“Yes, sir.”
He tried to sound confident, but Devereux could tell that the dockmaster was nervous. His hair was still damp from the hurried shower he must have taken before rushing down here. His dress uniform bore wrinkles that betrayed that it had not been worn in some time. Actually, Devereux admitted to herself with hollow humor, it had never occurred to her that Coronado even possessed a dress uniform. It made perfect sense that he did, but the only attire she could ever recall seeing him in were work coveralls or casual wear.
Coronado seemed more than a little ill at ease, something for which Devereux felt slightly guilty for putting him in the situation. But then, she told herself, she had not called him here. Pujani had.
“And you conducted the damage assessment of the Emerald Flight?”
“I did, sir.”
Coronado shot a quick glance toward Devereux from the corner of his eye. He seemed determined not to look directly at her. I need to buy him a drink, Devereux told herself. Maybe two or three—once this was over. Carlos certainly deserves it, and I owe him at least that much.
duMondt nodded and then looked down, reading over something on the tablet in front of him. After a moment, he looked back up, not entirely meeting Coronado’s eyes.
“We just have a few questions about the damage assessment that you conducted on Captain Devereux’s ship and then you can return to your duties.”
duMondt gave Coronado a brief look that seemed to contain a slight smile. Devereux could see Coronado relax slightly—but only slightly.
The questioning continued far past the “few” that duMondt had claimed. Most of them were driven by Pujani, almost exclusively so now.
“The hull damage was consistent with that from Brenndari weapons,” Coronado reported.
“Could any other weapons have caused the damage, Lt. Commander?”
Pujani’s question sounded unusually barbed. Devereux’s forehead creased in a frown. Coronado looked genuinely confused by the Colonel’s question.
“Sir?”
Pujani looked irritated, as if annoyed by a particularly difficult student.
“You stated that the damage that you reported was consistent with that from Brenndari weapons.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Are there other weapons that could cause the same damage?”
It was Coronado’s turn to frown. “I suppose so, sir.”
“Can you give us some examples?” Pujani persisted.
Coronado thought hard. It seemed to Devereux that resisted wanting to speak, but finally did at the point when it looked like Pujani was going to insist that he do so.
“Argolian tactical torpedoes,” he replied. “Even Lunar missiles at close range.”
“You’re suggesting that we attacked our own ship?” Pujani’s voice carried a tone of almost mocking incredulity.
This seemed to shake Coronado. Devereux could not blame him. Pujani was driving toward some agenda that made little sense to her—and probably none at all to the poor dockmaster.
“Avram,” duMondt spoke up, interrupting Pujani’s next statement. His voice carried a warning note that Devereux silently hoped would never be directed at her. “Do you have a point to make?”
Pujani turned toward duMondt with a smoldering look that diminished almost immediately upon seeing the set line of the Admiral’s jaw. Still, he managed to maintain an underlying air of self-assurance when he replied.
“I want to ensure that it’s clear who really attacked Captain Devereux’s ship,” he said. He turned to face Devereux. His dark eyes seemed to attempt to pierce her. “And why.”
What the hell? Devereux thought, startled by Pujani’s statements. The logs clearly show what happened.
“All of the reports we’ve seen clearly show who the assailants were.”
Devereux was certain that she detected an edge of impatience in the aged Admiral’s tone.
“Logs have been known to have been faked,” Pujani responded, stopping just short of actually snapping at duMondt.
Devereux read something in duMondt’s expression that told her that there was more than one layer of meaning in Pujani’s accusation.
duMondt studied Pujani deeply for a moment. He looked away and Devereux saw him take a slow breath. It took only a moment after that for him to fully compose himself again before looking to Coronado.
“That will be all, Lt. Commander,” he told Coronado, offering him more a smile this time. “Thank you for your time.”
Coronado hesitated for a moment, scanning the faces of the other members of the panel. He then rose from his chair, offered a sharp salute, and exited the room, giving Devereux a brief, backward glance.
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