Burden of Proof

by John G. Hemry

  Not long afterwards, Kris Denaldo came in. "Colleen Kilgary showed up to relieve me and check out Forward Engineering herself. Why isn't Silver doing that?"

  Paul shrugged. "I guess because he's command duty officer."

  "The captain, XO, and just about everybody else is back on the ship. Silver doesn't need to worry about running things anymore. What could he be doing that's more important than checking out his gear and trying to confirm what happened to Chief Asher?"

  "Do I look like I can read Silver's worthless mind?" Paul glanced up at the resulting silence, seeing Kris watching him. "Sorry. I've been under a little stress."

  "That's a given, and you're forgiven for that. But I read some real hostility there."

  "I don't like him. Okay? Silver's a no-load."

  "I heard he handled the fire okay."

  "He was paralyzed! Chief Imari and I were pushing things. I never heard a word from him when I was down there."

  "Really. Have you told anyone else this?"

  "No." His earlier conversation with Lieutenant Sindh came back. "And I'm not going to. It'd just make me look like I was trying to claim all the credit."

  "For heaven's sake, Paul, everyone knows you don't do that sort of thing. Do you really think they'd feel that way?"

  "I don't want to find out." A vision from the burning compartment came back to Paul. "And I sure as hell don't want to seem to be trying to hog the spotlight from a tragedy that killed one of our own."

  She nodded slowly. "I can understand that. Paul, you really ought to try to sleep."

  "Have you got any tranquilizers?"

  "I could get some."

  "I wasn't serious."

  "I was."

  Paul shook his head and stood up. "No. I need to handle this without chemicals. I'll go lie down. I guess if anyone needed me they'd have come by already."

  "If they do need you later, I'll make sure you know."

  "Thanks."

  Before reveille sounded the next morning, Paul stumbled into the wardroom in search of more coffee, his mood unimproved by a short, restless night which had featured only fitful sleep. Commander Sykes, seated in his accustomed place at the wardroom table, raised his coffee mug in greeting. "Good morning, young Sinclair."

  "It's morning, sir." Paul got some coffee, took a big slug, then shuddered as the bitter liquid ran into his stomach. "What are you doing up so early, Suppo?"

  "Early? I'm wounded. My work ethic is well known."

  Paul managed a small smile. "Yes, sir, Commander. That's why I'm wondering why you're up so early."

  "There will be, I assume, much ado today over the need for replacement parts. I prefer to be ahead of that game rather than being pulled along behind the mob." Sykes waved to a chair. "Take a seat."

  "Thanks, Suppo, but -"

  "Consider it an order, young Sinclair."

  Paul frowned, but sat. "What's so important?"

  "You are. I feel certain your haggard appearance has little to do with the stress of your firefighting efforts last night."

  Paul closed his eyes, trying to breath calmly. "Chief Asher's dead."

  "So I understand. I, like everyone else on the ship, regret that deeply. But what's bothering you isn't that kind of regret, is it?"

  "Suppo, he was part of my duty section! My responsibility! And he died. So I'm also responsible for that."

  Sykes sipped his coffee slowly. "In a moral and professional sense, yes, that's true. In a practical sense, I'm unaware of any action you took which led to that death."

  Paul inhaled deeply. "I don't know of any, either."

  "Being a limited duty officer, I have little familiarity with the handling of fires and other emergencies, but my understanding is that Chief Asher must have died within seconds of the explosion, if not immediately. Is that true?"

  "I'm sure it is."

  "Within seconds, then, meaning he died even as the alarm was sounded. What could you have done to save the man, Paul?"

  "I . . . don't know."

  "Yes, I believe you do." Sykes leaned back, gazing into the distance. "I believe you know there's nothing you or any other human being could have done to save Chief Asher. Since God, or whichever deity you care to cite, did not see fit to intervene, the man's fate was sealed before you even knew he was imperiled."

  Paul sat still for a long moment, then shook his head. "I know that. I also feel like there should've been something . . ."

  "A word of advice, if I may. Focusing on things you couldn't have done will bring you nothing but sorrow."

  "What else should I focus on?"

  "Things you can do. Investigating and determining the cause of the accident. Finding the answer to that may save lives in the future. I understand you spoke highly of the Damage Control team you led into the fire."

  Paul smiled again, wider this time, and nodded. "Yeah. They were great, Suppo."

  "You can work at seeing such actions are properly rewarded. Drafting and shepherding medal recommendations through the approval process is tedious, but it can both reward the deserving and give you a meaningful sense of accomplishment."

  "That's true." Paul leaned back as well, closing his eyes. "Thanks, Suppo. Why aren't you a line officer?"

  "My dear Mr. Sinclair, since I lack masochistic tendencies, I have no wish to expose myself to the daily miseries endured by line officers."

  Paul actually found himself laughing briefly. "You have a point there. Can I ask you something else, Suppo?"

  "If it's about spare parts, my office hasn't opened, yet."

  "Do you think Commander Herdez would've approved of what I did last night?"

  "Hmmm." Sykes took another slow drink. "Many details are not known to me or to her at this time, but she seemed appreciative of your work."

  "What? She knows what happened already?"

  "The grapevine works at speeds exceeding those of light, although I'm unfamiliar with the physics which permit this. Yes, Commander Herdez and I spoke of the matter not long ago. As I'm sure you can guess, Commander Herdez is reserving judgment on all issues until a thorough investigation has been conducted."

  Paul nodded. Which is exactly what I should have expected. No more, no less.

  "However," Sykes added, "she did state it was 'a good thing Sinclair was on duty.'"

  "Really?"

  "Or words to that effect. The statement does not bring you comfort?"

  "I can't help wondering if I lived up to them. Living up to Commander Herdez's expectations is - "

  "Probably impossible." Sykes gave Paul an unusually serious look. "Give yourself due credit for attempting to do so. And listen to the advice of your elders."

  "I will, Suppo. Thanks."

  The day from that point on seemed almost surreal to Paul. Life and routine continued, but the aftermath of the fire kept appearing. Liberty was cancelled for much of the crew on Sunday, as they were needed for the clean-up and assessment of damage to Forward Engineering. The regular duty section came on, with Lieutenant Kilgary as command duty officer. Paul overheard part of her turnover with Scott Silver, in which Kilgary kept pressing Silver for details that apparently weren't forthcoming. Captain Hayes, Commander Kwan and all the department heads remained onboard. The black cloud of sorrow which seemed to perpetually follow Commander Destin, the chief engineer, appeared to have grown into a virtual storm. About noon, a small caravan of medical personnel arrived, equipped with isolation suits, and went down to Forward Engineering. They left a couple of hours later laden down with a large sealed box whose proportions made it clear it contained the remains of Chief Asher. Many of the crew, somehow forewarned of the sad procession, lined the passageways to see it pass.

  Most personnel avoided asking Paul about Saturday night's fire, something he appreciated. His friends made a point of having conversations about different issues.

  Late in the afternoon, Paul received a page to report to the executive officer's stateroom. He went there quickly, afraid it was about th
e fire and so wishing to confront the meeting as fast as possible. "Lieutenant JG Sinclair, sir."

  Commander Kwan looked up from his chair, then passed Paul a hardcopy printout. "Fleet staff wants a thorough investigation. They've appointed an investigating officer. He's the captain of another ship. Find out what he needs from us."

  "Yes, sir. Uh, sir, my actions are also going to be investigated -"

  "I know that. That shouldn't prevent you, as ship's legal officer, from seeing what the man requires for his investigation."

  "Yes, sir." Paul headed back from his stateroom, paging Sheriff Sharpe as he did so. The ship's master-at-arms needs to be in on this. Once in his stateroom, he finally read the print-out.

  He was still staring at it when Sharpe arrived. "You asked to see me, sir?" For once, Sharpe didn't display his usual irreverent attitude.

  "Yeah."

  "What's the matter, sir? Aside from the obvious, that is."

  "They've appointed an officer to conduct a full investigation into the explosion and fire. Captain Shen of the USS Mahan."

  "Captain Shen? Is he any relation to Lieutenant Shen, sir?"

  "He's her father."

  "The father of your main squeeze is the guy in charge of raking us over the coals? That's way harsh, sir."

  "I was just thinking the same thing."

  "And you're one of the prime objects of the investigation."

  "Right again, Sheriff. Are you trying to cheer me up?"

  Sharpe leaned against the hatch opening, staring contemplatively into space. "This Captain Shen. You ever meet him, sir?"

  "Yeah. Once."

  "What's he like?"

  "He's Ms. Shen's father. What do you think?"

  "Ouch. No offense intended to Ms. Shen, sir."

  "None taken. She'll be proud to know she's remembered that way on this ship." Paul leaned back and looked upward. "What'd I do? Somebody up there seems awful mad at me."

  "You're better off than Vlad Asher, sir."

  Paul frowned, looking toward Sharpe again. "He was a friend of yours, wasn't he?"

  Sharpe nodded abruptly. "Yessir. A fine man. A fine sailor. I don't know what happened in Forward Engineering, but I can't believe it's his fault."

  "Something screwy happened, that's for sure. Not just the explosion, but the fire suppression systems not working. What're the odds of that?"

  "Dunno, sir. I'm not a snipe," Sharpe pointed out, using the common slang for engineering personnel.

  "Do you know why Asher would have been in there at that time?"

  Sharpe frowned at the deck. "Sir, with all due respect, that touches on testimony I might be called upon to give in the investigation. I shouldn't discuss it with you."

  Paul nodded. "Or anyone else. I suppose the automated engineering logs will tell us something."

  "Uh, no, sir, apparently not."

  "What?"

  "I have this reliably, sir. The engineering logs are badly damaged. They're not sure how much of them will be recoverable."

  "How the hell could those logs have been damaged? They're supposed to survive having the ship blown apart."

  "Sir, I don't know. There's some guesses about the explosion and the fire."

  Paul stared at nothing for a moment, then shook his head rapidly. "That's just weird. But I suppose it's not impossible. I guess that's something the investigation will really have to dig into."

  "Yes, sir. I really want answers to this one, sir."

  "I understand. We'll get them, if I have anything to say about it. I'm really sorry, Sheriff."

  "Thank you, sir. Can you tell me one thing? You saw him, right?"

  "Yeah." Paul closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing. The brief, close-up glimpse of Chief Asher's remains kept coming back to him as if burned into his memory.

  "Could you tell if he'd suffered any?"

  "Honestly, Sheriff, no. There wasn't much left." Paul looked away as Sharpe flinched. "Sorry. I don't know. But I can't believe he lived through that explosion. I don't think he ever knew what hit him."

  "Thanks, Mr. Sinclair. I guess Petty Officer Davidas might have some company now."

  "Yeah. I guess." Davidas had died over a year earlier in an accident onboard. Since then, the crew had attributed any odd happening to Davidas' mischievous ghost. "I haven't heard anyone laying this fire at the feet of Davidas' spirit, though."

  "Hell, no, sir, begging your pardon. Fooling around with people's one thing, but Davidas always looked out for his shipmates. He wouldn't have hurt Chief Asher or anybody else on this ship."

  Paul sighed. "Too bad Davidas' ghost wasn't in Forward Engineering on Saturday night."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Sheriff, I don't know what kind of assistance Captain Shen will ask for, but we're to make sure he gets everything he wants. Let me know if there's any problems, and I'll make sure the CO and XO make 'em right."

  "Yes, sir. What if Captain Shen doesn't want me talking to you about the investigation?"

  "Notify me and then go straight to the XO after that. I'm the only person between you and the XO in the chain of command, so that's how it'll have to be. I won't have it said that we hindered this investigation in any way."

  "Aye, aye, sir." Sharpe nodded slowly. "Chief Asher'd want it that way. And one thing more, sir."

  "Yeah, Sheriff?"

  "Thanks for going in after him, sir. I know it was risky."

  "Somebody had to put out that fire, Sheriff."

  "Yes, sir, but it didn't have to be you. Thanks for trying, sir."

  Paul looked away, bitterness rising in him. "It didn't make any difference." When no reply came, he looked back to see Sharpe watching him with a surprised expression. "What?"

  "Sir, whether it made a difference or not isn't the point. You tried. Everybody's telling me Vlad Asher couldn't have made it no matter what. But you tried, sir. Thank you, sir." Sharpe straightened and saluted Paul.

  "Ah, hell, Sheriff." When Sharpe held the salute, Paul stood and returned it, feeling awkward. "Get back to work."

  "Yes, sir."

  Chapter Seven

  Captain Shen eyed Paul flatly, nothing about him betraying any evidence he'd ever met Paul before in any way. "Lieutenant Junior Grade Paul Sinclair?"

  "Yes, sir." Well, that makes how to handle this easy. Captain Shen's going to keep it totally impersonal. That's a relief. I think. As Paul had expected, Captain Shen had completely cut him out of the investigation process as soon as he knew Paul had been on duty the day of the fire. Now, barely three days later, he was seated in the wardroom of the Michaelson opposite the man who was Jen's father and would also render judgment on Paul's actions. I'm still wondering why he didn't recuse himself from the investigation when he found out I was one of the subjects. But how can I formally bring that up without creating the appearance I have something to hide?

  Shen pushed a data pad toward Paul. "Read and sign this."

  Paul read quickly, recognizing a standard form for a sworn statement from the Judge Advocate General's Manual. Do you, Paul Sinclair, Lieutenant Junior Grade, United States Navy, solemnly swear (or affirm) that the evidence you shall give in the matter now under investigation shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth (so help you God)? He signed quickly and returned the data pad to Captain Shen.

  Captain Shen checked the signature and then fixed his eyes on Paul. "On 19 September 2100 you were on duty onboard the USS Michaelson?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Where were you when the explosion occurred?"

  "I'd just left my stateroom and was proceeding toward the quarterdeck, sir."

  "What did you do when the explosion occurred?"

  "I paused to wonder what it was, then heard the alarm sound and ran to the quarterdeck, sir."

  "How much time elapsed while you 'paused?'"

  "A second or two, sir. No more than that."

  "Who was on the quarterdeck when you arrived?"

  "Chief Petty Officer
Imari, the officer of the deck inport, and her petty officer of the watch."

  "No one else?"

  "No, sir."

  "How did you end up leading the on-scene damage control team?"

  "DC Central informed us Chief Asher, the regular team leader, could not be located."

  "You decided to leave the quarterdeck at that point?"

  "No, sir. Lieutenant Silver, the command duty officer -"

  "So Lieutenant Silver was also on the quarterdeck."

  Paul hesitated, taken aback by the statement. "Yes, sir. By then he was. He arrived a couple of minutes after I did."

  "And he then ordered you to assume duties as the damage control team leader?"

  Paul phrased his reply carefully. "Lieutenant Silver was CDO and Chief Imari had the quarterdeck watch. I was the only one free to assume that duty, so I asked permission of Lieutenant Silver to proceed to the scene."

  "You volunteered."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Didn't you have other duties to attend to?"

  Paul swallowed before answering. "There were other things I could have been assigned to do, sir, which is why I requested Lieutenant Silver's permission before going to the scene of the fire."

  "And he told you to go."

  "Yes, sir."

  "His exact words were?"

  "Sir, as I recall, all he said was 'okay.'"

  "He said 'okay.' And you were certain that constituted orders to proceed to the fire scene?"

  Paul nodded firmly. "Yes, sir."

  "You assumed command of the Damage Control team and led it into Forward Engineering. Why did you decide the enter the compartment?"

  "The fire suppression systems in the compartment weren't working, and DC Central reported the fire temperatures would damage the bulkheads if we let it burn. Since we couldn't drain the fuel tank feeding the fire until the fire was out, we had to put the fire out."

  "How much experience did you have at such fire fighting?"

  "Just my damage control training, sir."

  "Specify the extent of that."

  "One week damage control training during my Academy time, then another week during specialty training."

  "And you felt this qualified you to decide to enter the compartment?"