that long?
Paul glumly went back to scanning the section of the Ship's Organization and Regulations Manual update he'd been assigned to review. Possible impending combat or not, the Michaelson 's command structure had no intention of letting routine paperwork slide, and there wasn't anything more tedious or routine than updating the SORM. General Quarters. Ship's company to battle stations. Highest state of alert and readiness. Blah, blah, blah. Station assignments. Assistant Combat Information Center Officer, which is me, posted in the Combat Information Center. That'd make a lot more sense if had a real job to do in CIC.
During General Quarters, Commander Garcia had posted Paul behind a multi-spectrum sensor tracking panel, ordering him to supervise the two enlisted Operations Specialists who crewed the panel. However, the two enlisted knew their jobs better than Paul ever would and didn't need supervision. They knew it, Paul knew it, and Garcia knew it. 'The real reason you're here,' Jan Tweed had confided to Paul, 'is so that if I get disabled in action, or relieved for cause by Garcia, you can take over for me.' Which truth had left Paul feeling like a cross between a spare tire and a vulture.
The decompression alarm located not far from Paul's right ear suddenly began whooping wildly. Paul flailed his arms, shocked from his near doze over the boring paperwork, then slapped the ensign locker's comm unit. 'Engineering, I've got a decompression alarm in space-'
'Understand,' the engineering watch stander broke in, her words barely audible over the clamor of the alarm. 'We've already checked your stateroom's status. There's no decompression under way. False alarm.'
'Thank you!' Paul yelled back over the alarm. 'Now can you reset the alarm before it deafens me?'
'Uh, sorry, sir. Remote reset isn't working. Do you know how to do a local reset?'
'What?' Paul shook a fist at the alarm, then jerked in surprise as the hatch to the locker popped open and Jen Shen swung in.
'Real or false alarm? I assume false since the hatch opened for me.'
'False, Jen. How the hell do I stop it?'
'Like this.' She flipped up a panel next to the alarm, made a fist and punched the touch pad that rested under the panel. The alarm's wail finally shut off. 'When the alarms stick you have to joggle the 'trons a little. Don't ask me why.'
Paul rubbed his forehead, fighting down a headache inspired by the alarm's scream. 'Why'd it go off in the first place?'
'Hell if I know. If you ask the crew, they'll tell you it was Petty Officer Davidas.'
'Huh?'
'Yeah. You hadn't heard? If anything unusual happens now the crew says it's Davidas screwing with stuff.'
'They think the ship's haunted?'
'Well, yes. But not in bad way. Davidas was a good guy, so none of the crew think he'd do anything to hurt them. But they figure he is having fun at their expense.' Jen grinned as Paul flinched again at a stab of pain in his head. 'Or your expense, in this case.'
'I don't believe it. We're a million miles away from civilization, and the crew thinks the ship's haunted, but they're not worried about it. I'll never figure out sailors.'
'Yeah, you will. Let me tell you a secret.' Jen Shen leaned so close to Paul that he could feel her breath against his cheek. 'You're becoming a sailor yourself, Mr. Sinclair.' Then she winked, laughed, and swung out of the compartment.
Paul rubbed his cheek, his senses overloaded by recent events, but with an odd feeling that seemed like pride stirring inside. She really thinks I'm becoming a sailor?
The South Asian Alliance ship had held a steady course as the Michaelson closed on it. As the kilometers between the ships dwindled, more and more details had become apparent, until the Michaelson's combat intelligence systems had been able to identify the ship.
'He's a research ship?' Paul checked the display again.
'Yeah. Pavarti-Class.' Jan Tweed pointed to the same data. 'A crew of about twenty, plus another twenty scientists, if they're carrying a normal amount of people.'
'No weapons.'
'None to speak of, no.'
'Then we don't have anything to worry about.'
'Not if he's really a Pavarti, no. That is, if he really is a Pavarti and hasn't been modified to carry armament.'
Paul checked the data again. 'You know, this'd actually be simpler if we knew we were dealing with a warship up front.'
'Yeah, it would be.' Jan twitched as an alarm sounded, focused on the SASAL ship. 'Damn. They're maneuvering.' She hit her comm pad. 'CIC, I want an estimate of what that ship's doing soonest. Captain, this is the Officer of the Deck. The SASAL ship is maneuvering.'
'Captain's on the bridge!' Wakeman was there almost before Tweed finished speaking.
He swung into his chair, peering at the main display. 'What's he doing? What's he doing?'
'We don't have an estimate, yet, Captain.' Tweed was chewing her lip, perspiration standing out on one cheek. 'We have an aspect change, so he's changing heading, and a main drive burn.' The display chirped, bringing a narrow probability cone to life. 'It looks like he's altered course a bit and put on speed to try to clear the area before we can intercept.'
Wakeman stared at the display. 'Give me a new intercept course. Now!'
Tweed fumbled at her controls, sweating more heavily, as Wakeman reddened with impatience. Paul helped where he could, but the system would only accept input from one watch station at a time. Finally, the new course popped up on the display. 'There, Captain.'
'That's no good! Look at it! That's outside our area! I want an intercept inside our area!'
Commander Herdez had appeared on the bridge, unnoticed in the tension, and was now leaning over Tweed's shoulder, studying her work. 'Captain, ship's systems say this is the earliest possible intercept we can manage at this point.'
'It's not good enough! Give me a better one!'
'Captain, I've confirmed Lieutenant Tweed's work. Due to the SASAL ship's speed increase and course change we cannot intercept inside our area. This display shows the earliest point at which we can intercept outside our area. If we put on any more speed, we'll be unable to brake quickly enough when we reach the SASAL ship and shoot past it.'
Wakeman glared at the symbol representing the SASAL ship. 'Why'd they wait until now? We're so close! It's like they're taunting us.' His eyes fixed on Herdez. 'That's what they're doing, isn't it?'
The XO crossed the bridge quickly, hanging close to Wakeman and whispering urgently as Paul strained to hear any of her words without success. Wakeman's face kept getting redder, until he waved a hand in angry dismissal. 'I know all that. And I know our orders. If that's the best intercept we can manage, we'll damn well do it. Let's go!'
Lieutenant Tweed hesitated. 'Captain? You mean execute the earliest intercept maneuver?'
'Yes! Is there something wrong with your hearing? Execute! Execute!'
Tweed froze for a second, then replied in a slightly ragged voice. 'Aye, aye, sir. Bosun, warn the crew. Maneuvering in five min-'
'In one minute! We're not letting this bastard get away!'
'Maneuvering in one minute.' Tweed, her face rigid, waited through the seconds, then punched in the command.
Paul, watching as covertly as he could, saw her hands gripping her arm rests, not inputting any further maneuvering commands. She's too upset or too angry to do this maneuver manually. Not that I blame her. His muscles tensed against the force of the main drive. This is a hard burn. With only one minute's warning. I hope nobody got caught in the middle of something they couldn't secure in time. Vectors swung around once more, eventually steadying onto a new intercept point several thousand kilometers outside of the area claimed by the United States. Four days. There's nothing else that ship can do to try to outrun us. We're faster. One way or the
