir. With all masking systems operational."

  Something clicked in Paul's memory. "It's a Pile On Maneuver."

  Chief Imari sounded puzzled. "A what?"

  "A Pile On Maneuver. It's a theoretical plan I got briefed on in one of my classes at the Academy. You shove a lot of debris toward your objective, then hide your own approach inside the apparently natural shower of space objects."

  "Sir, how the hell would you get so much junk flying on the trajectories you need? That sounds cool in theory, but it doesn't sound very practical."

  "That's why it's still a theoretical plan, Chief. But simulations don't have to worry about real-world practical considerations. I think Kaji's spotted the joker in this deck. Good job."

  "Real good," Chief Imari agreed.

  Paul tagged the faint contact with a 'possible warship, identity unknown' symbol, then called the bridge to verbally pass the information as well. The drill spun on for another thirty minutes of frantic activity before the screens displayed an "exercise completed" message. While Paul was still wondering how they'd done, the command circuit sounded with the voice of Captain Hayes. "Good job, Combat. You nailed that one."

  Paul grinned at Chief Imari, who offered back a thumbs-up, while the enlisted trackers exchanged high fives.

  After another hour of hearing drills being run elsewhere on the ship, the euphoria of doing well had faded for Paul. Man, there's so much else I could be doing right now, but I don't dare try in case Kwan or Garcia is checking our terminals to see what we're up to. How long are we going to have to stay at general quarters?

  His headset sounded again. "Paul? Kris."

  "Here. You sound better."

  "I had to either get better or die. Thank God for aspirin. Have you seen Lieutenant Silver?"

  "Who?"

  "Lieutenant Silver. He's Carl Meadows' relief, remember?"

  "Oh, yeah. No, I haven't seen him. Why would he be up here?"

  "I don't know. But he's not anyplace else. Surely he reported onboard this morning."

  "Why not try the quarterdeck? It's still crewed."

  A brief pause followed. "Duh. I guess my brain's not working all that well, yet. Wait one." Paul waited, a task made easier by the fact he had nothing else he could do at the moment. "Okay. Chief Hadasa is officer of the deck inport. Lieutenant Silver showed up about half an hour after the fast cruise started. Since the brow had been sealed except for emergencies, they had to tell him to leave and come back later."

  Paul found himself laughing. "Lieutenant Silver certainly has a remarkable sense of timing."

  "You can say that again. At this rate, he and Carl may never meet. See you at lunch. If general quarters is secured by then. Maybe we'll have to eat battle rations at our combat stations."

  "Ugh. Good thing Sykes got rid of the oldest rations."

  "Do you really think that'll make any difference in how they taste? Later."

  A weary half-hour later, the bosun mate passed the welcome word to secure from general quarters. A small cheer erupted in Combat. Paul took off his headset, rubbed one ear where the headset had rubbed it, then looked around at his division. "Good job, people."

  Chief Imari nodded. "Thank you, sir. Now that drills are over we can get back to work." The other enlisted groaned at her words. "But I guess we can let 'em eat lunch first."

  "Careful, Chief. You'll spoil them." A chorus of playful protests followed Paul as he headed for his own stateroom. He wasn't sure how he looked after hurriedly throwing on his uniform this morning, but he couldn't imagine it was all that great. I'd better make sure I look halfway decent before I run into Kwan or Hayes.

  Chapter Five

  "Hey, Paul!"

  Paul turned, puzzled by the hail since he didn't recognize the voice. A tall, lanky lieutenant stood at the other end of the passageway, Carl Meadows at his side. Carl beckoned and Paul walked toward them. "This is Lieutenant Silver, Paul."

  "Hi." Silver flashed a big smile and extended his hand. "Call me Scott. You're another ring-knocker from the Academy, right?"

  "Yup. Nice to see you, Scott."

  "Oh, I bet you're not half as happy to see me as Carl was. It seemed like I couldn't get on this ship!"

  Carl nodded. "It's a real short turnover. We only have a couple of days left."

  "But I was Auxiliaries Officer on the Rickover, so I can handle the turnover for main propulsion assistant quickly."

  Paul gave Carl a puzzled look. "Main propulsion assistant? But you're the Weapons and Fire Control Officer."

  Carl spread his hands. "It's a rolling turnover. Lieutenant Kilgary's taking over my job, and Scott Silver's taking over Kilgary's job."

  "Kilgary's going to weapons? Why?"

  "Colleen's afraid of being typecast in engineering and being forced to serve in that type of assignment her entire career, so she wants to get experience in another area. She's too late, if you ask me, but I understand why she's doing it."

  "Yeah." Paul didn't know Colleen Kilgary all that well because their duty sections and watch patterns rarely crossed. But I'm sure she'll do great as Carl's replacement, and having her onboard after Scott takes over her job will mean he has a source of knowledge to draw on. It should be a win-win situation for everybody. "Is she going to replace you as my underway officer of the deck?"

  "Nope," Silver replied with another smile. "That'll be me. Carl tells me you're a great junior officer of the deck, so I'm looking forward to it."

  Carl checked his watch. "Let's get going, Scott. I need to get you to engineering and pick up Colleen to pass on my stuff to her."

  "Sure. See you around, Paul." Paul watched them go, then mentally shrugged. He seems okay. Friendly, that's for sure. And if he's been on the Rickover he ought to be familiar with how the Michaelson handles as well, so I shouldn't have problems with him as my officer of the deck. I hate to see Carl go, but this could be a lot worse.

  Paul, busy with his own work, saw little more of either Carl or Scott Silver before he received a page from the quarterdeck. Jen's here? He glanced at the clock. It's only 1700. She's the one who's early this time.

  Jen gave his uniform a critical going over. "Did you actually get this pressed?"

  "Yeah."

  "I guess you're okay."

  "Thanks. I haven't had a uniform inspection this
tough since I left the Academy."

  "Ha-ha. Forgive me for wanting you to look decent. Ready to head for the Mahan?"

  Two docks over this time, and another quarterdeck very similar but not exactly the same as the Michaelson's. A very sharp-looking officer of the deck welcomed them aboard, then a very sharp-looking ensign escorted them to the captain's quarters.

  Jen rapped on the hatch. "Lieutenant Shen reporting as ordered."

  Captain Shen looked up from his desk. "At least you follow orders now that you're in the Navy, Jen. This is Sinclair?"

  "Yes. May I present Lieutenant Junior Grade Paul Sinclair."

  Kay Shen squinted at Paul. "Pleased to meet you. I thought I might have to wear my sunglasses to this little get-together."

  "Sir?"

  "Jen keeps talking about this knight in shining armor of hers. I figured I'd need my sunglasses to cut down on the glare."

  Paul smiled politely, unsure how to respond, and trying to figure out why Jen and her father were acting so formal with each other.

  "Well, let's eat." Captain Shen led the way back to the Mahan's wardroom, where a small group of officers awaited. After a dizzyingly fast round of introductions, Paul found himself seated opposite Jen, unable to be sure of the names of anyone else at the table except Captain Shen himself. The meal passed quickly as well, with only occasional small talk and a few questions to Paul about his operational experiences on the Michaelson. Before he knew it, Captain Shen was rising, everyone else was following suit, and he was once again walking with Jen back to the captain's stateroom.

  Captain Shen sat in the one chair, waving Paul and Jen to the small couch against one bulkhead. Paul sat a little stiffly, unable to relax.

  Kay Shen smiled briefly at Paul. "You're an Academy graduate."

  "Yes, sir." Jen's body, next to his, felt tense.

  Captain Shen leaned back, raising one eyebrow at Paul. ""I looked up your record. You weren't the anchorman, but you didn't distinguish yourself in class rank, either."

  Jen's voice carried an edge. "Dad . . ."

  "Okay, okay. Somebody's got to be in the middle. So, Mr. Sinclair, do you have any plans about making my daughter an honest woman?"

  "Dad! I don't require some male keeper to make me an honest woman."

  "Oh. You don't want him."

  "I didn't say that."

  Captain Shen glanced at Paul again. "I take it you two aren't sharing quarters, yet."

  "Dad!"

  "No, sir. We're both still assigned to ships."

  Captain Shen nodded. "Different ships, fortunately. Good thing you had Gwen Herdez riding herd on you when you were both on the Michaelson."

  "You know Commander Herdez, sir?"

  "I had the pleasure of serving with her once. Hard as nails."

  "She has high standards, sir."

  "Damn straight." Captain Shen smiled once again, the expression coming and going rapidly. "So does my daughter. She's never held on to a man this long before. They usually got the boot pretty quick."

  "Dad, if you don't -"

  "Mind you, they all deserved to get the boot, because they didn't deserve her. Apparently she feels differently about you."

  "I'm a very lucky man, sir."

  Jen covered her eyes with one hand. "Oh, please."

  "Good people tend to make their own luck. Are you good enough for Jen?"

  "I'm doing my best."

  "We'll see if your best is good enough."

  Jen spoke sharply. "I'll be the judge of that."

  "Sure, Jen. Where's your next assignment? Any word yet?"

  "I've got six more months on the Maury, Dad. I've got my dream sheet in with the detailers telling them what assignments I really want, but no responses from them."

  "Nothing too odd about that. Am I correct in assuming you two have matching dream sheets?"

  "Yes. We want assignments close to each other and know we need to make sure our detailers know that. I'm not an ensign anymore, Dad."

  "Heck, no. You're a lieutenant junior grade! Practically an admiral. Let me lay it on the line. As long as you're not officially hitched the detailers are real unlikely to worry about sending you to the same general area on your next assignment."

  "We know that, Dad."

  "I assume there's no plans to rush into marriage to try to ensure you get similar orders?"

  Jen look of annoyance deepened. "There won't be any rushing into anything."

  "Well, that's a relief. What are your career plans, Mr. Sinclair?"

  Paul tensed some more. The question was outwardly run of the mill, yet in professional terms the career plans of an officer told you a lot about them, for better or worse. "I've put in for shore duty on Franklin Station, sir. Preferably in the operations branch, but I'm willing to look at other options."

  "Hmmm. Space officers tend to rotate to Franklin for shore duty, so I'm sure you'll get that. What about afterwards?"

  "I'm going to evaluate options when my next orders come up, sir."

  Captain Shen looked skeptical. "That's not exactly long term planning. Are you going to make the Navy a career?"

  "That option's still open, sir."

  "Options are all very well, but it's necessary to make decisions at some point."

  Paul made a small gesture which stopped Jen's next eruption. "Sir, I'm fully capable of making decisions. I'm just awaiting some more experience before making decisions that don't need to be made now."

  "The proof's in the pudding, young man."

  This time Jen ignored Paul's attempt to handle the issue himself. "Dad, Paul has proven his ability to make tough decisions. He doesn't need any criticism from you on that score."

  "I take it you're referring to his testimony in his former captain's court-martial. Carrying out Commander Herdez's instructions -"

  "Sir," Paul interrupted, hearing his voice carry an edge of anger which he tamped down. "Commander Herdez gave me no 'instructions' on that matter. The decision was mine." He'd never boasted about it, but he couldn't bear having such a difficult, soul-wrenching decision casually dismissed.

  "Really?" Captain Shen let the noncommittal reply hang for a moment. "Not a good moment for the Navy, in any event."

  "I'm not happy it happened, sir."

  "You're still the collateral duty legal officer on your ship?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Aspire to be a lawyer, eh?"

  "No, sir."

  "I understand you had a run-in with Greenspacers recently. Tell me about it."

  Paul recited the events surrounding the canceled test-firing, but couldn't shake the feeling that he was reporting to a superior instead of sharing information with a fellow officer. Boy, am I glad I don't work for this guy. No offense, Jen. Not that I'm ever likely to tell you that.

  Paul's report over, Captain Shen appeared ready to interrogate him in other areas, but Jen ostentatiously brought her wristwatch up. "I'm sorry, but I need to get back to the ship. Are you ready, Paul?"

  "Sure." Trying his best to conceal his relief, Paul stood and offered Captain Shen his respects, then stood outside the stateroom while Jen said goodbye. Within a few minutes, they were off the Mahan.

  Jen walked rapidly, her mouth tight. "Well," Paul finally offered, "that was fun."

  She looked at him skeptically, then tried to smile. "No, it wasn't. You did well, though."

  "What was that all about?"

  Jen led the way over to one side, where a large screen portrayed an image of space outside the base. She leaned against the bulkhead, her head turned so she could look at the field of stars displayed there. "My dad's been in the Navy a long time, and he's been commanding ships for years now. I sometimes think he's forgotten there's another world, one where his word isn't law and people don't jump to carry out his orders. Instead, he acts like he expects everyone and every place to acknowledge him as the Captain." She smiled ruefully. "He usually gets disappointed when he tries, though."

  Paul leaned against the bulkh
ead on the opposite side of the display. "Sorry, Jen."

  "It's not your fault. But since he's my dad he's sort of the baggage I bring to this relationship. I was hoping he'd be better tonight. He's not a bad person. Just tough and smart and demanding."

  "'Tough, smart and demanding' sounds familiar."

  "Yeah, I come by it honestly."

  "How's your mother handle it?"

  Jen looked down at the deck, her expression hidden. "Mom died six years ago."

  "Oh, geez, Jen. I'm so sorry." No wonder she never talked about her mother. And with us being based up here and working constantly I never wondered about it. Family seems very far away, except when they come riding in with their own ship like Jen's dad did.

  "It's not something I talk about. Maybe someday. But Dad got harder after Mom died. Maybe she'd always softened his rough edges, maybe that's how he grieves. I don't know. He doesn't talk about it, either."

  "That's a helluva big elephant in the room whenever you meet, though, isn't it?"

  Jen looked up, smiling wanly now. "Sure is. But that's how we both handle it."

  "I won't bring it up again, Jen. But if you're ever ready to talk, I'm ready to listen."

  "Thanks, but don't hold your breath. It's not going to happen tomorrow, I'll guarantee, even if my ship wasn't leaving in the morning." She looked back at the stars for a moment, then reached down, unzipped one pocket, and fished in it until her hand surfaced with a rectangular, plastic, coded room key. "I got us a room."

  "Are you sure you're up for that tonight?"

  "Very sure. I'm tired of the universe, Paul. It's too complicated. At this moment, I just want to go somewhere private where you and I can forget about everything except each other for a while."

  "I'd like that, too. Lead on, my lady."

  "I have no intention of being a lady tonight."

  They began walking. Aware of the weary moodiness in her, Paul felt an urge to drape his arm over Jen's shoulders and hold her tight. But they were in uniform, and the passageways of Franklin Station still held plenty of personnel attending to personal and professional errands, so such a public display of affection between officers would be unprofessional and improper. Jen looked over at him, and as if reading his mind, reached her near hand toward Paul and pantomimed squeezing Paul's hand. Then her hand dropped, and the two officers walked on with a half meter of space separating them.