boundary of SASAL-claimed space, right?'
'Right.'
'But we're already going to be within twenty klicks of that boundary.'
'I… oh, hell. That's inside the parameters, isn't it?'
'Yup. You'll get continuous alerts. Drive you crazy and the captain won't like it. What do you do?'
'I have a funny feeling you know what to do already.'
'Hey! You're right, college boy! Use the docking maneuvering system to set the alert distance.'
'But that system won't work at transit speeds-'
'It will if you manually override the speed settings and input a simple fraction of our real speed. Then you just multiple any warning times by the appropriate factor.'
Paul shook his head in amazement. 'Wow. That'll work?'
'Of course it'll work.'
'It's amazing what I can learn from you.'
The former-enlisted officer gave Paul an exaggerated leer. 'That's nothing. Boy, I could teach you things that'd make that girl of yours real happy. Though since we're assigned to the same ship that Wouldn't Be Appropriate,' she intoned, emphasizing the capitals. 'Your girl might wonder where you learned all that stuff, too. Then again, she might be so happy she wouldn't care.' Taylor laughed, then rubbed her hands together. 'Now, let's go tell our sailors the good news about getting underway again in two days and watch morale head for the nearest event horizon.'
Kris Denaldo grinned at Paul as Taylor left. 'She likes teasing you about sex because whenever she does you look like some ten year old boy who got caught sneaking peaks at a dirty vid.'
'I do not!'
'Well, excuse me! Being so innocent and all myself I don't know enough to be embarrassed.' Her smile faded and she looked out the hatch. 'Fun time's over. Like Akesha said, let's go tell our troops the good news.'
The rest of the day turned into a frantic swirl of activity as Paul huddled with Chief Imari to make sure everything important would be working well enough within two days, tried to plow through due-yesterday paperwork that had already been postponed to deal with other operational matters, and handled a sudden personnel emergency with Petty Officer Daniels when they got word both her parents had died in an accident back on Earth. The last thing he wanted to have to worry about at that moment was dealing with arranging emergency transport for her back to Earth for the funeral, but Paul also knew he didn't have any choice. Luckily, Commander Sykes had connections with the transport office and was able to get an unknowing officer bumped off the next shuttle home to make room for Daniels.
Sometime late in the day Paul realized he'd already worked into the early evening hours. He put in a hasty call to Jen, who peered blearily back him from the phone display. 'Hi.'
'Hi.'
'Bad day. You know why.'
'Yeah. Same here.'
'Bye.'
'Bye.'
And then there was one day left.
'Bring in all lines.' If Sonya Sindh was disappointed about taking the Michaelson out again, she didn't show any sign of it. 'Bosun. Shift colors.'
The familiar wavering whistle sounded as the bosun of the watch blew his pipe over the ship's general announcing system. 'Underway. Shift colors.'
They were heading out before the Maury, this time, which left Paul no leisure to watch Jen's ship. He focused all his attention on Lieutenant Sindh, acutely aware that her place on the watch team would soon be taken by Lieutenant Val Isakov. Isakov herself was strapped into an observer position near the back of the bridge, hopefully learning by watching. Paul stole a glance back that way, seeing Isakov looking around with an expression that might've described as either calm or unimpressed. She's supposed to be experienced. Qualified as an officer of the deck on the Isherwood. So Sonya Sindh had told him, anyway, since Isakov herself seemed totally uninterested in talking to Paul about anything. Not that I'm looking to be buddy-buddy with every officer I stand watches with. But I'm not looking forward to losing a great officer like Sonya, who I know I can depend upon, and getting an unknown quantity in return, supposedly qualified or not.
The pressure of the main drive and lateral forces of the thrusters finally died down, leaving Paul's stomach doing the usual flip-flops, though at least this time the period they'd spent under Franklin's sensation of constant gravity had been so short that readjusting to zero gravity shouldn't be too hard. Captain Hayes, looking a little haggard himself from all the work of the last few days, unstrapped. 'Nice job.'
'Captain's left the bridge!'
Sindh smiled at Paul. 'Perhaps this was the last time I'll take the Merry Mike out.'
He looked at the hatch where Captain Hayes had departed. 'The captain's not feeling too hot. He usually says more than that.'
'Yes. We need to tread a little lightly. Val.' Sindh turned to look at her relief. 'Any questions?'
Isakov smiled and shook her head. 'Nope. Same class of ship, same layout, and it looks like she handles like the Ish-fish did.'
'Paul's familiar with the ship, too. He can help with anything you need up here, since he'll be qualifying as an independent officer of the deck himself before long.'
Isakov shifted her look to Paul for just a moment. 'That's nice.'
Sindh unstrapped. 'Why don't we swap places so you can get a first hand feel for the watch station and get used to working with Paul.'
The women switched seats. Isakov remained cool, but not off-putting, as she worked with Paul. He found himself feeling better about the imminent change in his watch team. Okay. If we can work together, that's all I need.
The watch relief went off easily, with nothing to do until they reached their positions near the border of SASAL-claimed space. Sam Yarrow scowled as Paul explained the moon-bounce messages which would provide brief, coded updates on the Maury. 'What a lousy way of doing business. Prehistoric. Why don't we just toss out flares?'
'Taylor thought of it,' Paul added, knowing Yarrow and she didn't get along.
'Figures,' Smiling Sam mumbled. 'Okay. I got it.'
'I stand relieved. On the bridge, this is Lieutenant Sinclair. Lieutenant Yarrow has the conn.'
'This is Lieutenant Yarrow. I have the conn.' Sam leaned a little closer to Paul as he strapped in. 'What's she like?'
'Who?'
'The new lieutenant. Who else?'
Paul thought about his reply. Anything he said which could even be remotely twisted to cause trouble would be dangerous to say to Yarrow, who had a nasty habit of repeating suitably embellished accounts of such conversations to his superiors. 'She seems fine.'
'Not bad looking, is she?'
'I hadn't noticed.'
'What, not your type?'
Paul just shook his head and left the bridge. His stomach had decided that, even though nauseous from zero gravity, it still wanted more food than he'd wolfed down in the last couple of days.
Lunch in the wardroom was unusually quiet, with the junior officers worn out from the recent press of work. Commander Sykes shook his head with mock sorrow. 'They don't make them like they used to. In my day you could work junior officers for, oh, weeks at a stretch before they started wearing out on you.'
Kris Denaldo gave him an arch look. 'Suppo, in your day they had to use junior officers to spell the rowers in the galleys.'
Sykes nodded, still affecting sadness. 'Ah, yes. The good old days of the wine-dark sea. I still have the calluses on my hands from the oars.'
