Sharpe exchanged a high five. Sharpe saw Captain Hayes give him a stern look and quickly came back to attention, but still smiled. 'That was the last one, Captain,' Sharpe announced.
'You saved the best for last, huh? Why is Alvarez still aboard this ship?'
Sharpe looked at Senior Chief Kowalski, who shrugged. 'Captain, if we were allowed to kill dirtballs, then Alvarez would've been stuffed into a launch tube a long time ago. But she's been able to convince people she could turn around.'
'People?'
'Uh, your predecessors, sir.'
'I see. Senior Chief, I hate losing a sailor, even one with a bad reputation, as long as I have reason to believe that sailor can be brought around. Nothing about Alvarez made me believe she'd ever get her act together.'
'No, sir. God knows Lieutenant Sindh and Chief Thomas have tried, sir.'
'Well, they'll have one less distraction soon. Let me know how we can get rid of her, Senior Chief, and how soon. Dismissed.' Hayes nodded again to Paul, then headed for the hatch.
Sharpe yelled, 'Attention on deck!' then grinned at Paul after the captain had left. 'Oh, it's a beautiful day, sir.'
Senior Chief Kowalski smiled, too. 'Alvarez hasn't left, yet. You keep an eye on her. I wouldn't mind booting her out with a bad conduct discharge.'
'Me, neither, Senior Chief. Ah, Mr. Sinclair, I've been waiting for this day. Begging your pardon, sir, but if you were a woman I'd kiss you.'
Paul laughed. 'Then I'm glad I'm not.' He left as well, heading for the wardroom in search of coffee. He found Mike Bristol and Lieutenant Sindh already there. 'Well,' Paul noted as he strapped into a chair, 'Scott Silver appears to have accomplished the difficult task of looking worse than Randy Diego.'
Lieutenant Sindh smiled. 'It's nice to see Lieutenant Silver accomplish something.'
Mike Bristol frowned in puzzlement, looking from Paul to Sindh. 'What's wrong with Scott?'
Sindh took a drink before replying. 'He's an ass.'
'He seems like a great guy to me.'
'That's because you don't have to depend upon him to do anything.'
'Really?' Mike looked at Paul.
'Yeah. You think Scott's a great guy?' Paul shook his head. 'He acts nice enough, I guess, but he lets other people carry the load.'
'Huh.' Mike Bristol scratched his head for a moment. 'Most everybody likes him.'
Lieutenant Sindh grimaced. 'I'm certain Commander Kwan loves him, as no doubt does his department head, Commander Destin. However, to my knowledge neither of those officers has suffered as a result of Lieutenant Silver's avoidance of responsibilities.'
'He's messed over both you guys?'
'Frequently and with apparent lack of remorse.'
'Huh,' Bristol repeated. 'How come you guys haven't been complaining openly?'
Paul shrugged. 'You don't do that. Who wants to be Sam Yarrow?'
'Why not? I mean, if the guy isn't doing his job, shouldn't someone know?'
Sindh and Paul exchanged glances. Paul shook his head again. 'It's hard, Mike. You're not supposed to bilge people.'
'Bilge?'
'Uh, the bilge is where trash ends up on a seagoing ship. It's a general term for bad stuff.'
'It sounds like Scott's bilging you.'
'You could say that.'
Bristol scratched his head again. 'I guess this is one of those fraternity of long-suffering line officers things, isn't it?'
'Well, yeah.'
Lieutenant Sindh finished her coffee. 'Consider, Mike. If the officers are running around dumping on each other, working relationships go to hell. The crew picks up on it, and problems such as insubordination become commonplace. Why respect an officer who isn't respected by his or her peers? In short order, you could have an actually hazardous situation on board, one in which accidents can occur due to ill-feelings and bad discipline.'
'But aren't your working relationships with Scott already bad?'
'Yes, but that's not the same as dysfunctional. I understand what Scott will do. Or, rather, not do. I can do my job understanding that. Paul can do his job. Introducing actual hostility on both sides into the situation would generate problems with carrying out our duties.'
Paul nodded. I hadn't thought it through quite like that, but she's right. 'That's why most of us ignore Sam Yarrow. If we took him really seriously, that would hurt us all. Besides, Sam tries to make himself look good by making everybody else look bad. We don't want to have that kind of reputation.'
'Okay, if you guys say so.' Bristol checked the time and hurriedly unstrapped. 'Gotta go.'
Paul looked at Sindh after Mike Bristol left. 'Are we doing the right thing?'
'What else can we do, Paul? Scott's professional behavior, or lack thereof, places an extra burden upon us. It doesn't translate into a danger to anyone.'
'What if it does?'
She sat silent for a moment. 'We must watch carefully. You know the truth, Paul. Mr. Silver is very popular with some of his superiors, at least, as well as many of the junior officers. Any complaints against him must be well-justified and documented, or they will likely be ignored.'
'You're being evaluated against him! He could end up ranking higher than you because all he does is try to impress his superiors and make everybody else like him.'
'Neither the Navy nor life is fair, Paul.' Sindh unstrapped and pulled herself out of her seat. 'Come, Paul. We've both plenty of work to do. Letting Mr. Silver's faults distract us from that will only compound our problems.'
When you're right, you're right. Paul followed her out.
A day later, they were back at Franklin. They'd be heading out again on Monday for more tests, and Paul had duty that weekend, so he had to stay onboard the ship instead of taking a break enjoying what diversions Franklin Naval Station offered. Not that it mattered with Jen's ship gone for another two and half months.
Chapter Six
Duty days normally dragged, but weekend duty days were worse. Most of the crew were off the ship pursuing entertainment or simply some degree of freedom, leaving the duty section to stand watches and contemplate the ability of the Navy to turn even a Saturday into tedious drudgery. Paul yawned and checked his watch. Almost time for eight o'clock reports. I guess I'll wander out to the quarterdeck. He left his stateroom, moving with casual ease through the quiet passageway.
From somewhere, a muffled boom vibrated through the hull. Paul stopped, frowning down at the deck. What the hell was that? Was it onboard us or something that happened on the station?
A moment later, the rapid ringing of the ship's bell over the all-hands speakers shattered the calm. 'Fire, fire, fire! Fire in compartment 2-110-3-Echo, Forward Engineering. This is not a drill!'
The alarm began repeating as Paul broke into a run, ducking through two hatchways and out onto the quarterdeck where Chief Imari was standing the watch as officer of the deck inport. 'How bad is it?'
Chief Imari, her face pale, shook her head. 'We don't know. Damage Control Central lost some sensors in Forward Engineering when that explosion went off — '
'That was an explosion?'
'Yes, sir. Apparently, it ruptured the fuel lines near the compartment. Somehow, the stuff ignited. We've got a high-intensity fire going and — ' A shrill tone sounded and Chief Imari stabbed a finger at the comm panel. 'This is the officer of the deck.'
