Wakeman pulled himself out of his chair and out the hatch so quickly that the bosun barely had time to call out. "Captain's left the bridge."
Herdez unstrapped herself, nodding to Tweed and Paul. "Good job. Notify me when you stand-down the bridge watch."
"Aye, aye, ma'am." Tweed watched her leave, then slumped back, breathing heavily. "God. Last time. I hope."
Paul noticed her hand was shaking. "I don't understand, Jan. I know it wasn't fun having Wakeman and the XO up here, but you handled the ship great out in open space. Why do ops near Franklin freak you out?"
"Look at the display! How many ways can you screw up here? I can't even count them. No. I hate this part. I like driving the ship out where it's free and clear, but not in traffic like this. Last time, Paul. I'll never have to do this again." She saddened abruptly. "I'll never get to maneuver her out in the big empty again, either. I'll miss that."
"I understand." Like so much else about Jan Tweed, her fears were easy enough to comprehend, even if they served mainly as a cautionary example for Paul. "Looks like the quarterdeck is sealing to Franklin."
"Good. When that's done, we're out of here." She triggered an internal communications circuit. "Quarterdeck, this is the bridge. Who's got the watch down there?"
"Ensign Denaldo. Seals are checked and cleared. Internal and external pressure readings are equalized. Request permission to pop the hatch." Since her rest in sickbay, Kris had apparently been none the worse for wear and had returned to full duty almost immediately. The only lingering effect had been a slightly slower working pace, interspersed with occasional down time. Kris had told Paul during one such period that Herdez had 'strongly suggested' she relax once in a while. Officially, the exhaustion incident had apparently never happened, though Paul suspected Kris was on probation against over-working herself again.
Tweed checked her own read-outs before replying. "Permission granted."
"Seals released. Hatch opening." A pause while hydraulics moved tons of material in the hatch ponderously out of the way. "Hatch open and secured. Assuming the watch."
"Understood. Bridge watch standing down."
"No brass band."
Paul winced at Kris' last observation. Normally, a ship returning from months in space would have a joyful reception awaiting. A band, any family members and friends of the crew who could manage to be there, and assorted high-ranking officers from the staff on Franklin. But not this time. Paul called up a picture from the quarterdeck camera. No band and no brass of any kind. No well wishers, either, which would have required active discouragement of their presence by the command on Franklin. A lone captain stood there, with a single enlisted assistant. Paul zoomed in on the image, close enough to see the insignia which revealed the captain was a Judge Advocate General's officer. A JAG. The only one to greet us back is a lawyer. No one else wants to be seen welcoming us, or was allowed to be seen welcoming us. That pretty much settles it. They're going to try to hang Wakeman. And maybe some of the rest of us as well.
Chapter Eight
Paul tried to maintain his composure as he waited outside the wardroom. The JAG captain hadn't wasted any time in getting her investigation rolling. He knew she'd already talked to Captain Wakeman, Commander Herdez and all the department heads. Now the JAG had reached far enough down the food chain to snare Ensign Paul Sinclair.
Tweed left the wardroom, her shoulders hunched in a defensive slump, nodded briefly to Paul as she waved him in, then headed off on some unknown errand. Paul exhaled slowly to relax himself, then entered. The JAG, seated at the wardroom table, glanced up at his entry. "Ensign Sinclair?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Have a seat." Paul took the indicated chair, on the other side of the table from the Navy lawyer, then waited with fraying nerves while she finished entering something into her data link. "Alright, then." The JAG favored him with a brief smile. "Ensign Sinclair. Ship's legal officer. Correct?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"You'll need to sign this." The data link displayed a standard form for attesting to sworn testimony. "It requires you to swear to the truth of your statement."
Paul signed. Command level investigations didn't require witnesses to be sworn. JAG level investigations did. It was just one more sign of how seriously the incident with the SASAL ship was being treated.
The JAG checked the signature, downloaded the form to her files, then faced Paul again. "Mr. Sinclair, I'll tell you frankly that your statement was a pleasure to read. Concise and to the point."
"Thank you, ma'am."
"Is there anything in that statement you wish to change?"
Paul looked away for a moment, concentrating. "No. No, ma'am."
"I want to be certain of one thing. Your statement indicates that prior to firing a shot across the bow of the SASAL ship, Captain Wakeman asked you for your opinion on whether his orders authorized such an action."
"Yes, ma'am."
"And you told him that, in your interpretation, they did."
"Y-yes, ma'am."
"Did Captain Wakeman ask you any other questions subsequent to that?"
"You mean while we were all still on the bridge? No, ma'am."
"Prior to actually firing on the SASAL ship, did he again ask you if you believed his orders authorized such an action?"
"No, ma'am."
"You're certain?"
"Absolutely."
The JAG smiled slightly, her lips pressed tightly together. "Thank you, Ensign Sinclair. Have you discussed your statement with anyone else on the ship in anything but general terms?"
"Well, yes, ma'am."
"And who was that?"
"The chief master-at-arms. Petty Officer First Class Sharpe."
"Ivan Sharpe? I know the man. What was the nature of your discussion with him?"
"He advised me to write a, uh, concise and to the point statement, ma'am."
"Ah. Very good. Congratulations on taking Petty Officer Sharpe's advice. I know a few full-fledged lawyers who wish they'd done the same." She cocked a questioning eyebrow at Paul. "You appear to have done a good job as ship's legal officer. Are you at all interested in pursuing a legal degree and transfer into the JAG corps?"
"Uh, no, ma'am. Not really." She doesn't need to know my brother's a civilian lawyer and I've been butting heads with him since we were kids. Nor that my dad was happy I chose to be a line officer like he'd been. And being collateral duty legal officer on this ship hasn't exactly made my life happier. Three good reasons not to be a lawyer, and none I know of to become one!
"That's all right, Mr. Sinclair. Not everyone wants to be a lawyer. Thank you. That's all. Please send in the next witness."
"Yes, ma'am." Paul fought down an impulse to grin with relief as he left, then frowned as he remembered one of the JAG's questions. Why'd she want to know if I told Wakeman if our orders said it was okay to shoot at the SASAL ship? Where would… Wakeman. I'll bet Cap'n Pete claims I gave him that advice. Like Jen said he would, he's still trying to place the blame on everyone else. I guess it's sort of a compliment that he thinks I'm important enough to be a target for some of the blame.
Later, comparing notes on their interviews with some of the others, Paul repeated his suspicion. Lieutenant Sindh nodded knowingly as he did so. "That also explains a question I was asked, I believe. The JAG wanted to know if I'd told the Captain the SASAL ship appeared to be trying to ram us."
" Ram us?" Carl Meadows stared at her. "Wakeman's trying to claim the SASALs were on some sort of suicide mission?"
"No. I think he's trying to claim all of us in a position to do so were giving him advice that made his actions seem correct at the time. In other words, that he acted properly based on the information and assessments we provided."
"What a sleezeball. I wonder what Wakeman's blaming me for? Using up some of the ship's oxygen so he didn't have enough to think straight with? Or the fact that my weapons worked when he told us to fire? Hey, if they'd all failed then we wouldn't be
in this mess. It's too ridiculous."
"Be careful." Lieutenant Sindh looked at all present, a warning expression clear on her face. "This is the sort of thing which could easily drag down everyone involved in any way. Guilt by association. Even if Wakeman is found one hundred percent responsible, his accusations will find fertile ground if we act in a way that seems to support them."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean if we go around bad-mouthing Wakeman, calling him a fool and an idiot, it will cause those who hear us to believe we did fail to properly support him."
"He is a fool and an idiot!"
"I know that as well as you do. Everyone else doesn't. To them, he's a ship's captain who was depending upon his crew for the best possible support. We need to ensure people know that we gave him the best possible support, despite what we know to be Wakeman's many and manifest failures as a commanding officer. They won't believe we gave him good support if we're openly contemptuous of the man."
Meadows stared down at the deck as if unable to think of a rebuttal. "Okay. You're right. No sense in the rest of us sinking any deeper into this than we have to."
Sindh looked straight at Paul. "What could be the outcome of this investigation? Can you guess?"
"Sure I can guess. It's serious. A JAG-level investigation means the result could be a recommendation for a court-martial."
" A court-martial, or multiple court-martials?"
"Possibly multiple ones. Yeah. Or maybe letters of reprimand. Or maybe nothing. It all depends."
Carl looked up again. "There's SASAL representatives on the station. They've been invited up as observers."
"How'd you find that out?"
"I know somebody who's involved with the care and feeding of them. They gave me a heads-up."
"Observers." Sindh ran the word around her mouth as if she didn't like the taste. "What will they be observing? Surely not the delivery of a letter of reprimand."
Paul shook his head. "The JAG-level investigation hasn't even been completed. How could they have already brought up a SASAL delegation to observe a court-martial when the investigation hasn't made any recommendations yet?"
"How? Sometimes, Paul, the results of investigations are foreordained. Not officially. Oh, no, never that. But it's understood. There's reports of a major oil discovery in SASAL territory. SASAL possession of such a resource makes them important friends for the U.S. to have. The South Asian Alliance would not regard a pro forma wrist-slap or exoneration of Captain Wakeman as a friendly act."
"Even though their ship all but invited it? But the system isn't supposed to work that way."
"Paul, you've been in the Navy for a while now. How many systems work as they are advertised?"
Paul stared back at Lieutenant Sindh. Like Carl before him, he couldn't think of anything to say.
The next few days were an odd mix of routine and suppressed tension. Paul began seriously considering the temporary use of some of Tweed's hiding places as Commander Garcia became more incendiary than usual. Wakeman spent almost every hour of every day in his own cabin, rarely venturing out and then not speaking to anyone. The junior officers began referring to Wakeman as the Neutron Captain, since he passed through groups without interacting in any way. Paul found himself checking not only the calendar but also the clock, wondering how long it would take for a high-priority investigation to produce recommendations, and how long it would be before those recommendations were acted upon. If someone had really decided on the results beforehand, it might not take long at all.
"All officers assemble in the wardroom."
Paul responded as quickly as he could, finding the small space packed with most of the rest of the other officers already. "Hey, Carl. Where's the department heads?"
"Somebody told me Herdez already called them in separately."
"That doesn't sound good." Paul looked up with surprise as Jen Shen squeezed into the wardroom. "Jen, aren't you on watch?"
"Yeah. Senior Chief Kowalski relieved me for a few minutes. He said the XO wanted every officer here."
Lieutenant Sindh, taking up station near the entrance, craned her head in an attempt to tally everyone's presence. "Ensign Shen. Are you here, yet?"
"Yeah, I'm here."
"Sinclair? Bristol? Okay, I see you both. Alright, that's everyone. Hold on." Sindh vanished for a few moments, then reappeared. "Attention on deck."
The officers straightened into the best semblance of attention they could manage while crowded so close. Paul eyed the hatch curiously. The attention on deck command was reserved on a ship for the captain or any visiting senior officer, and there weren't any visiting seniors present at the moment. Wakeman's coming out at last? What's he got to say to us?
But instead of Wakeman, Commander Herdez entered. "At ease." Her face a professional mask, Herdez surveyed the other officers for a long moment. "We have been notified by Commander, United States Naval Space Forces that Captain Wakeman has been relieved of command of the USS Michaelson effective immediately. I am to serve as acting commanding officer until Captain Wakeman's relief arrives. I expect you all to continue to exercise your duties to the best of your abilities and to ensure your personnel do the same."
"XO?" Lieutenant Sindh spoke in a subdued voice. "What's happening to the captain?"
Herdez didn't register any emotion as she replied. "Captain Wakeman is being referred to a court-martial which is to be constituted by order of Commander in Chief, U.S. Space Forces. At this time, I do not know the exact nature of the charges."
"Only him?" Carl Meadows blurted, then reddened as Herdez eyed him. "I'm sorry, ma'am. But, Captain Wakeman's the only one being charged?"
"That's correct. I expect we will be notified as to which officers and enlisted will be required to function as witnesses at the court-martial. Until such time, we still have a ship to run. Are there any further questions?"
Kris Denaldo raised one hand tentatively. "Ma'am? If we see Captain Wakeman, what do we… um…"
"If you encounter Captain Wakeman, you will render him the military courtesies appropriate to an officer of his rank. He is no longer commanding officer of the Michaelson, however, and no longer entitled to anything that position entailed."
"Thank you, ma'am."
Herdez nodded to the group, then left. "Attention on deck," Sindh called out, quickly followed by "At ease" after Herdez had cleared the hatch. "Okay, boys and girls. Now we know. Let's get back to work."
Carl looked over at Paul. "I always imagined I'd be cheering the day Cap'n Pete Wakeman left this ship. Why don't I feel like cheering?"
"I don't know. Neither do I. He's getting what he deserves. Right?"
"I think so. You don't sound so certain."
"How could I not be certain?"
Carl shrugged. "I don't know. Hey, do you know where Jan Tweed is?"
Paul didn't try to disguise his automatic flinch at the question. "No. Now what?"
"Relax. Her orders came through. I just want to make sure she knows."
"That's great. If I see her I'll let her know."
"Thanks. Now I have to run down Sam Yarrow."
"Did he get orders, too?"
Carl smiled at Paul's hopeful expression. "No. Promotion list came through. Yarrow made JG."
"Whoopee." Popular belief was that the average officer would be promoted from ensign to lieutenant junior grade as long as he or she could hear thunder and see lightning. But the promotion still meant a great deal as an escape from the ghetto of being an ensign. "That means we'll get a new bull ensign, right?" Yarrow's reign as the most senior of the ensigns had been notable not for his support of his juniors but rather for their distrust of him. Now that he'd been promoted, some other ensign would be designated the bull. "Who's next in seniority?"
"Jen Shen."
"Jen? We'll have a female bull? She'll be great at the job, but isn't that sort of an oxymoron?"
"Are you going to tell Jen she's an oxymoron?"
"Hell, no
. I value my life too much to do that."
"You're learning, Paul. Maybe you'll make JG, too, someday."
"Thanks." Paul followed Carl out, then hesitated in the passageway, unable to decide his next action.
Over the ship's all-hands circuit he heard two quick bongs of the ship's bell, followed by two more, then the announcement, " Michaelson, departing." The captain of the ship was referred to by the ship's name when he or she arrived or departed onboard, a tradition going back who knew how long. A few minutes ago he would have known the person leaving the ship was Wakeman. Now he knew it was Herdez, doubtless reporting in person to higher authority. Odd, how quickly a universe could change.
"Is something the matter, sir?"
Paul looked up as Senior Chief Kowalski came past. "Sorry, Senior Chief. I was sort of lost in thought."
"Not happy thoughts, if I'm any judge."
"Are you surprised? How's the crew taking all this, Senior Chief?"
Kowalski grimaced. "About as you'd expect. A few want to cheer."
"Only a few?"
"Yes, sir. Oh, Mr. Sinclair, you and I both know the Captain wasn't too popular on the mess decks. But it's hard for most folks to be happy about someone else getting hammered, even if they think he deserved it. Meaning no disrespect to Captain Wakeman, of course, sir."
"I understand. What you say is true, Senior Chief."
Kowalski peered closely at Paul. "You worried, sir? About yourself?"
"About me? No. I don't think they'll try to pin anything on me. It looks like Wakeman is the only one being charged."
"That's not what I meant, sir."
Paul looked back at the senior chief, a man subject to his every legal order, yet also literally old enough to be his father. "Yeah, I'm worried. I'm not sure I'm doing as well as I should. At everything."
"Well, sir, I can't comment on everything. And there's nothing wrong with wondering if you can do better. But you're doing okay, sir. I think you're a good officer."
Paul stared back this time. "Really? Thanks, Senior Chief. That means a lot."
"No problem, sir. You earned it. Just don't rest on your laurels." Kowalski moved on down the passageway. "By your leave, sir."
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