'Where are you going from the Michaelson?'
'Mars, sir. Last minute order modification.'
'Well, hell.' Agee glared at Paul but his anger seemed directed elsewhere. 'Anything I can do?'
'I'm afraid not, sir.'
'You let me know if there is.'
'Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.' He meant it, because he was sure Agee meant it. Despite everything, meeting those who were willing to openly stand up for him counted for a great deal.
After leaving the wardroom, Paul stood on the quarterdeck for a moment, not really aware of the officer of the deck and the petty officer of the watch, who were busy with their own jobs at the moment anyway. His eyes came to rest on the brow leading onto the station. It was odd how such a small walkway could have so much significance. But that was how people came and went from the Michaelson. Some day soon Captain Hayes would walk off that brow for the last time, and not long afterwards Paul would do the same.
Right now he was wishing some of those who'd left were still around. Commander Sykes would have good advice, or at least an absurd story to tell to get a junior officer's mind off his problems. Sheriff Sharpe would be blunt and practical, a solid sounding board for Paul's own thoughts. Sharpe knew it, too, but had never tried to take advantage of his professional closeness.
The Sheriff had walked off the brow his last time a couple of weeks ago, grinning when he saw Paul there to say farewell. 'Gonna miss me, Mr. Sinclair?'
'Yeah.' Paul extended his hand and they shook. 'Thanks, Sheriff.'
'For anything in particular, sir?'
'For being one helluva master-at-arms and helping a certain new ensign keep his head on straight when he needed it the most.'
Sharpe had grinned wider. 'That's just my job, sir.'
'And for being someone I could always count on.'
The grin changed to a close-lipped smile. 'Thank you, sir. And may I say the same back. I could always count on you. I know Chief Asher and I appreciated it even if no one else in the damned Navy did.'
'A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, right, Sheriff?'
'Right. I don't think that's one of the things I had to teach you, though. You seemed to figure it out for yourself.' Sharpe stepped back and saluted. 'See you around, Mr. Sinclair.'
'Fair winds, Sheriff.' Paul returned the salute, then for a moment watched Sharpe saying rough farewells to the other enlisted who'd come to see him off. Chief Imari came over to talk to Paul about a problem with one of their sailors, and when Paul looked over again Sharpe had left.
David T. Sinclair was taller than Paul. He'd always been taller, Paul thought, as well as better looking and smarter. Which wouldn't have been so bad except that through life David had demonstrated a tendency to bring up those advantages with enough frequency to make Paul want to kick holes in the nearest solid surface. Still, simple courtesy required Paul to go greet his brother after he arrived on the station.
'Come in.' David had, naturally enough, rented a room at one of the two private hotels which rented space to operate on Franklin. Also naturally enough, he'd chosen the more expensive of the two. He was standing in the room when Paul arrived, and staring around as if not able to believe how little space the money he was paying actually bought on a space station. 'Hey, little bro. Long time no see.' David smiled widely and they shook hands. 'Can you believe this?'
'Believe what?'
'This closet they call a hotel room. Do you know what this is costing me?'
'It's pretty spacious for private quarters up here, David.'
'Unbelievable. I guess I can put up with it for a little while though.'
Paul nodded, thinking how much time he'd spent putting up with considerably less personal space on the Michaelson. 'Mom and dad will be staying in the other hotel when they come up here. That's where family members usually stay when they come up to visit people assigned to the station or ships that dock here.'
'Sure, they're not on an expense account for their law firm,' David chuckled. 'How long should this military trial take?'
'Not too long. I'm told it's a fairly straightforward case.'
'Really?' David seem amused. 'Who told you that?'
'Commander Carr, the trial counsel.' He paused just a moment to let David puzzle over the title. 'That's the prosecutor.'
'Oh.' David waved one hand. 'Whatever they call him-'
'Her.'
'Her. Whatever they call her won't matter. I don't lose cases.'
'Neither does Commander Carr,' Paul advised dryly.
David laughed. 'Maybe I'll have a few surprises for this prosecutor. It wouldn't be the first time.' He gave Paul an appraising look. 'Do you know her? What's she like? What sort of courtroom tactics does she use?'
Paul pretended ignorance. 'I haven't seen that much of her.'
'I guess I couldn't have expected anything else. Besides, you probably couldn't tell me much about courtroom tactics even if you had.' David rummaged through his bag, apparently oblivious to the flash of anger on Paul's face. 'What are these military lawyers like? The defense lawyer, I mean.'
'They're lawyers.'
'No. I mean, who do they work for? The military right? The same people running the prosecution. Is there any reason to believe this guy who's been appointed to defend Pullman is actually going to do any real work on Pullman's behalf?'
Paul simply stared for a moment, shocked by the statement. 'Of course he'll work to defend Pullman. He'll do everything he can. That's how they work. I've seen them work. They don't roll over for the prosecution. They fight for their clients.'
'Really?' David didn't bother hiding his skepticism. 'Of course, you don't really know enough to judge.'
'Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.'
David frowned and gave Paul a serious look. 'You sound upset.'
'I know the military legal system. I've worked with it far more than I ever expected to, and I'm speaking from personal experience.'
'Okay, okay. Pardon me for assuming you were just sailing around in spaceships up here.'
Paul realized he could stay mad or he could try to educate his brother, which wasn't a bad idea since it would place him in the role of his brother's teacher. 'You'll need to visit my ship.' David gave him another frown, this one questioning. 'To interview witnesses, get character references, get firsthand knowledge of the places that'll be referred to in the trial, that sort of thing.'
David's expression changed. 'You do know something about this game. Yes. I'll want to do that. Who do I talk to about setting it up?'
'Me.' Paul grinned. 'I'll also take you down to meet Lieutenant Owings. He's been appointed to defend Pullman.'
'Where's Pullman? I understand he's in pre-trial confinement?'
'Yeah. In the brig. That's a military jail.'
'Does Owings have any idea how well or badly Pullman's being treated in that jail?' David asked sharply, as if he already knew the answer.
'Yes,' Paul stated. 'So do I. I've visited him frequently to check on conditions.'
David nodded, letting approval show. 'Good one, bro. Consider me appropriately chastised for assuming you wouldn't have any kind of handle on this. How soon can we get going?'
Paul checked the time and shook his head. 'I'm real limited on time right now, but I can take you down to see Lieutenant Owings. I'm sure he'll take you to see Pullman.'
'Good. Pullman's old man wanted me to send him an update on how his kid's doing.'
Paul hesitated, then asked a question that had been bothering him. 'Pullman's father is the one who hired you, right? I know you're not cheap, and I know it costs a fair amount for you to come up here. Pullman's father is a retired warrant officer. I wonder where he got the money to afford you?'
