mass would be devastating to both ships.
The Michaelson 's maneuvering system spoke clearly across the now otherwise silent bridge, its composed voice at odds with the urgency of the message. 'HMS Lord Nelson and SASAL warship Tamerlane will collide unless at least one maneuvers within five minutes of my mark…. Mark. Recommend advise both ships to undertake coordinated maneuvers to avoid collision.'
Captain Hayes answered the Michaelson 's system without looking away from his display. 'We already thought of that.'
Kwan leaned toward the Captain. 'Maybe if we fired ahead of the SASAL ship, it'd be scared and-'
'No can do, XO. That'd definitely be a confrontation. I'm not free to do that.'
'Can we fire just in front of the Nelson, then?'
Sindh answered this time. 'No, sir. The firing angle is too oblique given our relative positions.'
'Four minutes remaining before collision between HMS Lord Nelson and SASAL warship Tamerlane becomes inevitable,' the Michaelson 's maneuvering systems reminded them.
Captain Hayes triggered his communications again. 'HMS Lord Nelson, this is the Exercise Movement Coordinator on the USS Michaelson. For God's sake maneuver to avoid collision.'
The Nelson 's captain sounded as unruffled as ever. 'I'm afraid that's quite impossible.'
'I notice you can receive my transmissions again.'
'What's that? Say again, please.'
Hayes closed his eyes briefly.
'Three minutes remaining before collision between HMS Lord Nelson and SASAL warship Tamerlane becomes inevitable.'
Captain Hayes looked around the bridge. 'I'd appreciate any suggestions anyone might have.'
The red collision point symbol on Paul's display had grown larger, now pulsing continuously, and the time markers had also become much bigger and impossible to miss or ignore as they spun down toward zero.
'Two minutes remaining before collision between HMS Lord Nelson and SASAL warship Tamerlane becomes inevitable.'
Paul caught Lieutenant Sindh's eye. Sindh shook her head. Paul looked back at his display.
'One minute re — '
Paul had to double check, then spoke with exaggerated care, his voice sounding louder than usual on the silent bridge. 'We have thruster firings and aspect change on the SASAL ship.' No one answered, but all bent closer to their displays as if willing the other ship to move. 'We have main drive firing on the SASAL ship.' Paul glanced at the time marker. Ten seconds from the point at which collision would be inevitable. The projected path of the SASAL ship began curving upward with agonizing slowness. The Nelson, still unwilling to maneuver, held her course and speed even though she could've taken her own action to further lessen the chance of collision.
The moment of closest point of approach came and went in a blur a tiny fraction of a second long. 'How close were they?' Captain Hayes asked in a soft voice.
Sindh studied her display before replying. 'Our system estimates CPA at about 800 meters, Captain.' Then, in an undertone only Paul could hear, she muttered, 'There can't be a single pair of dry underwear on either one of those ships right now.'
Hayes shook his head. 'Mad dogs and Englishmen.' He punched his communications again. 'HMS Lord Nelson, request the status of your maneuvering systems.'
'This is HMS Lord Nelson.' Captain Vitali's reply sounded cheerful. 'Our maneuvering systems are fully operational.'
Captain Hayes rubbed his forehead as he replied. 'It appears your communications systems are fully functional again as well.'
'Why, yes, they are. Brilliant. HMS Lord Nelson is ready to proceed with the maneuvering exercise.'
'Do you anticipate any further system failures in the near future, Captain Vitali?'
'Oh, no. Not at all. We're fully prepared for the next shed-yuled event.'
Paul glanced at Lieutenant Sindh. ''Shed-yuled'?'
'Scheduled.'
Captain Hayes was watching the SASAL ship's track arching away from the combined formation. It would take it a long, long time to slow down, reverse course and cause them any more trouble even if the SASALs intended doing so. 'Captain Vitali of HMS Lord Nelson, this is Captain Hayes of USS Michaelson. You owe me a drink.'
'You're a man after my own heart, captain. Your ship or mine? Oh, wait, I suppose it'll have to be my ship, won't it? You U.S. Navy types being dry and all.'
'I'm afraid so.' Hayes laughed at Captain Vitali's reference to the US Navy not being allowed to serve alcohol onboard its ships except under exceptional circumstances. 'All ships, this is the Exercise Movement Coordinator. We will restart the exercise time line as soon as all ships can resume relative starting positions. Request you advise me of estimated times until you can regain positions.'
Over the next few hours the five ships wrestled themselves back into starting positions. The SASAL ship didn't try returning, instead heading back toward the transit lane while the Michaelson filed a report that would be used to issue a diplomatic protest to the South Asian Alliance over reckless actions by its warship.
By the time Paul's watch ended, the ships had managed to reform the huge pentagon and were preparing to form what the crew had begun referring to as the 'flat football' formation. Over the next twenty-four hours they formed the 'empty ball' as well as the 'big O' and the 'more or less line-ahead' formations. Paul was in Combat when the last formation was completed, and a ragged cheer went up from the watchstanders.
The foreign ships took their separate departures, the Nelson 's captain reminding Captain Hayes he had a drink waiting and inviting the rest of the Michaelson 's officers as well, the Franco-German ship once again ignoring any messages sent in English, and the Russian ship demanding to know how well each of the ships had performed even though Hayes repeatedly assured them there'd been no evaluation or ranking process conducted.
'Exercise completed,' Captain Hayes announced to the Michaelson 's crew. 'Good job, everybody. You did yourselves and the U.S. Navy proud. Now, let's go home.'
That brought another cheer, even more enthusiastic.
Chapter Three
'Got a minute, Mr. Sinclair?'
Paul looked up from his stateroom desk at Sheriff Sharpe. 'What's up?'
'One of your and my favorite sailors, sir.' Sharpe extended a small medicinal sample package toward Paul.
Paul took it and peered inside where a couple of objects resembling poppy seeds were floating in the container. 'What is it?'
'Joy-Buzz dots. Found inside the locker of one Seaman Fastow.'
'Joy-Buzz.' Paul eyed the objects again with distaste. The drug wasn't physically dangerous to someone using it, but it seriously impaired judgment and was banned on ships as a result. 'Just these two?'
'Yes, sir. Request authorization to acquire Seaman Fastow's butt and run her down to sickbay for a drug test.'
'Permission granted. Let me know what the results are.'
Sharpe grinned. 'Of course, sir.'
'There's a Captain's Mast scheduled for just before we get back to Franklin.'
'Yes, sir. I believe Ms. Fastow is going to participate in that little evolution.'
Captain's Mast had its origins in ancient navies, where a ship's captain would render justice quite literally in front of the mast on the ship. Spaceships like the Michaelson had no actual masts, of course, but the non-judicial legal proceedings represented by Captain's Mast had been enshrined in the law governing military legal affairs known as the Uniform Code of Military Justice.
