When the Dust Settled

by Jeannie Meekins

  John took it on himself to fine tune the helm. McReidy offered to help, but he preferred Giacomo. The pilot knew the system. And when John temporarily wired helm control through navigation, she had her hands full.

  It was a more difficult task than he’d thought. The old circuitry couldn’t handle the increased efficiency of the engines and the demands put on it. It kept shorting out. Every bypass and connection made on it caused more problems. The whole system needed stripping out and refitting.

  Once begun, it had to be finished. A request to engineering in the early hours of the morning had Kowalski on the bridge. Upended boxes and parts littered the floor.

  Humphries and North were both outed from the helm and navigation with the instructions, “Make yourselves useful and stay out of the way.”

  Tan busied himself at communications in case he got the same instructions.

  As the last fresh circuit blew, John slid out from beneath the helm. He tossed the circuit onto the pile of broken parts and slid his hand through his hair in frustration.

  “Sam, I’m taking a break.”

  “I’ll still be a while here,” Kowalski answered from beneath navigation.

  “Mister North, take these parts down to engineering and see what they can fix.”

  “Yes, sir.” North boxed up the pile and left the bridge.

  John was exhausted; he’d been on the go for nearly twenty four hours. He straightened up, attempting to stretch out the knots in his body, then slumped into his chair.

  “Coffee, sir?” Humphries offered.

  “Not yet. Let me unwind first.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Mister Tan?”

  Tan looked to John and shook his head. “Nothing of any interest, sir.”

  John’s gaze drifted back to the helm. As he watched Kowalski work, there was something familiar about it. He grinned to himself: he should have realised it earlier.

  “Mister Kowalski,” he called.

  “Sir,” Kowalski answered.

  When John didn’t continue, Kowalski slid out from under the console. John stood up and waved him over with a forefinger. Kowalski got to his feet, brushed himself off and followed John into the office.

  John sank comfortably into the chair behind the desk. “Where’s Anthony?”

  “Sir?” Kowalski frowned, fidgeting.

  “I’ve been watching you work, Sam. Don’t tell me you don’t know where he is.”

  Kowalski put his hands behind his back and looked at his boots. John figured his “debriefing” after Betelgeuse had been effective.

  “I know you’re under orders but Command couldn’t care less at the moment. This is as real as it gets, and I need him.”

  Kowalski lifted his eyes to meet John’s. “He’s on Copernicus.”

  “Thank you.” John smiled warmly.

  “Is that all?”

  “Just one more thing. When you finished at the academy, why Magellan?”

  A shy smile crept out. “I didn’t want to be anywhere else.”

  The following seconds filled John with the warmth of memory. “Go on,” he nodded towards the door.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  As the door closed behind Kowalski, John shook himself back to the present. He switched on the console, secured himself a channel and put through the call.

  Anthony Delaney’s face lit up when he saw John. His hazel eyes shone, his soft brown hair fell to his eyebrows, and an impish grin ran from ear to ear.

  “Aw, man, am I glad to see you.” There was no formality about Anthony. Formalities were for high ranking officers and snobs – and they were usually the same people. He was only a lieutenant, but John’s superior rank meant nothing to him.

  “I see you haven’t changed.”

  “How’d you find me?”

  “Sam.”

  “Kowalski?”

  “Long story.” John wasn’t going into it. “I’ve got my own ship.”

  “Cool!” Anthony was impressed.

  “I’m having a few problems with her, though.”

  “Where are you? Drop in and I’ll have a look at her for you.”

  This time John frowned.

  “What Command doesn’t know…”

  John smiled. That was the Anthony he knew. Like a kid at Christmas with a new toy, he couldn’t wait to get his hands on something and pull it apart. Although putting things back together was his specialty. “It’s not that simple.”

  “With you, it never is.”

  “You’re too far out of our way to come in. I just need –”

  “All the help you can get. Ship and problem.”

  “Bismarck, helm control,” John answered.

  Anthony turned to the side. There was a clicking as his fingers worked the keyboard. “Bismarck… Bismarck,” he spoke quietly to himself. “Ah, here it is… Whoa, are you in trouble!”

  John wasn’t encouraged by Anthony’s exuberance, but then very little depressed the engineer’s spirits.

  “Now, what exactly is wrong with the helm?”

  “It’s slow and heavy. And since we upgraded weapons and shields, she’s picked up a lot of vibration.”

  Anthony glanced at the console beside him. “According to what I can find, she should have been overhauled two years ago. There’s no record of it being done.”

  “It wasn’t done.” John flinched from Anthony’s glare.

  “Geez, John. How do you expect her to keep going if you don’t look after her? Let me guess. You overhauled her yourself and now the old systems can’t take it. You’ll be lucky if you don’t short out the whole bridge.”

  “Well, we haven’t shorted the whole bridge,” John weakly defended himself.

  “When I get hold of you,” Anthony shook a warning finger, “I’m going to throttle you.” He mumbled his opinion of amateurs meddling where they shouldn’t while he turned his attention back to his notes. “Do I need to ask why you upgraded weapons and shields on a cargo ship?”

  “Have you heard what’s been going on recently?”

  “Not really. We got a call a couple of weeks ago saying we’d be busy, but no one’s giving any reasons.”

  John summed up the situation.

  Anthony let out a breath as he took it all in. “I see why you’ve got Sam. All right, who’s your gofer?” He took a pencil from his jacket and began writing.

  “Gillespie.”

  A smirk played on Anthony’s mouth. “Chief Engineer?”

  “Michael O’Grady.”

  “O’Grady…” Anthony tapped his pencil on the desk in front of him. “I don’t think I know him.”

  “Big guy, red hair.”

  Anthony shook his head. “Doesn’t sound familiar. Anyway, put them online.”

  “Now?”

  “If you want your ship fixed.” The tone was patronising before turning serious. “Yes, now!”

  John located the three men and linked the intercom into the one channel. After greetings all round, Anthony explained exactly what he wanted them to do. He even had a list of places where they could get parts. And, if they were game enough, he told them the location of a moon that was used as a dumping ground for old ships. The ships were supposed to have been destroyed before dumping. Regular patrols were on the lookout for looters, who were dealt with severely.

  John noted down the co-ordinates.

  When the discussion turned technical, lack of sleep had him closing his eyes. The voices continued to churn around in his head.

  The voices had stopped when he opened his eyes again. The screen was blank. He switched it off, checked his watch and rubbed his eyes.

  A small blue light flashed on the console beside him. That would probably be his orders. He wondered why they hadn’t come through before, but spending time in the office hadn’t been his priority. They could have been sitting there for days and he wouldn’t have known. And with Command trying to co-ordinate a fleet and strategise a war, they didn’t really need a complete itinerary
until they reached the jump gate.

  He hit the button with the flashing light, keyed in his access code and Command’s orders displayed.

  Bismarck had a huge sector of space to scout; to report any unusual activity, no matter how insignificant it might seem, and to rally support from the listed systems and incorporate as many others as they could while being respectful of their wishes.

  Well, that was a contradiction in itself.

  A map marked a basic outline of where the most recent encounters had taken place and what possibly constituted for a border between the allies and the invaders. There were a number of star systems that may be friendly towards an alliance and others in strategic positions that they couldn’t afford to turn offside.

  John ran down the list of systems; each marked with a set of co-ordinates and links to the protocol required and a treaty agreement. Some he was familiar with, some he wasn’t. He flinched at one – Manados. A race of telepaths who knew your thoughts before you did. And they didn’t like being blocked. Yeah, they didn’t like him very much.

  They were way down the list and he had plenty of time to sort something out when it came to them.

  He reasoned the treaty agreements would be similar. The only alterations to a standard agreement would be race specific. There was no point promising someone what they already had or couldn’t use. Protocols – yeah, they were going to keep him up nights trying to memorise. Most races he had come across seemed offended if protocols were simply read off a screen or sheet of paper. And he agreed. It was like you simply didn’t care about those on the receiving end.

  He closed the file.

  His thoughts drifted back to the conversation with Anthony. The co-ordinates of the moon were scribbled on a piece of paper in front of him. He brought a map up on screen and plotted the moon and jump gate, and smiled. That was going to work in nicely.

  * * *

  The battle simulations continued. While this brought vocal objections, John told them that they couldn’t expect the ship to be in perfect condition for every encounter. They had to manage whatever the conditions. Giacomo continued to fail and his moods continued to sour.

  John was in the bar one evening when Giacomo caught up with him. He was on his own. McReidy, having joined him earlier, much to the delight of Soghra who was completely besotted with her, had left minutes earlier to command the bridge.

  John picked up his glass, swirling the mouthful of brown liquid around the bottom of it. Giacomo stood in front of him. His hand stilled, his eyes looked up from the glass.

  “Can I talk to you?” Giacomo fidgeted slightly.

  John indicated the empty chair opposite.

  Giacomo sat down. He looked past John to where Humphries and a small group of junior officers appeared to be celebrating. They were becoming noisy, but hadn’t disturbed anyone yet.

  “Care for a drink?” John asked. Partially to lighten Giacomo’s mood, but he also felt like another before retiring.

  “I’ll get it,” Giacomo blurted out and moved to get up.

  “Stay where you are.” John drained the glass and was on his feet. It was only a few steps to the bar where he deposited the glass. “Two more.”

  Soghra ducked beneath the counter and pulled out a half empty bottle. Putting two clean glasses on the bar, he proceeded to fill them. “Next time, you go on duty and leave the female?” he suggested.

  “Not on your life,” John grinned. “I wouldn’t leave any woman alone with you.”

  Soghra should have been offended. Instead, he leaned toward John and lowered his voice. “You have become tough on the crew. Some of them don’t like it.”

  Sometimes, more could be gained from what Soghra didn’t say. His glance flicked in Humphries’ direction. John didn’t answer. He picked up the drinks and returned to the table.

  Giacomo was about to burst. “I want to ask you about the simulations,” he began. He looked to John as though he hoped the commander could read his mind so he wouldn’t have to put it into words.

  John was silent, giving Giacomo all the time he needed.

  “I want to know why I keep messing up. I get it all planned out, pictured clearly in my head. It starts out okay, then for some reason, I choke. Everything falls apart.”

  “Don’t worry yourself about it.”

  “I do worry about it. I think I’m the only one who hasn’t succeeded. Humphries is throwing a party after today’s win. Gillespie scored. Tan, Hartford, Red,” his tone raised, the words coming out quicker. “Even McReidy scored and she’s –” He cut himself short.

  “A woman?” John finished for him.

  “Well… yes.” Giacomo shrank back in his chair, immediately realising the way it sounded. He lowered his head and stared down at nothing.

  John smiled warmly, swirling his drink before taking a sip. “She’s got years on you.”

  Giacomo’s head tilted up slightly as though he expected a lecture that wasn’t coming.

  “Look, I know it’s discouraging, but have faith in yourself. You can do it. No matter how real it seems, subconsciously, right in the back of your mind, you know it isn’t. As long as you know that, you leave room for question and you’ll mess up every time.”

  Giacomo wasn’t being encouraged.

  “But when it comes to the crunch, when it’s for real, you won’t choke.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I know you.”

  Giacomo sighed. It was not the answer he was after, but it was the only one he would get.

  The pilot picked up his untouched glass. He looked at the deep brown colour with its reddish tinge. “Andurian rum?”

  John nodded. “See, you do know something.” He turned his attention away from Giacomo. “And it sounds like someone has had more than enough. Excuse me.” He was on his feet and heading towards Humphries and his group.

  North and Hartford were silenced by his approach. Rodgers and Humphries had their backs to John. Encouraged by the engineer, Humphries was still noisily recounting his victory. Each version was louder and more exaggerated than the previous.

  Rodgers caught John out of the corner of his eye and stopped. At the sudden silence, Humphries swung around, barely managing to stay on his feet, and stood face to face with the commander.

  “Hey, shir, come to help me cebelate?” he asked, his voice a little slurred, his eyes glassing.

  “I think you’ve done enough celebrating for one night. You’re beginning to disturb the other customers.”

  “No, I not. They all cebelate… cebel… ceb… happy witsh me!”

  He flung his arms up in delight, nearly tumbling backwards. North put a steadying hand on his back, keeping him upright. He staggered forward a step, his head level with John’s.

  “Sep for him.”

  He was looking over John’s shoulder to Giacomo.

  “Hey, Jack! Aaaagh!” He put both hands around his own throat in an imitation of being choked.

  Giacomo was on his feet instantly, his chair scraping the floor.

  John’s reaction was just as quick. He knew Giacomo hated his name being shortened and he’d be quite happy to wrap his own hands around Humphries’ throat. He turned enough to meet the pilot’s glare, his arm outstretched, his finger pointed. “You. Sit,” he ordered.

  Giacomo reluctantly complied.

  “You…” He turned back to Humphries: a silly grin on the man’s face showed great amusement. It was useless to talk to him. “Get him out of here,” he told his companions.

  No one moved.

  “Now!”

  This time they all moved. Humphries was quite willing to go with them as they bundled him towards the door.

  John stood there and slowly shook his head. He remembered what he had told Decker: Humphries was a good kid. Now he used other words to describe him – immature, irresponsible… Oh no, now he was beginning to think like the captain.

  As he returned to his seat, the mood in the bar returned to what it
should have been. Humphries hadn’t upset anyone, but his party was about to, however unintentional it would have been.

  “Finish your drink and calm down,” John told Giacomo.

  Giacomo obeyed. With Humphries gone, he calmed quickly.

  A competitive rivalry had sprung up between Giacomo and Humphries. To start with, it had been a healthy competition. More recently, it had become physical. The last thing John needed at the moment was to break up a public brawl.

  They were both after the position of chief helmsman. McReidy was navigator; there was never any question of that. And her rank made her first officer. Helmsman was the next coveted rank. And the day shift certainly had more prestige than any other.

  John wanted a rest. He was tired, but it wasn’t sleep he was after. He looked at Giacomo. The strain was showing on the pilot. He knew he was pushing too hard. If he didn’t do something soon, half the crew would probably snap.

  It was then that he decided to put into port. It was not in his schedule, but so what? The ship was ahead of schedule as it was. Twenty four hours wouldn’t make any difference.

  In his quarters, he opened his star charts. Pinpointing their current position, he looked for somewhere they could take a break. There was only one choice.

  It was a small planet a few hours out of their way. The people were kind and gentle, the atmosphere completely relaxing. For a day, they could forget their worries, sort out their frustrations and return completely refreshed.

  He called the bridge and gave them the new course.

  Back to top

  Chapter seven

  John was on the bridge as the ship neared the planet. Giacomo had the helm. Humphries remembered little of the previous night, but felt he deserved the helm. He deliberately baited Giacomo, trying to make him angry. It was not hard to do. Despite his best attempts to ignore it, even using McReidy beside him to block direct visual contact, Giacomo couldn’t ignore the messages that kept appearing on his console.