Sam Yarrow looked up, unable to mask his surprise. 'Yes, sir.'
'You told me your division's qualification records were being maintained by Chief Herzog.'
'That's right, sir.'
'Chief Herzog says you transferred those records from him two months ago for your review and he's been locked out of them since. Is that correct?'
Yarrow's face supplied the answer. Paul did his best not to let his own satisfaction show. Forgot you'd done that, eh, Sam? And from what I hear of the way you treat Chief Herzog, I hope you weren't expecting him to help cover your butt. He probably loved the chance to drop a ton of bricks on you.
Garcia's face darkened. 'Is that correct?' he repeated.
'Uh, I, uh, think so, sir. I'll have to-'
'Get those records back to your chief so he can update them. I want them fixed immediately. Is that clear?' Commander Garcia focused back on Paul. 'Why are you still here?'
'I… was just ensuring you were finished with me, sir.'
'Find Tweed!' With that parting admonition, Garcia whipped his head out of the stateroom.
Paul closed out his work, making sure the personal encryption was active. He didn't think Yarrow would try to spy on him, but he also didn't put it past the other ensign. I think I'll run down Chief Imari, first. She might have some good ideas where Tweed's latest hiding places are. He swung out of the ensign locker without a backwards glance at Yarrow.
Jan Tweed looked more haggard than usual on their next watch. 'You okay?' Paul asked.
'I'll survive. It wasn't any fun having Garcia go through those qualification records.'
'I was there, too, remember? At one point, I thought I'd start bouncing off the bulkheads if Garcia said 'I don't care if that entry isn't supposed to be filled in, do it anyway' one more time.'
Jan managed a weak smile. 'Paul, I've got about three months left on this tub before I transfer to shore duty. I had this weird idea those three months might not be too bad.'
And you're running out of hiding places on the ship that Garcia, Imari or I don't know about. But Paul nodded in real sympathy. Despite the aggravation Tweed's avoidance behavior caused him, he'd grown to like her somewhat. He was still in awe of her ability to maneuver the ship by feel, and it was easy to empathize with the reasons she chose to hide. And once Tweed transfers off, Garcia won't be able to ask me That Question anymore.
A brief chirp from the watch panel announced the arrival of a high priority message. Tweed visibly braced herself before calling it up, then read the message with a bleak expression. 'The admiral's appointed an investigating officer to look into our encounter with the SASAL ship.'
'That's no surprise. Why'd they tell us with a high priority message?'
'Because that officer is apparently hitting the deck running. We've got orders here to collect and forward statements from all officers onboard.'
'We knew that was probably coming, too.' Paul craned his neck to look at the message. 'Wow. They want them back at Franklin within twenty-four hours of when this message was sent?'
'Like I said, our investigator is hitting the ground running.' Tweed glanced at Paul. 'Is your statement done?'
'Yeah. Yours?'
'Sort of. I've been working on some of the wording. I guess I'll finally have to decide how to say things now, though.'
'I got some good advice on that, if you don't mind me passing it on to you once we get off watch.' He decided not to tell her that Sheriff Sharpe had been the source, just in case that might bias Tweed against the advice. She kept so much of herself internalized that there was still a great deal Paul didn't know about Tweed, and probably never would.
'Sure, why not?' Tweed keyed in commands routing the message to the captain and executive officer, then punched the send command.
'Maybe the department heads should see it, now, too,' Paul suggested, 'so they have a heads-up.'
'Maybe. At the moment I don't feel too charitable toward department heads, so I guess I didn't think of that, and now they'll have to scramble a little. Too bad.'
Paul fought down a smile. Superiors could always make the lives of their subordinates miserable, but every so often the subordinates found ways to balance the scales a little.
Naturally, everyone ended up scrambling to get the statements collected and put into message format within the time limit. Paul and Jan were still on watch when Commander Garcia came onto the bridge. 'You two make sure your statements are done no later than sixteen hundred. Is that clear?'
'Yes, sir,' Paul answered for them both.
'You will transmit copies to both myself and the executive officer.'
'Yes, si-Simultaneously, sir?'
'Isn't that what I said?'
The look on Garcia's face made it clear further questions would be a big mistake. 'Yes, sir.' Paul watched Garcia leave again, then looked at Tweed. 'Jan, why are we sending these statements to both our department head and the XO at the same time?'
She smiled as if he'd told her a mildly amusing joke. 'Why not?'
'Because we always do stuff like that by sending our input to the department head, who reviews it and makes sure he has everyone's input before forwarding it to the XO.'
'So this time the XO wants the department heads to know everyone in their divisions has provided input, but doesn't want the department heads to review those inputs before they go to the XO. Maybe she figures some of those department heads might try to change some of those inputs, given the chance.'
'Oh.' What was it Jen told me-something about Herdez's loyalty being to the Navy as an institution. The department heads, some of them anyway, are going to be looking out for their own welfare. But not Herdez. She's looking out for the Navy. I wonder how Wakeman will take that? Unless Herdez thinks defending Wakeman's actions is the same as sticking up for the Navy. I wonder what's going on in the XO's mind? Not long ago I was thinking I'd never know a lot about what went on inside Jan Tweed, but compared to Herdez, Tweed is transparent.
Tweed smiled wryly at Paul. 'I guess a lot of people are going to have trouble figuring out what to be thankful for tomorrow, huh?'
'Tomorrow? Why tomorrow?'
'Fourth Thursday of November. Also known as Thanksgiving. Remember?'
'Tomorrow's Thanksgiving?' Paul shook his head. 'I don't believe it. You don't expect something like that to sneak up on you.'
'We've been busy.'
'I know. Like you said, there's not all that much to be thankful for right now, is there? Except for the fact that we're not Wakeman.'
'Good point, but I've always been grateful for that.'
Paul spent the afternoon reviewing his statement for completeness, fighting down repeated urges to add anything other than the bare facts to the narrative, then sent it to Commander Garcia, reveling in the knowledge that his department head wouldn't have any chance to demand that Paul make meaningless changes like altering every appearance of the word happy to the word glad. 'Hey, Sam, you hear anything about holiday routine tomorrow?'
Yarrow, laboring over his own statement, which appeared to be much longer than Paul's, looked up with unconcealed annoyance. 'No. Don't hold your breath waiting for it.'
'But tomorrow's Thanksgiving.'
'It's also an underway day.' Yarrow bent back to his work, ostentatiously ignoring Paul.
Paul made a rude gesture, unseen by his fellow ensign, then left in search of better company. He found Jen Shen sitting in the wardroom, her face uncharacteristically bleak. 'Hey, Jen. What's up?'
'Did you hear about Kris?'
Paul, jerked out of his absorption in the upcoming holiday by the question, looked at her in alarm. 'No.
