"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 bulkhead 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.
Paul sat in Combat on the Michaelson the next morning, watching his display report every detail as the Maury undocked and headed away from Franklin Naval Station. The symbol representing the Maury stayed bright as she accelerated outward, the distance between her and Franklin opening with dizzying speed. I wish I could at least send Jen a letter, and maybe get some back. But ships on patrol don't send or receive anything but important operational messages. Mail receipt and sending would pose too big a risk of betraying the ship's location. So, farewell for now, Jen. For the next three months, I'll only be talking to you in my mind.
Two hours later, Paul and the other junior officers gathered on the quarterdeck for Carl Meadows' final departure from the ship. The officers lined up as sideboys as Carl entered the quarterdeck with a seabag of personal belongings draped over one shoulder. Carl insisted on shaking everyone's hands, then stepped back, looked around for a moment at the ship, faced the officer of the deck inport and saluted. "Request permission to leave the ship."
"Permission granted."
As Carl started through the ranks of his fellow junior officers, Lieutenant Sindh called out, "Hand salute!" They all saluted in unison, holding the gesture as Carl brought his own hand up, maintaining his return salute as he walked past their ranks. The bosun mate of the watch trilled attention on his pipe, bonged the ship's bell twice, then announced, "Lieutenant, United States Navy, departing."
Carl pivoted after he'd cleared the Michaelson 's brow so he could face aft and salute the flag. Then he turned, smiling a bit wistfully. "See you guys around. Take it easy."
Lieutenant Sindh called out, "Two!" Everyone dropped their salute and waved to Carl as he walked away. Within a few moments, most of the junior officers had hastened off to work, leaving Paul and Kris Denaldo watching the dwindling form of Carl until it disappeared around a turn.
Kris slapped Paul on the back. "Come on. You and I've got work to do."
"I going to miss that guy, Kris."
"Yeah. It's hard when a friend leaves. I hated to see Jen go, but at least she's nearby and I still see her every once in a while."
"I guess I'd better get used to it."
"You won't. You saw how torn up Gonzalez was to leave."
"It's a screwy way to live, Kris."
"You volunteered for it."
"You sound like Jen. Reminding me of my mistakes."
Kris laughed and headed back into the ship. Paul took one more look toward where Carl had disappeared, then followed her. Two goodbye's in one morning. At least Jen's coming back. Unless an accident happened, unless Jen fell prey to the many ways a sailor could die in the course of "routine" duties. Paul's mind shied away from the possibility, though not before he realized Jen would have the same fears for him. We understand each other's work. That's a good thing. It can also be a bad thing, I guess.
Four days later, the Michaelson herself prepared to get underway again. The contractors were aboard, the pulse-phased laser appeared to be working properly, and this time two range safety ships would accompany the Michaelson to ensure another Greenspace trick didn't interrupt the test firing.
Paul twisted around from his chair on the bridge, looking for Lieutenant Silver. Where's Scott? He should already be up here and helping get through the checklist for getting underway. Paul focused back on the checklist, reviewing the next item.