Only Ensign Taylor had the nerve to ask the inevitable question. "Have the cops found any heavy propulsion devices? Anything that those people could've used to kick that rock toward Earth?"
Garcia's face shaded a little redder. "No."
Taylor grimaced and nodded.
Garcia shook his own head, his mouth tight, then turned and left. Commander Moraine left with him, her expression an odd mix of relief and dread.
Taylor, Paul and Kris Denaldo exchanged glances. Finally, Taylor shook her head. "Some days this job really sucks."
Paul nodded in agreement. "Yeah."
"We did our best," Kris insisted. "We did everything we could."
"Yeah. Everything we could do just wasn't good enough, though," Taylor observed. "Well, boys and girls, it's been real fun talking with you but I need to see my division and pass on the happy news. See ya."
Kris watched her go, then looked at Paul. "Yeah, let our sailors know what happened despite our best efforts. Then what do we do?"
Paul shrugged, too weary to think anymore. "You heard Garcia. We go home." Part of him knew that should be good news, but the rest of him was too numb to care.
Chapter Three
The chartered freighter Prometheus Rising arrived near the asteroid that afternoon. Paul was on watch again on the bridge when the Prometheus 's captain called the Michaelson. Paul, not being a fool despite operating on hardly any sleep for the past couple of days, immediately called Captain Hayes.
Hayes came onto the bridge, looking as tired as Paul felt and in a lot worse humor. The bosun mate of the watch was still crying "Captain's on the bridge" when Hayes pulled himself into the captain's chair and glared at Paul and Val Isakov. "What the hell does that merchant captain want?"
Val Isakov looked at Paul, who faced the captain. "Sir, he said he needed to talk to you. He's standing by on frequency channel eight."
"Great." Hayes glowered at the displays before him for a moment, then reached to punch the controls. " Prometheus Rising, this is Captain Hayes of the USS Michaelson."
The captain of the Prometheus had a Midwestern American twang to his voice and the casual manner of a civilian. "Hey, thanks for calling back. My passengers wanted me to talk to you about helping them out."
"Passengers?"
"Yeah. I'm carrying forty US citizens."
At that news, Captain Hayes got a "why me?" expression his face. "What are they doing here and what do they want from me?"
"Well, they're, uh, here to, uh, sort of protest against you guys."
"What?"
"Maybe I didn't say that right. They're with a couple of church groups. Mainline stuff, none of the cult outfits. They were coming to try to intercede here. Try to, you know, get this resolved without any loss of life."
Paul couldn't read Captain Hayes's expression, but the captain's voice didn't betray the frustration he surely felt. "I'm afraid they're a little late."
"Uh huh," the captain of the Prometheus agreed. "We saw bits of that from where we were, and we got some news updates flashed to us. So, uh, you see, they know pretty much what happened."
"Then I suggest you and they depart," Hayes advised shortly.
"Well, captain, they'd like to do something first, and the guys in charge on the asteroid won't talk to them. They figured you might help."
Hayes pressed both palms against his face for a moment, then lowered his hands and spoke carefully. "I'm sorry, but-"
"All they want to do is lay a couple of wreaths, captain. That's all. For the dead, you know."
Hayes sat silent for a moment, then looked over at Paul. "Did we receive any heads-up that this ship and those people were coming?"
Paul thought before answering, not entirely trusting his memory. "We knew the Prometheus Rising was on her way to this area, sir. But I don't remember seeing anything about her carrying protestors."
"I don't remember anything about that, either. Funny no one knew." Hayes stared at nothing for a moment. "But it's even funnier that the cops went in the night before that ship got here. If those idiots kept important information from me…"
Paul didn't know what to say to that. Had someone rushed things to avoid having to deal with the people on the Prometheus? If so, they'd bungled things badly. And if the fact that protestors were on the way had been known to the cops but not shared with the Michaelson, somebody had been exceptionally stupid.
Captain Hayes addressed the captain of the Prometheus again. "I don't have control over what happens on the surface of the asteroid. You need to talk to the head of the law enforcement people on the surface."
"Captain, they won't talk to me."
"Hold on. I'll get back with you." Hayes drummed his fingers on his arm rest for a moment, then hit another communications control. "This is Captain Hayes of the USS Michaelson. I want to talk to Colonel Trey."
"I'm sorry, sir. Colonel Trey is not available. This is Major Veshak. May I help you?"
"Yes. I've got a merchant ship up here with U.S. citizens on board who want to lay a couple of wreaths on the asteroid. I understand they can't get anybody down there to talk to them."
"Sir, we're exceptionally busy."
"Did you people know they were coming?"
The circuit stayed silent for a moment, then instead of replying to Hayes' blunt question, Veshak passed the buck. "Sir, I believe Colonel Trey is available now."
Hayes glanced around the bridge. "I think I'd better handle the rest of this in my cabin." He unstrapped and pulled himself off the bridge.
"Captain's off the bridge!"
Paul gave Val Isakov a questioning glance. She shrugged.
Twenty minutes later, Hayes called the bridge from his cabin. "The people on the Prometheus are legitimate, but the cops on the surface won't let them take any transport from the merchant down to the asteroid. I agreed to use our gig. Notify the XO that we're going to send it to the Prometheus to pick up a couple of representatives and their wreaths. They'll be taken to the surface, brought back to the Prometheus, and the gig will return straight here. Any questions?"
Val Isakov frowned. "Captain, when is our gig to depart?"
"I want it at the Prometheus in one hour."
"Aye, aye, sir."
"Oh, one more thing. Paul, you're going along."
Paul stared at his display. "Captain?"
"You're the legal officer, and you've got experience dealing with protestors. You'll be in charge on the gig."
"Aye, aye, sir." Paul felt a headache starting to come to life. Oh, Garcia's going to love this. He hates it any time my legal officer job gets in the way of my primary job as Combat Information Center officer, and he hates it when the captain tasks me directly because I'm the legal officer. He wondered what the protestors would be like. They couldn't be anything like Greenspacers or the captain wouldn't have agreed to help them even if he was ticked off at the cops for keeping the Navy in the dark. I hope I don't fall asleep in front of them.
Garcia turned out to be just as angry as Paul had expected. Commander Moraine just gave Paul a suspicious look. But neither could override the captain, so Paul found himself twenty minutes later strapping into a seat on the gig after hastily turning over the watch to a perturbed Randy Diego. "I'm the First Lieutenant," Randy had complained. "I should be commanding the gig."
"Randy," Paul had stated wearily, "if you can convince the captain to let you go instead of me, be my guest."
Randy hadn't seemed interested in trying that, however. Even Randy had learned that there were times when you just did what the captain said.
Paul checked his straps, then glanced over at Ivan Sharpe, the Michaelson 's master at arms. "It's funny seeing you in khakis, Sheriff."