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annoyed look, ignoring Ensign Abacha who'd come onto the bridge right behind him. Poor Jack Abacha. Standing under-instruction watches with Sam Yarrow. I wouldn't want to be in his shoes . After turning over with Yarrow, Paul took a moment to talk quietly to Abacha. "Don't worry. Just hang loose and keep your eyes and ears open. You've got Sam Yarrow here, you've got a good officer of the deck watching both you, and the enlisted are watching all the officers. Nobody'll let you mess up too bad."
    Abacha nodded with the rapid head jerks that betrayed nervousness. "I don't want to mess up at all."
    "Of course not. But you will. That's what being an ensign is about. It won't be the end of the world as long as you learn from your mistakes."
    "Thanks."
    "Any questions?"
    "Uh . . ." Abacha looked around. "Just one thing that's kinda driving me crazy."
    "What's that?"
    "You went to the Naval Academy, too, so you'll understand. This ship's name is the Michaelson and her sister ships have names like Mahan and Maury . Just like the academic buildings at the Academy. So why is Michaelson spelled with an 'a'? The guy who first measured the speed of light was named Michelson. No 'a.'"
    Paul grinned. "I wondered that, too. The Mike's not named after the scientist Michelson. She's named after Admiral 'Genghis' Conner Michaelson, the father of the Space Navy."
    "Oh. That makes sense, but it still doesn't fit with the names of the rest of the ships in the class."
    "Yeah. Rumor has it the Merry Mike was supposed to be named after the scientist, but the spelling error was discovered after the Michaelson name had been widely publicized, so since they couldn't change the name at that point without admitting they'd screwed up, they just changed the guy the ship was being named after. But that might just be a good rumor."
    "Oh, okay." Jack Abacha grinned. "We meant to do it that way, right?"
    "Right. Remember you've got some maneuvering in about two hours. Watch and learn."
    "Yes, sir."
    "And make sure you're tied down tightly to something before the maneuvering begins."
    "Yes, sir!"
    Paul spent the actual rendezvous inside Combat again, watching as the American and foreign ships fired thrusters and drives to bring themselves into a rough grouping. Tomorrow morning, the game of forming geometric shapes would begin. Paul opened the distance on his display, frowning as he spotted one large object heading in the general direction of the group. "Anybody know who this is?"
    One of the watchstanders answered up. "SASAL combatant, Mr. Sinclair. The system IDs him as the Tamerlane ."
    "Thanks." Paul called up information on the Tamerlane from the combat systems database. The ship seemed roughly equivalent to the Michaelson in terms of size and armament. He checked the contact again. The South Asian Alliance ship wasn't using any methods to avoid detection, and proceeding at a leisurely pace through a neutral transit lane. No big deal, then. They'll be plenty near enough to see us playing ring-around-the-rosie with the other ships, though, so I guess that's a good thing .
    Paul reached for the intercom to call the bridge, then hesitated. Should I bother them with this? That SASAL ship won't come anywhere near us on his present heading, and the bridge already has plenty to worry about. Maybe —
    The bosun's pipe shrilled over the announcing system. "Lieutenant Junior Grade Sinclair, contact the bridge."
    Uh oh . He finally tapped the intercom switch. "This is Lieutenant Sinclair."
    Instead of the officer of the deck, he heard the voice of Captain Hayes replying. "Mr. Sinclair, why weren't I and the bridge watch informed there was a SASAL warship in the vicinity?"
    Crap. Five more lousy seconds and I could've made the call to the bridge before I got called. Crap, crap, crap . "Sir, the Combat watch and I were evaluating—"
    "I don't want to find out by accident again that there's something like a SASAL warship nearby, Mr. Sinclair!"
    Paul took a moment to