Paul's voice sounded rough to him. "I told you I don't know why either."
"Then you're not doing either of us much damn good, are you?"
He stared straight into her eyes, not believing what he'd heard. "What . . . ? Jen, what're you doing?"
She looked down again, concealing her haunted eyes from Paul once more. "I don't know," she whispered. "Just go away."
"No!"
"Then shut up or something."
"Jen, this isn't like you."
"What do you know what I'm like? What do
I
know what I'm like? Maybe it's all a big illusion, maybe I've always been an awful screw-up, an accident waiting to happen. And I did something or didn't do something and a lot of people who trusted me died. How do I know
that
isn't true?"
"Because it's not!"
"
Then why am I here
?"
"I . . ."
"You're not helping me. You're not helping
you
. Give it up. Just go away and let me sail off to hell alone."
"I don't want to."
"And I don't care."
"Jen." Paul waited as minutes passed without Jen moving, then finally he stood up slowly. "Okay."
Shouldn't I say something else? What? I understand? How the hell could I understand? I don't even know what the hell's going on
. "I'll see you tomorrow." Jen didn't respond, so Paul left, feeling an emptiness inside only partially filled by his anger at her.
* * *
Franklin offered no refuges, no places to hole up alone with his anger. The rent-a-shacks were all tied up, used by people brought in to work on the
Maury
or assist in or provide press coverage of the court-martial. He didn't even dare wander about, knowing that he might run into some press crew looking for a chance to stick a camera in his face. He'd never wanted that, and certainly didn't want it while his anger with Jen was burning so bright.
All I've done for her. All I've tried to do. And she shoves me away. Great. Thanks. You're welcome. And go to hell, too
.
Fortunately, there was always the ship. The
Michaelson
sat securely at her berth, her quarterdeck quiet at this time of the evening. A startled Jack Abacha standing watch on the quarterdeck saluted Paul onboard.
Paul swung in the wardroom door in search of coffee, then tried to swing back out again immediately when he saw Commander Sykes seated at his usual place. Sykes, however, raised a commanding hand and gestured to a seat near him. Paul scowled, but obeyed. "Yes, sir?"
"Ah. 'Yes, sir.' What's the occasion for the formality, young Sinclair?"
"Suppo, I'm sorry, but I'm really not in the mood for a discussion."
"In this case, that may mean you require one." Sykes lost his habitual smile and eyed Paul. "You've been to see Jen Shen."
"Yes, sir."
"It didn't go well."
"Commander Sykes, sir, with all due respect—"
Sykes raised his hand again, cutting off Paul. "Not well at all. Would you be surprised to know I expected this? No, don't turn that unflattering shade of red. It's not really about you and her. It's about what she's trapped in."
Paul took a long, deep breath, trying to calm himself.
Sykes has given me a lot of good advice, and I know he really cares about Jen. I ought to listen to him
. "Suppo, I know what she's trapped in. But why would that make her . . ."
"Lash out at you? I assume that's what happened?"
"Yes, sir." Paul stared at Sykes. "You do know what's going on? What?"
"I'm afraid it comes down to two things, Paul. One is what's happening to Jen, and the other is that you haven't fully appreciated the impact of those events upon her."
"Dammit, Suppo, I've been doing just about nothing
but
trying to appreciate what she must feel like!"
Sykes took a drink before replying. "Think about it from Jen's perspective, Paul."
"I've been doing that, Suppo. I understand how awful it must feel to be unjustly accused of such a crime."
"But you haven't fully grasped Jen's feelings." Sykes looked off into the distance for a moment before focusing back on Paul. "Jen's being accused of having done something horrible by people who, so far as she knows, have no reason to persecute her. The entire ponderous machinery of the Navy seems focused on proving she did this awful thing. Why? Why would they accuse her of such a thing? Why work so hard to prove her guilt? Jen wouldn't be human if she didn't fear deep inside that there might be a reason, that she might somehow in some way be guilty."
"Suppo—"
Sykes gestured for silence. "Wait. I'm not saying Jen's guilty. Not at all. I am saying she must in the dark hours of the night wonder why so many are convinced of her guilt. And she must wonder what about her causes them to be so convinced. Why did they charge her with these crimes? Why do they seek to convict her? Somewhere inside her, Jen surely fears there might be some basis for it all. Under such stress, under such accusations, even saints would question themselves. It's common after major traumas like what the
Maury
experienced. Feelings of inadequacy, of failure. Survivor guilt. You've heard of that? Wondering if you could've done
something
to change the outcome."
Paul stared silently at the supply officer for a long moment. "Like I felt after Chief Asher died."
Sykes nodded. "Exactly like that. Magnified sixty-one times. And magnified as well by the criminal charges against her."
"My God." Paul felt an icy knot inside.
After Jen's father finished that investigation into Asher's death he didn't directly blame me, but he laid enough guilt on me for maybe not preventing the fire that I've carried it around ever since. And Jen isn't just being blamed by implication, but directly
. "She's actually wondering if she's really, somehow, guilty. If she deserves what's happening to her."
"Either because of this crime or because of something else she's imagining she's done wrong and this is a cosmic way of balancing the scales. She'd never admit it, Paul. Not Jen. But I'm certain such fears haunt her. Only an insane person wouldn't question their innocence when so many seem intent on proving their guilt."
Paul closed his eyes for a moment, trying to recall the emotions he'd seen in Jen.
He's right. Sykes is saying some of the same things Jen did, but from a different perspective. Jen's scared. Not just scared of being convicted. She's scared of somehow being guilty
. "She's not."
Sykes nodded as if Paul had spoken aloud his entire train of thought. "No. I certainly don't believe so." He sighed and took another drink of coffee. "All we have to do is convince the world of that. And all you have to do as well is ensure Jen knows you remain certain of that, regardless if what else may happen."
"If she needs me to reassure her, then why'd she push me away?" Paul felt his anger rising again at the memory. "I wanted to help and she practically kicked me out the door."
"Jen isn't the sort to ask for help, even when being subjected to the kind of test she's now enduring."
Paul shook his head, looking down at the patterns in the floor. "So she treats me like hell and I'm supposed to ignore it? How can I retain my own self-respect if I let her rip me up? Okay, she's being tested, but if she reacts to it by attacking me, what am I supposed to think?"
"Perhaps, Mr. Sinclair, you should think about the possibility that Jen's not the only one being tested."
Paul stared at the swirls in a small patch of the floor.
Is it also about me? Isn't that self-centered to even think? No. It's the opposite. It's about whether I'm good enough for her, whether I really believe in Jen, whether I'll really stick with her for better or worse. Even when she's being a psycho-bitch from hell for reasons beyond her control.
His anger faded and he looked up, meeting Commander Sykes' eyes. "You're right. If I don't stick with Jen, I'll be fulfilling her worst fears. I can't let that happen."
If I did . . . I'd never deserve anything good in my life again. What'd my dad say? 'Not if you were worth a damn.' He was right, too
.
Sykes waited until he knew Paul was listening again. "I think it's safe to say that right now Jen is believing she doesn't deserve you because of her own faults. Real and imagined. If you go away, it proves she's right about that, doesn't it?"
"Then for once I'm going to prove her wrong and refuse to let her say otherwise."
Sykes smiled. "Good lad. Mind you, if you end up marrying her this may be the last time you get to do that."
"If only I could answer her question, Suppo. Why? Why is this happening to Jen?"
"If we knew the answer to that, I suspect we'd also know how and why the deaths on the
Maury
actually occurred."
"You think the people trying Jen know the real truth?"
Sykes pursed his lips, then took another drink. "Do you believe the people trying Jen would be doing so if they knew she wasn't guilty?"
"No." He thought of Captain Carney. "Oh, some of them. But not all of them. Not even close."
"I'm afraid that may rule out a grand conspiracy. And I confess to having no other ideas, myself."
Paul nodded. "I can't fault you for that. No one's been able to come with other ideas, even Jen and her lawyer. Small wonder she's feeling despair. I just didn't . . . what am I going to do when you're gone, Suppo? I'm going to miss you."
"Nonsense. Once free of my critical oversight you young officers shall doubtless frolic in wild abandon."
"After the outstanding example you've provided us of minimizing movement during the day? I don't think so."
"Hmmm." Sykes gave Paul an arch look. "I'm not sure that's a compliment. But I'll nonetheless offer you some bonus advice. If you want Jen to feel supported, then support from someone she respects as a professional but thinks personally dislikes her would mean much, I think."
Paul frowned. "Who do you mean?"
Sykes took another drink and smiled. "She Who Must Be Obeyed."
"Commander Herdez?"
"Exactly."
"Does she know you call her that?" Paul asked, laughing despite everything.
"Let's say she tolerates the occasional use of the phrase. From me. I wouldn't recommend it for use by, say, lieutenants junior grade."
"Suppo, I'm not an ensign, anymore. I wouldn't do something that stupid."
Sykes smiled again. "Young Mr. Sinclair, I have seen admirals do things which could be characterized as 'that stupid.' Go see Commander Herdez, first thing in the morning."
"Tomorrow's Saturday. They're going ahead with the court-martial but it's not a normal working day."
"Not for most, but as you're aware Commander Herdez is not normal. You know she'll be in her office, and she'll be there early. Tell her of your worries and see how she responds."
"Yes, sir." Paul paused. "How much does she already know about all this, Suppo?"
"Already know? About what everyone else knows, I suppose."
"She's not getting any inside information?"
Sykes managed to look puzzled. "Inside information? From whom?"
"I can't imagine."
* * *
Colleen Kilgary intercepted Paul on his way to his stateroom. "Sorry I hadn't got back to you on that SEERS documentation, Paul."
Paul took in Colleen's haggard appearance and tried to smile reassuringly. "That's okay. It's not like you don't have a lot of other things to do."
"Yeah, but I know how important this is." She made a frustrated gesture. "I've been over it. A lot of it, anyway. I can't find anything concrete in all that garbage about significant problems with SEERS." Colleen stopped to yawn mightily. "Sorry. Anyhow, I did get this vague feeling something's missing."
Paul felt a surge of interest. "Really?"
"It's just vague. There's nothing solid there. Everything looks good. It's just this feeling that there ought to've been more problems with the thing. But it looks like SEERS hit its developmental time line in all the right ways. That's unusual, but not impossible."
Paul nodded to cover up his disappointment. "Nothing's really missing then, that you can tell."
Another extended yawn. "Nope. It's just a feeling that there ought to be some more problems documented on such a big project. You know, engineers have got to be skeptical. But Jen herself said they hadn't run into major problems with SEERS on the
Maury
, right?"
"But, missing . . ." Paul knew he was grasping at straws. "Could there be something that's being kept from Jen's defense?"
"By who?" Colleen frowned. "Or is it whom? I can never get that straight. Look at the people bringing the case against Jen. I've met Admiral Hidalgo a number of times. He's a bit pompous and certain that he knows everything there is to know, but why would he cover up problems with SEERS? Leaving out any human or professional considerations, it wouldn't help Hidalgo's career any if the engineering plants he was responsible for started blowing up right and left. Or Admiral Silver. Maybe he doesn't like
you
, and maybe his leadership style makes Stalin look like Santa Clause, but deliberately letting something into the fleet that'll tear apart ships?"
Paul nodded again, his head sagging. "I wish I could argue that point, but as far as I know you're right. They wouldn't do this if they had any indications SEERS was dangerous."
"And what you had sure seemed like everything on SEERS."
"The prosecution swears it is, and I honestly don't believe the trial counsel would lie about that."
Colleen spread her hands helplessly. "Then it couldn't have been an accident. That's my professional judgment."
"Damn."
"Paul, I'd lie if I thought it would help Jen. But even a lie has to have credibility. It has to match what people expect. I'm really, really sorry."
"Thanks, Colleen. You've done an awful lot, and I really appreciate it, and I'm sure Jen does, too."
Even though if she saw you right now she'd probably try to tear your head off like she did with me
.
Colleen's small answering smile looked as forced as it certainly was. She staggered off to her own stateroom. Paul reached his, grateful his roommates were either absent or already asleep, and pulled himself up into his bunk. His dreams were full of mazes, all ending in blank walls.