Chapter 6 - What the Fleet Needs
Mara spread the configuration sheets across a conference table and tried to make the problem small enough to say out loud without misleading anyone. It wasn't a dramatic act of sabotage. Two groups had followed two approved sets of instructions, each valid for a different stage of testing. The paperwork that should have linked them had lagged behind the work.
“You mean everybody followed their orders,” Hale said, “and we still had the near miss?”
“Some people followed old orders,” Mara said. “Others continued because nobody told them those orders were suspended.”
Sloan tapped one sheet. “And your original discrepancy may be related to the same mismatch.”
“May be. We need an independent check.”
Hale sat at the head of the table, which the others had left empty without discussing it. He had his canteen beside his notebook. Mara hated the small surge of anger it caused her, and hated more that she had to move past it to keep her mind on the work.
“How long?” he asked.
“Three working days to determine whether the training movement can be certified under the current configuration. More if we need to make a hardware change.”
“Three days delays a ship.”
“The ship can sail using the earlier qualified system,” Sloan said. “But it won't have this upgrade.”
Hale looked at the fleet representative, Lieutenant Commander Priya Shah, who had flown from San Diego for the evaluation. “How much does the crew need it?”
Shah had the look of someone who hadn't slept well in several weeks. “We'd like it, sir. It addresses a real weakness in the old arrangement. But I'd rather train on the system we're actually going to take to sea than chase a date that's already broken.”
“That's a diplomatic answer.”
“It's the one I can defend to my sailors.”
The admiral held her gaze a moment longer, then nodded. “Thank you.”
After the meeting Hale caught Mara in the passageway.
“I owe you an apology for what I did at the shed,” he said.
The words were stiff, as though he'd practiced them in the car. Mara stopped walking. She had imagined demanding an apology. Receiving one, there in a corridor smelling of old carpet and floor polish, left her without a good reply.
“Yes,” she said eventually. “You do.”
His jaw worked. “That was the apology.”
“I heard it.”
“I was wrong to pour water on you.”
“You were.”
“Do you want me to grovel?”
“No. I want you to understand the part where you put your hand on something you weren't authorized to handle, and the part where everyone watched you teach your officers that an objection from a civilian didn't matter.”
Hale looked down the passageway. A young ensign pretended to study a notice board.
“I spent most of my career learning how to take responsibility for what happens under my command,” Hale said.
“Then that's something we have in common.”
He gave a short, humorless laugh. “You don't make this easy.”
“It's not supposed to be easy.”
She walked away before the exchange could become a contest over who could bear more discomfort.
At lunch, Shah found her beside the vending machines. She carried a plastic container of rice and beans and offered Mara a fork because the cafeteria had run out.
“You ever been on a destroyer?” Shah asked.
“Twice. Briefly.”
“Our junior sailors spend hours troubleshooting gear that's supposed to work. They know when headquarters is pushing a deadline, even if nobody says it out loud.”
Mara peeled the lid off a yogurt she didn't want. “You think I'm letting the test drag out?”
“No. I think you're angry enough that I can't tell whether you'd notice if the answer changed.”
Mara looked up. “That's unfair.”
“Probably.” Shah broke a piece of rice loose with her fork. “I still needed to say it.”
Mara put the yogurt down. What she resented most was that the woman might be right. She had imagined her perfect vindication: technical findings proving the admiral an arrogant fool, everyone finally understanding what she had endured. But the testing problem predated him. Real answers were messier than that.
She pulled her notebook over. “Can we go through what the ship actually needs from this system, apart from the deadline?”
Shah smiled without warmth. “That's why I came.”
They worked for nearly an hour, crossing out assumptions, identifying what had been proved and what remained uncertain. Mara found herself thinking about the crew as people who would have to live with her conclusions rather than numbers in a readiness slide.
Mara spent the next hour in a workspace where three technicians were drawing up their own plain-language questions for the fleet. Which failures should be reported immediately? Who could stop an unsafe evolution if the designated test conductor was unavailable? Did the work card still apply when a new version arrived in the middle of a shift? Mara's first impulse was to answer each one. Instead she asked them to tell her what had happened the last time they tried. The answers were uneven and slightly embarrassing. A junior engineer said he'd once waited until the next morning because he'd been afraid of interrupting her. Mara wrote that down without arguing.
At four, Sloan called. The interim review had found Mara's incomplete anomaly report significant enough to remove her as sole signing authority for the restart. Another test conductor would be appointed.
Mara listened without interruption. She said, “I understand.”
Sloan added, “I still need your expertise. You'll stay on as a technical adviser if you choose.”
Mara rubbed the edge of the notebook until the paper began to curl. She could refuse. She could say they were punishing her for speaking up. She could hire counsel and make the whole thing about Hale's canteen.
Instead, she asked, “Who's taking the lead?”
“Dr. Naomi Chen. She's coming from Point Mugu tomorrow.”
Mara knew Chen by reputation. Careful. Thorough. Uninterested in becoming anybody's favorite.
“Good choice,” Mara said.
After she hung up, an official notice arrived. The formal conduct review of Hale would proceed separately. She was relieved, and also disappointed to discover how little relief felt like.
Then Ortiz sent a photograph from the work bay.
Someone had taped a handwritten sign to the locked fixture: ASK BEFORE YOU TOUCH.
Under it, in smaller letters, somebody else had written: Even if you're an admiral.
May you like
Mara stared at the picture. It was funny for about three seconds.
Then she realized who would be blamed when Hale saw it.
