reassured them that Paul cared about them and their work. He was sure they were wondering what he was doing up here, but also sure the enlisted sailors would simply chalk it up to the mysterious and strange world of officers.
The sailors turned back to monitoring their watch stations as Paul strapped into his own and called up a view of the entire situation. He spent the next ten minutes trying to again commit every important fact about the familiar situation to memory, then paged Senior Chief Imari on her data pad. "Senior Chief Imari? This is Mr. Sinclair. Could you come on up to Combat?"
The reply took a minute. Senior Chief Imari was surely unhappy at being awakened at a time very close to the legendary "o-dark-thirty," but had to realize upon thinking about it that Paul must've had a very good reason. "Uh, yes, sir. Give me ten minutes."
"Fine." No need to rush the her, and no wisdom in doing so. If he did, every other chief would be aware before Imari left their quarters of something very short fuse about to go on in Combat.
Paul played with the displays at his watch station, looking at views of how the tactical situation would appear from the point of view of some of the other ships. It felt odd, seeing a symbol labeled USS Michaelson hanging out in space, just where one of the SASAL warships would see her. He noticed the weapons simulators automatically calculating firing solutions for the SASAL ship to target the Michaelson and cut off the view.
Senior Chief Imari entered, eyeing Paul with mild curiosity. "What's up, sir?"
Paul waved toward his watch station. When she got close, he nodded toward the time display, which now read 0055. Catching the Senior Chief's eye, Paul held up his hand with five fingers splayed out, then closed his hand into a fist.
Senior Chief Imari looked from the time to Paul's hand, then nodded, her face impassive. "Okay, sir. I guess I ought to check that on my watch station." Imari strapped in, checked the situation display, then gave Paul a quick thumbs up.
She's ready. And I didn't tell her anything. I'm sure Garcia or Kwan would rip me apart for getting Imari up here at all, but if something's going to happen I want my Senior Chief here .
He checked the time, trying to fight down his nervousness. Three minutes to go. Did 0100 mean that's when the cops would move in, or was it just the time when the merchant ships would start launching the cops toward the asteroids? He'd seen pictures of the system they'd use. Just big tubes with spring-loaded platforms on the bottom. The cops would climb in and be launched toward the asteroid on just the right course with just the right amount of force and without using any active propulsion system that might give them away. With the latest stealth gear hiding their presence, the cops would hopefully remain invisible to the people on the asteroid until they were ready to move.
And if some of them somehow missed landing on the asteroid, the Michaelson would eventually help retrieve any cops heading on a one-way trip to deep space.
"Sir." Paul jerked his head over at the sound of Imari's voice. "Transients," she reported. "From both the Gilgamesh and the Saladin . They may be charging weapons."
Oh, hell . Paul focused on the other watchstanders. "Bayless. Chen. I want three pairs of eyes on those read-outs. Give me your estimates." He called up the information himself, feeling a heavy sensation in his guts. The transients were there, sure enough. Tiny leakages of power that almost certainly indicated the two SASAL ships were charging up their weaponry in preparation for firing. Nothing else could keep produce readings like that.
"Sir." Senior Chief Imari again. "The system gives a ninety-five percent level of confidence on those transients."
That meant a very high probability that they were accurate. "What about you, Senior Chief? What's your confidence?"
Imari gave Paul a hard look. "My gut feeling is ninety-nine percent confidence, sir.
The sailors turned back to monitoring their watch stations as Paul strapped into his own and called up a view of the entire situation. He spent the next ten minutes trying to again commit every important fact about the familiar situation to memory, then paged Senior Chief Imari on her data pad. "Senior Chief Imari? This is Mr. Sinclair. Could you come on up to Combat?"
The reply took a minute. Senior Chief Imari was surely unhappy at being awakened at a time very close to the legendary "o-dark-thirty," but had to realize upon thinking about it that Paul must've had a very good reason. "Uh, yes, sir. Give me ten minutes."
"Fine." No need to rush the her, and no wisdom in doing so. If he did, every other chief would be aware before Imari left their quarters of something very short fuse about to go on in Combat.
Paul played with the displays at his watch station, looking at views of how the tactical situation would appear from the point of view of some of the other ships. It felt odd, seeing a symbol labeled USS Michaelson hanging out in space, just where one of the SASAL warships would see her. He noticed the weapons simulators automatically calculating firing solutions for the SASAL ship to target the Michaelson and cut off the view.
Senior Chief Imari entered, eyeing Paul with mild curiosity. "What's up, sir?"
Paul waved toward his watch station. When she got close, he nodded toward the time display, which now read 0055. Catching the Senior Chief's eye, Paul held up his hand with five fingers splayed out, then closed his hand into a fist.
Senior Chief Imari looked from the time to Paul's hand, then nodded, her face impassive. "Okay, sir. I guess I ought to check that on my watch station." Imari strapped in, checked the situation display, then gave Paul a quick thumbs up.
She's ready. And I didn't tell her anything. I'm sure Garcia or Kwan would rip me apart for getting Imari up here at all, but if something's going to happen I want my Senior Chief here .
He checked the time, trying to fight down his nervousness. Three minutes to go. Did 0100 mean that's when the cops would move in, or was it just the time when the merchant ships would start launching the cops toward the asteroids? He'd seen pictures of the system they'd use. Just big tubes with spring-loaded platforms on the bottom. The cops would climb in and be launched toward the asteroid on just the right course with just the right amount of force and without using any active propulsion system that might give them away. With the latest stealth gear hiding their presence, the cops would hopefully remain invisible to the people on the asteroid until they were ready to move.
And if some of them somehow missed landing on the asteroid, the Michaelson would eventually help retrieve any cops heading on a one-way trip to deep space.
"Sir." Paul jerked his head over at the sound of Imari's voice. "Transients," she reported. "From both the Gilgamesh and the Saladin . They may be charging weapons."
Oh, hell . Paul focused on the other watchstanders. "Bayless. Chen. I want three pairs of eyes on those read-outs. Give me your estimates." He called up the information himself, feeling a heavy sensation in his guts. The transients were there, sure enough. Tiny leakages of power that almost certainly indicated the two SASAL ships were charging up their weaponry in preparation for firing. Nothing else could keep produce readings like that.
"Sir." Senior Chief Imari again. "The system gives a ninety-five percent level of confidence on those transients."
That meant a very high probability that they were accurate. "What about you, Senior Chief? What's your confidence?"
Imari gave Paul a hard look. "My gut feeling is ninety-nine percent confidence, sir.
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