When the Dust Settled

by Jeannie Meekins

  “Yes, sir.” Gillespie contacted the station and made the relevant inquiries. “Bay three. They want her beside Canberra.”

  “Drop back to half speed, Giacomo,” John told the pilot.

  “Half speed, sir. Moving up on bay three,” Giacomo acknowledged.

  The main doors were open; the station now filled the entire screen. As they cruised in, the doors closed behind them and the airlock door opened. The internal lighting showed up like a runway.

  “Quarter speed.”

  “Quarter speed, sir.”

  John was quiet for a moment before changing his mind. “Take her off auto and bring us in manually.”

  Giacomo began to squirm uncomfortably in his chair. “I’ve never docked manually.”

  “You’ve got to learn some time.”

  Giacomo lifted his head momentarily and mumbled something incomprehensible. John smiled.

  “It’s all theory. I’ll take you through it. Cut main engines, bring her in on thrusters.”

  Giacomo obeyed.

  “Just let her glide. Whatever you do, don’t hit Canberra.”

  Theoretically, Giacomo knew how to dock. His responses to John’s instructions were automatic. They slid past Canberra and almost overshot the mark. Giacomo corrected, though they touched the dock with too much forward momentum. Docking finished with a heavy jolt as the ship came to rest.

  “Sorry, sir,” Giacomo apologised.

  “You’ll get better,” John told him.

  Giacomo still had a strangle hold on the controls. He released his grip, looked at his sweaty palms and hurriedly wiped his hands on his thighs.

  “Docking bay, this is Bismarck. We have landed,” John spoke evenly.

  “Docking bay confirmed landing. Welcome home, Bismarck.”

  John switched Kuiper off and switched on the intercom. “Attention all crew. I want a security team on board at all times. Make sure you have checked the roster. Mister Kowalski, to the bridge. All other personnel have twenty four hours shore leave. Madison out.”

  McReidy turned to John. “Security team on a docked ship?”

  He shrugged. “Call me paranoid.”

  She nodded lightly and turned back to her console.

  “Giacomo, take off,” he instructed. “I’ve got first shift. I want you back in eight.”

  “Sir,” Giacomo answered, but didn’t move.

  John’s gaze shifted between McReidy and Gillespie. “You two have got a certain admiral to see. Good luck with that.”

  He leaned back in the chair. The commander-in-chief would never be his favourite person and he was glad he didn’t have to front the admiral.

  Gillespie tossed his earphone onto the console, relaxed back in his seat and stared at the far wall. McReidy’s face screwed up as she tensed.

  “Hey, you did nothing wrong,” Giacomo put a hand on her shoulder.

  “Giacomo,” John spoke.

  “Sir?” he turned to John.

  “Go.” John hitched a thumb over his shoulder towards the door.

  Giacomo opened his mouth as if to make an excuse, then sighed. “Yes, sir.” He turned back to McReidy. “Been a pleasure. Take care.”

  “You too,” she smiled.

  He got to his feet. “Goodbye, Steve.”

  Gillespie waved a hand in acknowledgement.

  Giacomo passed Kowalski on the way out; the pair exchanging brief goodbyes. The young engineer stood just inside the doorway, fidgeting and staring at his boots.

  “You’re not in trouble this time, Sam,” John told him.

  “I know, but…”

  John straightened up in his chair. “You will be if you keep the admiral waiting.”

  The comment struck all three of them. McReidy was on her feet and headed to the door. Gillespie waited a second longer before joining them.

  The main screen came on, stopping them in their tracks.

  “Ah, Commander,” Colonel Chow greeted him. “I’m glad I caught you before you left the ship. Admiral Powers has requested your presence at tomorrow’s meeting.”

  “Why me?” John asked, not expecting an answer.

  “In the absence of a captain, you are the current commanding officer,” Chow explained. “At this stage, I don’t know when a new captain is likely to be assigned. That is not my responsibility. However it is my responsibility to inform you that both Lieutenant Commander McReidy and yourself are requested to attend a formal reception this evening.”

  John raised a fist to his forehead as his face screwed up in anguish. “I would prefer to be excused.”

  “Not an option.”

  John dropped his hand. “What time?”

  “Nineteen thirty hours.”

  John glanced at his watch. He still had a couple of hours and a call he had to make, and he’d have to change the roster. Tan wasn’t due to take over from him for four hours.

  Chow was still talking, but not to John; his attention on McReidy. “An escort is standing by to take the three of you to Admiral Powers.”

  “Yes, sir,” she answered.

  * * *

  It was almost nineteen thirty hours when John arrived for the reception. A formal occasion required dress uniform. The long red jacket was stiff, the gold braided collar felt tight around his throat. He ran his finger around the inside to loosen it slightly, to no avail. At least with Decker around, he knew his uniforms were always spotless. His polished black boots shone, but he found himself quickly shining them against the back of his leg – a habit he hadn’t realised he had developed.

  The reception hall was in one of the newer wings. Built to impress visiting dignitaries, its ceilings were much higher than necessary. Chandeliers dangled, the candlelight illusions throwing shards of light throughout the hall. A copy of the Bayeax tapestry covered one wall. At least, John figured it was a copy. He couldn’t see France letting go of the real thing just to stick it on a space station.

  Kuiper was also home to a number of alien dignitaries. About a dozen worlds had sent ambassadors to negotiate and represent them in treaty, trade and other matters. They had their own wing and rarely set foot outside it.

  John considered the hall a waste of space and money on a station that struggled to fit the fleet’s biggest ships.

  The reception was for captains and first officers only. All officers were allowed to bring a guest. Some of the captains chose to do so. First officers wouldn’t be caught dead doing so.

  The place was full of uniforms; gold braid and insignias catching in the chandelier light. There were nearly as many sparkling guests, each seemed determined to complement their partner and outshine all the other guests. Some hung off an arm – at least for a polite amount of time – before gathering in their own groups.

  First officers were a breed among themselves. They remained out of their respective captain’s way, but attentive enough that a glance or raised hand would have them in immediate attendance.

  Waiters skilfully manoeuvred the room with trays of drinks above their heads, responding immediately to a raised hand or a click of fingers. A buffet and a bar – for those whose tastes went beyond champagne or wine – ran along one wall. Waste seemed to extend to a good proportion of the station’s fresh food supplies with plenty of salads – the women’s choice – breads and pastries, and a selection of hot meats and vegetables.

  As John surveyed the room, he saw McReidy deep in conversation with a bunch of uniforms he didn’t recognise. Her eyes smiled warmly as she acknowledged his presence from across the room and he figured her grilling that afternoon hadn’t been too bad. He nodded, returning her smile.

  He glanced at his watch. Two hours before he was due to meet with Mark. He figured he could suffer two hours reasonably painlessly. His attendance may have been required, but that didn’t mean he had to do any more than turn up. He had no intention of putting himself in the path of any of the big boys.

  He spotted Powers with Kirov’s Captain Mikhailovich. The admiral’s glances oversa
w the room, but seemed to linger slightly on some of the women. John instinctively ducked his head and turned away, running into the eyeline of Hood’s commander, Admiral Bustlethwaite. He nodded formally though the admiral had enough uniforms orbiting her that she probably didn’t notice him. Still, it never hurt to be too formal – just in case.

  Eavesdropping wasn’t only reserved for the ship and he mingled into a dozen conversations that told him nothing about what was going on. In fact, wherever a woman was concerned, she seemed to be the focus of the conversation.

  He drifted to the bar; a rum and Coke in order. He relaxed as the waiter poured his drink, his gaze scanning the room and settling on the buffet. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but he’d missed dinner and the aromas were tempting. Roast pork bites and fresh apple sauce was too hard to resist and warm damper was preferable to the breads.

  As John popped the first sauce covered bite into his mouth, he heard his name called.

  “Hey, Madison. Over here.”

  He turned around and spotted a couple of familiar faces. With mouth and hands full, he nodded acknowledgement and made his way towards them.

  “How are you?” Tim asked, offering his hand.

  John swallowed the mouthful and swapped everything to his left hand before shaking Tim’s hand. “Fine thanks. You?”

  “Could be worse,” Tim shrugged, then one side of his face dropped. “Sorry about Decker.”

  “Thanks.” John’s gut tightened. He didn’t need to think about that tonight.

  “Liam… Nickolai.” John exchanged greetings and commiserations with the others.

  “What’s going on?” Tim asked. “There’s at least a dozen ships here. And I’m not talking small things like yours. Cruisers, destroyers… freaking carriers.”

  John finished his drink and shook his head. “I’ve no idea.”

  “You must know something,” came a voice from behind him.

  John turned around, taking a step sideways as the newcomer joined the conversation, the man’s eyes remained on him.

  “After all, you did pick up the Magellan crew.”

  John remained silent. He didn’t know the man and wasn’t giving out anything.

  The officer’s demeanour softened. “Paul Stirling, Independence,” he identified himself, offering his hand.

  John took it. “What makes you think I’d know anything?”

  “It’s the only ship that’s had survivors.”

  “I believe you have me at a disadvantage.”

  Stirling quickly glanced around before waving John closer. The group huddled in as he lowered his voice. “About a month ago, we were out running escort for a new colony. We were supposed to meet up with Oakland. They’d done the preliminary groundwork and were to hand over their findings to the colonists. When we got to the rendezvous point, they didn’t show. All we found was some debris that was identified as being part of the ship.”

  Tim took up the story. “Oakland’s not the only one that’s mysteriously disappeared. There’s at least three more that I know of. Something… or someone has got the top brass spooked.”

  John pulled back slightly and straightened up. “Ships don’t just disappear.” He didn’t convince himself let alone the others.

  “So what happened to Magellan?” Tim asked.

  “She was attacked without warning and destroyed for no apparent reason.”

  “They must have told you something else. Something that’s not in the official report. She was your ship,” Tim persisted.

  “That was a number of years ago. Besides, McReidy and I don’t exactly get on too well.” John avoided a direct answer.

  “Well, it looks like she’s getting on pretty well over there,” Nickolai nodded across the room.

  They all turned to see McReidy surrounded by admirals.

  John recognised four of them immediately: Powers, Booth, Jordan and Simpson. All that was needed was Harcourt and his court martial board was complete. Even at a glance, he could see McReidy’s discomfort. He had noticed her talking to Powers earlier. There had been a respectful distance between them. Now, Powers was at her side, invading her space. Any closer and he would have been touching her. His voice was low enough that she sometimes had to lean towards him to hear properly.

  John felt a sense of resentment and turned back to his companions. Nickolai continued to gaze at longingly in McReidy’s direction.

  “I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” Liam told them. “Ark Royal’s due in early tomorrow morning.”

  A flicker of warmth ignited inside John.

  “This whole meeting’s set around her schedule. Oh… I’ve got to go.” Liam noticed his captain looking for him. He ducked past John and was at the man’s side within seconds.

  Liam’s departure ended the topic. John bailed up a waiter. Stirling and Nickolai joined him in a drink. Tim refused, then changed his mind and took two glasses.

  “Looks like my luck’s changed,” he excused himself, heading towards a blonde who had been eyeing him all night.

  John’s gaze followed him to the sparkly guest – long legs, long hair, dark alluring eyes.

  “Ten bucks says she thumps him within five minutes,” John commented.

  Stirling smiled. “You’re on.”

  Nickolai shook his head. “No. No betting on a woman’s mind.”

  They checked their watches.

  Five minutes later, they all flinched, as though the woman’s slap to Tim’s face had struck them all.

  John held out his hand. “Pay up.”

  “I don’t have it on me –” Stirling began.

  “Forget it,” John told him.

  During those five minutes, John had spent as much time watching McReidy as he had Tim. Powers had gone too far. His arm had slid around McReidy’s waist, holding her almost possessively. She appeared unable to escape from his grip and the polite smile on her face was becoming strained. No one else appeared to notice.

  John gulped down the last mouthful of drink and mumbled some sort of excuse to his companions. A passing waiter took his glass as he headed straight towards McReidy. His mouth was open before he knew what he was going to say.

  “Lieutenant Commander, I’m glad I found you. I’ve checked up on that urgent matter you wanted.” He was beside her; a hand on her elbow gently guided her away from Powers.

  She turned at the sound of his voice, a confused look on her face. His eyes told her to play along.

  She followed his lead, turning to excuse herself. “If you will excuse me, sirs, I really must attend to this.”

  The admirals protested weakly, especially Powers whose hand slid from her waist. He grasped at her free arm, grabbing it just above the wrist. He was reluctant to let her go, complaining how dull the evening would be.

  John kept moving, avoiding the glare he knew Powers would be giving him. “I thought you’d want to know immediately. It did seem quite important –” he rambled on as he led McReidy out of earshot.

  “I could have handled it,” she growled, her voice low.

  “I know,” he answered, turning back to face her and risking a glance over her shoulder at the admirals. The room suddenly crowded in on him. His collar tightened and he swallowed hard. “Let’s blow this joint.”

  McReidy nodded.

  They turned to the door. John dropped his hand and let her lead, following close behind. It took them a few moments to weave their way through the crowd. The corridor outside was empty.

  She stood there, her hands on her hips, eyes cutting through his.

  “The man’s being a jerk,” he found himself on the defensive.

  “So you overreact. As usual. You think it’s the first time some guy’s hit on me?”

  “No, but –” He turned away, running his hand through his hair in frustration and wondering why he’d even bothered.

  “But…?” Her mood softened, her brow lifting in curiosity. “What happened?”

  He sighed, his hand dropping to his side as
he turned back to her. “I was expelled from medicine and he spent a week in traction.”

  “That hardly seems fair.”

  “On the contrary, I considered it quite reasonable. After all, he didn’t want it getting around that he was harassing students!”

  Her face creased as she tried to figure it out, but he wasn’t going to expand on the matter.

  He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to see someone. Do you want to come with me, or I could walk you back to… wherever?”

  She shrugged. “I’ve got nowhere else to be.”

  They took the lift to the ambassadorial wing. The alien artworks displayed along the corridor were the only indication this area was not inhabited by the human population. The ambassadors were free to mix with as much or as little of the general population as they wished. While their own wing was not out of bounds, humans rarely had the need to be there.

  John checked his bearings, counting the doors until he reached the right one and pressed the beeper. There was no answer. “He mustn’t be back yet,” he spoke to himself.

  “Who?” McReidy asked.

  “Mark,” John answered.

  McReidy swallowed hard. “You could have told me.”

  “Would you have changed your mind?” he smiled, leaning back against the wall. He had known Mark for most of his life and trusted him completely. And right now, he knew of no one who would have more answers.

  “I guess not,” she decided.

  They didn’t have to wait long. Mark came strolling along the corridor with the Antarian ambassador. He nodded acknowledgment to John, but continued his discussion at the Antarian’s doorway. After a farewell, he strode slowly towards John and McReidy.

  His dark eyes took in everything at a glance, seeming to stare right through any object. His entire face looked set in steel as he stopped next to John, standing a good six inches taller.

  “It’s good to see you again.” There was little emotion in the deep voice, but the handshake he offered John was warm. “Lieutenant Commander McReidy,” he acknowledged her.

  “Hello,” was all she could struggle to get out.

  “Please, come in.” He unlocked the door and showed them in, entering last and locking it behind them.