Control team members surged toward the opening, but Paul blocked them with an outstretched arm. 'We won't all fit at once. Santiago, you first. I'll count off the next ones until the lock's full. Keep your suits sealed until they wash the fuel off you.'
The wait seemed interminable as the first group went through washdown, then exited. When Candon finally gave the word for the next group, Paul sent them one at a time until only he was left. Judging enough space remained, he crowded in, unwilling to remain alone in the outer compartment with the hatchway into Forward Engineering gaping behind him. Paul looked back before closing the hatch. The smoke had cleared enough now that he could see partway into Forward Engineering. Black soot covered every surface, except where some still glowed with heat. The familiar shapes of equipment, ladders and piping had all been bent and warped from the heat, melting into odd shapes. In the aftermath of the fire, Forward Engineering seemed to resemble a Salvador Dali painting of hell.
Lieutenant Candon wasn't suited up herself. As Paul exited, she waved her own team forward. 'Chief, do what the Michaelson 's DC Central orders. Let me know if there's any problems.' She turned to Paul and shook her head. 'Looks like it's pretty bad.'
'It is.' Paul slumped against the nearest bulkhead, suddenly intensely thirsty.
Another figure was before him, this one with medical insignia on the collar. 'Lieutenant Sinclair? I'm Midway 's duty medical officer. I understand there was a sailor in the compartment? Did you find him?'
Paul looked away. 'Yeah. We… think so.'
'You think so? Oh.' The doctor grimaced. 'Beyond help, then. Are any of your team hurt?'
'Yes. Santiago, get over here and let the doc check your arm.'
Santiago grinned with obviously false cheer. 'It's okay, sir. I don't need no sick call.'
'You told me the fire boiled your arm.'
'It's better now, Mr. Sinclair. Really.'
The doctor moved toward her, smiling reassuringly. 'Can I have a look, anyway?'
Santiago looked around like a trapped animal, then slowly peeled back her suit to reveal a swollen, red arm. 'Doc, I ain't gonna need no shots, am I?'
Paul found himself desperately fighting down laughter, afraid it might sound hysterical. Petty Officer Santiago, who'd led the way into a deadly fire, gone face to face with its source and insisted on fighting it even after being injured, was afraid of getting a shot.
Lieutenant Candon came over to Paul again. 'I can take over here. You look pretty used up.'
Paul hesitated, his tiredness and thirst warring with his sense of responsibility. 'No. Thanks. But I better stay here. She's my ship.'
'Understood. Can I get you anything?'
'Have you got any water?'
Candon laughed. 'You just used up about ten years worth of an entire ship's water allotments! And you want more?'
Paul winced. 'Hey, that's not funny.'
'Yeah, it is. But you're in luck. We brought some of Midway 's finest bottled water with us. Have a liter.'
Paul was raising the bottle to his lips when he noticed one of his damage control party staring at it. Oh, hell. 'Lieutenant Candon, do you have enough water for my sailors here?'
'Sure thing. Come'n get it, you guys.' While Candon passed out bottles to the eager sailors, Paul finally drank, not lowering his own bottle until it was empty. 'You need another?'
'No, thanks.' Paul glanced up as someone came down the ladder. 'Kris. You're not on duty.'
'Paul, you idiot, when there's an emergency everyone's on duty. They passed an emergency recall for the crew. I got back a few minutes ago and the captain told me to get down here and relieve you on the scene.' Kris looked at Lieutenant Candon with a worried frown. As a Lieutenant Junior Grade, she was outranked by Candon.
But Lieutenant Candon just shook her head and smiled. 'It's your ship. My orders are to render all requested assistance. At your service, ma'am.'
'Looks like you're doing everything we need at the moment. Paul, take a hike. You look like ten kilometers of bad road.'
'I wish everybody would stop telling me how bad I look,' Paul mumbled. 'Where am I supposed to go?'
'I don't know. The captain didn't say. I wouldn't leave the ship, though.'
Paul glared at her. 'Duh.'
'I was joking, Lieutenant Junior Grade Sinclair. Go somewhere and sit down, for heaven's sake.'
'Okay, okay.' Paul straightened, and smiled toward his damage control team. 'Thanks, you guys. You did a great job. Petty Officer Yousef? I'd appreciate it if you got me a list of everyone who's in this team.'
'No problem, Mr. Sinclair.' Yousef grinned. 'It's been real, sir. And it's been nice. But it ain't been real nice.'
'You can say that again.' Paul saluted Kris. 'I stand relieved.'
She flipped a quick salute back. 'I've got it. Get out of here before that doc tosses you into sickbay.'
Paul pulled himself up the ladder, then paused, looking around. Where do I go? He eventually decided on the quarterdeck. Standing in one of the hatches leading out onto the quarterdeck, he leaned outward enough to see Lieutenant Silver talking animatedly to the XO, smiles alternating with a studiously serious expression. Feeling a sudden desire to be alone, Paul pulled back and headed down toward his stateroom, then at the last moment turned into the wardroom instead in hopes of finding hot coffee.
The coffee wasn't fresh but it was hot. Paul hunched forward in his seat, drinking slowly, looking up only when he heard the hatch open, then jumping to his feet. 'Captain.'
Hayes gestured Paul back to his seat. 'Sit down. You've had a rough night. The fire's out.'
'Yessir. The source, anyway. There were still a few hot spots in Forward Engineering when I left.' The words suddenly sounded wrong, as if he'd abandoned his duty station.
But Hayes simply nodded. 'The team from the Midway is cooling them down now. Franklin Station authorities are going nuts over all the water we just used.'
Paul looked down. 'Sorry, sir.'
'Do you think I'm complaining? We're already pumping it out of Forward Engineering and back to the station recycling tanks. Do you have any idea how the fire started?'
Paul looked up again, wanting to know if the captain was watching him like a prosecuting attorney, but saw only a captain's concern there. 'No, sir. All I know is there was an explosion, then this fire.'
'Do you have idea why the fire suppression systems in Forward Engineering didn't work? Did you see anything that might explain that while you were in there?'
'No, sir. DC Central said the systems were out, and later said they'd lost all sensors in the compartment because of the fire, but I didn't hear anything about anyone finding out why the systems didn't work. And I didn't see anything in the compartment, sir. Nothing. The smoke was so thick we couldn't see a thing. Except, um…' Paul unsuccessfully tried to avoid a small shudder.
'What?'
'Chief Asher, sir. I think. Some of what was left of him.'
Hayes closed his eyes for a moment. 'Chief Asher was in Forward Engineering when the explosion happened?'
'He must have been, sir. I don't see how after the explosion he could have run as far inside the compartment as where we found his… remains.' Paul gulped, fighting down a wave of nausea.
'Okay. Did you sign-off on any maintenance activity in Forward Engineering tonight?'
'Sir? No, sir. I hadn't seen Chief Asher since morning quarters.'
'No other engineer came by and asked you to sign off on a work chit?'
'No, sir.'
Hayes shook his head, his mouth a thin line. 'I understand Chief Asher was a good sailor.'
'I didn't know him much, sir, but I never heard anything bad about him.'
'Asher was by the book? He didn't take shortcuts?'
'As far as I know, Captain. We never had any problems with him during duty days, and nobody ever told me he needed to be watched.'
