When the Dust Settled

by Jeannie Meekins

  “The crystals. We’re not going to get very far, and it’s going take us a long time to get there. They need replacing, unless they can be recrystallised.”

  He looked to John for confirmation of a procedure he didn’t think was possible.

  “I don’t know how and the kid can’t do it.” He indicated Kowalski.

  “No, I don’t suppose he can.”

  “Then it is possible?”

  “It was done once. A few years ago.” John was beginning to feel Kowalski’s weight. “If we can get to the gate, we can get to Tricon. We’ll get them there.”

  “But that’s where –”

  John’s sombre look cut him off.

  “Yes, sir, we won’t have any worries getting there.”

  Tricon was not somewhere anyone wanted to return to. John seriously doubted the mining authorities would let them have the crystals they needed. He didn’t intend to ask. A rejection was only going to alert them. He also didn’t intend to let anyone know that he was there. A handful of crystals shouldn’t be missed, even if it meant they would have to be refined on the ship.

  He took Kowalski home, pulling his boots off and putting him to bed. The engineer slept peacefully, completely unaware that he had been moved. Red was right; Kowalski was just a kid. Half the crew weren’t much older than him. It wasn’t right to push them this far. But then, John wondered, where would they be if he hadn’t?

  * * *

  McReidy returned to her quarters intent on having a shower and change. Her eyes opened wide as the door opened and she was met by the sight of what used to be her quarters. It still was – but that was not the way she had left it.

  “Aaagh!” she screamed, her hands raising to her head. The place was a disaster area, as though someone had been rifling through it. No, it was worse than that.

  She tried to remain calm, telling herself that the loss of gravity was to blame. Instead, she found it much easier to blame John. Of course it was his fault. Everything that had ever gone wrong in her entire life was his fault. Things were just perfect until she had met him.

  Later: she’d clean it up later. First, she wanted that shower, and to get out of the uniform that felt like she’d been living in for the past week! She should have known better before she even turned the water on. Or didn’t turn it on as the case was. Of course there was no water. That was also his fault.

  A clean uniform lay crumpled on the floor of the wardrobe, unable to escape the closed door. At least it was clean. The only thought that comforted her was that his quarters wouldn’t have been any better.

  John hadn’t paid attention earlier. Now he was aware of the mess in his quarters. He glanced at the bottle of rum. It looked tempting, but first he better do something about tidying up. He hadn’t finished when McReidy arrived.

  “I hope your place is every bit as bad as mine,” she greeted him moodily.

  “Come in.” He didn’t want to argue.

  “When you’ve finished here, you can start on mine.”

  “Really?” His face slowly lit up.

  “On second thought, you keep right away from there,” she warned.

  The smile all but disappeared. A tiny trace remained and moved into his eyes.

  “You know where the Coke is.” He wasn’t about to wait on her hand and foot. She knew her way around.

  It was a quiet and relaxed evening. Even the arrival of Gillespie didn’t change that.

  “Do you want to join us?” John asked.

  Gillespie was severely tempted. “No, thanks,” he declined. “Someone’s got to stay sober around here.”

  “I’m perfectly sober.”

  “You’re perfectly pickled. Or you will be if you finish that off… Know where Kowalski is, by any chance?”

  “I put him to bed. He’s exhausted.”

  Gillespie nodded to himself. “He’s not the only one. I hear we’re heading to Tricon.”

  “We are.”

  McReidy bounced upright off the lounge.

  “I suppose you want me to go down and get those crystals before the miners even know we’re there.”

  “That is the general idea.”

  Gillespie didn’t look happy. “Then I better see Kowalski.”

  “Leave him.”

  “We’re not invisible to sensors.”

  “I said, leave him.” John was firm.

  Gillespie frowned. He wanted to say something then thought better of it. Instead, he glanced at his watch. “I’ll be back in about an hour,” he told no one in particular.

  “Then you can join us, can’t you?”

  “I might just do that.”

  The door no sooner closed behind Gillespie when McReidy pounced on John. “We’re going back to Tricon? I thought we were going to Copernicus.”

  “We need the crystals.” The decision was made and he wasn’t going to be challenged by either McReidy or Gillespie.

  “Yes, but we can get them at Copernicus. And Tricon’s in the opposite direction.”

  He swirled his drink around in his glass and let out a low growl. “If we lose light speed, it’ll take us a month to reach Tricon. It’ll take us six to get to Copernicus.”

  She leaned back against the lounge and he downed the last mouthful. The rum was on the coffee table. At the moment, it looked far away to reach.

  “Why won’t you make Kowalski chief engineer?”

  “Excuse me?” The question caught him by surprise.

  “You heard.”

  He thought about it for a minute. He knew why, but had never found it necessary to put it into words. “For a number of reasons.” He could tell by the look on McReidy’s face that she wasn’t going to settle for that answer. “For one thing, he’s too young. Most of the other engineers outrank him.”

  “He’s better than they are.”

  “I know. Could you imagine the fuss if I made him chief?”

  “You could promote him.”

  “I don’t have the authority… I don’t think I would even if I did. He’s not ready for the responsibility.”

  “You throw it on him anyway.”

  John turned to her suspiciously. “What is this? The Kowalski PR campaign?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “So what have you got against Red?”

  “Nothing.”

  “But you think Kowalski’s better?”

  “I didn’t say –”

  “Didn’t you?”

  “All right then.” Since she had started it, he wasn’t going to let it finish there. “Your opinion of Kowalski.”

  “Yours,” she threw back.

  John took a breath. “He’s good, no doubting that. But he lacks experience and maturity. I need a chief engineer with both. And a calm head… Now, your opinion.”

  “Best engineer I ever saw on Magellan. Apart from Anthony.”

  “Giacomo.”

  She eyed him curiously.

  “Crew evaluations,” he answered her unasked question. “As first officer, you’re entitled to an opinion.”

  “Personal or professional?”

  “Whatever.” He was completely serious. “Giacomo.”

  “Good pilot, easy to work with, tends to worry. Picked up a lot of things from you. Perfect gentleman. Didn’t pick that up from you.”

  John’s eyes narrowed slightly at the intended insult.

  “Stephen Gillespie,” she got in before he could throw another name at her.

  “Con artist of the first order,” was John’s automatic response.

  She considered his answer briefly. “Agreed.”

  “Tan Gao,” he continued, leaning forward and refilling his glass. She held her glass out and he topped it up.

  “Efficient.” She took a mouthful, her eyes squinting shut for a moment, then slopped some Coke into her glass.

  “That it?”

  She took another mouthful, enjoying it, then shook her head. “He’s still got me baffled.”

  “Dave Humphries,” h
e continued.

  “Is going to get himself decked one day. Most likely by me.”

  John was curious. “Any particular reason?”

  “Do I need one? Doctor Dunlop.”

  “Brilliant and temperamental. Sean Daniels.”

  “Unfair question!” She should have picked the gleam in his eye long before this.

  “Sean Daniels!” he repeated, noting her discomfort.

  “Katrina Lockett,” she fired back.

  “Touché.” His voice dropped. He wasn’t going to answer that any more than she was his subject. “Lorraine Bricks.”

  “She’s good for Giacomo. She’s also pretty smart, although I don’t think many of you guys have noticed that. Wanda Mitchell.”

  “Probably the reason why so many guys report in sick.”

  McReidy had to agree. Wanda was an extremely attractive addition to sick bay.

  John threw her a quick glance. She was watching him, waiting to see his next person.

  “John Madison.”

  “I have no opinion.” None she was willing to share.

  “Smart answer,” John laughed quietly. “Not completely honest, but smart.”

  He emptied his glass, put it down, leaned back and kicked his feet up on the coffee table.

  “I just had a horrible thought.”

  Her glass stopped halfway to her mouth as she tensed, expecting trouble. “What’s that?”

  “Do you realise there are actually some things we agree on?”

  She couldn’t help smiling. His eyes were warm and it wasn’t just the affect of the alcohol.

  Gillespie returned a little later and helped them finish off the bottle. It was with great reluctance that any of them finally moved at some unmentionable hour of the morning.

  “Steve, would you kindly take our guest home?” John asked.

  “Why me?” Gillespie had become quite settled in his chair.

  “Because I’m not capable.”

  Gillespie grumbled and got to his feet.

  McReidy was nodding off, her eyes more closed than open.

  “Come on, then.” Gillespie hooked her arm around his neck and hauled her to her feet.

  “I’m comfortable,” she complained.

  “And you’ll be more comfortable in your own place.” He slipped his free arm around her waist and guided her to the door.

  She leaned into him as they headed down the corridor. “You make a nice pillow, Steve.”

  “I’m not your pillow,” he gently reminded her.

  “I know,” she yawned. “Don’t worry, I’m going to find you a nice girl.”

  “I’ll do my own looking, thank you.” The last thing he needed was McReidy or anyone else trying to set him up. “John’s not so bad, is he?”

  “No, I suppose not.”

  * * *

  The bridge wasn’t a pleasant place to be next morning. John was hungover; McReidy wasn’t much better. Her eyes were bloodshot and she had trouble focusing.

  “Did you two have the bridge all night?” Giacomo asked as McReidy yawned widely.

  “Something like that. I got to bed…” She glanced at her watch, moving it back and forth under her eyes and blinking strongly, before dismissing her attempt to read it. “It seems like it was only five minutes ago.”

  “You shouldn’t be on duty this morning.”

  “Anything he can do…” She nodded briefly in John’s direction.

  “That is not a healthy attitude to have around here.” Giacomo didn’t know who he was more upset with. McReidy for being there, or John for letting her.

  A mug of coffee was placed on the console in front of McReidy. “Coffee for you, young lady.”

  Her eyes travelled from the mug along Gillespie’s arm and up to his serious looking face.

  “And no more nights like last night,” he told her firmly.

  “Yes, Steve,” she teased, smiling obediently.

  He frowned and shook his head – she would disobey him the first chance she got.

  Giacomo was completely confused. He looked from McReidy to Gillespie and decided it was something he better stay out of.

  John was not so easy to placate. Coffee did wonders for him, but lack of sleep tended to make him grumpy. His headache really did need sleeping off, or a trip to sick bay. But he was stubborn enough not to give McReidy the satisfaction of knowing she was in a better state than he was.

  * * *

  Returning to Tricon was not high on anyone’s popularity list. Regardless of Red’s assurances, John was more worried about whether they could actually make it back. They were still well behind the border, even if he had no idea where it currently was. He couldn’t find any other ships – allied or enemy. They were nowhere near their last plotted co-ordinates. A bit of support would have been nice. The last thing he needed was to lead the Andromedans to the jump gate.

  His desk in his quarters was a mess. It always was when he was working. He liked to have everything within reach and to be able to find something at a glance without having to search through piles of papers. He knew where everything was.

  He hadn’t heard the door beep and jumped when the intercom beeped.

  “Go away.” He didn’t want to be disturbed unless the ship was under threat, in which case Humphries would have identified himself from the bridge.

  The caller was persistent.

  “Go away,” he repeated in a firmer voice.

  “No.”

  John slammed his pen down on the desk and sighed heavily. It would have to be McReidy. Anybody else would have left him alone. She would happily annoy him all night. He got up and answered the door.

  “Don’t you ever do what you’re told?” he asked in frustration, before returning to his desk. He had no doubt she would follow.

  “This is not a good time, is it?” McReidy pulled up a chair and sat in front of the desk.

  “Not if you’re going to discuss Tricon again. I’m well aware of how the crew feel about it.” He found it easy to work and talk to her at the same time, as long as the conversation remained on a superficial level. She didn’t take offence and knew that she was not being ignored.

  “You really should get some sleep.”

  “Yeah, later maybe.” He had other things to worry about first.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m looking for support. We’re a sitting duck out here.”

  “I thought –”

  “That everybody would come running? Yeah, right, the day that happens, I’ll retire.”

  He sat back, tossing his pen on the desk.

  “When we hit those cruisers, Drago’s fleet was half a day away. Now I can’t find him. There’s no way he can just disappear.”

  “This is Drago you’re talking about. He can just disappear.”

  John granted her that point. They both knew the Betelian well enough.

  He reached down to the floor beside him and pulled up a chart. He placed it on the cluttered desk, spreading it over the stuff that was already there. Its sides rolled towards its centre. He stood up, pinning one side down with the intercom and holding the other down with his left hand. He looked for his pen. It was underneath. He allowed the chart to roll itself up until the pen was revealed then smoothed the chart out again.

  “This is where Drago was,” he pointed with the pen to a position on the chart that was already marked. “Independence picked up the ambassadors here. She was originally with Kirov and Yorktown. And we assumed Tirpitz and Dreadnought were also on their way there.”

  He marked each ship’s position on the chart as he named them, along with a few others he knew were around.

  McReidy nodded in agreement. Although the ambassadors had taken up a lot of her time – twenty five hours a day, eight days a week, so she had told everyone – she hadn’t let her other duties lapse.

  “So, if we’re here,” John finished, plotting their current location. “Where are all of them?”

  McReidy didn’t know. It se
emed highly unlikely that they could all have disappeared.

  “Maybe we’re not here,” she suggested.

  The look in his eyes made her regret it before the words were out. If there was one thing she could guarantee, it was that he knew where he was.

  “It just seems easier for us to be in the wrong place than for all of them.” The attempt to salvage herself only backfired. “Maybe it’s because our lines are down.”

  “Maybe.” It was a possible reason, but one that didn’t satisfy him.

  “We’ve been without protection from the beginning,” McReidy tried to reassure him. “We’re due to reach jump gate tomorrow afternoon. We get to Tricon, get the crystals and we’re back in business.”

  “If… we get to the jump gate.” He didn’t sound so sure.

  That was the first time he’d said “if”, and he looked to see his doubt sink into her.

  “If the engines hold up. If we don’t lose any other systems. If we don’t run into any trouble.”

  “Since when have you doubted us?” She tried to remain confident, but his negativity hit her voice.

  “I have extreme confidence in our abilities. I don’t have much faith in anyone else. If I can’t even find our ships, how am I supposed to know where the enemy is?”

  This time her face went blank and he knew that was something she hadn’t thought of. The ship was crippled. She couldn’t run; she couldn’t fight. She probably wasn’t capable of spotting another ship if it was right under her nose.

  McReidy leaned forward and held out one hand. “Earphones.”

  John moved his hand, the chart rolled itself up. Earphones – they weren’t on his desk. He didn’t need them on his own; they were still in a desk drawer. He pulled them out and passed them to McReidy, plugging in the lead and switching the machine on.

  “Coffee?” he asked before she got settled.

  “Thanks.” She slipped the earphones on and leaned back comfortably in the chair.

  When John returned with the coffee, McReidy was more than comfortable. Her legs were crossed, her feet resting on the edge of his desk. Her eyes were closed and her head rocked from side to side. Her upper body and arms seemed to have a mind of their own and she was mouthing words to something that was definitely not communication tapes.