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Paul nodded, scanning the displays. Watches tended to be either way too dull or way too exciting. Once they joined up with the foreign ships, they'd probably all be exciting for a while, but they had a lot of space to cover before then. "Who's this on a slightly converging track with us?"

Kris pointed to the symbol. "The Mahan 's out here, too. Heading for the same general area."

"What?" Paul stared at the symbol. "They're adding in another ship? This late in the game? I haven't seen-"

"Relax, relax. We got briefed on it during our watch. The Mahan got tapped as an observer ship."

"What's the Mahan going to see that anyone watching from Earth's surface couldn't?"

"Nothing. But they loaded some VIPs onboard her. American and foreign. They get to 'be here' during the exercise."

"Whoopee." Paul settled into the chair, adjusting the straps to suit his larger body.

Kris Denaldo gave him a curious look. "Why's the Mahan got you spooked?"

"I'm not spooked."

"You're not happy."

"You know who the captain of the Mahan is!"

She frowned, then her expression cleared. "Oh, yeah. Jen's dad."

Jen's dad. Captain Kay Shen. A man who'd made it clear that he didn't think Paul measured up to what his daughter deserved, and who'd warned that he'd be watching Paul. And now here he is, literally watching my ship. Oh, joy.

Denaldo smiled at Paul's expression. "Captain Shen's not that bad, is he?"

Paul stared at her with exaggerated disbelief. "Do you know those illustrations for science fiction stuff where some big, dark character is looming over and menacing an entire galaxy? That's how I think of Jen's father. He's out there, always watching."

Kris laughed. "Paul, I met him once. He seemed okay."

"You weren't dating his daughter."

"That's true. Jen and I don't swing that way." Kris paused as if thinking. "Still, Jen is awful cute."

"And she's mine. Just in case you're not joking."

" Yours? Jen's like a cat, Paul, just in case you haven't figured that out, yet. She might choose to hang around with you, but you'll never own her."

Yeah. Which is one of the things I like about her. But it leaves me to worry that someday she'll find some other tomcat that she likes better than me. Not that I have to worry about her father liking that other tomcat better than he does me. I think. "Point taken. Still, Captain Kay Shen is one very hard-assed individual. And I know he's keeping as close an eye as he can on everything I do."

"I thought Commander Herdez was keeping an eye on you to see if you were maintaining her standards."

"She is. Both of them are."

"Ugh. Better you than me." Denaldo ran down the rest of the information Paul needed to know. The turnover briefing didn't take too long, since Paul was familiar with upcoming events and because in this large area of space labeled "local" he and the other officers on the ship had become familiar with space traffic patterns, objects in fixed orbits and navigational aides. "Any questions?"

"Nah." Paul rendered a casual salute to her. "I got it."

She returned the salute, part of the formal ritual the watch followed. "I stand relieved." Raising her voice, Denaldo called out, "This is Lieutenant Denaldo. Lieutenant Sinclair has the conn."

"This is Lieutenant Sinclair. I have the conn." Paul listened as the other watch standers acknowledged the transfer of responsibility.

Lieutenant Sindh had been his more senior watch standing partner as officer of the deck for some months now. He'd regret losing her steady presence on the bridge, too. They passed the hours of the watch playing Foreign Navy Jeopardy, which could be entertaining enough to dissipate boredom while also professional enough not to get them in trouble if a more senior officer overheard them.

Paul was saying, "I'll take Russian Federation minor combatants for four hundred," when their reliefs arrived. Sam Yarrow gave Paul an annoyed look, ignoring Ensign Abacha who'd come onto the bridge right behind him. Poor Jack Abacha. Standing under-instruction watches with Sam Yarrow. I wouldn't want to be in his shoes. After turning over with Yarrow, Paul took a moment to talk quietly to Abacha. "Don't worry. Just hang loose and keep your eyes and ears open. You've got Sam Yarrow here, you've got a good officer of the deck watching both you, and the enlisted are watching all the officers. Nobody'll let you mess up too bad."

Abacha nodded with the rapid head jerks that betrayed nervousness. "I don't want to mess up at all."

"Of course not. But you will. That's what being an ensign is about. It won't be the end of the world as long as you learn from your mistakes."

"Thanks."

"Any questions?"

"Uh…" Abacha looked around. "Just one thing that's kinda driving me crazy."

"What's that?"

"You went to the Naval Academy, too, so you'll understand. This ship's name is the Michaelson and her sister ships have names like Mahan and Maury. Just like the academic buildings at the Academy. So why is Michaelson spelled with an 'a'? The guy who first measured the speed of light was named Michelson. No 'a.'"

Paul grinned. "I wondered that, too. The Mike's not named after the scientist Michelson. She's named after Admiral 'Genghis' Conner Michaelson, the father of the Space Navy."

"Oh. That makes sense, but it still doesn't fit with the names of the rest of the ships in the class."

"Yeah. Rumor has it the Merry Mike was supposed to be named after the scientist, but the spelling error was discovered after the Michaelson name had been widely publicized, so since they couldn't change the name at that point without admitting they'd screwed up, they just changed the guy the ship was being named after. But that might just be a good rumor."

"Oh, okay." Jack Abacha grinned. "We meant to do it that way, right?"

"Right. Remember you've got some maneuvering in about two hours. Watch and learn."

"Yes, sir."

"And make sure you're tied down tightly to something before the maneuvering begins."

"Yes, sir!"

Paul spent the actual rendezvous inside Combat again, watching as the American and foreign ships fired thrusters and drives to bring themselves into a rough grouping. Tomorrow morning, the game of forming geometric shapes would begin. Paul opened the distance on his display, frowning as he spotted one large object heading in the general direction of the group. "Anybody know who this is?"

One of the watchstanders answered up. "SASAL combatant, Mr. Sinclair. The system IDs him as the Tamerlane."

"Thanks." Paul called up information on the Tamerlane from the combat systems database. The ship seemed roughly equivalent to the Michaelson in terms of size and armament. He checked the contact again. The South Asian Alliance ship wasn't using any methods to avoid detection, and proceeding at a leisurely pace through a neutral transit lane. No big deal, then. They'll be plenty near enough to see us playing ring-around-the-rosie with the other ships, though, so I guess that's a good thing.

Paul reached for the intercom to call the bridge, then hesitated. Should I bother them with this? That SASAL ship won't come anywhere near us on his present heading, and the bridge already has plenty to worry about. Maybe -

The bosun's pipe shrilled over the announcing system. "Lieutenant Junior Grade Sinclair, contact the bridge."

Uh oh. He finally tapped the intercom switch. "This is Lieutenant Sinclair."

Instead of the officer of the deck, he heard the voice of Captain Hayes replying. "Mr. Sinclair, why weren't I and the bridge watch informed there was a SASAL warship in the vicinity?"

Crap. Five more lousy seconds and I could've made the call to the bridge before I got called. Crap, crap, crap. "Sir, the Combat watch and I were evaluating-"