Burden of Proof

Chapter Seven

Captain Shen eyed Paul flatly, nothing about him betraying any evidence he'd ever met Paul before in any way. "Lieutenant Junior Grade Paul Sinclair?"

"Yes, sir." Well, that makes how to handle this easy. Captain Shen's going to keep it totally impersonal. That's a relief. I think. As Paul had expected, Captain Shen had completely cut him out of the investigation process as soon as he knew Paul had been on duty the day of the fire. Now, barely three days later, he was seated in the wardroom of the Michaelson opposite the man who was Jen's father and would also render judgment on Paul's actions. I'm still wondering why he didn't recuse himself from the investigation when he found out I was one of the subjects. But how can I formally bring that up without creating the appearance I have something to hide?

Shen pushed a data pad toward Paul. "Read and sign this."

Paul read quickly, recognizing a standard form for a sworn statement from the Judge Advocate General's Manual. Do you, Paul Sinclair, Lieutenant Junior Grade, United States Navy, solemnly swear (or affirm) that the evidence you shall give in the matter now under investigation shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth (so help you God)? He signed quickly and returned the data pad to Captain Shen.

Captain Shen checked the signature and then fixed his eyes on Paul. "On 19 September 2100 you were on duty onboard the USS Michaelson?"

"Yes, sir."

"Where were you when the explosion occurred?"

"I'd just left my stateroom and was proceeding toward the quarterdeck, sir."

"What did you do when the explosion occurred?"

"I paused to wonder what it was, then heard the alarm sound and ran to the quarterdeck, sir."

"How much time elapsed while you 'paused?'"

"A second or two, sir. No more than that."

"Who was on the quarterdeck when you arrived?"

"Chief Petty Officer Imari, the officer of the deck inport, and her petty officer of the watch."

"No one else?"

"No, sir."

"How did you end up leading the on-scene damage control team?"

"DC Central informed us Chief Asher, the regular team leader, could not be located."

"You decided to leave the quarterdeck at that point?"

"No, sir. Lieutenant Silver, the command duty officer — "

"So Lieutenant Silver was also on the quarterdeck."

Paul hesitated, taken aback by the statement. "Yes, sir. By then he was. He arrived a couple of minutes after I did."

"And he then ordered you to assume duties as the damage control team leader?"

Paul phrased his reply carefully. "Lieutenant Silver was CDO and Chief Imari had the quarterdeck watch. I was the only one free to assume that duty, so I asked permission of Lieutenant Silver to proceed to the scene."

"You volunteered."

"Yes, sir."

"Didn't you have other duties to attend to?"

Paul swallowed before answering. "There were other things I could have been assigned to do, sir, which is why I requested Lieutenant Silver's permission before going to the scene of the fire."

"And he told you to go."

"Yes, sir."

"His exact words were?"

"Sir, as I recall, all he said was 'okay.'"

"He said 'okay.' And you were certain that constituted orders to proceed to the fire scene?"

Paul nodded firmly. "Yes, sir."

"You assumed command of the Damage Control team and led it into Forward Engineering. Why did you decide the enter the compartment?"

"The fire suppression systems in the compartment weren't working, and DC Central reported the fire temperatures would damage the bulkheads if we let it burn. Since we couldn't drain the fuel tank feeding the fire until the fire was out, we had to put the fire out."

"How much experience did you have at such fire fighting?"

"Just my damage control training, sir."

"Specify the extent of that."

"One week damage control training during my Academy time, then another week during specialty training."

"And you felt this qualified you to decide to enter the compartment?"

Hell, he's not just being impersonal. He's digging at me. Why'd he have to ask it that way? "Yes, sir. Before I went down to the scene of the fire, Chief Imari — "

"Why did you decide to use water hoses on full fog?"

"Sir, I asked the lead hose, Petty Officer Santiago, for advice, and she suggested that."

"So lacking experience of your own you simply did what this petty officer said you should?"

Paul took a moment to answer, fighting down an impulse to respond angrily. "No, sir. I asked Petty Officer Santiago for her advice. I weighed that advice against my own knowledge and training, and then made a decision."

"Did you receive authorization to enter Forward Engineering before opening the hatch?"

Paul started to reply, then hesitated. Did I? "I don't recall receiving specific authorization, sir. I kept the quarterdeck and DC Central advised of my intentions and I was not told to take any other course of action."

Captain Shen, his expression hard but unreadable, tapped some information onto his data pad. "You appear to have done a number of things on your own, Lieutenant Sinclair."

"I did what seemed appropriate, sir. I kept everyone informed."

"When you left Forward Engineering, did you know what had happened to Chief Asher?"

"Yes, sir." Paul had finally managed to partially suppress his emotions at the memory. "I'd seen his remains."

"Were you certain they belonged to Chief Asher?"

Paul hesitated again. "Sir, there wasn't much left."

"Then the remains could have been those of someone else?"

"I hadn't been advised anyone else was unaccounted for, sir."

"Did you make any attempt to check the rest of Forward Engineering to see if Chief Asher was present, to see if he'd managed to get into emergency survival gear and was still alive?"

"Sir, we had zero visibility, the team was exhausted from putting out the fire, I had an injured team member, and our suits were warning of impending system failures due to the heat."

"Then your answer is 'no.'"

Paul felt his jaw tightening. He tried to control his voice as he answered. "Yes, sir."

"When was the last time you were in Forward Engineering prior to the fire?"

"About a week earlier."

"You hadn't checked the compartment that day?"

"No, sir."

"Even though you'd been on duty since that morning?"

Paul's teeth were hurting, now, from the way his jaw muscles were clenching. "No, sir."

"Had you inspected any compartments on the ship that day?"

"Yes, sir, I had." The reply sounded too sharp, too defensive. Paul tried to moderate his tone. "I always conduct a walk-through of the ship on my duty days."

"You check every compartment."

Paul felt his teeth grinding painfully together and forced them to relax. "No, sir, not every compartment."

"Why not?"

How do I answer that? Because the officers who taught me how to stand duty didn't check every compartment? Because I didn't think it was necessary? Maybe because I didn't think. "I… no excuse, sir."

Captain Shen kept his eyes on Paul. "This isn't the Academy, Lieutenant. You're expected to provide explanations for your actions. Or your inactions. Why hadn't you inspected Forward Engineering that day?"

Paul felt a stubborn anger rising. "Because officers in the duty section do not routinely check every single compartment. I was going to the quarterdeck where eight o'clock reports were going to be presented. Chief Asher would have informed us of any problems in engineering spaces at that time."

"So you effectively delegated the responsibility."

"No, sir." Paul almost spat the reply. "I delegated the task. I am well aware that I cannot delegate responsibility."

Captain Shen stared back impassively for a moment, then made some more notations. "When was the last time the fire suppression systems in Forward Engineering had been tested?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Why not?"

"I'm the Combat Information Center Officer, sir. I do not work in Engineering. If I need that information I will ask the appropriate officer or enlisted in the Engineering Department."

"You don't think you needed that information the day of the fire?"

"It would've been irrelevant, sir. The fire suppression systems didn't work. Knowing when they were last tested wouldn't have helped me handle the situation or put that fire out."

"If you'd familiarized yourself with the date the systems were last tested, and discovered they were overdue for a test in time to take corrective action, couldn't that have prevented the fire from causing such extensive damage to the compartment?"

Paul stared, momentarily at a loss for words. They hadn't been tested recently? Nobody's said anything about that. "I… was unaware of that, sir."

"Then you admit your lack of knowledge regarding a critical compartment on this ship could have negatively impacted on the emergency?"

Paul almost snapped out an angry, "Yes, sir," then found himself hesitating again. Wait a minute. Think before you speak. That's practically a confession of wrongdoing he's asking me to make. Did I fail that badly? How come nobody on the ship has acted like I screwed up and helped make that emergency worse? "No, sir."

"No." Captain Shen pursed his lips, and made another notation. "Are you sure you don't want to reconsider that answer?"

This time Paul recognized a technique he'd seen Sharpe employ with suspects. Imply you know something you don't really know, and let them implicate themselves. Were those fire suppression systems really overdue for a test? He never said they were, he just implied that. Why's he trying to nail me? Well, it doesn't matter why, because it's not happening. "No, sir, I do not."

"Very well, Mr. Sinclair. There's no further need for you."

Something inside Paul made him answer in a calm, firm voice. "As a witness, you mean, sir."

"Yes. Send in the next witness."

Paul had intended going back to his stateroom, but found himself so worked up over the interview that he started roaming the ship to burn off his anger. Interview? Hell, that was an interrogation. What's he up to? Reason slowly asserted itself. Maybe he's doing his job. Which is finding out what happened and why. For all I know every other person going in there is getting the same treatment. Judging by the way the officers on the Mahan acted, Captain Shen's always a hardass.

He's Jen's father, for Pete's sake. Jen can be really tough, too, but she's always fair. Why assume the worst?

The next several days were frustrating. Paul, used to being on the inside of investigations, could only watch from the sidelines as witnesses disappeared into the wardroom and various specialists came aboard to check the damage and other systems on the ship.

"What're they finding out, Paul?" Mike Bristol asked on Friday.

"Damned if I know."

Randy Diego looked around conspiratorially. "I heard they couldn't get anything out of the engineering logs. The taught us those logs are hardened against all kinds of stuff, so how'd that happen?"

Paul saw everyone was looking at him for an answer. "I don't know! Look, guys, I'm not in on this. I don't know any more about those logs than you do."

"I saw Jill Taylor leaving the wardroom after she'd talked to Captain Shen," Randy continued. Paul nodded. As Electronic Materials Officer and a skilled specialist, Ensign Taylor would be a logical person to ask about the condition of the engineering logs. "Boy, did she look mad."

Bristol looked intrigued. "Do you know why?"

"No. She didn't say anything and I didn't ask. Even I know not to cross Taylor's path when she's that pissed off."

Paul saw them looking at him again. "Captain Shen's questioning is, uh, really aggressive. That's about all I can say."

After two more days of questioning and bringing in people to check over different parts of the Michaelson, Captain Shen left, leaving in his wake no clues as to what his conclusions would be. The first couple of days after that, everyone kept checking their messages for reports the investigation had been completed, but after another three days they'd gone back to concentrating on whatever individual crisis of the day had popped up in their areas of responsibility. Which, naturally, was when the text of Captain Shen's report arrived on the ship.

Paul started to read slowly through the report, fighting off a powerful urge to skip directly to the conclusion. But the urge triumphed partway through the dry and detailed description of the fire suppression systems in Forward Engineering. Paging rapidly forward, Paul went straight to the conclusions. In light of the lack of evidence of other causes, the damage to engineering records must be laid to an unusual combination of shock and effects of the fire… Recommendation: Conduct testing to determine if systemic fault exists in log protective mechanisms… The initial explosion occurred in the power transfer junction for Forward Engineering. The cause of the explosion cannot be reliably determined due to massive damage to the area… Recommendation: Review fault limits on power transfer junctions… The state of the engineering logs prevents identification of what Chief Petty Officer Vladimir Asher was doing in Forward Engineering… no evidence exists of deliberate misconduct on his part… death judged instantaneous…

Paul shivered as he read that finding, breathing a prayer of thanks, then went back to skimming the conclusions.

Reactions of Damage Control personnel were appropriate… their response time was within standards set by Damage Control instructions… actions of command duty officer were appropriate to the circumstances… actions of other officers reflected occasional hesitation in responding… inadequate inspection and monitoring of shipboard conditions prior to accident… no cause for misconduct finding, but enhanced training and supervision recommended.

Paul stopped reading. What the hell? He's not naming me, but he's practically blaming me for what happened! I didn't want a commendation out of this, but I didn't expect to get hammered for it!

He re-read the conclusions, searching for a different interpretation. Damn. Damn! At least he gave the Damage Control party credit for doing their jobs right. Otherwise, it doesn't explain what happened to Chief Asher or why. Just an unavoidable accident, except for "inadequate" actions on my part.

Paul finally checked the distribution on the report. He'd received a copy as the ship's legal officer, as had the captain, the executive officer, and the chief engineer. The investigation and its findings had already been forwarded to the Commodore for his approval. Even if I wanted to talk to Captain Hayes about it, would it matter? Hayes gets to comment on the findings, but why should he kick? The investigation gives him a clean bill of health.

"Mr. Sinclair, sir."

Paul looked up, startled, to see Petty Officer Sharpe. "Sorry, Sheriff, I didn't hear you at the hatch."

"I can understand why, sir." Sharpe inclined his head toward the display where Paul had been reading the investigative report.

"How do you know what's in it?"

"Sir, a good cop doesn't divulge the identity of his informants. Suffice to say, I think it sucks."

"Sheriff, it's nice of you to say that — "

"Begging your pardon, sir, but while you didn't come out smelling like a rose, I'm frankly more concerned about the rest of it. It doesn't explain why Chief Asher died."

"No."

"Or how those logs got damaged when they shouldn't have been."

"No."

"Sir, I'm about to ask something. If you don't want to give me permission, can we assume I never spoke to you about it?"

Paul eyed Sharpe. "You don't ask that kind of favor too often, Sheriff. What's on your mind?"

"What if I was to bring onboard someone to check those logs, sir?"

"They've been checked."

"Someone who's an expert, sir."

"I thought…" Paul frowned at his display. "I guess I don't know the qualifications of whoever Captain Shen brought in."

"Then I have your permission, sir?"

"And if you don't?"

"Then we never talked about it, sir, and you won't know anything if I bring the guy aboard."

"Sheriff, I don't work that way. There's no legal reason your expert can't check the logs, too. Captain Shen's finished his examination of them. For God's sake don't let your expert do any more damage, though."

"No way, sir."

Paul peered closely at Sharpe. "Level with me, Sheriff. There's something else, isn't there?"

Sharpe pointed toward where the investigation was displayed. "I gave a statement, sir. It's not in there."

"Huh?" Paul looked back and forth from Sharpe to the display. "Why'd you make a statement?"

"Because I saw Chief Asher that morning. He was really unhappy, sir."

"About what?"

"I don't know. He was muttering something about 'just do it' when I came by. I asked him what was up and he just shook his head and walked away."

Paul stared at the master-at-arms. "And that's not in there?" Okay, assume Captain Shen was gunning for me. But I still believe he's underneath it all just as ethical as his daughter, and Jen wouldn't bury some evidence just because she didn't like it. "Any idea why?"

"No, sir."

"That's… odd. I can't honestly say it'd change the conclusions of the investigation, but it's still odd. Okay, Sheriff. Bring your expert aboard."

"It may take him a day or two to get over here, sir, but I'll let you know when he comes onboard."

"Thanks, Sheriff." Paul began reading the investigation again after Sharpe left, this time with an unpleasant sensation in his gut. He'd felt bad when he read the investigation's conclusions, but this was a different kind of bad, brought on by what Sharpe had said and what Sharpe obviously suspected. He thinks the investigation missed some important stuff. Important enough to make a difference, to answer questions left unanswered? I guess I'll find out.

Within a week, the Commodore had approved the investigation's findings, then forwarded them to the Admiral, who'd also approved them. If Captain Hayes had submitted any comments on the investigation, Paul hadn't seen them, but then the captain wouldn't have been likely to involve Paul in anything which addressed Paul's own performance. Besides, Paul had seen his award recommendations for the members of the Damage Control party receive similarly expedited treatment.

For the awards ceremony, they used the same hall which the change of command had been in, of course. The Commodore himself came by to award the medals. One by one, members of the Damage Control party were called forward. Petty Officer Santiago received the Navy Commendation Medal. Petty Officer Yousef received the Navy Achievement Medal. The rest of the enlisted received letters of commendation.

After the last enlisted had been presented with their awards, the Commodore held up a last medal case. "Lieutenant Silver, front and center."

Paul tried to keep his expression fixed as Silver marched up to stand in front of the Commodore, and as the Commodore began reading the medal citation. After lauding Silver's leadership during the crisis, and proclaiming it in the highest traditions of the Naval Service, the Commodore pinned a Navy Commendation Medal on Silver.

Paul somehow kept his face impassive, his eyes front, but out of the corner of his eye he could see Captain Hayes. The smile Captain Hayes had carried through most of the award ceremony had vanished, and his face seemed to be reddening. Paul didn't know what that meant, nor did he really want to know. At this point, he just wanted the ceremony over.

It ended mercifully a few minutes later. Paul quickly dismissed his division, then headed back for the ship, avoiding contact with anyone else.

But he couldn't hide on the ship. Within a few minutes of his own arrival, a group of his friends arrived at his stateroom. "They gave Silver a medal?"

Paul glanced up, keeping his expression flat. "Yeah."

Kris Denaldo was standing in the hatchway, Lieutenant Mike Bristol just behind her along with Ensign Randy Diego. "Why?"

"I don't know. I just work in the Combat Information Center, so I never know anything."

"That's really funny. Why'd they give Silver a medal?"

"You heard the commendation. I didn't really listen. Something about his control of the situation and crap like that."

"Crap is right. He got a medal and you didn't?"

Paul looked down at his desk, still trying to keep his face rigid. "Yeah."

"Isn't that kind of lame?"

"Look, Kris, what do you want me to do?"

Silence stretched, until Paul looked up to see everyone still standing there. Kris looked around at the others, then scowled. "Nothing, I guess. Do you want to vent?"

"No."

"You've got to be pissed."

"Sort of."

"But there's nothing you can do about it."

"Right."

"Any idea why Hayes did that?"

Another voice answered. "Captain Hayes didn't do it." They all looked to see Commander Sykes leaning against the bulkhead not far away. "The captain was just as surprised as you, Mr. Sinclair. He is not a happy man. This is, of course, not for attribution."

Bristol was staring at Sykes. "The Commodore did it? Without input from Captain Hayes?"

"Apparently. Our captain is attempting to run down the source of the medal recommendation. He can't really pull the medal. Not without cause. What damage has been done is done. I believe Paul is wise to attempt to accept this aspect of things."

"Suppo, he got hammered for that accident even though he led the Damage Control team in, and now Silver's getting rewarded even though he didn't do anything."

Sykes looked away. "I can't promise a just resolution to this."

Ensign Diego shook his head. "Paul's just got to live with it?"

"Unless he can find a constructive alternative, yes."

They all looked at Paul, who shrugged. "I don't know."

Mike Bristol grinned humorlessly. "I have an alternative. Liberty call's in fifteen minutes. Let's go have a drink."

That sounded as constructive as anything else.

The next morning, Paul was nursing a mild hangover when Ivan Sharpe called. "Sir, I have someone I believe you'd like to meet."

"Fine, Sheriff. Where?"

"In Combat, sir?"

"See you in a few minutes." Paul gulped a couple more aspirin, then headed toward combat. Commander Garcia and he passed each other outside the wardroom. Garcia frowned at Paul, then glared in another direction and went on his way. Is he mad at me or for me? Sometimes you can't tell with Garcia. He's almost always mad about something.

Sharpe, waiting near Paul's command console in the Combat Information Center, indicated the man standing next to him. "Mr. Sinclair, this is Chief Warrant Officer Rose."

Paul offered his hand, trying not to look too young. Warrants were former enlisted who'd worked their way up the ranks, which meant they were both highly-experienced specialists and notoriously underimpressed with typical junior officers.

But Rose smiled politely and accepted Paul's handshake. "Pleased to meet you. Bob Rose. Sharpe here tells me you're okay."

Paul glanced at Sharpe with exaggerated surprise. "He never tells me that."

Rose smiled a bit wider. "No, he wouldn't. Where do you want me to work?"

Paul looked around combat. Two of Paul's sailors were lounging around, watching Paul's group curiously. Then they saw the look on Sharpe's face and hastily went in search of another resting place. Paul indicated his command console. "You should be able to do anything you want to do from here, Warrant."

"Looks good."

"Do you need me to log in?"

"No." Rose grinned at Paul's reaction. "I actually want to see how easy your system is to crack, among other things." Rose sat, poised his hands above the controls, then glanced meaningfully at Paul and Sharpe. "I work best when nobody's leaning over my shoulder, if you know what I mean."

Paul barely bit off a reflexive, "Yes, sir" to an officer who was junior to him in the military hierarchy but carried authority and confidence with the ease of someone who knew his job and knew the Navy as only someone with decades of service could. Instead, Paul nodded, and he and Sharpe retreated to the far side of Combat.

Rose worked intently, his eyes never straying from the console display. Paul looked over at Sharpe, made a motion as if to speak, then a questioning gesture. Sharpe responded with an "I don't know" gesture of his own, so they sat silently.

Eventually, Rose straightened, stretched and then looked their way. "It was hacked."

"What?" Somehow, Paul hadn't expected to hear anything like that. "What was hacked?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer.

"The engineering logs."

"The damage was deliberate?"

"Yup. No question."

"Why didn't the investigation find that out? They called in someone to check the logs for the cause of the damage."

"Because the hacker used a real effective program that's been available for a while to anybody who really wants it. It leaves no fingerprints. At least, that's what most folks think. A few of us know it leaves one." Rose pointed at his display. "The designer of the software had as big an ego as anyone. His program takes one line in one shredded file and adds on his initials. In code. Unless you're looking for exactly that, you'll never find it."

"My God." Paul tried to absorb the news, looking neither at Sharpe nor Rose. Somebody mangled those records on purpose. Which means somebody tried to cover-up something. But who? And what? "You're absolutely positive, Warrant?"

"Absolutely."

"You'd swear to it?"

"Absolutely."

Sharpe leaned forward, his posture that of a hound straining to leap after prey. "Can you tell who did it?"

Rose shook his head, his face unhappy. "No. That's impossible. There were about thirty people logged on during that time period, but since it's real easy to use someone else's password and access, that doesn't really narrow it down."

"Then we can't rule out anybody on the ship," Sharpe noted with clear disgust.

"Maybe not. What time was that fire?"

Paul answered, the time burned into his brain. "The alarm sounded at 1922."

"Okay, then, you can rule out one suspect." Rose pointed to his display once more. "The line that contains the hack program designer's name also gets a time stamp put on it. According to that, this data base got hacked at 2235 that night."

Sharpe shook his head. "So?"

Paul answered. "That means the data base was hacked over three hours after Chief Asher died, right, Warrant?"

"Right. Whatever else that chief did, he sure didn't mess up this data. Somebody else did that. For certain."

Paul didn't want to think about it, didn't want to consider what he'd have to do. The investigation is completed, the case closed. Nobody got their heads handed to them. Granted, I didn't come out too well for reasons I don't understand, but given that a sailor died and the ship took extensive damage to Forward Engineering, the lack of specific wrongdoing by anyone was a welcome finding to everyone. But now it looks like that finding was wrong. Somebody did do something, something that worried them enough to cause them to hack that data base to wipe out anything that might point to them. Did they cause Chief Asher's death? Or did they just make a mistake that contributed to it? And if I bring this up, will anyone thank me?

He remembered something, then, words once spoken to him by Commander Herdez after another shipboard accident had claimed the life of Petty Officer Davidas in Carl Meadows' division. That had been an unavoidable accident, with no one at fault, but Herdez had bluntly told Paul that had Carl been at fault, it would have been their duty to hold Carl accountable because the sailor's sacrifice demanded no less. And she was right. Still is right, for that matter. Chief Asher's dead. It looks like somebody played enough of a role in that to want to destroy the evidence. Well, Chief, I couldn't help you escape that fire, but I can sure as hell make sure anyone involved in causing it and your death gets brought to account.

Paul suddenly became aware both Warrant Rose and Ivan Sharpe were watching him intently. "I'm sorry. Did someone ask me something?"

The Warrant shook his head. "No. I think we're just wondering what you're going to do, Lieutenant."

"It's not like I have a choice, Warrant. Make a copy of that evidence, please, and I'd appreciate a formal report from you on what you found."

"Sure. Can I ask what you're going to do with it?"

"Take it to the captain. He needs to know this."

Rose nodded, smiling grimly. "That he does. I'll write it up here for you. Just give me a few minutes."

"No problem. Hand it to the Sheriff when you're done. I need to check some references in my stateroom."

Paul started out of Combat, pausing as Sharpe held a hand before him. "Thanks again, Mr. Sinclair."

"For what, Sheriff? Like I said, I don't have a choice."

"Yes, you do, sir. And in my book you made the right one."

Less than an hour later, Warrant Officer Rose's report in one hand, Paul waited in the line outside of the captain's stateroom. A line almost always existed there, as officers waited to get messages approved or to deliver personal reports the captain had requested, as enlisted brought by other routine reports which still required the captain's okay, and as those seeking approval or orders waited for their turn to plead or explain their case. Paul tried not to let any nervousness show, his experience on the bridge helping a great deal in that effort. One of the first things he'd learned was the need to project calm and certainty. As long as you sounded like you knew exactly what you were doing, everybody else tended to believe you did as well.

The last supplicant before Paul left through the hatch. "The captain says to go right in, sir."

"Thanks." Paul stepped through the hatch. "Sir, request permission for a private conference."

Captain Hayes examined Paul closely, then nodded. "Very well. Close the hatch. Take a seat."

Paul did both, sitting as erect as possible, as if he were still at attention even when seated.

Hayes looked at Paul, his eyes sharp. "What private issue brings you here, Mr. Sinclair?"

"Sir, I… I…"

"Spit it out, mister."

"Sir, I have reason to believe the investigation into the fire onboard the USS Michaelson missed important information."

Hayes leaned back, his face now questioning. "Is this some sort of personal appraisal? I think you got a bit of a raw deal in that investigation, Paul, but nobody wanted to go to the mat to change those findings about a junior officer. I did try."

"Thank you, sir. And no, sir. There's evidence involved." Paul let his distress show for a moment. "Serious evidence."

Captain Hayes leaned forward. "Talk to me. What've you got? Any hard evidence, or just speculation about it?"

Paul spoke cautiously, aware of the stakes in what he was saying and how he said it. "I had a computer expert check the engineering maintenance logs. He said they'd been hacked. Not damaged in the accident, but deliberately hacked."

Hayes' eyes narrowed. "The investigation reported they couldn't find any evidence of what'd caused the data loss in those logs. Who's this expert of yours?"

"Chief Warrant Officer Rose, sir."

"Bob Rose? From Fleet Staff?"

"Yes, sir."

Hayes rubbed his forehead with the fingertips of his right hand. "I know Rose. He's good. Very good. He says the logs were hacked?"

"Yes, sir. He's willing to swear to it." Paul held out the report Rose had prepared. "He gave me this."

Hayes read swiftly, his eyes darting back and forth. "Not just gun-decking to falsify data. Deliberate destruction of data. Damn. What else have you got?"

"The only other thing at this point is Petty Officer Sharpe, sir. He says Asher was mad that morning, and said something about 'just do it.' Sharpe thinks Chief Asher had been told to do something Asher didn't like."

"I don't remember seeing anything like that in the investigation report."

"Sharpe says he turned in a sworn statement, sir. But it's not listed in the attachments to the investigation, and there's no copy of it there."

"You think Captain Shen concealed it?"

"No, sir. That's not my impression of Captain Shen. I think Captain Shen never saw that statement. He didn't call Sharpe in for an interview, and he surely would've done that if he was aware Sharpe knew something."

"Sharpe's a cocky son-of-a-bitch, but he's also a good sailor." Hayes stood up, pacing back and forth within the small confines of his cabin. "A very good cop, too. He's got good instincts." The captain stopped pacing and focused on Paul. "And you're not Admiral Spruance, but you're also not a fool. What's the bottom line here, Mr. Sinclair? You're talking about the investigation being deliberately impeded, aren't you? To ensure it wouldn't reach the correct conclusions."

"Yes, sir. I think there's a chance that may have happened."

Hayes stared at the bulkhead above Paul's head. "The investigation results have already been officially approved. That means a lot of heavy-weights have signed off on them and attested to their accuracy."

"Yes, sir."

"And you and I are both aware of the personal issues involved regarding Lieutenant Silver. I was informally made aware that Vice Admiral Silver was following events."

"That's… that's illegal, sir."

"It is if there's any record of it, Mr. Sinclair. In any event, that investigation gave Lieutenant Silver a clean bill of health."

"Yes, sir."

"But he was also Chief Asher's division officer. The Main Propulsion Assistant. That was Silver's equipment in Forward Engineering. But you don't have any evidence implicating Silver?"

Paul shook his head to emphasize his reply. "No, sir. At this point, it implicates no particular individual. I have no idea who might be involved, either in misleading the investigation or possibly in the original accident."

Hayes nodded, his face pensive. "There's an awful lot of people who would be very unhappy to have the results of that investigation questioned. Even I might suffer if a reinvestigation finds me at fault."

"Yes, sir."

Hayes locked his gaze back on Paul. "But I'm captain of this ship. One of my sailors died. And, if your suspicions are right, at least one of my crew lied or falsified evidence. I have to be able to trust my crew, Mr. Sinclair." He sat down slowly, then gave Paul a sidelong look. "You and Petty Officer Sharpe keep looking. Quietly. Have you ever gone hunting, Mr. Sinclair?"

"Uh, no, sir. Not really."

"The first rule is not to make a lot of noise or fuss. Because if you do, whatever you're hunting is going to hide. So you don't make a lot of noise, Mr. Sinclair. Keep it quiet. Check out these things that don't add up. If it turns out to be nothing, or nothing you can substantiate, I want you to tell me that as soon as you're comfortable with that conclusion. If you find something more, I want to know that, too."

"And if anyone questions what I'm doing, sir?"

"Refer them to me. That's not a blank check. Act with discretion and forethought. If I hear you're running around like a loose cannon, I'll come down on you like a ton of bricks and you'll wish you'd never started this. Comprende? "

"Yes, sir."

"But if you're on the track of something important, I'll back you." Hayes smiled without humor. "Here's your chance to prove the quality of your professional judgment, Mr. Sinclair."

And if I'm wrong, the chance to drop-kick my career out of the nearest airlock. "Yes, sir."

"If you're right, if you find that evidence, then we'll make noise, Mr. Sinclair. We'll flush our prey and nail him or her to the bulkhead." Hayes' face flushed slightly, his mouth a thin, tight line. "Accidents happen. They're an ugly fact of life. But if someone caused this one, and if someone covered up their involvement, I want that someone off my ship and preferably out of the Navy."

Paul simply nodded back, unsure of the proper reply.

Hayes used one hand to indicate the hatch. "If that's all, Mr. Sinclair, we both have plenty of other things to do." He paused, causing Paul to hesitate in mid-reach for the hatch handle. "Quite frankly, I don't know whether I want you to be right or wrong about this."

"Sir, quite frankly, I don't know which I'd prefer, either."