"What will you two be drinking?" Herdez asked.
Paul waved vaguely toward the Michaelson 's berth. "I need to go on duty once I get back to the ship, so I'd better stick to straight Coke, ma'am."
Jen nodded. "Me, too."
Herdez beckoned to the bartender, another luxury intended to invoke Earth-bound bars. "Three Cokes." She waited silently until the drinks came. "Mr. Sinclair. Ms. Shen. To a job well-finished." They all drank to the toast, then Herdez turned to face Paul. "Do you remember our last conversation here?"
"Yes, ma'am. Every word."
"You've a better memory than I, then." Commander Herdez looked intently toward the back of the bar, as if memorizing the labels displayed there. "How do you feel you did, Mr. Sinclair?"
"I wish I'd been able to get him on all charges, ma'am."
"No doubt. I do, as well. But there was sufficient doubt concerning some of charges. Or insufficient proof, if you prefer."
Paul remembered something Commander Carr had said. "We had to work with what we had."
"That's always true, Mr. Sinclair, regardless of our line of work. The only variation is how much we have. Sometimes, though all too few of them, we have all we want and need. Usually, there is less to work with."
"Yes, ma'am." There was another pause, as Commander Herdez sipped her drink. "Ma'am? You told me something once. You said it was easy to work well for good officers, and hard to work well for bad ones. That was the challenge, you said, to work well despite having a superior who wasn't very good. But that also applies even if you're not actually working for them, doesn't it? Any bad officer makes it hard for everyone his or her actions impact."
Herdez looked at Paul again. "Very good, Mr. Sinclair. You're correct. Bad officers require us to make hard decisions."
"There's always the easy decisions," Jen blurted out.
Commander Herdez turned to look at Jen. "There's always the option of doing nothing, yes, even though that risks more and more damage to the Navy and its personnel. I give both you and Mr. Sinclair the credit of assuming you would not shirk your duties in that manner."
Jen met Herdez' eyes. "You know I wouldn't, ma'am."
"Yes. I do. You're a fine officer."
Herdez turned back toward Paul, missing the sight of Jen's jaw dropping. "I imagine you nonetheless felt some qualms about bringing about the court-martial of a fellow junior officer."
"Yes, ma'am, I did."
"But you overcame them."
"Yes, ma'am. Partly because I remembered something else you told me once, about honoring the sacrifices of those who die."
Herdez seemed amused. "I rarely hear myself quoted back to me so often in one conversation. Life is full of advice and experiences, Mr. Sinclair. Some good, some bad. That advice and experience doesn't directly shape us. It's the lessons we draw from them that do that. And then our own examples help shape others. This was Lieutenant Silver's greatest failing, that he did not realize his responsibility to others."
Paul snorted a brief laugh. "You don't have to tell me that, ma'am."
"Indeed. You handled yourself well." Commander Herdez consulted her watch. "I see time is passing. I'm sure you need to return to your ship soon."
"Yes, ma'am."
Paul and Jen stood as Commander Herdez watched. "You make a good couple."
Jen stared back, rattled again. "Ma'am?"
"Oh, you heard me, Lieutenant Junior Grade Shen. There's nothing wrong with your ears or your mind. As for you, Mr. Sinclair, I'm still keeping an eye on you. I'll be going to another ship when I leave the staff. Your presence onboard that vessel would be welcome."
It was Paul's turn to be thrown off balance. "Ma'am?"
"If circumstances permit, Mr. Sinclair, I'd like you as a subordinate again. Was it clear that time?"
"Y-yes, ma'am." Working for Herdez again? Oh, that's going to be painful. But how could I turn down her offer?
"That is all." Commander Herdez checked her watch again. "And I must return to work as well. Until next time, Mr. Sinclair and Ms. Shen." She walked briskly out of the bar, half of her drink still untouched.
Jen watched her go. "Did you hear what she said?"
"You mean about us being a good couple?"
"Oh, please. Since when does Commander Herdez care about the personal lives of her juniors?"
"Jen, she does."
"That woman has had her bitch-switch stuck on battle-override since the day she was born, and she never cared for me. 'Watch that attitude of yours, Ms. Shen.' 'Are you certain, Ms. Shen?' 'Is there a problem, Ms. Shen?'"
"But she said she thinks you're a fine officer."
"Yes. Exactly. What do you suppose she meant by that?"
"That… she thinks you're a fine officer?"
"Herdez? Ha!"
"What do you think she meant?"
"I don't know, but I'll find out. Right now, you and I have another call to make."
"Where?"
Jen mustered an artificially bright smile. "USS Mahan."
"Jen!"
"I mean it, Paul. There's unfinished business. Trust me on this. You've got to beard the, um, lion in his den."
"I didn't know lions had beards."
"Whatever! Let's go."
"Just what am I supposed to say to a captain who thinks I'm pond scum?"
"Just wait." Jen met Paul's stubborn gaze. "Trust me, Paul Sinclair!"
Paul let his gaze drop and shook his head. "Okay. You're the expert on your father, and I'm sure as hell not going to hide from him for the rest of whatever career I have in the Navy."
"Damn straight."
The lieutenant junior grade standing officer of the deck on the Mahan reacted to Jen's presence with a barely concealed sense of panic. When he saw Paul, the panic rose by an order of magnitude. Clearly fearing the worst, the Mahan 's officer of the deck called the captain, listened to the reply, then ordered the petty officer of the watch to escort Paul and Jen to the wardroom.
Captain Shen sat there at a table which mirrored that on the Michaelson except for a different random pattern of nicks and scratches. Two other officers occupied the wardroom, but after one steely glance from their captain they hastily exited. Captain Shen, as erect as if he were sitting at attention, turned to face Jen. "I gather you're not here to give me an apology."
"I only apologize when I'm wrong. I learned that from a certain senior naval officer."
"That you did." Captain Shen stood, then pivoted to look at Paul, his eyes seeming to bore straight into Paul's brain. "It seems you were declared right by the court-martial, Mr. Sinclair. And I was declared wrong."
"Sir, we both did our duty."
"Don't condescend to me, young man. I screwed up. I failed to accurately determine the causes of that accident on the Michaelson. I hope you're not expecting me to thank you for bringing that to public notice."
Paul shook his head. "No, sir."
Captain Shen's glower didn't diminish, but he slowly extended one hand. "But I do thank you for what you did for the Navy. You did a good job, mister."
Paul stared at the hand uncomprehendingly for a moment, then reached out to shake Captain Shen's hand. "Thank you, sir." Shen's grip was so tight Paul almost flinched, but instead he returned the pressure.
Captain Shen's eyes locked on Jen. "My daughter is not a fool."
"No, sir."
"There's a difference between courage and foolhardiness. Do you know that difference?"
"Yes, sir."
"That'd better be correct. I will be keeping an eye on you, Mr. Sinclair. God help you if you harm my daughter or her career."
"I will never do that, sir."
"I'll be watching. Dismissed."
Paul saluted, but Jen suddenly lunged forward and hugged her father. "Thank you, dad. Sorry we fought."