"Commander, you told us to run electronic systems checks this morning."
"So?"
"Your last instructions to me were that I was to be 'directly supervising critical systems checks.' You said that was top priority for me." Taylor spread her hands. "Just asking for guidance, sir."
"You-" Garcia broke off whatever he'd been planning to say, took a deep breath, and spoke again. "The meeting takes priority."
"Should I postpone the checks, sir?"
Garcia visibly wavered as his face reddened, then he shook his head. "No. Any more questions?" He looked toward Paul and Kris. "How about you two? No? Good." Garcia leveled his index finger at them. "No screw ups, people. Do you understand? Nothing goes wrong." Then he turned, grabbed the nearest handhold and yanked himself toward the hatch.
Taylor waited until Garcia and Moraine had both left, then chuckled. "I love messing with that son of a bitch."
Denaldo looked upward beseechingly. "'Nothing goes wrong'? How the hell do we make that happen?"
Taylor grinned. "Don't worry, sweetheart. Garcia's just trying to make sure his butt's covered until he gets off this ship."
"Is that why he's being even worse than usual?" Paul asked.
"Sure. He wants to be relaxing and handing off the job to Moraine. His tour of duty's almost over and he's got halfway decent orders for his next job. But if something screws up at the last moment he could still end up with his butt in a bight. And here we are facing off with a bunch of other warships and some religious fanatics. Yup. He's worried." Taylor grinned again, apparently finding great amusement in the prospect that something might go seriously wrong. "Aren't you worried about that, Kris darling?"
She shrugged. "I guess. But I've done everything I can to get my division ready. We're trained, we're prepared, we're working our tails off to stay that way. Going ballistic isn't going to help things."
Taylor nodded. "Pretty dammed smart for a college kid."
"You went to college, too."
"Did not. Not a real one. Not like you and our buddy Paul here." Taylor gave Paul a grin.
Paul smiled back. "I didn't go to college. I went to the Naval Academy. Remember?"
"How can I forget, with you waving that ring in our faces?" Taylor sighed. "Ah, well, I'd best get going to pass on Garcia's inspirational words to my division. See you kids in the wardroom."
Paul met Senior Chief Petty Officer Imari and the rest of his division in Combat, running quickly through the few items he had to pass down. "Stay sharp," he advised. "Dismissed." Then he gestured to Imari as the other sailors scattered to their jobs. "Senior Chief, I'll be in a meeting in the wardroom."
Imari nodded. "I hope it's good news, sir," she said.
"Me, too."
Paul made it back to the wardroom by 0820, wedging himself into a corner in the back with one arm through the nearest handhold. In zero gravity, that was about the most relaxing position possible as the room filled with other officers.
Garcia and Moraine entered, claiming seats at the table. After Garcia had strapped in, he manipulated some controls and the main display screen on the bulkhead lit up.
A rustle ran through the wardroom as those present looked to see whatever was shown on the screen. It only took Paul an instant to recognize the information, a read-out of the capabilities of the foreign warships present around the asteroid. He'd studied the same materiel a thousand times in recent weeks.
All of the other ships were roughly comparable to the Michaelson in terms of size and armament. So far, at least, no one had shown any desire to build space battleships, and as far as Paul knew the state of technology and the laws of physics meant that huge warships wouldn't make any sense in space at this point in time. Not that everything governments sank large sums of money into necessarily made sense, but in this case no one had succumbed to the urge to build a bigger ship just because it would be bigger. Ships significantly smaller than the Michaelson, on the other hand, tended to be kept near bases where their small capacity for fuel and other supplies wasn't a handicap.
Paul went down the list of Earthside powers represented here. That Brit ship, the Lord Nelson, I wonder if she still has that insane captain who played chicken with the SASALs that one time? There was one other Euro ship, the Russians, the Southern Africans, the two ships from the South Asian Alliance, and one from the Han Chinese state. Eight warships total, counting the Michaelson. In one corner, the four hired merchant ships were listed, almost an afterthought except for the security forces they carried.
Commander Kwan, the executive officer, swung himself inside the wardroom and scanned the officers present before looking at the department heads. "Are all your officers present?" he demanded.
The department heads all assured the XO that their officers were present and Kwan left to get the captain. Paul frowned as it occurred to him that something wasn't right, then he realized there was a department missing. Supply. Neither Smithe nor Mike Bristol is here. Kwan would've noticed that if he'd wanted them present. This must be more serious than usual if they're deliberately excluding the Supply Department.
"Attention on deck!"
Everyone began to try to stand to attention in the crowded, zero-gravity environment, but Captain Hayes came through the hatch on the heels of Kwan's announcement and gestured for them to relax. "Carry on."
Captain Hayes looked slowly around the small compartment, his eyes meeting those of every other officer in turn. Then he tapped his data pad. "We have reason to believe the current stand-off will not last much longer." Everyone watched him, wondering what sort of ending would take place and whether or not they'd be told of it in advance.
Hayes paused and rubbed his forehead. Paul realized the captain looked haggard from tension and lack of sleep, just like all the other officers in the wardroom. "I want to personally ensure all of you are fully aware of the rules of engagement under which we are operating. There must be no uncertainty in anyone's mind. Everyone present has to be fully familiar with the exact limits on our ability to act. I will remind everyone as well that these rules of engagement are classified Top Secret and are only to be divulged on a strict need-to-know basis as determined by me. They are not to be divulged to anyone outside of this room. Is that clear?" The other officers all nodded or murmured understanding.
Hayes leaned back, his expression unhappy. "You'll all reread these rules and indicate you understand them before you leave this meeting. The most important thing to remember is that we're forbidden to initiate any military action against any other ship present." He paused while everyone absorbed the statement. "We're forbidden to make any provocative actions, anything that might in any way trigger hostile action. That includes our ability to respond if someone else starts shooting. Even if they seem to be shooting at us. We're to do nothing against anyone except and unless," Hayes leaned forward and raised a single finger, "we are first deliberately fired upon and hit."
Ensign Taylor cleared her throat. "It might be a little late to power-up weapons at that point."
The XO and both Commanders Garcia and Moraine glared at Taylor, but Hayes just showed his teeth. "That's right. But those are our orders."
"Sir." Commander Destin, the Chief Engineer, was frowning. "I didn't read these rules as prohibiting verbal warnings."
Hayes shook his head. "That's incorrect. We're not allowed to issue verbal warnings. We're not allowed to threaten military action of any kind. That'd be… provocative." The captain looked like he had something bitter in his mouth as he said the last word.