snarling back at Garcia. "Yes, sir." An excuse wouldn't do any good. In fact, it'd be certain to just make Garcia madder. Not trying to make excuses was one thing the Naval Academy had taught him that had proven important in the fleet.
Garcia wasn't calmed by Paul's reply. "The XO already asked me where it was this morning ."
"Yes, sir."
"Is anything else going to be late, Mr. Sinclair?"
"No, sir."
"It better not be. Get to work. I won't tolerate any excuses for not having every important piece of equipment on this ship ready to go before we get underway next week." Garcia spun on one foot, moving away with his habitually angry stomp.
After Garcia had cleared Combat, Paul glanced over at Taylor. "Akesha, is there any piece of equipment on this ship that isn't important?"
Taylor pretended to consider Paul's question. "Can't think of any. But I'm sure as hell going to talk to the snipes in engineering about making sure that little dingus that heats up the coffee containers in the wardroom is working. As far as I'm concerned, that's the most important thing on this ship. See you kids later."
Denaldo stared after Taylor's retreating back. "God help the supply department if this ship ever runs out of coffee."
Paul shook his head, laughing. "No worry. Commander Sykes wouldn't survive without coffee, either, so no way he's going to let us get underway without enough caffeine to float a cruiser back on Earth."
"Yeah."
"You okay, Kris?"
"I'm pissed off. It's Monday. I'm working for an ass. How are you?"
"The same. And I had the mid-watch last night."
"You win."
Five minutes later Paul stood before the enlisted sailors in his division, Chief Imari taking notes from Paul's words just as he'd earlier taken notes from Garcia's. Not very efficient, I guess. But redundancy beats efficiency when lives depend on it. Might as well get the worst over with first . "Ladies and gentlemen, we'll be getting underway in one week." He paused to let it sink in. "Our orders are to get all necessary maintenance carried out before then."
A chorus of groans erupted. "There goes the whole damn weekend," someone in the back said.
Chief Imari sighed. "Okay, sir."
The voice in the back came again. "It ain't all gonna get done!"
Imari turned slightly. "Fastow, see me after morning quarters." The grumbling from the other sailors faded away. She faced Paul again. "What else, sir?"
Paul cleared his throat, grateful that the Chief had backed him up. "We haven't been told what we'll be doing when we get underway, but that it's something high priority."
"We going to war?" another voice asked, this time in a tone that was hushed instead of angry.
"I don't know." Paul looked at the faces before him. All of them looked back with varying expressions, some worried, some curious, some eager as if they were heading for a softball game. "I've got a meeting at ten hundred. I'll let the chief know if I find out anything I can tell you." He caught a brief flash of disapproval on Imari's face.
A few minutes later Paul wrapped up his instructions for the day. "That's it. Chief, can I see you for a minute?"
"Sure, sir." Imari gave the sailors a hard look. "You all be waiting here when I get back."
Paul led the way out into the passageway. "Chief, I noticed you seemed a little unhappy in there at one point."
Imari screwed up her face. "Yes, sir. Uh, telling the division about that meeting of yours at ten hundred. I wouldn't have done that, Mr. Sinclair. Now the guys are gonna be expecting to hear something this morning. They're gonna be pestering me about it, and they're gonna be thinking and talking about what you might tell them instead of concentrating on their work, and we've got a lot of work to do and not much time to do it in. If you do hear something and can't tell them, they're gonna be even more wound up."
Well, hell . Paul felt himself getting angry at the chief and forced himself to backtrack. And she's right about all of it. Dammit . "Sorry,
Garcia wasn't calmed by Paul's reply. "The XO already asked me where it was this morning ."
"Yes, sir."
"Is anything else going to be late, Mr. Sinclair?"
"No, sir."
"It better not be. Get to work. I won't tolerate any excuses for not having every important piece of equipment on this ship ready to go before we get underway next week." Garcia spun on one foot, moving away with his habitually angry stomp.
After Garcia had cleared Combat, Paul glanced over at Taylor. "Akesha, is there any piece of equipment on this ship that isn't important?"
Taylor pretended to consider Paul's question. "Can't think of any. But I'm sure as hell going to talk to the snipes in engineering about making sure that little dingus that heats up the coffee containers in the wardroom is working. As far as I'm concerned, that's the most important thing on this ship. See you kids later."
Denaldo stared after Taylor's retreating back. "God help the supply department if this ship ever runs out of coffee."
Paul shook his head, laughing. "No worry. Commander Sykes wouldn't survive without coffee, either, so no way he's going to let us get underway without enough caffeine to float a cruiser back on Earth."
"Yeah."
"You okay, Kris?"
"I'm pissed off. It's Monday. I'm working for an ass. How are you?"
"The same. And I had the mid-watch last night."
"You win."
Five minutes later Paul stood before the enlisted sailors in his division, Chief Imari taking notes from Paul's words just as he'd earlier taken notes from Garcia's. Not very efficient, I guess. But redundancy beats efficiency when lives depend on it. Might as well get the worst over with first . "Ladies and gentlemen, we'll be getting underway in one week." He paused to let it sink in. "Our orders are to get all necessary maintenance carried out before then."
A chorus of groans erupted. "There goes the whole damn weekend," someone in the back said.
Chief Imari sighed. "Okay, sir."
The voice in the back came again. "It ain't all gonna get done!"
Imari turned slightly. "Fastow, see me after morning quarters." The grumbling from the other sailors faded away. She faced Paul again. "What else, sir?"
Paul cleared his throat, grateful that the Chief had backed him up. "We haven't been told what we'll be doing when we get underway, but that it's something high priority."
"We going to war?" another voice asked, this time in a tone that was hushed instead of angry.
"I don't know." Paul looked at the faces before him. All of them looked back with varying expressions, some worried, some curious, some eager as if they were heading for a softball game. "I've got a meeting at ten hundred. I'll let the chief know if I find out anything I can tell you." He caught a brief flash of disapproval on Imari's face.
A few minutes later Paul wrapped up his instructions for the day. "That's it. Chief, can I see you for a minute?"
"Sure, sir." Imari gave the sailors a hard look. "You all be waiting here when I get back."
Paul led the way out into the passageway. "Chief, I noticed you seemed a little unhappy in there at one point."
Imari screwed up her face. "Yes, sir. Uh, telling the division about that meeting of yours at ten hundred. I wouldn't have done that, Mr. Sinclair. Now the guys are gonna be expecting to hear something this morning. They're gonna be pestering me about it, and they're gonna be thinking and talking about what you might tell them instead of concentrating on their work, and we've got a lot of work to do and not much time to do it in. If you do hear something and can't tell them, they're gonna be even more wound up."
Well, hell . Paul felt himself getting angry at the chief and forced himself to backtrack. And she's right about all of it. Dammit . "Sorry,
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