Against All Enemies by John G. Hemry

Moraine shuffled her data pad and several other items, then lunged off the quarterdeck into the ship's interior as if headed off on a desperate mission.
    Paul had come aboard the Michaelson that morning in the highest spirits he'd had for a while. A few more months and he'd be married to Jen and on shore duty here on Franklin along with her. He'd remembered to get a completed and sworn statement from Garcia before his old department head left the ship. They'd be inport for a while taking care of long overdue maintenance, so while the work would still be brutal it wouldn't be quite as brutal. All in all, things could be a lot worse.
    He went back to his stateroom and started scanning through all the messages which had downloaded upon the Michaelson 's arrival. While the ship was operating out in space, communications were always kept to a bare minimum to keep anyone from using the transmissions to help locate the ship's general position, speed and trajectory. Anything of high precedence or importance had been transmitted before the ship arrived at Franklin, of course, so he didn't expect to find anything except routine administrative and operational matters.
    But Paul's scanning stopped when he saw a subject line with his name on it and the words "order modification." What? They're modifying my orders? This close to my transfer? It's probably just adding some training courses before I report in to Franklin's Operations Department .
    It wasn't. Paul felt a odd numbness spreading across his body as he read. " When detached USS Michaelson (CLE(S)-3) report to transportation office, Franklin Naval Station, for flight arrangements to Theodore Roosevelt Naval Base, Mars. Upon arrival, report to Commander for duties assigned . . . "
    Mars? They can't— Mars? How the hell—? Paul realized he was standing up and heading for what he still thought of as Commander Garcia's stateroom. He was knocking on the hatch before he remembered Commander Moraine would answer. She gave him a nervous frown as she opened the hatch. "Yes?"
    "Req—" Paul swallowed and spoke again. "Request permission to leave the ship, ma'am."
    Moraine's eyebrows shot up. "Liberty call just expired."
    "Yes, ma'am. But something urgent has come up—"
    "It'll have to wait. I won't have one of my division officers absent for the first officer's call at which I'm head of this department." Moraine shut the hatch, leaving Paul steaming in the passageway and mentally counting to ten to keep from punching the hatch.
    The morning passed in a haze. He didn't pay much attention to Moraine's little speech at officer's call. Senior Chief Imari and Paul's fellow junior officers could tell something was wrong, but Paul waved them off, determined to fix the problem before he vented about it.
    Knock off ship's work was announced for lunch and Paul was off the quarterdeck in a flash, heading for a phone terminal. It'd cost a mint to phone Earth real time, but that wasn't important right now.
    A receptionist answered. "Naval Personnel Command."
    "I need to speak to my detailer. Lieutenant Commander Braun." The time delay caused by the need for the signal to travel at the speed of light between Franklin and Earth wasn't too large, but large enough to be apparent and annoying.
    "Thank you. Please hold."
    The receptionist was reaching for the switch when Paul interrupted her, having anticipated her move and started talking before he heard her reply. "I'm calling from Franklin orbital station. I can't afford to hold long."
    "Yes, Lieutenant. I'll make sure Lieutenant Commander Braun knows."
    A screen saver appeared. Thrilling pictures of senior Naval officers giving no doubt inspiring speeches. Paul tried not to look at his watch, not to let anger get in the way.
    The screen saver blinked, then gave way to his detailer. Lieutenant Commander Braun smiled at Paul, a gesture that came and went too quickly to have meaning. "Lieutenant Sinclair. Nice to hear from you."
    Paul spoke with a