The chief bosun tapped Paul's arm and pointed to another display. 'They got weapons trained on us.'
'What?'
'Yeah. Light anti-orbital stuff. Only good for taking out tourists and boats like this.'
Paul glanced back at the visitors and kept his voice low. 'What the hell do those cops think we are?'
'I guess they figure better safe than sorry, sir.'
'Well, they'd better do a better job of recognizing real threats, then. And of trusting people on the same side.'
The drop chute safely sealed, the chief bosun triggered the drop while both of the visitors prayed. The blond watched the wreaths fall toward the asteroid, tears from her eyes drifting away from her face. The female bosun scooped the errant spheres of water up with a cloth, her face impassive.
Paul watched the wreaths, too, then looked at the security forces arrayed below. He caught Sheriff Sharpe's eye and Sharpe shook his head. As soon as we're gone they'll get rid of those wreaths. Hell. What's wrong with grieving for the innocent dead?
A few minutes later they were on their way back to the Prometheus. Paul was trying to decide whether or not to report that weapons had been trained on the gig when he realized both of the visitors were watching him intently.
'Excuse me,' the dark man stated. 'But I wonder if you could tell me, in your own words, why you do what you do.'
Paul tried to sort the question through his weary brain. 'Why I'm in the Navy, you mean?'
'The Navy. The military. Why you wear a uniform and, as you said, train to kill if your superiors should find it necessary.'
'That's a rather complicated question and I've had a very long day.' Paul thought about it for a while. 'I guess because it's important.'
'But, why? Why do you think so?'
'Because… look, we take this oath. Yes. An oath. When I put on the uniform I swore I'd, um, 'support and defend the Constitution of the United States of America against all enemies foreign and domestic.' There's more, but that's basically it.'
The blond looked intrigued. 'Then you don't swear to defend the country, or to follow orders, but to defend the Constitution?'
'Well, yes, we swear to follow orders, but they have to be legal orders.'
'Legal orders?'
'Yes. You know. They can't violate the law. Or the Constitution. You can't be ordered to do something illegal. Well, okay, you can be ordered to do something wrong but it's your responsibility not to obey an illegal order.'
'Such as one violating the Constitution?'
Paul nodded. 'Yeah.'
'Any part of it?'
'We swear to defend the entire thing.'
She laughed, then looked at her companion. 'Did you hear that, Bill? They're here to defend the Constitution. Including the Bill of Rights! People with guns and uniforms to defend freedom! It's funny, isn't it?'
'Why?' Paul asked.
'I'm not sure. Maybe funny is the wrong word. Incongruous. Ironic.' She sighed. 'We don't really understand you. The military, I mean. And you don't understand us, do you? But, really, you've got the weapons. You've nothing to fear from us.'
Paul found himself smiling lopsidedly. 'You've got a point there.'
They were almost back at the Prometheus when the blond reverend spoke again. 'Your captain told our captain that your ship will be leaving here soon to return to your base.'
'If he told you that, then, yes, that's so,' Paul said.
'We're going to request permission for the Prometheus Rising to accompany your ship back.'
Paul frowned. 'Why?'
She hesitated, looking over at the dark man, who nodded reluctantly. 'To put it bluntly, we'd appreciate your escorting us to ensure we reach home safely.'
Paul was sure his eyebrows were rising in surprise. 'Escort?'
'Yes. Isn't that the right term? Those ships, the South Asians, they're still out there. We'd like your protection.'
Surprise was putting it too mildly. Maybe shock, Paul decided. 'I can't promise anything like that.'
'We understand that. The captain of the Prometheus Rising will make a formal request to your captain. If you could do us the favor of letting him know the request will be forthcoming, we'd be grateful.'
Paul nodded. 'Sure. I'll tell him.' I can't wait to see how Captain Hayes reacts to that.
Ten minutes later the gig was docked and the two pacifists made polite farewells to Paul and the sailors with him. Five minutes after that the gig was headed back to the Michaelson. The chief bosun looked back at Paul and grinned. 'They were kinda nice, weren't they?'
'Yeah.' Paul saw Sharpe rolling his eyes. 'Give me a break, Sheriff. They were nice.'
'Probably just deception, Mr. Sinclair. Get us off guard.'
'I can't tell if you're joking this time.'
Sharpe grinned. 'I'm not telling. Don't fall for their act, sir. Maybe they are really nice people. But they don't understand how the world works. How people work. They just cause trouble for you and me.'
'Sheriff, honest to God sometimes I wonder how much I do understand how things work.'
Sharpe pointed to Paul's uniform. 'You're wearing that, sir. That means you understand something. Of course, that officer's rank means you don't understand too much. That's why you need enlisted around to explain things.'
'Very funny. You know as well as I do that there's always more than one way to handle a situation.'
'Yes, sir. The Right Way, the Wrong Way and the Navy Way,' Sharpe recited.
'Uh huh. Maybe sometimes their way might work. Or at least make things a little easier for us.'
Sharpe scratched his cheek meditatively. 'Mr. Sinclair, I don't mind admitting you've got good instincts sometimes. In this case, though, I figure letting misguided idealists get involved would just make our problem worse.'
'Would it?' Paul stared at the deck for a moment. 'You know what, Sheriff? When push came to shove on and around that asteroid all our weapons couldn't make any difference. Before that our weapons hadn't resolved things. There's limits to what we can do.'
Sharpe didn't try to hide his skepticism. 'You think those peaceniks could've really made a difference?'
'We'll never know, Sheriff. Maybe they could've talked some sense into those settlers. Maybe their presence would've made the SASALs a little less likely to take out as many settlers as possible. Maybe. But I do know one thing. Things couldn't have turned out any worse than they did. I wish those people had been given a chance to try.'
'What the hell were they doing there?'
Paul looked over at Lieutenant Mike Bristol, surprised by the junior supply officer's uncharacteristic outburst. Meals in the wardroom had been subdued lately. They were on their way back to Franklin Naval Station, the civilian freighter Prometheus Rising following five thousand kilometers astern, far enough away to avoid giving away the Michaelson 's exact position or colliding with the warship by accident, but close enough to be within easy reach if protection was needed. One of Paul's few enjoyable moments lately had been watching the expressions on the faces of Commanders Kwan, Garcia and Moraine when he told Captain Hayes in their presence about the civilians' impending request for escort home. But Hayes had agreed. 'Why was who where?' Paul asked.
'Those people on the asteroid.'
Paul had seen the reports. 'The survivors claim God told them to settle the asteroid.'
'Why?'
'Hell, Mike, I don't know. God hasn't talked to me lately. Next time he does, I'll ask.'
Something about his tone of voice got through to Mike, who nodded. 'I know you don't know. It's just…'
'Yeah.'
