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-'
'I don't want to find out by accident again that there's something like a SASAL warship nearby, Mr. Sinclair!'
Paul took a moment to be grateful he wasn't being chewed out face to face. Not that I should be happy about that, because it means the Captain's so ticked off he's ripping me up in public. What now? Say that SASAL ship isn't really 'nearby'? Try to explain again that I was just about to call the bridge? He doesn't want an explanation. I screwed up. Just get it over with. 'Yes, sir. It won't happen again, sir.'
'It'd better not.' The click of the communications circuit cutting off sounded unnaturally loud to Paul.
He leaned back from his console and took a deep breath. His own Combat watch standers were concentrating on their displays, trying to pretend they hadn't heard or noticed anything. Paul took another slow breath to ensure his voice was under control. 'Who's monitoring the long range situation?'
Petty Officer Third Class Divalo raised his hand. 'Me, sir.'
'I should've been notified about that SASAL ship, Divalo.'
'Yes, sir. I, uh…'
'That's in the standing watch instructions, right?'
'Yes, sir.'
Paul felt anger flooding him and fought it down. Don't scream at him. Divalo's a pretty good sailor. He just screwed up this time. And I'm responsible when he does. He glanced over at where Divalo was hunched in front of his display, his face grim. He's unhappy already. Make sure he remembers the lesson and not me screaming at him. 'Next time keep me informed, Petty Officer Divalo. When in doubt, let me know. That way neither one of us will get chewed out.'
'Yes, sir. I will, sir. I'm sorry, sir.'
'Let's just make sure we don't surprise the captain again. He doesn't like that.'
Divalo smiled nervously at the understatement. 'No, sir. Don't worry, sir.'
'I won't.' The hell I won't. But Divalo's not a habitual screw-up. He deserves a second chance. 'I want you to work up some possible positions for that SASAL ship at the time the exercise is scheduled to begin. I especially want to know how close he could be if he headed directly this way at speed. I also want to know how far away he'll be if he continues along that transit lane. Then give me a picture of the area of space he could be in if he does something in between those two extremes. Understand?'
Divalo nodded several times, his face intent with concentration. 'Aye, aye, sir. I'll have it to you real quick, Mr. Sinclair.'
