"Ms. Shen?" Paul hadn't wanted to go there. Still didn't want to go there. "I don't know. If she's convicted, there's a… range of penalties."
Chief Imari and Senior Chief Kowalski fell silent again. Paul understood. What else can they say? He stood up and nodded to them. "Well, I need to get going." He left, wondering if the rest of his life would consist of people watching him and not knowing what to say.
"Hey, Sheriff."
"Mr. Sinclair." Sharpe blew out his cheeks in an exasperated gesture. "Nothing?"
"No. The members of the court are deliberating."
"Don't look good, does it?"
"No." Paul slumped against the nearest bulkhead. "I just don't get it. Okay, let's say it wasn't an accident. That means somebody else did it. Or knows who or what did it. And they're letting Jen take the blame."
Sharpe scratched his head. "I guess that's the only theory that fits right now, sir."
"But why? If it was some weird kind of suicide thing, why take so many of their shipmates with them? And how'd they manage it without being detected? Even the prosecution hasn't been able to explain how Jen supposedly blew up all the engineering stuff at once. They just say she's so good she could've figured out a way."
"Maybe the chief engineer did it, sir. And maybe he sent Ms. Jen to safety 'cause he liked her or something?"
Paul shook his head. "No. Lieutenant Bashir and I went over that. No evidence to support it at all. It's bizarre. We can't accuse a dead guy of doing it because there's no evidence but they can accuse a live person of doing it without any evidence except for the fact that she lived through it." Paul heard himself laughing in disbelief. "How's that for irony, Sheriff? If Jen'd died in the explosions, she wouldn't have to worry about being executed for causing them. But she lived so now maybe she'll die."
"Sir." Paul could see the worry on Sharpe's face. "Sir. You need some rest. You're worn out and strung out."
"I'm exhausted, Sheriff. Completely exhausted. You're a cop. Why can't we find the pieces that'll let us tie this whole mess up into one neat package?"
Sharpe visibly hesitated. "There's conspiracies, sir."
"That big? Involving people I know are decent human beings? Why would people on fleet staff, just to give one example, take part in such a conspiracy? Why wouldn't at least one of them tell the truth?"
"I don't know, sir."
"I can't put the package together because I can't find all the pieces. Why can't I find the pieces?"
Sharpe looked down for a moment, then unexpectedly smiled slightly. "I just remembered a time I couldn't put it together, either, sir. Drove me nuts."
"What happened?"
"Oh, we had a problem with some druggies running stuff through an area, and we also had a lot of burglaries and other thefts going on. We kept trying to tie the thefts to the druggies and kept running into blind alleys." Sharpe shook his head. "We finally figured out the druggies and the thieves were two separate gangs. Wasted a lot of time trying to make them one big problem, though."
Paul listened a moment longer, but Sharpe's story was done. Paul shrugged. "I don't see how that helps, Sheriff."
"Uh, no, I guess it doesn't. I just thought of it, is all."
"Yeah." Paul blinked as his vision fuzzed. "I'm so exhausted."
"Do you need help getting back to your stateroom, sir?"
"No. I can make it. Thanks, Sheriff."
He made it back, rolling into his bunk, thankful for a moment that he was so used to his surroundings by now that he automatically ducked low enough to avoid the tangle of cables, pipes and supports than ran along the overhead just above his bunk. Paul fell asleep almost instantly, his mind filled with absurd images of Commander Carr and the Fleet Commander jointly plotting to destroy ships.
He popped back awake several hours later, staring up at the overhead. Something had jolted his subconscious. What? Something somebody said. Something more than one person said.
Senior Chief Kowalski, saying he'd never known any new equipment to work as designed. Senior Chief's not an engineer, but he's been in the Navy forever. He probably helped Noah sweep up after the animals. But if there is some big problem with SEERS, or any problem with SEERS, the Navy has to know it, and that would mean people I know are honorable were lying in the most horrible way I can imagine.
Or would it? The thing Sharpe talked about. Two problems instead of one. Is that what I'm missing? I keep trying to tie it all together. Jen's being court-martialed because… because of some grand conspiracy that doesn't make sense because of the people who'd have to be involved. What if that's not the case? What if the people I think are honorable are being honorable? What if they don't have any reason to think they're wrong about stuff like SEERS? But maybe there is something wrong, anyway.
What did Colleen tell me the other night? Even a lie has to agree with what people expect if they're going to believe it. Something like that. Well, everybody who's looked at this SEERS data has said they're surprised at the lack of problems during development. They don't really believe it. They just can't find anything that proves it's wrong and none of the people going after Jen have credible reasons to hide stuff that'd prove there were problems. But maybe they're not hiding it because they don't know, either.
It wouldn't be a matter of the left hand and the right hand working together. Or even a right hand and a left hand at all. It'd be two separate things entirely. And Jen getting stuck between them purely by chance. And no one able to see it because we're all trying to make sense of one big picture that isn't one big picture, and trying to see a reason for something, Jen surviving, that didn't have any reason.
Paul sat up so abruptly he rapped his head against the overhead. Ow! Blast it! What time is it? Zero six thirty. How'd I miss reveille? Because it's Sunday. Who can I ask about SEERS on a Sunday? Who'd be able to answer questions about something new being built under contract?
Oh. Duh.
"Mom, I really need some help."
She blinked blearily back at him. "Why do kids always really need help early on Sunday morning?"
"I need you. Jen needs you."
"What about?"
"Contractor stuff. Have you heard of SEERS?"
"Yes. That engineering system thing. Big contract. I haven't worked it, though. Different corporate entity."
"I need to know…" Paul's voice trailed off. What do I need to know? "If somebody was trying to hide something about SEERS, what would they do?"
His mother blinked a couple of more times, her hands fumbling around outside of Paul's vision. "Coffee. I need coffee. Hide something? Hide what?"
"Uh, design features?"
"That's all protected. Industrial secrets and confidentiality. And then the Navy wanting to keep ship performance capabilities secret. None of it's going to be sitting out on any public site."
"What about problems?"
His mother had finally found a coffee container and drank half of it before answering. "What kind of problems?"
"I don't know. Reliability? Test results?"
"Hmmmm. What is it you're looking for exactly?"
"I'm looking for something no one's found yet."
"That helps a lot."
"Something no one would want to be found. I mean, suppose there were problems with SEERS and no one wanted anyone to know that. And they hid that evidence from the fleet and from the investigators and the evidence gatherers after what happened on the Maury."
"That's a real big 'suppose.' Do you have reason to believe that's what happened?"
"No. Just a hunch."
His mother looked to one side. "I'll get your father. There's people we can talk to. Places we know to look. But you understand we're bound by confidentiality agreements for our work with contractors."