When the Dust Settled

by Jeannie Meekins

  As he began to relax, he set about his work. He turned on the console. Leaning back in the chair, his feet lifted to the desk. One crossed over the other, he placed his heels on the edge. He rested his elbows on the arms of the chair, his fingertips touching above his chest.

  With an accuracy that surprised himself, he began to dictate his report. The words came out continuously. He didn’t have to consciously think about what he was saying.

  He paused in midsentence as the door beeped and instructed the computer to wait.

  “Come in,” he called, and the door opened.

  Dunlop entered, looking extremely tired. He didn’t ask for permission before pulling up a chair and sitting down. He offered John the medical report he held in his hand. John didn’t move, his gaze settling on the report before returning to Dunlop. The doctor put it down on the desk beside the accident report.

  “I’m sorry it took so long,” he apologised. “I thought you might like to file it with your own.”

  “I would prefer not to have to… Yeah, I’ll do it.”

  “Have you thought about what happens next?”

  “No, but I can guess. Coghlan lodges a formal complaint because I refuse to continue with the mission. We get called home. I get raked over the coals again about disobeying orders. And, basically, the ship’s yours until they drag up another captain.”

  “Hold on a minute,” Dunlop held up his hands in protest. “What do you mean, the ship’s mine?”

  “Well, you outrank everyone else.” John smiled as Dunlop shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Don’t worry. You’ll be stuck in dock somewhere. I can’t see this old girl being high on the priority list.” He spoke about the ship with a warm affection.

  “I’ve supported your decision not to let anyone else down on the planet. For all the good it’ll do.”

  “Thanks.” John wanted to say something else but couldn’t think of anything appropriate.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am off duty. You look as if you could do with a break, too.”

  “I’m fine,” John yawned. “Go on, get out of here.” He waved Dunlop out.

  Left alone, he resumed his report. He asked the computer to repeat the last few sentences then thought for a moment before continuing his dictation. A couple of drafts later, he logged his report with the doctor’s and transmitted them both to Fleet Command Headquarters.

  As he hit Send, he wondered why he’d heard nothing from Command. He assumed Coghlan had sent in an immediate complaint and was expecting a “Please explain”. Maybe Command was waiting for Bismarck’s version before taking any action.

  He brought up Captain Decker’s personnel file on screen and began to read it. He got no further than the first page before changing his mind and closed it. Notifying next of kin had never been his job and he was not looking forward to it now.

  He brought up the chief engineer’s file.

  He began slowly. He didn’t want to sound abrupt, nor did he want to appear patronising. Four draft copies later and he was happy with what he had said. He did the same for the other three crewmen, using their personnel files to give each statement a sense of individuality.

  One crewman, he didn’t know. The man had only come aboard two weeks earlier. This was his first mission. John was angry with himself. He liked to know all the crewmembers and, on a ship of this size, that wasn’t difficult. It was something he had meant to get around to, but he had never found the time. And that was what he decided to put in the statement, along with some comments from someone who had worked with the man.

  With everything else out of the way, he returned to the captain’s file. He stared blankly at it. He checked the bridge for the ship’s status, ordered a pot of fresh coffee, called down to sick bay to inquire about the condition of the injured men, and checked with communications as to whether Command had answered his report – even though he knew he’d have been notified of any reply and would have it on the desk in front of him.

  The coffee arrived and he had run out of things to do. The captain’s personnel file stared back at him from the console screen. He tried to avoid it, but it seemed to have him almost hypnotised. He could delay it no longer.

  He began his statement, but could get no further than the first few lines. Re-reading them, he didn’t like the way it sounded and changed it. He didn’t like that any better, and sighed in frustration. He opened the top right hand drawer of the desk and pulled out a pen and notepad.

  A short while later, the desk was scattered with screwed up pieces of notepaper. Each new copy was no better than the previous. He gathered up the paper and was about to dump it in the waste paper basket when he hesitated. He put the basket against the wall, a metre of so to the left of the door.

  Returning to his seat, he picked up a ball of paper, judged its weight for a moment in his hand, aimed for the basket and fired. It hit the wall, bounced off the rim of the basket and rested on the floor. It didn’t matter; he had plenty more balls. By the time the desk was cleared, more paper had gone in the basket than what had missed. He left them there; he’d pick them up later.

  Feeling a bit fresher, he poured another coffee and continued with his writing. His thoughts were clearer, more organised, although every sheet seemed to have the same fate.

  * * *

  McReidy beeped the office door. There was no answer. She beeped again. Still no answer. “Are you sure he’s in there?”

  Giacomo was back on duty and had the bridge. “He has to be. Gillespie said he didn’t come out.”

  The door wasn’t locked. McReidy opened it and cautiously stepped inside. It closed behind her. The floor was littered with screwed up paper. The waste paper basket was more than half full. John sat behind the desk, leaning over it, his head resting in his arms.

  “Commander?” McReidy spoke tentatively, creeping silently up to the desk. There was no answer. “John?” She could see he was asleep.

  A pen poised precariously in his right hand was about to fall. The fresh sheet of paper under his hand was blank. His right cheek rested in the crook of his arm. His left hand rested on a screwed up piece of paper that had been smoothed out. With his fingers relaxed and gently curled, McReidy could see most of the writing.

  She moved around to read it better. A warm smile came over her as she read what she realised was a truly personal letter. His admiration and respect for Captain Decker showed in his words. She placed a hand gently over his, to lift it as she slid the rest of the letter in view.

  John jumped and she pulled back immediately. The pen dropped as he rubbed his eyes and glanced sideways up at her. Even in his half awake state, he guessed that she was reading his letter. Her deep blush confirmed it.

  “Any good?” he drawled.

  “I wouldn’t change a word.”

  John lifted his head. His hand rose immediately to his forehead, his eyes squinted shut. There was no pain; his head felt heavy. He sighed, slowly opening his eyes. “What time is it?”

  “Time you were in bed.”

  He knew better, but couldn’t resist the innuendo. “Why, McReidy, I didn’t know you cared.”

  “I don’t,” she answered firmly.

  He watched her for a moment, wondering if she’d start an argument. She didn’t.

  His eyes hurt and his head threatened to thump again. If he looked as bad as he felt, he must be a real mess. He pushed himself upright.

  “Give me a while to clean up and we’ll see what’s happening.”

  “It’s a stalemate. They wait. We wait.”

  “Suits me. Tell Gillespie… Is he on duty?”

  “No,” she shook her head. “Giacomo, myself and Lieutenant Tan at communications.”

  “Tell Tan to start eavesdropping. First excuse, we’re out of here.”

  “Eavesdrop?” McReidy lifted an eyebrow.

  “We eavesdrop on all communications within our range. First request for assistance on any grounds and we make ourselves available. It gives us a legitimate
excuse for leaving.” He paused and turned his attention back to the letter in front of him. He picked it up and glanced over its contents. “You really think it’s all right?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  McReidy headed back onto the bridge as John’s fingers flew over the keyboard. It only took him a few minutes to type the letter; only seconds to send all five to their destination. He flicked the screen off and stood up. His neck was stiff and his back ached. Sleeping at desks was something he would not recommend.

  He looked down at his crumpled uniform. Ohh, that would have earned him a lecture from the captain.

  He cleaned himself up, but the uniform was going to have to stay. He’d grab a clean one from his quarters after he checked their current status.

  There was nothing of any value to report, although Tan had picked up mention of Magellan. He had only managed to pick up the end of it, but believed it was directed at Ark Royal. He had been unable to find out the location.

  John was still for a moment as he considered this speck of information. Ark Royal was the largest carrier in the fleet. Why should she be concerned over Magellan? There had to be something else going on.

  “Sir, call coming in from Fleet Command,” Tan informed him. “It’s not listed as private.”

  “Put it through,” John braced himself for the onslaught.

  He sighed with relief as the respondent wasn’t Admiral Powers. He’d had a run in too many with the commander-in-chief and wished to avoid him at all costs. This officer identified himself as Colonel Chow.

  “It seems you are having some difficulties,” Chow began.

  “I will not endanger the rest of the crew. I do not consider the safety standards to be satisfactory and –”

  Chow put up his hand and silenced John. “I am not here to argue with you. You still have the Magellan survivors?”

  “Yes.” John’s mind ticked over rapidly. He knew that something was definitely up.

  “How long will it take you to come in?”

  John quickly did the mental calculation. “About a week.” He couldn’t hide the puzzlement in his voice.

  Chow wasn’t going to explain. “Your orders are to return to Kuiper immediately. There is a captains’ meeting in eight days time and it is necessary to have the survivors here beforehand.”

  “May I ask –?”

  “You have your orders.”

  Chow signed off.

  Still trying to figure out the reason behind it, John suddenly realised the crew were waiting for him.

  “Plot a course for home and take us out of orbit.” He turned and smiled at Tan. “Mister Tan, please inform the miners that we have been ordered home.” It gave him great pleasure to be leaving.

  “Yes, sir,” Tan grinned.

  “Course plotted,” Giacomo advised.

  “Take us to light speed as soon as we’re clear.” John was happy to be doing something positive at last.

  * * *

  The days passed quickly. Sick bay was avoided by all the crew unless they had a need to go there. John knew he should check on the injuries, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. Every time he got near sick bay, his stomach churned and he turned away. He figured Dunlop would notify him if he needed to know anything.

  As much as he considered his action cowardly, all bar one of the engineers was back at work within days. The man would pull through, but a fractured skull would need time.

  The loss of the captain affected them all. Giacomo stepped up and took on the new responsibilities he was given. Tan was efficient. Humphries tried to fill the void, but he second guessed his actions and John couldn’t leave him on his own. McReidy and Gillespie fitted in easily and both preferred anything to doing nothing.

  John worked a duty roster around them all.

  Engineering was the problem area. John hadn’t selected another chief engineer. He believed they would sort themselves out by rank and continue with their jobs. It didn’t happen and he had to break up a few physical confrontations. He knew it was stress related. Those caught in the cave in had reassessed their own mortality.

  Being relieved from duty was the last thing they needed. So was putting them on official report. And a trip to sick bay for a sedative or suggested counselling set nerves on end.

  “Time,” Dunlop told John as they had a drink in the bar a couple of days later. “Or I’ll put a sedative in the air duct and knock them all out for you.”

  The suggestion brought a smile to John.

  “Don’t worry.”

  John found comfort in the doctor’s hand as it clamped onto and squeezed his shoulder.

  “I’m keeping an eye on them… And everyone else.”

  John felt the comment was directed at him.

  “The Magellan crew lost their captain and their ship as well,” Dunlop deflected his intention. “I think a service might be in order.”

  John didn’t answer, focusing on his drink.

  “It’ll help everyone. Give them all a chance to express themselves and get stuff out of their system.”

  A short message over the intercom and it was organised for the next day. John gave a small eulogy. He’d struggled for hours that night thinking of something to say and ended up giving an unprepared speech. It appeared to have the desired affect. As he reflected back on it later that day, he couldn’t remember a word of it.

  Shock, Dunlop told him. He did however feel much better.

  McReidy had wanted to say a few words regarding Magellan, only getting as far as, “I can’t do this.” Gillespie and Kowalski shook their heads, finding their boots of immense interest at the mere suggestion of saying anything.

  Red shared a few anecdotes about his fellow engineers, which brought awkward amusement and lightened the mood.

  The tone of the ship lightened, a sedative through the air system was not required and John found the courage to visit Crocker and his fractured skull in sick bay.

  * * *

  As they neared Kuiper, John became anxious. He had one job left before they arrived. It was something he wished he could pass on to someone else – packing up the captain’s personal belongings. Every time he had passed the captain’s quarters he had stopped at the door, glanced hesitatingly at it, and changed his mind. Later, he had thought. Now, he was running out of time. The newly assigned captain would expect to move straight in.

  With only a day to spare, John stood two metres from the door, his hands on his hips.

  “This is ridiculous,” he told himself, shaking his head slightly. His mind made up, he stepped to the door and opened it. The room smelt musty. He left the door open and turned on the ventilation.

  He had been in touch with Decker’s family and arrangements had been made for one of his brothers to collect the belongings. All John had to do was pack and deliver them to the registrar.

  First, he pulled the pictures down from the wall and stacked them neatly on the desk. Then he seemed to switch into automatic, sorting and packing without being fully aware of what he was doing. He was in the middle of emptying out the desk drawers when McReidy walked in.

  “I thought I might find you here.”

  “What’s wrong?” John asked, suddenly thinking there must be another minor crisis that needed sorting out.

  “Nothing,” she answered, sitting down in a chair similar to the one in the bridge office.

  John sat on the corner of the desk, the only clear spot he could find, and eyed her curiously.

  “I thought you might like some company,” she explained, but went no further.

  “Not at the moment. Maybe later, when I’m finished.” He looked around at the meagre possessions. “It’s not much to show for a lifetime, is it? A couple of boxes of stuff.”

  “How long had he been here?”

  “About eight or nine years. With a name like Bismarck, he always thought she deserved better than transporting cargo.” John stood up and walked around behind the desk. Pulling out the next drawer, he upended it into the box
he had been filling.

  “Why are you tearing yourself up about this?” she asked.

  His mood changed instantly, his eyes turned cold with guilt.

  “Because it’s my fault,” came the hard answer. “He shouldn’t have been down there. It wasn’t his responsibility.”

  “It was his choice.”

  “Don’t you understand?” John’s voice was becoming louder. “As first officer, my first duty is to ensure the captain’s safety.”

  She was on her feet; her voice matched his. “You think I don’t know that? I left Captain Barrett on the bridge to die so we could escape.”

  “That was different.”

  “Well you tell me how!”

  They were in a stalemate. Eye to eye, separated only by a desk, as suppressed guilt and anger surfaced and slammed at each other.

  McReidy was first to break away. She dropped her eyes and turned to the door.

  “Hey,” John’s voice was once again soft. “I’m sorry.”

  She turned back, met by an unconvincing reassuring smile.

  “Truce?” he asked.

  “Truce,” she agreed.

  Back to top

  Chapter four

  John put the Kuiper space station on the main screen. At first sight, it was a speck in space, increasing in size as they neared it until the ships coming and going looked like specks. Traffic was light. A couple of transports were running in the commercial lanes, but the station was full. All the external docking wings had ships hanging off them like flies. Carriers, cruisers, destroyers, frigates… Fleet’s biggest and best were there with a purpose.

  “What is going on?” Giacomo looked from the helm to the screen.

  McReidy turned from navigation to John. He shook his head.

  “Find out where they want us, Mister Gillespie,” John instructed.