"SEERS?"
"Ships Engineering something something System. Some sort of unified power management gizmo."
"Uh, okay."
Paul entered his stateroom in the aptly nicknamed ensign locker and sat down at his desk. Sam Yarrow, the only other occupant at the moment, glanced over at him. "Garcia's looking for you."
Garcia's always looking for me. Garcia won't know what to do with his life when he can't look for me anymore. "What about?"
"Ask him yourself."
"Thanks, Sam." Paul tried to sound sincere, knowing that kind of reaction always threw Yarrow off. He stood up again and headed for Combat. Even if Garcia wasn't in Combat, Paul could catch up on paperwork at his console there.
Fogarty's tried to look like a comfortable neighborhood pub. The fact that it was located inside an orbiting naval facility made the illusion a bit hard to sustain, but the bar's wood-grain painted steel bulkheads were close enough to the real thing to be a welcome oasis for sailors tired of staring at gray steel bulkheads. Paul took a seat at one of the small tables just outside of the door, watching humanity stream past in one of the wide main "streets" on the station while he waited for Jen to show up.
"Hey, sailor, looking for a good time?"
Paul shook his head without looking behind where the voice had come from. "Nah. I've got a serious girlfriend. I'm not allowed to have a good time anymore." He felt a rap against the back of his head. "Ouch."
Lieutenant Junior Grade Jen Shen walked around and took the other seat, shaking her head. "Why do I put up with you, Paul Sinclair?"
"I've often wondered that myself. I guess I'm just really lucky."
"Maybe I just feel sorry for you."
"I can live with that."
She grinned. "How'd you like operating with the Maury?"
"Nerve-wracking, to tell the truth. All those big ships so close." He smiled at her. "But at least whenever things got boring I could imagine you were on watch at the same time I was."
"Boy, are you desperate."
"Hey, I like watching you."
"Watching my ship isn't exactly the same thing."
Paul smiled wider. "You're right. The Maury 's stern can't compare to yours."
She laughed. "Are you saying my bow isn't better, too?"
"Not at all. But I'm a stern man."
"Whatever spins your gears." She leaned forward. "I want to hug you."
"We're in uniform."
"And in public." Jen gestured with both arms. "Considered yourself hugged."
"Any chance of considering myself kissed?"
"Maybe later. Did you see the Mahan out there?"
"Yeah."
Her expression changed to exasperation at Paul's tone of voice. "Pardon me for being happy my father could see me operating my ship. That's pretty rare."
"It'd be pretty rare under any circumstances." Paul smiled ruefully. "Okay. Have you talked to your father?"
"Not really. I got a brief message from him. He thought the exercise went off okay."
"He must've really been impressed."
She stuck her tongue out at him. "He thought the Michaelson did okay, too."
"Really?"
"Really. What're your plans for tonight?"
"Well, let's see. I don't have duty on my ship. You don't have duty on your ship. We haven't seen each other for over two weeks. I don't know. What about you?"
"I was thinking about finding some sailor and shacking up for the night."
"Oh, well, I'm free."
"I guess you'll do, then." Jen grinned again. "Keep romancing me like this and I may have to marry you some day, Mr. Sinclair."
His heart literally seemed to skip a few beats. "Does that mean…?"
"Not yet."
"It's been over six months since I asked you to marry me."
Jen put her hands over her ears. "Oh, pressure! Pressure! Somebody get me a survival suit!" She lowered the hands and smiled fondly at Paul. "I'll know when I know, Paul."
He nodded, smiling back to mask his feelings. I already know. I've known for a long time. But telling Jen I feel put off by her not being sure yet wouldn't make her any more likely to come to a decision. Kris was right. Jen's like a cat. If you push her, she pushes back instead of yielding. If that's what I want I have to live with it. "Dinner?"
"Real food? You certainly know how to make me feel loved."
About an hour later, fed with passable versions of real food from one of the private restaurants licensed on Franklin to make life there a bit more bearable, they checked into a rent-a-shack. Paul edged inside the small room, just big enough to hold a bed, a tiny toilet, and an entertainment display. "Tight quarters, as usual."
Jen rolled onto the bed. "You never complained about having to be close to me before."
"I'm not complaining now." He lay down as well, just resting for a moment. "This is one exhausting life, Jen."
"Tell me about it. You work in one of those easy-going Operations Department divisions. I'm a snipe, laboring in the bowels of engineering for days on end without rest."
"I've worked in Combat for days on end without rest."
"I've worked for weeks without rest."
"Months."
"Years."
They both laughed. Paul looked over at her, wondering again at whatever luck had brought them together. Well, it wasn't exactly luck. The Navy brought us together when it assigned us to the same ship. But if Jen hadn't been transferred off the Michaelson we never could've had any kind of relationship but friends, and I like this a whole lot better.
Jen propped herself on one elbow and looked back at him. "A dollar for your thoughts."
"Same as usual."
"I should've saved my dollar."
"Truth to tell, I was thinking how the Navy brought us together."
"And then separates us again as often as possible, if not more often." She lay back, staring up at the low ceiling of the rent-a-shack. "I heard a rumor we're heading out again real soon."
"Me, too."
"Both ships again?"
"Looks like it. But that's all I've heard."
"Another attempt to impress the SASALs, no doubt." She exhaled heavily. "Sometimes I just feel like kicking their butts out of space and getting it over with."
"It wouldn't be easy or pretty, Jen."
She rolled her head to glare at him. "Do you think I don't know that?"
"Sorry." She was on the Michaelson, too, when we blew away that unarmed SASAL research ship. And she's still got more time in space than me. "I hate to think of you facing combat. Not because I doubt how well you'll handle it, but, you know… "
Jen looked away. "I know. There's luck, good and bad. There's a lot of things. If shooting starts, either you or I might not come home for the victory parades."
"Or both of us."
"Yeah." She looked at him again. "In some ways, that'd be easier for me."
"Me, too. There's only one Jen out there."
"I bet. There's probably some rule against creating another one of me."
"You and Herdez."
"Do not mention her and me in the same breath!"
"Yes, ma'am." Even if you have a lot more in common with our old XO than you'll ever admit. "I don't know. I knew the risks I was signing on to face. I just never really thought about having to worry about my One and Only facing the same risks."
Jen snorted a brief laugh. "I never thought I wouldn't have to worry about that. Paul, both your parents were Navy. Why didn't you think you might get involved with another officer?"
"I don't know. Really. Maybe because by the time I was a teenager Mom was retired and Dad followed soon after. But now here we are and maybe next time we go out the SASALs will do something even more outrageous and someone on our side will shoot and this time it won't be an isolated incident that everyone just wants to sweep under the rug."
"Maybe. We're doing our jobs as best we can. We'll keep our ships and our shipmates and ourselves intact if we possibly can, no matter what. If we can't, well, hell, we're both doing this job because we believe it's important. Right?"