When the Dust Settled

by Jeannie Meekins

  He tried to busy himself by reading the progress reports. With so little progress being made, it didn’t take long. No wonder the captain was going back down. Someone had to get things moving or they’d never leave.

  McReidy turned to Hartford at communications. John caught her eye and held it momentarily before she turned her attention fully to Hartford and mumbled something quietly to him.

  He leaned forward, she spoke again, and he nodded an answer.

  John wasn’t interested in their conversation, and he sensed it was just an excuse by McReidy to check out his mood.

  She turned back to her console for a moment, hit a couple of buttons, then spun her seat around to face him. “All right. What’s wrong?”

  “You know very well what’s wrong,” he threw back at her.

  The crew flinched visibly. Most of them had seen John’s temper before and knew to keep clear.

  “Be reasonable –”

  “Why?”

  “It was the captain’s idea, not mine.”

  John’s eyes never left hers. Their darkness reflected his mood. “You could have said no. You didn’t have to go along with him.”

  “How could I?”

  John was silent. Refusing the captain’s invitation would be taken as a personal insult; he knew that. Being angry with McReidy was much easier. He had to live and work with Decker. The sooner they got away from this mining colony and got McReidy back to a base and off this ship, the better he would feel.

  He wasn’t letting her finish with the last word. He took a breath, let it rumble around his throat and exhaled before opening his mouth. The intercom spoke before he could.

  “Landing party to Bismarck!” There was panic in the voice.

  “This is Bismarck. Go ahead.” John’s voice was harsh, his eyes remaining on McReidy.

  “We’ve had a cave in down here! The whole thing’s come down!”

  John’s mood changed. All anger evaporated as concern took over.

  “Take it easy, Justin,” John used the man’s Christian name to help put him at ease. “Where’s the captain?”

  “He’s down there.”

  John’s response was immediate. He was on his feet, hitting the intercom and barking orders that could have come directly from the captain. “Giacomo, Gillespie, on the bridge. Now! Transporter room, get them out of there. Sick bay alert. We could have casualties.” He was at the door before he spoke to McReidy. “Giacomo’s in charge.”

  He didn’t wait for any answers. He arrived in the transporter room expecting to find the captain and engineering team safely on board. He was sadly disappointed.

  Rodgers was at the console to the right; a worried look flashed at John as he kept his attention on the switches in front of him. The transporter pads to the left remained blank. No people were appearing; no familiar humming to indicate that anything was even working.

  “I thought I told you to get them out!” John leant over the console, both hands clenched in fists.

  “Sir, we can’t even find them,” Rodgers apologised.

  John thumped the console with both fists in alarm. “Can you put me down there?”

  “Only to the surface.”

  “That’ll do.” He rushed onto the transporter pad and was on the planet surface within seconds.

  *

  It was dusk; the planet’s time being different from the permanent timekeeping of the ship. The nearest town was a good five kilometres away. A makeshift camp stocked with essential equipment and supplies had been set up at this entrance to the underground network. With a storage shed, a bunkhouse and a tent that acted as a headquarters, the camp was equipped to handle nothing more than a minor broken limb.

  A tripod and rope sat over the vertical shaft, cabling necessaries to and from the first level of the mine. A layer of fine dust was rising from the shaft and swirling around in the gentle breeze before settling over everything and everyone.

  John saw five men.

  Case and one of the miners were ripping on the rope, hauling something up from below. Almost unrecognisable beneath a layer of muck, Bricks was limping clear of the shaft. Kowalski’s uniform had a light coat of dust. He was struggling to drag a body towards the tent.

  “Everyone all right here?” John asked as he grabbed a limp arm and helped Kowalski.

  “Thanks,” Kowalski muttered.

  Nods and mumblings confirmed no major injuries.

  “Lorraine?” John singled out Bricks.

  “Fine, sir,” she answered.

  They dragged the limp body to the tent, and rolled it onto its back. Kowalski bit his bottom lip. “Is he breathing?”

  John found a pulse and hit the man’s communicator. “Rodgers, transport Crocker to sick bay now.”

  “Yes, sir,” Rodgers acknowledged, the body disappearing as he spoke.

  John turned his attention to the others. Case and the miner had their man to the surface, pulling him clear. His feet touched the ground, his knees buckling, and he collapsed. Case helped him sit up while the miner unfastened him and dropped the rope back down the shaft.

  “You okay, Red?” Case asked.

  The man nodded.

  “All right, fill me in,” John walked back to the shaft, Kowalski in tow.

  Red looked up at John, wiping muck from one eye with his hand. “I dunno what happened, sir. We were going fine then… boom. The whole thing caved in on us. Some sort of explosion.”

  “Who’s trapped?”

  “The cap’n, chief engineer and six others, best I count. Us near the top managed to get to the shaft, but the others…” He didn’t look hopeful.

  “Sir, they’re five kilometres down,” Kowalski added.

  “We can’t get to the elevator shaft,” Case added, hauling on the rope again. “Even if we could, we don’t know if it’s working or even if it’s clear. If any of those cables are gone…” He didn’t finish, just shook his head slowly.

  “If it’s blocked, there’s no way down,” the miner added.

  “We could blast a path with the ship’s weapons,” Kowalski figured, “but that could send a lot more rock down on them. Not even the transporter can get through that much solid rock.”

  “Modify it. Get me down there.”

  John’s determination reflected in Kowalski’s grin. “I’m an expert on them.”

  “Go, we haven’t got much time.” He spoke to the ship. “Kowalski’s coming back up. Giacomo, are you there yet?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I need phaser power to break up this rock without collapsing it.”

  “How stable is it?”

  “I don’t know. The whole thing’s come down. We need to clear a path to the tunnels for Kowalski to get me through.”

  John ran to the tent and rifled through the pile of gear in front of it. He buckled on a belt, and slotted a pick and foldable spade into loops at either side. He ducked through the tent flap and looked around. An open first aid kit had a couple of bandages, a box of sticking plasters and a pair of scissors. He stuffed the bandages in a jacket pocket and left the rest. He ripped open a cupboard and found a supply of small oxygen canisters. He attached as many as the belt could hold, then stuffed a couple more down his jacket.

  A quick look around and there didn’t seem to be anything else there he needed, and he stepped back outside.

  “You’ll need these, sir.” Bricks tossed him a pair of clear safety glasses with an elastic backstrap.

  “Thanks,” he slipped them over his head and fitted them comfortably. His view distorted slightly through the dusty lenses.

  “Harness, sir.” Red had the safety harness ready to strap on.

  John shook his head. He put the miner’s helmet on, buckling it under his chin, and dragged on a pair of gloves.

  As he strode back to the shaft, another man had been pulled clear and a third was climbing out under his own steam. Lack of uniform told John they were miners. Case and the first miner slumped down for a rest as the man
swung away from the hole to solid ground.

  John recognised the last man out. Rankin was the foreman at the site. He caught his breath, surveying the area and head counting before his attention settled on John heading towards him. He ran the few steps and grabbed John’s arm. “Don’t go down there.”

  John shrugged him off, strode to the shaft and sat down on the edge with his feet dangling below. He switched on the light on his helmet and peered down into the dark. Swirling dust caught the light and he couldn’t see past it to the bottom.

  Rankin followed him and stood on the opposite side of the shaft with his hands on his hips. “There is no way down,” he insisted.

  “Keep a fix on me, Giacomo,” John ignored the miner. “I don’t want to get lost.”

  “Yes, sir,” Giacomo answered.

  John grabbed the rope and lowered himself into the hole. Daylight from the surface faded and soon disappeared until it was completely black. The light from his helmet shone strongly and he looked all around. The walls of the shaft that had been ground reasonably smooth were sharp and jagged.

  His feet touched the ground. He looked down to check how solid the surface was before letting go the rope. Rocks dotted the tunnel floor; supports that should have held up the walls at regular intervals had collapsed. All power had gone out or been turned off. He didn’t know and it really didn’t matter either way.

  He looked up. The world above had been condensed into a single beam of light and he stood in its warmth. He knew why he hated mines. The claustrophobic effect was overwhelming. “Which way do I go?”

  The ground vibrated and John reached out to either side for a wall. He felt nothing; light rubble tumbling down beside him. Giacomo, he knew, or at least he hoped.

  Red’s head and shoulders appeared, blocking the daylight. “The elevator’s about ten metres down that way. If you can keep to it, it goes most of the way down. Then there’s a side tunnel and a few ladders down to the deepest levels.”

  John turned to his left in the direction indicated. Through the haze of unsettled dust, he could make out the metal cage of the elevator behind a pile of fallen rocks and splintered beams.

  He looked back up at Red. “Thanks.”

  He took a breath and picked his way to the elevator shaft. The ground beneath his feet was solid, most of the rubble easily stepped around or over. The elevator shaft was fully blocked, the cage crushed. There was no way he was getting down there.

  “Mister Kowalski. The elevator is useless. Use the shaft as your guide.”

  “I’m just about finished. I’ll drop you down as far as I can.”

  John materialised at the bottom of the shaft with such a thud he felt as though he had been dropped. “Kowalski!”

  “Sorry, sir, the readings said it was clear. It felt like you ran into a brick wall.” His voice faded. “Bridge, can I get some clearance here.

  “Co-ordinates, please,” Giacomo requested.

  “Sending,” Kowalski replied.

  John mumbled something about brick walls and engineers, and slowly rose to his feet as the planet rumbled again. The shaft rocked visibly from side to side.

  Kowalski had him moving again before he was fully upright. This time, he found himself clinging to a ledge, the rest of what used to be the floor having given way. He pulled himself up, scrambling with his toes for footholds. The canisters in his jacket rolled against his ribs, and the attachments on the belt got in the way and scraped over the rock. A canister tore lose from the belt and dropped down the shaft.

  John heaved himself up onto the ledge and sat there for a moment, catching his breath and checking to see that nothing else was loose. Looking down, he could barely see past his feet. Dust sat stagnant in the air. He leaned over slightly further, a hand lifted to his helmet to point the light in a direct beam down.

  The next shift found him upside down, the tools and canisters jiggling against his chest as his arms buckled and he collapsed on the ground.

  “Someone get that kid away from the controls before he kills me!” John roared at whoever was listening.

  “Cool it, sir, I’m getting the hang of it.”

  Kowalski’s words did nothing to calm John, but he was moving again before he could answer. Two more shifts were uneventful; the third put him on crumbly ground. Dust hung like a thick fog. A smoky, bittersweet smell permeated. It dried his throat and stuck to his lungs. He began to cough, as much to clear his throat as to relieve the irritation it caused. The glasses were nearly impossible to see out of. He rubbed a gloved hand over them. It didn’t make much difference. For a moment, he considered taking them off, but didn’t need that same irritation in his eyes.

  “You’re down there, sir.”

  He didn’t need Kowalski to tell him where he was. The rubble was evidence enough.

  He reached to the light and twisted the lens, widening the beam as he looked around for signs of life. The light struggled to penetrate; reflecting off the dust.

  John cupped his hands around his mouth and called: “Hello...! Captain?”

  There was no reply.

  He moved forward, sinking and sliding in the soft ground as he climbed over piles of rubble. In places, it nearly touched the ceiling. Loose, musty dirt filtered down between cracks in the rock. The few beams that remained in position groaned under the weight, threatening to bring the planet down on top him at the slightest disturbance.

  Now was not the time to think about the rest of it coming down. It was going to hold. That was all there was to it.

  The occasional loud groan seemed to disagree with John’s thoughts and he began to sweat. The glasses itched as sweat moistened the dirt and it ran around the rims and down his cheeks. Shattered beams poked out at odd angles from the ceiling, walls and the rubble beneath him, threatening to impale him. Huge boulders blocked his path and he had to squeeze between them or climb over them. A few times, he pulled out the spade, unfolding it and snapping the handle into place, and dug a gap big enough to pull himself through.

  Each rock or pile of dirt that was moved brought more with it until it seemed that only wishful thinking was holding it all up.

  He made his way down, the loose ground sending him sliding. More dirt was kicked up, making it impossible to see more than a foot in front of him.

  “Kowalski, how far off am I?”

  “Should be right there. You’re in the last reported position.”

  John took a breath, coughed and thumped a fist into his chest. A canister pounded his sternum.

  He cupped his mouth again and called out, “Anyone hear me?”

  “Madison? Is that you?”

  The faint voice was trapped in the dust, giving him no sense of direction.

  “Captain?” John’s voice was almost a whisper. He moved his head around, trying to pick up anything in the light. He rubbed a hand over the filthy glasses as his eyes searched desperately for movement.

  As the light fell on his face, Decker put an arm up to his eyes. He was a few metres below John, buried to his waist in rubble, the rest of him coated in a thick layer of dust. John slipped down to his level.

  “You got a mask? There’s gas down here.” Decker was gripped by a coughing fit.

  John held his breath while he ripped two canisters from his belt. He fitted the face mask of one over Decker’s nose and mouth and slipped the elastic band around his head. Then he fitted the second one over his own helmet, and below his glasses. The first breath of fresh oxygen had him coughing uncontrollably.

  Decker’s fit passed. He leaned back against the rock, taking deep breaths as he tried to relax. “Your collar’s twisted.” The statement came out automatically, partly muffled by the mask.

  “Never mind my collar. Are you all right?” John was unaware that his hand went to his collar to straighten it.

  “If you’re down here, who’s looking after my ship? You haven’t left Humphries in charge –”

  “Giacomo’s on the bridge. Just settle down, Captain.”
He began to rake armfuls of the rubble away to free Decker. “I wish you’d lay off Humphries. He’s a good kid.”

  “Immature little twerp. Shows no responsibility.”

  “What do you expect? He’s scared of you.”

  “You’re not.”

  “Should I be?”

  He’d moved enough dirt to see that Decker was pinned under a huge boulder. With his face mostly covered by mask and glasses, he hoped Decker couldn’t read his expression.

  “Can’t feel my damn legs,” the captain grumbled.

  John caught his eyes.

  “Can’t feel anything below the waist,” the captain admitted.

  “We’ll have you out in a few minutes. We’re using the phasers to –”

  “You’ll bring the whole thing down,” Decker grabbed John’s arm tightly. “There’s hydrogen pockets. That’s what caused it.”

  “Giacomo!” John yelled over his communicator. “Can you hear me? Stop what you’re doing. I repeat, stop what you’re doing.”

  “All stopped.” Giacomo obeyed immediately. “We’re nearly there, sir. What’s the problem?”

  “Hydrogen gas. Can you reach us without blowing us up?”

  There was a few seconds silence before Giacomo answered, “I’ll have to make a few slight modifications.”

  “Do it. Kowalski, fix my position. I’m with the captain.”

  “Got it,” Kowalski answered.

  “Get him out as soon as you can. I’m going to look for the others.”

  “They were further down the corridor, on the other side of that cave in.” Decker inclined his head over his shoulder his eyes turning further as he pointed behind him. “I don’t know what it’s like. I haven’t heard from anyone.”

  John scrambled down to where Decker indicated. He tapped the rubble with his pick, looking for what seemed to be the thinnest section. There wasn’t much difference in the sounds of the rock and the vibrations caused dirt to trickle. He scraped the pick into the crevices, clearing the loose material out of the way before attacking the rock.

  The pick blade flashed in the lamplight, the rock chipped away easily. Dirt began to run freer.