Herdez gazed back at Garrity. "My duty as the executive officer is to support my ship's captain to the best of my ability. The moment I lose the confidence of my ship's captain I am no longer able to carry out that duty."
"And that is why you refuse to second guess the decisions Captain Wakeman made during a fast-moving situation in which he believed his ship to be in danger?"
"That is why I refuse to second guess any decision by my ship's captain."
"Thank you, Commander Herdez. No more questions."
Wilkes stood. "I'd like to redirect. Commander Herdez, you said your crew was well-trained. Do you believe they were incapable of providing effective support to Captain Wakeman during the encounter with the SASAL ship?"
Paul gritted his teeth.
He's got her there. Herdez either says she failed to train the crew properly, or admits she did and that Wakeman didn't listen to them
.
Herdez shook her head. "No."
"So the crew was capable of providing effective support to Captain Wakeman?"
"Yes."
"Commander Herdez, if Captain Wakeman ordered his ship to ram Franklin Station, would you regard it as your duty to support his actions?"
Herdez almost seemed to smile for an instant before responding. "That situation has never arisen, Commander Wilkes, so I am unable to evaluate whatever factors might have led Captain Wakeman to make such a decision."
"You think there are circumstances under which such a decision would be supportable?" Wilkes let his voice rise with incredulity.
"Yes."
"Such as?"
"Occupancy of Franklin by hostile forces intent upon using its resources against us. Emergency destruction of the station following its evacuation. Maintaining a collision course with the station rather than undertaking avoidance maneuvers which would cause the loss of more critical assets. Emergency destruction of the
Michaelson
to neutralize an onboard threat to humanity. Orders directing—"
"Thank you, Commander Herdez." Wilkes shook his head as he returned to his seat. "No further questions."
"Do the members have any questions for Commander Herdez?"
Admiral Fowler regarded Herdez carefully, as if she represented an intriguing puzzle. "Commander Herdez, throughout the sequence of events leading up to the destruction of the SASAL ship by the USS
Michaelson
, did you ever question the correctness of Captain Wakeman's decisions?"
"Sir, I provided Captain Wakeman with my input to his decision process whenever I deemed it appropriate."
"But Captain Wakeman didn't pay a lot of attention to your input, did he?"
"He wasn't required to, sir."
"Did you agree with his decisions?"
"It wasn't my duty to agree or disagree with the captain's decisions, sir. My duty was to implement his decisions."
"Even if they violated standing orders?"
"The decision on whether actions violate standing orders rests ultimately with the captain, sir."
"Then you're not willing to state that Captain Wakeman's decisions in that regard were wrong?"
"I did not have the responsibilities of command. It's impossible now for me to say that the individual carrying those responsibilities at the time of those decisions was mistaken."
Fowler leaned back, smiling crookedly. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Commander Herdez, but we could ask you variations on those questions from now until the sun burns out and you'd keep giving us the same sort of replies, wouldn't you?"
Herdez' reply was, to all appearances, totally serious. "Yes, sir."
Fowler looked around at the other members. "Anyone else want a crack at her? No? I don't blame you. That's all for us, then."
After Judge Holmes dismissed Herdez, Wilkes came forward once again. "The prosecution rests."
"Very well. Commander Garrity, do you wish to make any motions?"
"Yes, your honor. I would ask that the members of the court-martial be excused prior to making my motion."
"Granted. The members are excused." Admiral Fowler nodded in acknowledgement, stood, and led the four captains out the back door. "You may continue, Commander Garrity."
"The defense moves for a finding of not guilty as to all charges and specifications based on a failure of the prosecution to prove essential elements in every case."
"The motion is denied. The prosecution has provided sufficient basis for deliberation by the members of the court-martial as to guilt or innocence for each charge and specification. Does the defense have further motions?"
"No, your honor."
"This court-martial is closed. It will reconvene at ten hundred tomorrow morning in this same courtroom for the presentation of evidence by the defense."
Paul stood along with everyone else, abruptly aware of muscles stiff from being held tense while Herdez testified and was cross-examined. Tomorrow, he'd be up there on the witness stand, like a silhouette in a shooting gallery. Tonight, all he had to do was say goodbye to Jen. Variations on being alone against the world.
I just have to make it through a few more days. Then it'll be bearable again. No sweat. Maybe if I repeat that enough I'll start believing it
.
Paul sat, nursing his drink at Fogarty's, watching Jen go from person to person and group to group. Farewells for people you liked were always bitter-sweet affairs at best. You couldn't help but be happy that they were leaving the pressure-cooker of being part of a ship's crew, but you also knew you'd miss them. He already felt as if Jen were separating from the wardroom of the
Michaelson
, and from him, and that fact contributed to the melancholy he already felt. Paul checked the time.
It's been almost three hours? I didn't realize. Maybe it's time to go
.
A moment later Jen came and flopped down in the seat next to him. "Hello, Mr. Sinclair."
"Shouldn't that be good-bye?"
"Not yet. You're sitting here all alone and quiet. What's on your mind?"
"You don't need my problems tonight, Jen."
"Who are you to say what I need? Feeling possessive?"
"No!" Paul looked away, suddenly annoyed with both Jen and himself.
"Hey, lighten up. How many drinks have you had?"
"Less than you, I'm sure."
"Guess again. This is number two."
"Really?" Paul looked at her, startled. "I know we have to work tomorrow, but don't the honorees at farewells usually get wasted?"
"I'm not much for traditions. What's bugging you, Paul?"
"Nothing."
"Bull. Talk to me."
"Okay. I'm worried about tomorrow. My testimony. What's going to happen."
"That's all?" Jen leaned to catch his eyes. "You're hiding something."
"Oh, hell, Jen. I'm sorry you're leaving. I don't want you to leave the ship."
"Really? Why?"
Paul gave her a skeptical look. "You're . . . my friend."
"You've got lots of friends, Paul."
"No, I don't. And even if I did, there'd only be one Jen." He raised his glass to hide his face behind the drink, trying to cover a sudden flush of embarrassment.
"Ah, what a sweet thing to say. Want to go for a walk?"
"Jen, your party—"
"Is over. I've talked to everybody. I saved you for last. Come on."
Paul followed, out of the bar and along the wide corridor lined with similar bars. Not speaking, Jen led the way in the general direction of the ship, then veered off into another area. After several minutes, she stopped near a doorway with a credit card slot affixed next to the lock. Similar doorways occurred at regular intervals for some ways down the length of the bulkhead. "Got me a rent-a-shack tonight, Paul. I didn't want to sleep onboard. Just a way of marking the fact I'll be leaving soon."
"Oh." Paul eyed the door curiously. He'd never actually been in a rent-a-shack on Franklin, though he was familiar with their counterparts elsewhere. A small room with barely enough space for a bed, a tiny lavatory and an entertainment console, rent-a-shacks were found everywhere people needed a few hours of privacy.
"You don't have to sound so impressed."
"Sorry. That's nice, Jen. I bet you'll be real comfortable."
"Maybe."
He glanced at her curiously, but Jen stood silent nearby for a little while. Paul waited, guessing she wanted the time with her own thoughts.
Finally, Jen looked over at him, a small smile on her lips. "So, you're going to miss me, huh?"
"Yeah. I already told you that."
"Are you going to miss me a little or a lot?"
"A lot, I guess."
"You guess?"
"Okay, I know. I will miss you a lot. Okay? I like you."
"A lot?"
"Yes, I like you a lot."
"I like you, too, Mr. Sinclair. I like you a lot, too."
"You do?"
"Why do you think we talk so much?"
"I never really thought about it, I guess. And since I found out you were leaving and we wouldn't get to talk anymore I haven't wanted to think about it. I don't want to say goodbye, Jen."
"I don't want to say goodbye, either. Matter of fact, it's a shame to say goodnight, isn't it?"
"Yeah, but I need to get back to the ship—"
"No, you don't." Jen hooked a thumb toward the door of the rent-a-shack. "There's a bed in there. It's no king size, but it's big enough for two."
Paul's next words froze in his throat. He stared at her for a long moment. "What?"
Jen pulled herself close to him, her smile growing. "Hey, sailor. New in town?"
"Jen, I, I . . ."
"Oh, he's shocked. He's stunned. Paul, you can be such an idiot. Kiss me."
"Uh, Jen, I, uh . . ."
"Relax, almost-a-JAG. We're not going to violate any regulations. Neither of us is in the other's chain of command, and in less than two weeks we won't even be on the same ship."
"Yeah, but regulations say people still assigned to the same command—"
"Shut up, Paul." Then Jen's mouth was on his, and her hands were touching him, and Paul suddenly realized that particular regulation probably wasn't all that important in this case anyway.
* * *
Paul awoke with a mild headache at odds with an overall sense of well-being. He turned his head, seeing Jen's eyes fixed on him. "Good morning."
She smiled. "I think so. How about you?"
"Oh, yeah."
"Good. Listen, Paul, I don't do one-night stands. We already know we like each other. I'd like a relationship now. A serious one. See how well we go together. Interested?"
"Very interested. And very surprised. I never thought you'd want to get serious with me."
"Yeah, well, you grew on me. I've been thinking about it for a while, but I wasn't going to do anything about it while we were living and working a few meters away from each other. When my orders came through I realized it was time to decide whether to walk away from you or not."
"You'd already decided when you told me about your orders, hadn't you? And told Kris to make sure I was at your farewell?"
"Yup. Planned the whole thing. Right up until we got in here, anyway. From that point on I improvised, but you didn't seem to mind."
"Darn right I didn't. But I've spent the last few days feeling so bad, thinking you'd be gone from my life!"
"That was obvious. It was
so
funny watching you slouch around all depressed."
"You are such a bitch."
"I know."
"I'm still glad you decided not to walk away. But, like you said, you're leaving the ship. We won't see nearly as much of each other."
"That's the reason I made my move. I want our personal stuff to stay personal, and off the ship or any other job. In a couple of weeks I'll be assigned to the
Maury
, and we can see each other openly and not break any regulations."
"So why didn't you wait until you'd actually transferred? I seem to recall a certain Jen Shen once advising me not to mess around with anybody else in the crew until I was walking off the ship for the last time."
She grinned. "And I meant it. But we're not in each other's chain of command, and I'm on my way gone. Close enough."
"Not that I'm complaining, but we wouldn't have to hide it at all if you'd waited a few more weeks."
"Okay, the truth is I figured you could really use something positive going on in your life right now."
"I sure could."
"That seemed really important. So I evaluated my options, weighed the risks and acted appropriately, like a good officer should. Happy?"
"Very. So you did it because you thought I needed it? You're really a very sweet person, Jen."
"I am not. You take that back." Jen glanced away. "To be perfectly honest, there was another reason. There's no telling when I could have gotten together with you again after I left the
Michaelson
. What orders our ships might have gotten right after I left. Where you might have gone, for how long, who you might have met. I might have lost my chance to do anything, and maybe lost you. I didn't want to risk that."
"Thanks. I'm glad you didn't."
"Now we just have to keep a lid on it until I leave the
Michaelson
. God help us if somebody like Herdez finds out. So don't go making goopy-eyes at me when we get back to the
Michaelson
or I'll deck you."
"Yes, ma'am, Ensign Shen."
"Good. Now, I've got another question." She sat up, turning toward him and leaning forward. "This testimony you're supposed to give today. Do you know what you're planning on saying, yet?"
"Huh? What?" Distracted by the sight of her breasts hanging not far from his face, Paul had totally missed the question.
Jen saw where his eyes were focused and grinned. "Oh, you like these, huh?"
"Well, yeah."
"Then never mind about the question. I'll ask it again later. Come here."
Paul didn't get a chance to find out what her question had been before they had to hastily leave to take separate paths back to the ship, but that didn't bother him a great deal.
* * *
If there'd actually been windows in Franklin Station, and if any of those windows had illuminated the route from the
Michaelson
to the court room, Paul would have said the sun was shining on his walk.
Funny. I'm still worried about my testimony. I'm still tense about what might happen. My guts twist every time I think about being questioned up there. But I feel good. Jen wants to be serious with me. Who would've guessed? Anybody but a dope like me, probably
.