"He asked for a legal officer. He has one."
Dad's eyes narrowed. "You know what I mean."
He had brought a manila folder, gripped so tightly that it bowed in the middle. When I was young, that folder would have made me anxious. Dad believed a paper in his hand settled an argument, even when he had written it himself.
"Did you sign a statement saying you heard my voice on that recording?" I asked.
"Brandon played it for me."
"Did you hear me speak to him in person?"
"No, but I know your voice."
"It was assembled from an older briefing. Parts of different sentences."
Dad glanced toward the ship. "That's what they're telling you?"
"That's what I heard. You can hear it, too, when the investigators ask."
He looked down at the folder. "He was scared you'd use your position against him."
"And that was enough for you to sign?"
"I was trying to help him."
There it was, said plainly at last. He had helped the son who called first. I thought of the night I told him I had received my first command and watched him ask Brandon whether he wanted more potatoes. For years, I had treated those moments as a failure to notice me. Standing outside the barrier, I understood how much attention Dad had given. He had simply spent it elsewhere.
"Go home," I said.
"Sarah, if you'll just talk to Brandon, maybe he can take back the complaint."
I looked up at the Sterett. Men and women were working aboard her while we stood in the sun talking about whether my brother could take back his words.
"The complaint is part of an investigation now."
Dad's grip tightened on the folder. "You could still tell them it was a family argument."
"He put his hand on me at the gangway. Sailors saw it. Ellis was there."
"Then tell them you don't want anything done about that."
I waited for him to ask what Ellis had found in the engine log. He did not know, I realized. Brandon had told Dad enough to bring him here and no more.
"Dad, I won't speak for what those sailors saw. And I won't speak for what the engineering team finds."
He glanced toward the gangway again. This time he seemed to notice the people moving over it, the watches being kept, the ordinary work going on while his son sat inside with a legal officer.
"What happens to Brandon?" he asked.
"I don't know yet."
It was the only honest answer I could give him.
I left him at the barrier. Marcus caught up with me near the parking area, moving fast enough that I knew he had news. He waited until we were clear of the gate.
"The engineering team tried the valve," he said. "It didn't hold. They've isolated that section and started a repair. Nobody's taking the ship out until it's tested."
I closed my eyes for a moment. There were people below decks who might have needed that fire main. An argument about my rank had occupied the wardroom while they worked a few levels beneath us.
"How is Ellis?"
"Back with the team. He asked whether he could keep his clipboard."
"Tell me you said yes."
Marcus almost smiled. "After we documented the ticket, yes."
