mates and bosun mates, who'd volunteered for the extra responsibility. Putting them on a watch here would take them away from their primary duties, and make at least a few of their division officers and department heads unhappy. But Sharpe's suggestion made sense. Paul had a vision of Greenspacers with unknown skills and idealistic foolishness loose within the ship for even a few minutes, and had to fight down a shudder. "Do it, Sheriff."
"Aye, aye, sir. I'm sure the XO will approve."
Paul cocked an eyebrow at Sharpe, then smiled. It'd been one of the smoother means of proffering advice he'd received from enlisted sailors since joining the Navy. "I'm sure he will, too. I'll brief the XO right away, so if anyone complains refer them to me so I can refer them to the XO."
Sharpe's reply sounded perfectly serious. "Excellent idea, sir."
"Thanks. If you need me after that, I'm going to get some coffee."
"Another excellent idea, sir."
"Yeah, I'm full of them today."
The XO agreed immediately to the wisdom of using Sharpe's deputies to ensure the Greenspacers didn't wreak any havoc onboard, leaving Paul a few minutes to unwind. He headed for the wardroom, squeezing back against the sides of the passageways to let those on more urgent errands pass, then swung through the hatch into the relative haven of the Michaelson 's small wardroom. The chair normally occupied by Commander Steve Sykes, the Michaelson 's Supply Officer, sat uncharacteristically empty. However, Lieutenant Sindh was strapped into a seat at the small wardroom table, holding a drink the Navy hopefully labeled 'Near East Tea' but sailors referred to as 'Nastea', and staring contemplatively into space.
Paul grabbed some coffee and strapped himself into another chair. "Hey, Sonya."
Lieutenant Sindh focused on Paul, then raised her own drink in a mock toast. "Are our new passengers taken care of?"
"For the time being at least. They shouldn't be able to screw up anything else before we offload them." Paul shook his head. "It's kinda strange."
"What?"
"Well, I saw those Greenspacers, and I'm thinking, 'get a haircut, for pity's sake. Stand up straight, get a shave, and get your clothes neatened up.' I mean, they did look like hippies to me, but when I stand back and think about it, I realize I used to look a lot like that."
Sindh grinned widely. "Ah. Culture shock."
"I've been around civilians since I entered the Navy."
"But not recently. When's the last time you were home?"
Paul only had to think a moment. "After graduation from the Academy. I haven't been back since I got orders to space duty. You know how hard it is to get a shuttle home, especially when we have so little time available to take leave."
"Uh huh." Sindh leaned back, a meaningless gesture in zero gravity yet one which every human still attempted out of habit. " I've been back. Let me tell you, it's tough. My little brother, I thought he looked like some sleazy thug. He wasn't. He was just a typical teenage civilian. And my parents . . ." She laughed this time.
"What about your parents?"
"They thought I was insane."
Paul eyed her to see if Sindh was serious. "Why?"
Instead of answering directly, Sindh pointed to the drink in Paul's hand. "Are you going to put that down?"
He frowned down at the coffee. "I'll dispose of it when I'm finished."
"And until then you'll either keep one hand on it or clip it to your belt. Right?"
"Of course! If I just left it sitting it'd be a missile hazard when the ship maneuvered."
Lieutenant Sindh laughed again. "Okay. Right. So I go home after being in space for close to two years. And I'm neat. I'm really, really, really neat. Just like you are, now. I don't leave anything lying around, because it might be a missile hazard, or float off and get stuck in something important. We all do that because it's an essential part of the survival skills up here and it's drilled into us as habit. But at home . . . my parents were just thrilled at first. She's
"Aye, aye, sir. I'm sure the XO will approve."
Paul cocked an eyebrow at Sharpe, then smiled. It'd been one of the smoother means of proffering advice he'd received from enlisted sailors since joining the Navy. "I'm sure he will, too. I'll brief the XO right away, so if anyone complains refer them to me so I can refer them to the XO."
Sharpe's reply sounded perfectly serious. "Excellent idea, sir."
"Thanks. If you need me after that, I'm going to get some coffee."
"Another excellent idea, sir."
"Yeah, I'm full of them today."
The XO agreed immediately to the wisdom of using Sharpe's deputies to ensure the Greenspacers didn't wreak any havoc onboard, leaving Paul a few minutes to unwind. He headed for the wardroom, squeezing back against the sides of the passageways to let those on more urgent errands pass, then swung through the hatch into the relative haven of the Michaelson 's small wardroom. The chair normally occupied by Commander Steve Sykes, the Michaelson 's Supply Officer, sat uncharacteristically empty. However, Lieutenant Sindh was strapped into a seat at the small wardroom table, holding a drink the Navy hopefully labeled 'Near East Tea' but sailors referred to as 'Nastea', and staring contemplatively into space.
Paul grabbed some coffee and strapped himself into another chair. "Hey, Sonya."
Lieutenant Sindh focused on Paul, then raised her own drink in a mock toast. "Are our new passengers taken care of?"
"For the time being at least. They shouldn't be able to screw up anything else before we offload them." Paul shook his head. "It's kinda strange."
"What?"
"Well, I saw those Greenspacers, and I'm thinking, 'get a haircut, for pity's sake. Stand up straight, get a shave, and get your clothes neatened up.' I mean, they did look like hippies to me, but when I stand back and think about it, I realize I used to look a lot like that."
Sindh grinned widely. "Ah. Culture shock."
"I've been around civilians since I entered the Navy."
"But not recently. When's the last time you were home?"
Paul only had to think a moment. "After graduation from the Academy. I haven't been back since I got orders to space duty. You know how hard it is to get a shuttle home, especially when we have so little time available to take leave."
"Uh huh." Sindh leaned back, a meaningless gesture in zero gravity yet one which every human still attempted out of habit. " I've been back. Let me tell you, it's tough. My little brother, I thought he looked like some sleazy thug. He wasn't. He was just a typical teenage civilian. And my parents . . ." She laughed this time.
"What about your parents?"
"They thought I was insane."
Paul eyed her to see if Sindh was serious. "Why?"
Instead of answering directly, Sindh pointed to the drink in Paul's hand. "Are you going to put that down?"
He frowned down at the coffee. "I'll dispose of it when I'm finished."
"And until then you'll either keep one hand on it or clip it to your belt. Right?"
"Of course! If I just left it sitting it'd be a missile hazard when the ship maneuvered."
Lieutenant Sindh laughed again. "Okay. Right. So I go home after being in space for close to two years. And I'm neat. I'm really, really, really neat. Just like you are, now. I don't leave anything lying around, because it might be a missile hazard, or float off and get stuck in something important. We all do that because it's an essential part of the survival skills up here and it's drilled into us as habit. But at home . . . my parents were just thrilled at first. She's
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