When the Dust Settled

by Jeannie Meekins

  He turned his back to the door, put his hands on his hips and sighed heavily. He looked around for another way out. At first glance, it appeared to be impossible. Time was something he seemed to have plenty of, however a thorough examination only confirmed that escape was impossible. He was stuck here until he could think of something else.

  Tan watched him with the air of someone who knew better. John realised he’d probably done the exact same things the moment he’d been put there.

  “Any idea what’s going on?” John asked.

  Tan shook his head. “None, sir.”

  “Guess we better find out. Ssh.” John put his finger to his lips.

  He switched his communicator on to receive, linked into McReidy’s communicator and began eavesdropping. The bridge was unusually quiet. He could hear McReidy’s soft breathing coming through his communicator.

  For a moment, he wondered if she was still on the bridge. The soft background noise that was so often not heard told him she was. An occasional voice was Giacomo’s or Gillespie’s, and an order from McReidy seemed shouted in the quiet. They were as willing to accept her orders as they had his.

  Nothing told him what was going on or why it had happened.

  Tan attracted his attention and he looked over to see the communications officer cutting his fingers across his throat. He switched his communicator off.

  “What?” he asked.

  Tan leaned forward. “You could link into the ship itself, sir.”

  John smiled. “Now, that’s a thought.”

  “Not through my console, sir. We wired security and communications into each other when we refitted the helm. Extra backup. Lieutenant Gillespie would pick anything up.”

  “Homing beacon,” John decided. “The computer can’t deny that.”

  Hacking his own ship twice in a matter of months. The irony that this time it was McReidy who’d stolen the ship from him didn’t escape him.

  He took his communicator off and had a look at it, then checked himself over from top to bottom, turning out all his pockets to see if there might be anything of use. He frowned as he surveyed the small pile of contents on the bed. What he wouldn’t give right now for Anthony’s knowledge!

  “Sir,” Tan whispered urgently.

  John heard the footsteps. He turned and sat down in one move, blocking his belongings from immediate sight.

  Helen and Lynn were heading down the corridor. Helen had a tray of food; Lynn was a few steps behind with a phaser comfortably raised.

  “Commander, Lieutenant, remain seated and don’t move,” Lynn instructed as she stopped at a distance to take them both in.

  Helen’s eyes were a little glazed and it appeared she was going through the motions of supplying the food. She tapped the keypad and opened the door to Tan’s cell. Lynn turned her weapon to the communications officer.

  He didn’t move as Helen squatted down, took a bowl and a cup from the tray and placed them on the floor just inside the door. Then she stood up and locked the cell.

  Lynn turned her weapon to John.

  Cartography and linguistics, John noted. As far from the bridge and engineering as you could get. Whatever was affecting his crew was all over the place.

  “Thank you,” he spoke quietly to Helen as she put his food down, the warm smell of chicken teriyaki noodles teasing his nostrils.

  She didn’t acknowledge him, locking the cell and heading back down the corridor with Lynn.

  “Smells good,” Tan commented when they were out of sight. “I guess if they were going to poison us, they would have just shot us.”

  John shuddered slightly. It was all right for Tan to talk so casually about being shot because he wasn’t the one who had been shot!

  But he had to agree.

  Both men ate in silence.

  When John was nearly finished, he looked at the fork, turning it around, checking the width and point of the tines. He slurped the rest of his noodles, put the bowl down and turned back to his communicator.

  He needed more of a point and the tine scratched across the back of the communicator before he managed to work the cover loose. He peeled it off and began probing into the works. He paused every now and then to check what he’d done and to figure out the next adjustment.

  At Tan’s whisper, he dropped everything and sat quietly.

  Helen returned for the empty bowls and cups. Lynn again kept her distance and oversaw everything.

  Tan and John remained seated on their beds as they had earlier.

  Helen was about to lock John’s door when she stopped. She looked at the tray, then back to him. “Commander.”

  “Yes?” John looked up from staring at nothing.

  “The fork.”

  John slipped it out of his boot. Lynn’s glare cut through him as she raised the phaser. He tossed the fork through the doorway and raised his hands in defeat. The phaser remained pointed at him until Helen had locked the door.

  John didn’t breathe until he and Tan were alone. He slipped the communicator out from beneath the pillow and looked at it. It was almost finished. He reached in with a fingernail and teased the bare tip of wire to the chip. The communicator activated. The homing beacon was talking to the computer.

  Gillespie’s internal security systems didn’t miss a thing. “McReidy, someone’s trying to access the main computer.”

  “Where from?”

  “…The brig.”

  McReidy smirked and flicked the intercom on. “Nice try, Commander. But you’re not getting out that easy.”

  John didn’t bother answering. His communicator switched off and he sighed with frustration. “There’s got to be another way out of here.”

  He looked to Tan.

  “This is new territory for me, sir.”

  John nodded to himself. Tan was one crewmember he’d never had any issues with. The man simply didn’t know how to get into trouble. But there was a cunning there, and he certainly knew how to get out of trouble.

  John refused to accept defeat. “We might have to take on those girls when they come back. You up for it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  John lay down on the bed, his arms folded behind his head, his feet crossed. He listened in to the bridge, then tried other parts of the ship. After a while, he switched off. Nothing he heard was of much benefit.

  Most departments were cold; clinical. The ship was running efficiently. Orders were only given when necessary and the ensuing silence had John on edge. He and Tan were the only ones in the brig. Was everyone affected or were there bodies lying on the floors or nursing phaser wounds in sick bay?

  * * *

  The hours dragged. Several times John looked at his watch. Eight hours passed, then nine… ten… He began to wonder if Helen and Lynn were coming back. If anyone was coming back.

  Lynn’s whole demeanour had warned him. But Tan was right – if they wanted them dead, they’d be dead. Lynn had kept her distance and he had to assume the phaser was only on stun. At worst, he’d be unconscious and wake up back in the cell.

  “Commander.”

  The whisper broke the silence.

  John turned his head. The corridor was empty. He looked to Tan, whose interest was outside John’s door.

  John sat up, catching sight of the uniform at the door controls. “Humphries?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Getting you out.”

  “How did –?” John began, then interrupted his own question. “Make sure you bypass the security system or it’ll show up on Gillespie’s console,” he hurriedly advised.

  Humphries pulled back, suddenly at a loss. “Which one’s that?”

  “This one here,” Hartford answered.

  Humphries stepped clear.

  North appeared at the end of the corridor, his back to them. He turned his head briefly. “Hurry up. We haven’t got all day.”

  “Got it.” The door unlocked and Hartford moved to Tan’s lock.r />
  John stepped out and shook himself clear of the imprisonment feeling. “How did you know we were here?”

  “The whole ship knows,” Humphries told him.

  John couldn’t help the sudden twinge of embarrassment. “Any idea what’s going on?”

  “No idea, sir. I’ve just spent the past two days in sick bay with your flu. The injuries were coming in thick and fast, but nothing serious. And the excuses were …” Humphries shook his head, trying to figure it out. “I don’t know. Trivial at the best. It’s the fight, not the issue, that seems important. But once Lieutenant Commander McReidy took control, everything just stopped.”

  That seemed to make sense to John. Gillespie had taunted him, McReidy had expected resistance, and Giacomo could have killed him had he really wanted to. He still shuddered every time he thought of that.

  Hartford had Tan’s cell open. Tan brushed his shoulders and straightened his jacket, clear intent in his actions and his eyes.

  “Well, let’s not wait around here until they find out I’m out,” John told them. “How many of you can I trust?”

  “Us three.” Humphries looked uncertain. “What are you going to do?”

  “Get my ship back.”

  Humphries looked even more uncertain.

  John slapped him on the back. “Have a little faith. You were the one who said the injuries weren’t serious.”

  Humphries tried to smile.

  “That’s better. You and North go to the armoury and get some phasers. Hartford, stay here. When I signal you, I want the alarm here set off.”

  His orders were obeyed without question. It was good to know that he still had some control.

  The corridors were quiet as John and Tan made their way cautiously to the bridge. Humphries and North caught them up before they got there. Phasers were set on stun and only to be fired on John’s order. He didn’t anticipate trouble, but he had no intention of alerting McReidy to anything.

  “I assume the bridge is sealed off,” John spoke quietly.

  “I don’t know, sir,” Humphries answered. He spent as much time looking over his shoulder as he did in front of him.

  “If you took command, wouldn’t you seal it off?”

  “If I thought of it.”

  “Oh, she thought of it.” John was quite confident in that assumption.

  They reached the bridge door. A solid red light glowed on the keypad confirming the bridge was locked and sealed from the inside.

  John flicked his communicator. It was still inactive as far as contact went and he reached across to Humphries and switched his on. “Mister Hartford.”

  “Here, sir.”

  “Set off the alarm and get out of there.” He didn’t wait for confirmation. “You boys ready?”

  The three nodded.

  Gillespie’s console lit up. “Alarm’s gone off in the brig.”

  McReidy spun John’s chair around to face Gillespie. “Well, you better get down there and sort it out.”

  “Why me?” Gillespie wanted to know.

  “Because I said so, that’s why.” She turned away as though the subject was closed.

  “You’re nearly as bad as he is,” Gillespie complained.

  “What?” McReidy spun the chair back around and glared.

  Gillespie wasn’t prepared to take her on. “All right, I’m going,” he grumbled, dragging himself from his seat. He unlocked the bridge door. Before he knew what was happening John’s hands were in the middle of his chest pushing him backwards; one hand had a handful of jacket, the other had a phaser.

  “Back off, Mister Gillespie. Giacomo, don’t you dare move.”

  Gillespie backed off, his hands raising as first John’s then Humphries’ phasers pointed at him. John pushed him back another step and let go his jacket, forcing him to stumble to the middle of the bridge.

  Tan raced behind Gillespie, coming up in front of Giacomo. The weapon and John’s threat froze the pilot.

  “What are you doing here?” McReidy snapped.

  “Taking my ship back,” John answered defiantly, tucking his phaser inside his jacket. “Doorway, Mister North.”

  “Sir,” North acknowledged.

  McReidy took in her loyal crew, all with weapons pointed at them, then turned back to John. “No.”

  He was wary about turning his back on Giacomo even though Tan had him well covered. He grabbed the arms of his chair, turning it to face him and leaning over and glaring down at McReidy. “Get out of my chair!” he threatened.

  Dark eyes burned up at him, her chin jutted out and she folded her arms across her chest. “Make me.”

  The immaturity of the answer infuriated him. It was like being a kid and having someone dare him to do something that went against the very grain. The temptation to grab her and throw her out was overwhelming. Instead, he backed off and straightened up. One hand went on his hip, the other rubbed his brow and he began slowly pacing, trying to ease the frustration he felt.

  McReidy ventured to her feet.

  “Face it, Commander,” she couldn’t help but sink the boots in. “You’re history. This ship is mine and you are not getting her back.”

  He stopped pacing and turned sharply. “Before this goes any further…” His voice was calm, needing all his self control to keep it that way. “I am ordering you to hand over this ship.”

  “You don’t give the orders any more. I do.”

  He moved to grab her.

  “Here you are.”

  John stilled at Soghra’s voice, his hands inches from McReidy’s jacket. He turned sharply to the bridge door. North was there, phaser in hand, looking down the corridor and unaware as Soghra stepped past him.

  McReidy shrank away from Soghra’s interest, recoiling back a step as though she was scared of him and using John to block him.

  John’s attention flitted between the two of them, confusion screwing his face slightly, his hands in the motion of grasping something that was no longer there.

  Soghra took a few steps in McReidy’s direction – she took a few away – speaking to her as though she were someone else.

  “It didn’t take me long to find you, once I realised you were on board.” He saw something in her that no one else knew. “You have upset quite a few people. Now leave the lieutenant commander alone.”

  John settled on McReidy. His hands flopped to his sides and he moved out of the way, clear enough to have them both in view.

  McReidy spoke, straightening to her full height with bluffing confidence. The voice was hers; the words were not. “I will not. This female interests me. She has power and influence over the others.”

  “They will not play your games.”

  “They already are.”

  “Not any more. They have more important things to attend to. Go home.”

  McReidy sulked. Soghra’s words appeared to have the desired effect. Her hands rose to her head and her eyes screwed shut in pain. She swayed uncertainly. A misty pink cloud emerged from her body as she dropped to the floor.

  John lunged forward and caught McReidy as she dropped, but his attention was on the cloud floating above them. It hesitated for a few seconds then disappeared through a wall of the ship and into space.

  “Your crew will return to normal almost immediately. Its influence is strong, but only temporary.” Soghra turned to leave.

  “Soghra,” John called.

  Soghra turned back.

  “Thank you.”

  Soghra shrugged. “It would have become bored… eventually.”

  John scooped up McReidy. One arm around her shoulders, her head resting against his chest; the other arm behind her knees. “I suggest we all get back to work.”

  There was no sense of blame in his words.

  “Take your console, Mister Gillespie.”

  “Sir.” Gillespie moved slowly, Humphries’ phaser following his every movement.

  “Giacomo.”

  “Sir?” Giacomo blinked strongly, his eyes glassy
as he turned his head slowly to John.

  “Get us back on our original course. Humphries, navigation. North –”

  North was still standing in the bridge doorway, watching down the corridor. “Sir,” he acknowledged, turning a cautious eye to John.

  It was obvious to John the man hadn’t been aware of anything that had just happened on the bridge or even that Soghra had walked past him twice. That alien had more explaining to do.

  “Take communications, Mister North.”

  “Yes, sir,” North acknowledged, moving clear of the doorway. He frowned at the unconscious McReidy in John’s arms.

  “Mister Tan, you’re in charge. If you need me, I’ll be in sick bay.”

  *

  Sick bay was overrun with casualties.

  “Doc,” John called as he pushed his way through and carefully placed McReidy on the first available bed.

  “In a minute,” Dunlop answered.

  “Now.”

  “Andrews.”

  “I’m on it,” Andrews called back, leaving Wanda to disinfect a cut lip and edging his way to the doctor.

  A few brief words, a nod from Andrews and Dunlop was at John’s side.

  “What happened?” he asked, as he began checking McReidy’s vitals.

  “Long story. Is she all right?” John asked anxiously.

  “Give me a minute to examine her. Blood pressure, heart rate… slightly high. Pupils,” he lifted an eyelid and shone a penlight into it, then repeated the procedure with her other eyelid, “normal… Massive increase in brain activity, rapidly dropping. Kat, come here.”

  “I can’t. I’ve got a haematoma on the back of the head, unconscious, pupils dilated.”

  “Brenda.”

  “Coming.”

  “You worry too much,” Dunlop ran a scanner over McReidy’s body. The soft beeping of the machine remained constant. “She’ll be fine.”

  “You say that like it’s habit not assessment.”

  The doctor looked up. “I guess I do.”

  “What happened here?” John looked around. “I thought it had settled down.”

  “It had. Until about ten minutes ago. Then this lot,” he inclined his head to the room full of patients, “started again. And then dropped like flies as though something had sucked the life out of them.”