"That's because you don't have to depend upon him to do anything."
"Really?" Mike looked at Paul.
"Yeah. You think Scott's a great guy?" Paul shook his head. "He acts nice enough, I guess, but he lets other people carry the load."
"Huh." Mike Bristol scratched his head for a moment. "Most everybody likes him."
Lieutenant Sindh grimaced. "I'm certain Commander Kwan loves him, as no doubt does his department head, Commander Destin. However, to my knowledge neither of those officers has suffered as a result of Lieutenant Silver's avoidance of responsibilities."
"He's messed over both you guys?"
"Frequently and with apparent lack of remorse."
"Huh," Bristol repeated. "How come you guys haven't been complaining openly?"
Paul shrugged. "You don't do that. Who wants to be Sam Yarrow?"
"Why not? I mean, if the guy isn't doing his job, shouldn't someone know?"
Sindh and Paul exchanged glances. Paul shook his head again. "It's hard, Mike. You're not supposed to bilge people."
"Bilge?"
"Uh, the bilge is where trash ends up on a seagoing ship. It's a general term for bad stuff."
"It sounds like Scott's bilging you."
"You could say that."
Bristol scratched his head again. "I guess this is one of those fraternity of long-suffering line officers things, isn't it?"
"Well, yeah."
Lieutenant Sindh finished her coffee. "Consider, Mike. If the officers are running around dumping on each other, working relationships go to hell. The crew picks up on it, and problems such as insubordination become commonplace. Why respect an officer who isn't respected by his or her peers? In short order, you could have an actually hazardous situation on board, one in which accidents can occur due to ill-feelings and bad discipline."
"But aren't your working relationships with Scott already bad?"
"Yes, but that's not the same as dysfunctional. I understand what Scott will do. Or, rather, not do. I can do my job understanding that. Paul can do his job. Introducing actual hostility on both sides into the situation would generate problems with carrying out our duties."
Paul nodded. I hadn't thought it through quite like that, but she's right. "That's why most of us ignore Sam Yarrow. If we took him really seriously, that would hurt us all. Besides, Sam tries to make himself look good by making everybody else look bad. We don't want to have that kind of reputation."
"Okay, if you guys say so." Bristol checked the time and hurriedly unstrapped. "Gotta go."
Paul looked at Sindh after Mike Bristol left. "Are we doing the right thing?"
"What else can we do, Paul? Scott's professional behavior, or lack thereof, places an extra burden upon us. It doesn't translate into a danger to anyone."
"What if it does?"
She sat silent for a moment. "We must watch carefully. You know the truth, Paul. Mr. Silver is very popular with some of his superiors, at least, as well as many of the junior officers. Any complaints against him must be well-justified and documented, or they will likely be ignored."
"You're being evaluated against him! He could end up ranking higher than you because all he does is try to impress his superiors and make everybody else like him."
"Neither the Navy nor life is fair, Paul." Sindh unstrapped and pulled herself out of her seat. "Come, Paul. We've both plenty of work to do. Letting Mr. Silver's faults distract us from that will only compound our problems."
When you're right, you're right. Paul followed her out.
A day later, they were back at Franklin. They'd be heading out again on Monday for more tests, and Paul had duty that weekend, so he had to stay onboard the ship instead of taking a break enjoying what diversions Franklin Naval Station offered. Not that it mattered with Jen's ship gone for another two and half months.
Chapter Six
Duty days normally dragged, but weekend duty days were worse. Most of the crew were off the ship pursuing entertainment or simply some degree of freedom, leaving the duty section to stand watches and contemplate the ability of the Navy to turn even a Saturday into tedious drudgery. Paul yawned and checked his watch. Almost time for eight o'clock reports. I guess I'll wander out to the quarterdeck. He left his stateroom, moving with casual ease through the quiet passageway.
From somewhere, a muffled boom vibrated through the hull. Paul stopped, frowning down at the deck. What the hell was that? Was it onboard us or something that happened on the station?
A moment later, the rapid ringing of the ship's bell over the all-hands speakers shattered the calm. "Fire, fire, fire! Fire in compartment 2-110-3-Echo, Forward Engineering. This is not a drill!"
The alarm began repeating as Paul broke into a run, ducking through two hatchways and out onto the quarterdeck where Chief Imari was standing the watch as officer of the deck inport. "How bad is it?"
Chief Imari, her face pale, shook her head. "We don't know. Damage Control Central lost some sensors in Forward Engineering when that explosion went off — "
"That was an explosion?"
"Yes, sir. Apparently, it ruptured the fuel lines near the compartment. Somehow, the stuff ignited. We've got a high-intensity fire going and — " A shrill tone sounded and Chief Imari stabbed a finger at the comm panel. "This is the officer of the deck."
The petty officer in Damage Control Central spoke rapidly and with an edge of panic. "Chief? This is DC Central. The fire suppression systems ain't working."
"Say again. Calm down. Speak slowly."
"Uh, yes, Chief. I tried to activate the fire suppression systems in Forward Engineering. They're off-line."
"How can they be off-line? Shouldn't the fire have triggered them automatically?"
"I dunno why they ain't working, Chief. And I dunno why they didn't trigger on auto. I tried a manual start and nothing's happening."
Paul became aware that Lieutenant Silver, hastily adjusting his clothing, had appeared on the quarterdeck as well. "What's going on?"
"Explosion and fire in Forward Engineering," Paul summarized quickly. "Fire suppression systems aren't working."
Chief Imari was speaking again with forceful calm. "Is Forward Engineering isolated?"
"Yes, Chief," DC Central answered quickly. "All vent ducts, piping, hatches and other accesses are sealed."
Lieutenant Silver grinned. "Then it should burn itself out pretty fast. No oxygen."
Chief Imari twisted her lips, then glanced at Paul, who shook his head. "No. The fuel supplies its own oxidizer. It'll burn as long as there's fuel."
"Then, uh, we need to dump the fuel. Get rid of it."
Chief Imari answered directly this time. "No, sir. Dumping fuel is prohibited in the vicinity of the station at any time. Dumping burning fuel is out of the question."
Paul leaned forward to speak to DC Central. "This is Lieutenant Sinclair. Can we pump the fuel into another tank?"
"Negative, sir. Not with it burning on one end. If that fire raced up the transfer lines the whole ship might blow. That's fire's gotta be out, first."
Paul stepped back, looking around. It had been scant moments since the alarm sounded, yet it already felt like hours were being wasted. He focused on Lieutenant Silver, who was chewing his lip and staring at the nearest bulkhead. "What do we do?" Silver looked back but said nothing.
"Sir." Chief Imari gestured with one finger, pointing toward where Forward Engineering lay. "There's only thing to do. Put that fire out the old-fashioned way. The duty damage control party is forming up near Forward Engineering. They'll have to go in and knock that fire down."
Silver nodded quickly. "Yes. Sounds good. Get 'em in there."
DC Central spoke again. "Quarterdeck! The Damage Control team Leader hasn't reported in. They've got everybody else."
"Damn!" Chief Imari snarled. "That's Chief Asher. You'd think he'd have been the first one there since that's his equipment in Forward Engineering…" Her voice trailed off, and she stared at Paul. "That's his gear in Forward Engineering."