Rule of Evidence

Chapter Eight

Lieutenant Ahmed Bashir, United States Navy, Judge Advocate General's Corps, was a few years older than Paul, but looked far too young to be Jen's lawyer in Paul's eyes. He wanted somebody who looked like he or she had argued and won cases in every court and venue. But the best lawyer he knew had been assigned not to defend Jen, but to prosecute her. He could only hope Bashir could go toe-to-toe with Alex Carr and not get steamrollered. "When can you get Jen out of the brig?"

Bashir sighed. "I doubt I'll be able to do it all."

"Why not? Do they think she's going to run away on a space station?"

"It's not about that. It's about the safety of the station."

"What?"

"Look." Bashir leaned back and spread his hands helplessly. "This is how the government's looking at it. Lieutenant Shen is charged with sabotaging the equipment on the Maury, causing it to blow up and kill scores of sailors. If she's free on Franklin, she could presumably do the same thing here."

"That's so completely ridiculous."

"Maybe. But the government's convinced the military magistrate, so Lieutenant Shen is in the brig and in the brig she will almost certainly remain."

Paul slumped back. Great. This guy isn't even going to fight for her. "Have you even talked to her yet?"

Bashir picked up on Paul's tone of voice and attitude, leaning forward and pointing both fore-fingers at him. "Yes. I have. And I'm going to do everything I morally and legally can to get her acquitted of these charges. Clear?"

"Clear. What can I do?"

The Navy lawyer relaxed again, shaking his head. "I don't like this. I don't mind telling you. Secret Article 32 Investigation. Secret findings. Secret hearings. I've demanded to see all the evidence they've compiled to justify those charges against Ms. Shen, but as far as I know right now it's all circumstantial."

"Won't that help us?" When we tried Silver on circumstantial evidence, they didn't want to convict him of some charges because of the uncertainty of his guilt.

"It should, but…" Bashir rubbed his face. "You try someone for one murder on circumstantial evidence, and everybody gives them the benefit of the doubt. Try them for six murders on circumstantial evidence and they assume they're guilty. Why? Because they've been charged with something extra bad."

"That doesn't make sense."

"Tell me about it. But that's the way it works. People figure if someone's charged with something so bad, there must be good reasons." Bashir slapped his desk. "Even if there aren't. Tell me about Jen Shen."

Paul spoke, at first hesitantly, then more quickly. Bashir listened closely, occasionally asking questions. "She sounds like a great officer."

"She is a great officer!"

"But they're trying her for some pretty horrendous crimes. Why?"

"I hoped you know."

Bashir thought, looking up at a corner of his office. "This is a big deal, of course. The Maury badly damaged. A lot of her crew dead. Lots of attention. A lot of people wanting to blame the South Asians even if that means we start shooting. The authorities have to find a cause, and I'm sure they don't want to find one involving the SASALs."

"Are you saying they're going to use Jen as a scapegoat?"

"Maybe. She seems like an odd choice, though. And they'll have to fill in some blanks if they hope to make that stick. I can't see Alex Carr playing along with that kind of thing, either." He looked closely at Paul. "You could be asked to testify against Lieutenant Shen, you know."

Paul's laughter sounded harsh even to him. "Let them. I'd back Jen one hundred percent."

Lieutenant Bashir rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and smiled halfheartedly. "I'm sure. Odds are the prosecution realizes that. Besides, they don't want to build sympathy for Lieutenant Shen, and putting her officer boyfriend up on the witness stand is likely to do just that. Still, those questions you said the agents were asking Lieutenant Shen. If they uncover any evidence which might make you look wronged, they might still do it."

"Evidence that I've been what?"

Bashir looked away for a moment, plainly uncomfortable. "Is there any of that?"

"Any of what?"

"Indications that since meeting you Lieutenant Shen has committed personal indiscretions, been involved in other relationships-"

"No!"

"Paul, I understand your emotions, but I need to be aware of anything which might impact on Lieutenant Shen's defense. I assure you nothing you tell me will ever-"

"There's nothing to tell you!"

"I won't be able to prepare to counter anything they find if I'm not already aware of it."

Paul fought to control his temper, feeling his face warming with anger. "Sir. There's nothing to be aware of."

Bashir looked down at his hands, speaking carefully. "Nobody's perfect. You know the Navy. Long separations. Close working relationships-"

"It hasn't happened. Jen would've told me. She's not perfect. But she's honest. She wouldn't lie to me."

"It wouldn't have to be an actual indiscretion, you realize, just something that looked like one. Anything which an outsider might interpret as, uh, infidelity towards you."

Relax. He's trying to help. "I swear I don't know of anything like that."

"Nothing that anyone might twist around?"

"No. I've never heard of anything."

"What about you?"

"What?!"

"Anything that might imply fooling around on your part? Something that would've made her jealous."

I don't believe this. I do not believe it. "No."

"Are you going to be available at any time during the trial?"

"I'll be there every day."

Bashir's eyebrows rose. "I thought you were assigned to a ship."

"I am. They just put her in restricted availability. She needs a lot of work inside and her hull took a lot of damage from debris from the Maury. Not structural stuff, but sensors and that kind of thing. The Michaelson won't be going anywhere for months, and my department head and commanding officer have both told me to take as much time off as I need."

"Well, good. I guess."

"I want to be able to see Jen. In person."

"I'm not sure-"

"Please."

Bashir rubbed his forehead. "Okay. I'll do everything I can. If you know anyone with any influence at the brig, it wouldn't hurt to ask them to help. And I'll have to make sure the government doesn't object."

"Commander Carr and I… have worked together before."

"Really?" Bashir's smile was rueful. "Then you know what a challenge defending Lieutenant Shen is going to be. I understand the government even tried to get a statement out of a chaplain who counseled Lieutenant Shen after she got back to Franklin."

"Commander Hughes?"

"Yeah. She told them to pound sand. My kind of chaplain."

"Mine, too."

"I'll let you know as soon as I've had a chance to look at the government's case. I want you to see everything as well, since you apparently know Lieutenant Shen better than anyone else." Bashir paused. "Except maybe her father. And his ship, I understand, won't be back from patrol until the court-martial's likely to be over. I wonder if he even knows what's happening?"

"I don't know. Jen asked me not to send him anything, but he might hear from someone else. If the Mahan gets any mail or news updates."

"Well, nothing we can do about that." Bashir rose and extended his hand. "I won't say anything stupid like 'don't worry.' But people like to say I'm smarter than I look."

Paul grinned, feeling a bit better, and shook Bashir's hand. "You'll win this case."

"Against Alex Carr? That'll be a feather in my cap. I'll call you, Paul. Try to get some rest until then. You look pretty beat up."

I bet Jen looks worse. How can I rest with her alone in the brig? "Okay."

His parents took the news with outward calm. "Oh," was all Paul's mother said. His father said nothing at all and just tried not to let anything show in his expression.

Somehow, Lieutenant Bashir, Sheriff Sharpe and Chaplain Hughes were able to get the necessary strings pulled for a visit to the brig to actually see Jen in person. Jen had obviously done her best to look good, though given the limitations of her cell and her unadorned uniform that still left her appearing far from great, especially in the bare surroundings of the brig's secure visiting area. From the look in her eyes, Paul could tell Jen knew that she looked every inch a prisoner. But she stepped forward as if she were on the bridge of her own ship, managed a small smile and extended her hand to Paul's father. "Commander Sinclair. It's a pleasure to meet you."

To Paul's relief, his father took the offered hand. "Retired. I'm just plain Frank Sinclair, now." He gestured to Paul's mother. "And this is the other Commander Sinclair. Also retired."

Jen nodded and smiled again. "A pleasure, ma'am."

Paul's mother made a small smile as well. "I have to admit, Lieutenant Shen, I never imagined meeting you for the first time in this, uh, environment."

Jen's smile grew even more forced. "Believe me, it's not my idea. And please call me Jen."

"Alright… Jen. Please, let's sit down."

Jen sat in one the plain metal chairs, which was bolted securely in place like every other object in the visiting room. Jen's movements were stiff, and she shot Paul a quick glance before looking back at his parents. "Thank you. How'd you get up to Franklin?"

Frank Sinclair shrugged. "A couple of retired commanders ought to know enough people to get them a space-available slot on a shuttle. But actually we're up here working for Con-Dyn on some system upgrades for the station.;"

"Paul tells me you've both been in space before."

"That's right. I rode one of Genghis Conner's research platforms. That's where I met Mrs. Sinclair. She was a ship driver like you two."

"That's what Paul said. What ships, ma'am?"

"The Glenn and the Carpenter." She smiled ruefully. "It was rough duty. They made me chief engineer on the Carpenter. I was always afraid I'd mess something up…" The smile vanished. "Oh, I'm… sorry."

Jen's polite smile froze. Silence fell, increasingly uncomfortable as the seconds ticked by. "I'm innocent of these charges. Totally innocent."

Paul nodded. "I already told them that."

"Too bad you won't be allowed to serve on the court-martial."

Paul tried to think what to say next. Say anything. What would I say if we were just together like usual? Some joke, I guess. "I tried to pack it with members of the Michaelson' s wardroom, but I think they caught on to me."

Jen gave him a blank look, then smiled sardonically. "The lawyers? Of course they did. They all know you. I expect you're on a first-name basis with every lawyer on Franklin."

"Hardly."

Paul's father coughed. "Whistling past the graveyard, folks? It's a time-honored tradition in cases like this, but given the severity of the charges-"

Jen grimaced. "I'm sorry, sir. You're right. I'm under a lot of stress and I-"

"Have nothing to apologize for," Paul interjected.

"I can finish my own sentences, Paul Sinclair."

Paul looked at Jen, letting his surprise at her anger show, then nodded in agreement. It's not like she doesn't have every right to be tense. "Yes, you can."

Jen shook her head, her own gaze dropping. "I'm sorry, Paul. I… just started another sentence like that. But this is so hard. Commander Sinclair and, uh, Commander Sinclair, I've looked forward to this meeting, but like everything else in my life lately it hasn't gone as I expected. I'm very grateful for Paul's support. Oh, hell, I'm very grateful for Paul. No matter what happens."

Mrs. Sinclair eyed Jen. "What do you expect to happen?"

"Expect? I don't know what to expect, anymore. They've charged me with killing my shipmates! I couldn't ever do that, but the Navy's trying to prove I did do it. Now, I don't know what else to expect. Nothing makes sense."

"Surely you have witnesses-"

"My witnesses are dead, ma'am."

Mrs. Sinclair paused. "Paul says you've a great reputation."

Jen's smile seemed half-born of pain. "Oh, yes. A great reputation. That doesn't seem to have helped much."

Paul shook his head. "Jen's still in confinement because the government's arguing that she could sabotage Franklin like they say she did the Maury."

Paul's mother leaned close, looking directly into Jen's eyes. "But you're innocent."

Jen locked eyes with Paul's mother. "Yes, ma'am. I couldn't do what I've been charged with."

They held each other's gazes for a moment, then Paul's mother reached out and squeezed Jen's hand. "Yes. But I'm Julia, not 'ma'am.'"

A knock on the door and a master-at-arms appeared. "I'm afraid that's all the time you're permitted."

He wasn't supposed to touch her, but Paul leaned as close to Jen as he could without doing so. "I'm here. Always."

"Thanks," she whispered back. "God, why now?"

But the master-at-arms was coming forward, frowning, and Paul had to pull back without answering. Jen gave the petty officer a stern look, came to attention, pivoted on her heel, and marched out the door back toward her cell.

Paul and his parents walked back toward the temporary lodging area. His mother smiled brightly in a deliberately overdone display of cheeriness. "How about dinner?"

"Thanks, Mom, but I'm not all that hungry."

"You need something to eat."

"Mom-"

"That's an order, Lieutenant." She grinned. "I love being able to say that to you."

Paul led them to one of the private restaurants, having no desire to take his parents to Fogarty's where he had so many memories of him and Jen together. He picked at the food his mother insisted he order, trying to answer questions with replies longer than a word or two, while everyone avoided talking about Jen.

His mother finally sighed and leaned back in her seat. "Well, she seems like a fine enough person. Under the circumstances."

"You didn't exactly meet her at her best." Paul thought again of Jen, putting up a brave front even while she wore a uniform stripped of insignia and decoration. Would I have been able to carry myself as well she did under those circumstances? I bet she's imagined meeting my parents a thousand times, and the difference between those dreams and the reality must've been heartbreaking. But she didn't show it.

His mother gazed at Paul intently, as if reading his thoughts. "Your Jen is a very strong woman, isn't she?"

"Yes. That's just one of the things I love about her."

"And you're absolutely certain these charges are false?"

"Yes!"

Paul's father frowned. "They must have had good reasons for charging her. Those sort of charges aren't brought lightly."

His mother shook her head. "We don't know what motivated the charges."

"The Navy wouldn't-"

"Don't lecture me about the Navy, George! I spent just as many years in it as you did. As an institution, it's far from perfect. It can do some terrible things. And I know that's true even though I know there's a lot of good people in the Navy. I'm married to one and the mother of another."

"And the future mother-in-law of a third," Paul muttered. He looked up at the sudden silence. "I guess I said that out-loud."

His mother leaned forward with an exaggerated questioning expression. "You're engaged?"

"Not yet."

"I'm glad you haven't forgotten to mention that. Have you already asked her?"

"Yes."

"Then I assume she hasn't given you an answer?"

Paul felt as if he were being cross-examined by Commander Carr. "No. She wanted more time for us to get to know each other."

"That's nice. Otherwise you'd probably have gotten married and not brought it up until now."

"Mom-"

"I wanted to let you know we were coming. But not your father. Let's surprise Paul, he said."

Paul's father shrugged. "How was I supposed to know his girl would be in the brig? We weren't even sure what her last name was."

"That's true." His mother focused back on Paul. "Here you are getting ready to marry the girl and we hardly know a thing about her."

"I told you lots of things about Jen."

"Oh, yes. Let's see. She's a great officer. She's really nice looking. And she's a great officer."

"I've told you more than that. Haven't I?"

"Not really. You never mentioned that she's tough enough to put up a good front for us even though she's going through personal hell at the moment."

Paul let his sense of helplessness show. "She didn't do it. If I know anything at all, I know Jen couldn't have done what they're accusing her of."

"That's what the court-martial will decide, won't it?" his father remarked.

"I don't care what the court-martial decides! I already know!"

"Surely if she's as innocent as you say, she doesn't have to fear conviction."

Paul sighed and shook his head. "I wish I could be sure of that. But all the witnesses to what really happened on the Maury are dead. All the records and logs that might've explained the accident were destroyed. It may come down to Jen's word that she did nothing against the fact that something apparently inexplicable happened."

"Something she survived." Paul's father raised one palm to forestall another outburst from Paul. "I know. But that looks damming, right?" He glanced at Paul's mother. "Maybe David can help."

Paul frowned. David. My big brother the hot-shot civilian lawyer. Who somehow always manages to shove that fact in my face. But I shouldn't let my feelings about his attitude rule out David's helping Jen. Can he really help, though? "Does David know military law?"

His mother frowned in turn. "Not as far as I know. That could be a problem, couldn't it?"

"It could be. There's different rules, different procedures. Jen has a right to have David as her attorney if she wants him, but…"

"But it might not be all that smart." Paul's mother glanced at his father. "What do you think, Frank?"

"Oh, my opinion matters? Then, for what it's worth, I think Paul brought up a good point. Even though I suggested David, he'd be on unfamiliar ground. Plus he's one hundred percent civilian. You remember how you and I would've thought about a civilian lawyer back when we were on active duty."

"Yes, indeed. What about Jen's father? You told us he's a captain?"

"That's right. Commanding officer of the Mahan."

"The Mahan? She's not in port."

"No. Deep patrol. She won't be back for months."

"That's not good. What about her mother?"

"Dead. Years ago." Paul inhaled deeply. "I'm all she's got."

"Not quite. No son of mine is going to stand alone in a matter like this. Frank?"

His father sighed. "What if she's convicted, Paul? You seem to think that's a real possibility. Those charges will put her in confinement for a very long time."

"I can wait."

"So you say now. Look, I know how it feels to be in love. You can't imagine your love object has any flaws-"

Mrs. Sinclair smiled briefly. "I broke that illusion of your father's pretty quick."

"You certainly did. And I'm not saying your girl did what she's accused of doing. But, she could be convicted. Think of ten years down the line, her in Fort Leavenworth and you outside, waiting for another thirty or forty years to pass, if not more."

"You don't think I should stand by her."

"That's not what I'm saying. I'm saying maybe you do your best, but she's convicted and the appeals are rejected…"

Paul snorted a brief laugh, looking away for a moment. "Dad, I'm not under the slightest illusion that Jen is perfect. She's pushy, temperamental, stubborn, willful and rough-edged. She's also the best thing by far that's ever happened to me."

His father smiled for a moment. "Sounds a lot like your mother."

His mother gave his father a sharp look. "I beg your pardon?"

Paul couldn't help smiling briefly himself at the byplay. "After the Maury 's engineering spaces blew to hell I had to face what seemed to be the certainty that she'd died. I couldn't imagine what I'd do, how I'd ever find someone else who could fill the hole Jen'd left in me. Then I found out she'd survived. I know how it'd feel to lose her, because I thought I had. Do you think I'd ever let her go, now?"

"Not if you were worth a damn," his father replied.

"Yes," his mother agreed. "There may not be much we can do to help, but what we can do, we will."

Lieutenant Bashir offered Paul his data pad. "Here's the convening order for the court-martial. Do you know any of the members of the court?"

Paul took the device and read through it slowly. A general court-martial had been convened, the most serious. It made him wince internally even though he'd known Jen would be charged with offenses too serious for either of the less severe forms of court-martial, special or summary. Unlike the special or summary courts-martial, which had limitations on the punishments they could order, a general court-martial could assign any legal punishment, no matter how severe. It was reserved for only the worst offenses.

He read the list of personnel identified in the convening order. Military Judge. Captain David V. McMasters. I'll have to ask Bashir about McMasters. President of the court-martial is Captain William Carney. Carney? That doesn't ring any bells. No, wait. Isakov mentioned that name. He was the commanding officer of the Isherwood at one point. I wish I knew more than that, but I'm really leery of asking Val Isakov anything. Then there's Commander Francesca Bolivar. Commander of the Fleet Intelligence Support Activity on Franklin. Doesn't look like she's ever served on ships. Lieutenant Commander Gavin Cloud. Just came up from Earth duty, awaiting assignment. It says he's open space warfare officer qualified, so he must have some experience, but it must predate my own arrival up here. He's been on earth since before I got to the Michaelson.

Lieutenant Daniela Kalin. Off the Dahlgren. And Lieutenant Karl Ishiki. Fleet staff. I don't know any of these people.

Paul repeated his last thought out loud. Bashir nodded. "Not too surprising. You and Lieutenant Shen moved in the same crowd, right? They couldn't choose any members for the court who knew her well, so it follows you wouldn't know them. And they had to rule out people who'd served with Shen's father on the Mahan or elsewhere, too. But it was worth a try to see if you could tell me anything about any of them."

Paul indicated a couple of names. "Carney, Cloud and Kalin are all Open Space Warfare Officers."

"Is that good or bad?"

"Well…" Paul hesitated before replying. "It's a tough community. OSWOs can be really supportive, or they can eat you alive. You never know."

"I'll say that's likely to be bad, then."

"What about the judge? What's McMasters like?"

Bashir looked noncommittal. "He runs a tight court-room. No nonsense. No games. He doesn't tend to favor either the prosecution or the defense. He leaves that part of things to the trial counsel and the defense counsel."

"That sounds good."

"Oh, yeah. It can be a lot worse. Now…" Bashir held up his data unit again. "Here's the list of evidence I've been provided by the prosecution."

Paul paged through the lists of documents. "This is almost all engineering stuff."

"Yeah." Bashir squinted at his display. "And I'm a lawyer. I don't know a blasted thing about any of it."

"Jen can explain it."

"Yeah." Bashir settled back, rubbing his eyes. "But that's part of the problem. Lieutenant Shen really knows this stuff."

"Why's that a problem?"

"I can only guess at the prosecution strategy, but based on this stuff and the very limited evidence available, I'd say they're going to argue that this couldn't have been an accident. If they rule out an accident, that points it right at Lieutenant Shen."

"Why? They have to prove she did it."

"No." Bashir leaned forward again, resting on his elbows. "They can't prove she did it. But they can try to prove that there's no other way it could've happened unless she did it."

Paul shook his head. "Jen's got to prove she didn't do it?"

"Essentially, yes. Not directly, that is. But we have to come up with alternate explanations for what happened."

"And?"

Bashir exhaled heavily. "Let me know if you think of any."

"But Jen-"

"Tells me she hasn't a clue. Can't even imagine a scenario."

"But there's got to be alternative explanations!"

"Like I said, I'm open for suggestions."

Paul hastened back to the Michaelson, finding Colleen Kilgary sitting in the wardroom. "I really need your help."

Colleen gave him a curious look. "You, or Jen?"

"Both." Paul explained the problem. "You're main propulsion assistant on the Michaelson. You know this stuff a lot better than I do. So, what else could've done it?"

Kilgary sat back, staring at the overhead, and stayed that way for a long time before shaking her head. "Damned if I can think of anything."

"The systems can't be that perfect!"

"They're not! But you're not talking about one component failing. You're talking about everything going boom at pretty much the same time. It can't happen."

"It did happen."

"Yes." Kilgary bit her lip. "Paul, I just can't come up with something that would've done that. Not on the Michaelson."

"The Maury wasn't the Michaelson."

"True. There's always at least minor differences even between sister ships. And Maury had just gone through that overhaul. But if the accident happened because of something on the Maury that was different from the Michaelson it means I can't help you much. I know this ship."

Paul slumped and nodded. "Thanks, Colleen. I'd appreciate it if you'd ask Chief Meyer for his assessment, too."

"Uh, okay." Kilgary looked away, twisting her coffee container in her hands.

"What's the matter?"

"Noth- Oh, hell. Paul, when Jen got charged with doing that… people got strange."

"Strange?"

"You know." She stared at her hands. "Like… they don't…"

Paul felt like a lead weight was settling in his stomach. "They think she did it?"

"No! Uh, well, they're kind of… concerned."

"They think she did it."

Colleen looked up at him. "Sorry, Paul. Even I wondered for a second. But I know you. Better than I ever knew her. And I trust your judgment in this. But why'd they charge her with doing it? They must have a reason."

Paul heard his voice laughing bitterly. "The reason is that they don't have any other reasons. They can't explain it otherwise. So they're blaming Jen."

"Oh." Kilgary looked back down at her hands. "She ought to be able to beat it, then."

"Yeah." She ought to be able to beat it. If she can prove she didn't do it. Is that what this case comes down to? People assuming Jen was charged for good reason and demanding she prove her own innocence? But how can she do that? "Thanks for talking, Colleen. Please tell everyone that Jen is innocent."

"Sure. But like I said, that's about all I can do, because the Michaelson and the Maury have, uh, 'had' I guess, different engineering plant configurations."

"You said that you couldn't see any way it could happen.."

"No. I said I couldn't see any way it could happen on the Mike. Based on what I know, I'd be looking at any differences between the Mike and Maury for whatever might've caused it."

Paul nodded. "How many differences could there be?"

"Lots. Mostly little stuff. But it all adds up. Maury had that SEERS thing installed."

"I should look into SEERS?"

Colleen shrugged. "I would."

"Have you heard anything about it?"

"Just what you told me Jen told you. That and the fact that it was approved for introduction into the fleet."

Paul nodded, knowing that neither fact gave any indication SEERS posed a danger to the Maury. Quite the contrary, in the case of it being approved for installation on the Maury. He knew Colleen knew that as well, but was being kind enough not to say it out loud. It's a big difference, though. The biggest I know of. I need to look into it and hope it does some good. From what I know now, it won't. But I've got to try. I guess I need to go through Lieutenant Bashir to do that, though, and I can't do that until tomorrow. There's nothing else I can do tonight but worry.

He was sitting alone in Combat, the lights turned down, when a knock sounded on the hatch rim. "Mr. Sinclair?"

"Here, Sheriff."

Sharpe came walking into Combat. "Catch."

Paul snagged the beverage container he saw flying toward him and glanced at the label. "Hey, this isn't the cheap, generic stuff. This is real."

Sharpe popped his own and took a drink. "Yes, sir. But Senior Chief managed to snag a case and allowed certain individuals to score a tube or two."

Paul managed a smile. "I'm honored, Sheriff. To what do I owe this favor?"

Sharpe grimaced, leaning against a nearby watch console. "Sir, I think you know that. Sort of a very small attempt to cheer you up."

"Thanks." Paul took a drink himself. "It's good."

"How you doin', sir?"

"I've been better. A lot better."

"Ms. Shen?"

"She's… lot's of things. Baffled. Shocked. Outraged. Confused. Pick an emotion."

"I bet." Sharpe sighed. "Mr. Sinclair, my job means I do my best to bring people to justice. But that doesn't always make people happy."

"You don't think she's guilty, too, do you?"

"No, sir. I know Ms. Shen. Unless my ability to judge human nature is totally gone, she couldn't have done that. But…"

"Right now the entire Navy's trying to prove she's guilty, and I'm trying to prove she's innocent."

Sharpe actually smiled, his teeth looking unnaturally white in the darkened compartment. "You're not quite that alone, sir. But there ain't much I can do."

"I know. Can you do anything about how they're treating her in the brig?"

Another grimace. "They figure they got a mass murderer on their hands, sir."

"If they-"

"Sir." Sharpe held up a restraining hand. "I've guarded prisoners. There's all kinds of things you can do to a prisoner. Things that maybe ain't technically right but ain't technically wrong either. Little stuff. It doesn't leave any marks except on the inside of their brains. And ordering guards not to do that kind of stuff is like waving a red flag at a bull." He took another drink. "I always figured that was fair since the prisoners must've been guilty. Maybe I wasn't being so smart about it."

"Can't you tell the brig guards something? Anything?"

"I'll try, Mr. Sinclair. I've already talked to them before. But, to be perfectly honest with you, I don't see them listening this time any more than they did the last couple of times."

Paul drained his drink. "It's kind of like a nightmare, isn't it, Sheriff? Things just keep getting worse and nothing we try to do helps."

Sharpe nodded grimly. "That doesn't stop us from trying, sir."

"No. Nothing's going to stop me from trying. Thanks, Sheriff. Knowing you still believe in Jen, excuse me, Ms. Shen, means an awful lot."

"Sir, a good cop's gotta be tough, but he can't be blind. And he's gotta know who deserves his trust." Sharpe touched his brow. "Goodnight, Mr. Sinclair."

"'Night, Sheriff." Paul watched him leave the compartment. A nightmare. But you never think you're in a nightmare when you are. It all seems perfectly real. And you wake up from nightmares sooner or later. You never hit the ground at the end of your fall. Unless you're dying, and then urban legend says you hit the ground and die in your dreams and in reality. How is this nightmare going to end?

Preparations for the court-martial proceeded with all due haste. Paul found himself avoiding news sources. They all kept reporting the charges against Jen, going over her "crimes" again and again, showing highly amplified pictures of the battered Maury being towed gently back toward Franklin, showing high-ranking politicians trying to calm the storm of anger which had swept up against the South Asian Alliance and redirect it. At Jen, whose name the politicians never mentioned but which everyone knew.

Paul started getting a trickle of messages asking for interviews, then a flood. He deleted them all without reading, thankful that the news media couldn't get free run of Franklin to try to chase him down in person.

"What're they waiting for?" Kris Denaldo asked him one day as Paul was making a show of trying to work.

"They're waiting for the Maury to get back. They want some of her personnel at the court-martial."

"Why? I thought all the other engineers died."

"They did. It'll probably be about other stuff."

"Other stuff?"

"I don't know, Kris. I really don't know." Which was a lie. He knew. He just didn't want to talk about it at all, even to someone who knew Jen and he as well as Kris did. They wanted to ask the rest of the survivors of the Maury about Jen. About whether she'd been having an affair with anyone. About whether she hated anyone. About anything that might help build a case against her.

One night he went into Combat and called up a display with the estimated position of the Mahan on it. The estimated position didn't mean much. Captain Shen had authority to move his ship anywhere within a large volume of space. Keep the enemy guessing. Paul wondered if Captain Shen had heard what had happened to the Maury, and to his daughter. Jen still insisted he shouldn't send a message, though even if she allowed it there was no telling when the Mahan would reveal her location precisely enough to allow high-speed communications. Captain Shen might get back and discover everything that had happened, discover Jen convicted. Welcome back, captain. We hope you had a pleasant voyage, and we hope you weren't planning on your daughter meeting you at the dock. She's in a military jail cell back on Earth.

The Maury finally returned to Franklin with fanfare that almost matched the world's interest in the event. Various military and civilian VIPs had flown up to Franklin, their entourages requisitioning every spare resource on the station as well as quite a few resources that were already needed for other purposes. Every display screen on the station was set to watch the Maury as the battered warship was eased into the space-dock which dominated one section of Franklin. Paul, far from the crowds and the VIPs at the dock, stared like everyone else, appalled yet again by the damage he saw, amazed that his own memories of the devastation had somehow been dulled.

His eyes locked onto the after survival bulkhead. Jen was back there when I thought she was dead. Then I thought she was okay. But she wasn't, not after losing every person she worked with in engineering. And not after getting charged with causing it to happen. Now Commander Hughes tells me Jen won't even see her anymore. Too worried about being labeled mentally unstable just because she's getting counseling. How's that for a Catch-22? If you need help, you can't seek it without people thinking you're full-scale nuts. But Hughes can't make Jen talk to her, and Jen won't listen to me on that score.

Paul shifted his display to the dock itself. Standing in the large group awaiting the Maury, he knew, was at least one military lawyer waiting to personally interview Captain Halis after the senior officers and senior politicians had given their speeches and pinned a medal on the captain. I wonder what Captain Halis thinks about all this? I'm sure she'd trade it all for half those dead sailors back. Or maybe even one of them. What'll Halis say to the lawyer? I know she's already listed as witness for the prosecution, but that doesn't tell me what the prosecution wants her to testify about. Events? Character? Background? I'll just have to wait for that answer. Won't be long now. Now that the Maury 's home.

He looked back at the severely wounded warship again. The reinforcing members laid across the Maury 's gapping wounds stood out clearly. He'd helped with that. Not a lot of help, measured against everything it'd taken to get the Maury home, but something.

On the bridge, he knew, Captain Halis would be watching as well, while the tugs which had brought the Maury this far carefully handed her off the station. Riding a crippled ship unable to maneuver on her own, the captain would just be an observer, but still surely watching everything and looking out for her ship. I can understand that. I hope I'd do the same. It must hurt, though, being towed back into port, with her ship ripped wide open.

Paul wished he could see Captain Halis in person, plead for her help, but he suspected that might fall into the category of witness tampering. Though he doubted it'd have much effect in any case, even if he could fight through the crowds of VIPs and other well-wishers, because his very brief meeting with Captain Halis in the midst of tragedy had left Paul convinced that Jen's commanding officer would hold to whatever course she thought proper.

And there wasn't time, anyway. The court-martial would begin tomorrow. People needed to be assured as quickly as possible that the incident was being "handled." That the South Asians hadn't been involved, that justice was being done, that appropriate punishment would be meted out to the guilty. The only problem Paul had with any of that was his certainty that what people were being assured would happen wasn't the same thing he saw happening.