When the Dust Settled

by Jeannie Meekins

  “So how do you like being an ambassador?” John asked.

  “Are you kidding?” Mark was more relaxed now that he was in his own quarters. “The opportunities one has to advance humanity, the millions of races out there as yet undiscovered –”

  “How do you like being an ambassador?” John repeated. He read Mark equally as well.

  “I hate it,” Mark confessed sighing. “The constant arguing and petty bickering that goes on. If they’d only try to accept each other a bit and get on… Ah, well, you’re not here to discuss my problems. I’m sorry I was late. The meeting ran overtime.”

  “Meeting?” McReidy asked.

  “We don’t run by your schedule. We hold our meetings when it suits us.” Mark slid a chair from around behind his desk to join the two in the lounge area. “Would you like a drink? I know I need one!”

  Mark moved effortlessly as though he floated across the room. He had a bottle and three glasses on the coffee table and was settling in his chair at almost the same time that it took McReidy to sit down.

  “Is that what I think it is?” John asked as Mark poured.

  McReidy picked up her glass and took a sip. She almost dropped it, coughing and spluttering, and gasping in air. Both men appeared to ignore her distress.

  “Betelian wine,” Mark continued. He took a long sip, leaning back in his chair. “I acquired a taste for it a few years ago.”

  McReidy’s gagging eased and he turned his attention to her.

  “It gets better. By the time you finish the glass you won’t notice it.”

  McReidy took another sip, as though his words had instructed her to do so.

  John remembered his first experience with Betelian wine. His reaction was almost identical to McReidy’s. He sipped slowly, the green liquid burning his throat.

  “What do you know?” Mark asked.

  “There’s a lot of ships here and a lot of strange things going on. At least five ships have been destroyed without a trace.”

  “Five?” McReidy queried.

  “If you want to find out something, don’t hang around admirals,” John told her, then turned back to Mark. “Magellan is the only one that had survivors –”

  Mark turned from John to McReidy, effectively cutting him off. “Tell me what happened.”

  “It’s in my report,” she answered.

  “I don’t have access to your reports.”

  “Just tell him what you told me,” John tried to be helpful.

  McReidy started at the beginning. Mark listened silently without interrupting. When she finished, he remained silent.

  “And that’s all you remember?” he spoke at last.

  “Yes.”

  “What sort of ship was it that attacked you?”

  “I don’t know. It was… big.”

  “You saw it. You must remember it.”

  “Only for a fraction of a second.”

  “That’s long enough for the brain to retain an image. Anything about it would be helpful.”

  She tried to remember, but all she could put together were bits and pieces.

  “That might be enough,” Mark hoped.

  “Do you really think it’s possible that it is Rache?” John asked, a sudden chill setting in.

  “Quite probable,” Mark answered.

  “But he was killed during the overthrow.”

  “It was never confirmed.”

  “That still doesn’t explain the other ships.”

  “No, it doesn’t. And you are not the only ones who’ve lost ships. The Antarians are still looking for one of theirs. Some minor outposts are gone. All within the past few months and all towards the outer edge of the galaxy, towards Andromeda. The Betelians have a ship investigating at the moment. So, too, I believe, is the Ark Royal.”

  “She’s due in some time tonight,” John added.

  “I wondered why you looked so happy,” Mark smiled, then turned back to the matter at hand. “Unconfirmed rumour has it that Rache retreated to Andromeda. He seems to have found some friends powerful enough to make good on his threats. And if he’s after you,” he stared directly at John, “I would be very careful.”

  John stared into his empty glass. Coming from Mark, the warning seemed to carry a lot of weight.

  “I think we’ve taken up enough of your time.” John put his glass on the coffee table and stood up to leave, swaying slightly on his feet. He guessed he must have had one too many drinks. The thought that Mark’s words had unsettled him never entered his mind.

  “Then I will see you at the meeting tomorrow morning.” Mark stood up and showed them to the door. “A pleasure to see you, Lieutenant Commander.”

  “And you,” she returned, smiling politely.

  The door closed behind them.

  “Why does he make me feel like that?” McReidy hissed uncomfortably when they were halfway down the corridor.

  “Like what?” John asked, completely oblivious.

  “Like…” she tried to search for the right words. “Like… aaagh!” was the only way she could describe it.

  John laughed softly. “Because he’s good at it.” A moment later he added, “Don’t you think he makes a good ambassador?”

  “I think…” She thought about it for a moment. “It suits him perfectly.”

  * * *

  The meeting began early next morning. The conference room was full of brass. Nothing lower than a ship’s captain – except John. Some looked like they had consumed a little too much alcohol the previous night. Booth looked a little worse for wear, his eyes heavy. Bustlethwaite rolled her eyes in disgust. Mikhailovich was leaning back in his chair, his arms folded across his chest, having a quiet sleep. Beside him, Pemberton of the Independence was tapping his pen on his notepad, jotting down brief notes. Most of the others seemed content to merely listen.

  Harcourt of the Ark Royal was conspicuous by his absence.

  Powers was chairing the meeting. He rambled on, as he usually did. He had his own opinions and believed in voicing them before hearing from anyone else.

  John was at the far end of the table from Admiral Powers, seated between two captains who he knew only by name and the ship insignias they wore on their collars – Carmichael of Canberra and Manning of Exeter.

  John picked up his pen, holding it by the ends with each hand, rolling it with his fingertips. His eyes remained focused on the pen, lifting every now and then to gauge the opinions of others. He refused to look at Powers. The cutting stare he had received when he arrived was over McReidy; he was sure of that.

  Finally, Powers stopped talking. No one else spoke.

  John ventured a sideways glance to the admiral. Powers was whispering with an aide. His face turned white. If he hadn’t been sitting, he would have fallen. He brushed the aide away and quickly regained his composure.

  “What is it?” Jordan asked. He sat beside Powers and spoke softly. In the sudden silence that had enveloped the room, it was as though he had shouted.

  Powers cleared his throat. “Ark Royal never made it to the jump gate. She’s been confirmed destroyed.”

  The words echoed in John’s ears. He didn’t hear any more. The pen in his fingers was still.

  Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe. The room closed in on him; the collar of his jacket choked him. He was in a cold sweat. He had to get out of there. He rose to his feet and headed for the door. Somewhere in the distance, he thought he heard Powers call him back.

  The door slammed behind him. He flung himself back against the wall, sliding down it to the floor. His head in his hands dropped to his knees. He didn’t hear the footsteps along the corridor that stopped in front of him.

  “I’m sorry about Laura.” Mark’s deep voice was unusually soft.

  “Why didn’t you tell me last night?” John’s head rose.

  “I only just found out.”

  “They said she never made it to the jump gate.”

  “She made it,” Mark confirmed. “She destroyed it.�
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  He rubbed his hand uncomfortably across his brow as John stared up blankly at him.

  “Look… There’s more to it. Come back in when you’re ready.”

  “I can’t go back in there.” That was the last thing John felt like doing.

  “You have to.”

  The door opened to the noise of a dozen voices speaking over the top of each other. Mark entered, leaving John sitting against the wall trying to breathe.

  When John returned to the room, discussion had turned into argument. Mark stood at the head of the table where he had skilfully taken away Powers’ authority. The admiral’s colour had returned and was quickly deepening.

  Mikhailovich was wide awake and Pemberton was leaning back in his chair, giving himself some distance as he observed. Carmichael rose to his feet and began to loudly state his opinions.

  “Sit down.” Mark refused to allow anyone to take control from him.

  His words were ignored as Carmichael continued to rant.

  “Sit down!” Mark commanded in a tone that allowed no answer.

  There was immediate silence as all discussion stopped. Carmichael’s mouth remained open in mid sentence. He closed it and sat.

  Mark continued in a calmer tone. “Quite frankly, no one knows what’s going on out there –”

  “I’m quite sure we can handle it on our own.” Powers tried to take back the meeting.

  “No, you can’t.” Mark refused to let him. “Do you think you’re the only ones losing ships –?”

  John silently crept back to his seat. Mark nodded slightly to acknowledge his return without missing a word of his speech. Only Manning spared him a brief glance, catching movement out of the corner of his eye as John slipped back into his chair. Carmichael was too preoccupied with his own admonishment.

  “At least twenty ships are gone. All destroyed before they could even send out a distress signal. From what we have been able to put together, whoever is responsible has a technology beyond our own.”

  “And who, may I ask, are ‘we’?” It was Powers again.

  “The other ambassadors.”

  Powers snorted with contempt.

  “At least we are working together for our mutual benefit instead of behaving like a spoilt, egotistical brat.” Mark eyed Powers.

  Not what he’d said the night before, John remembered, his focus now clearer.

  The admiral cracked. His face turned red with fury and he rose to his feet. “Why you –! If I had my way –”

  “You have no authority over me,” Mark threw back. “And unless you wish to see the rest of your fleet wiped out, I suggest you listen to the proposals put forward.” He turned to speak to the entire room, his eyes connecting with every man there. “The Antarians and Betelians will fly with you. Emperor Komodo has offered four cruisers and two battleships. The Centauri’s wish to remain neutral. They won’t do anything unless their own world is directly under threat. Unfortunately, they have great influence. The Denebs are waiting to see what you will do. The Hamal, Algol and Alpheratz systems are offering support.”

  Mark paused, allowing the gravity of his words to sink in. The silence indicated they were.

  “I’m afraid I need an answer as soon as possible.”

  Powers cleared his throat. Everyone expected him to speak.

  Jordan rose to his feet first. “Gentlemen, I believe we have no choice. Yorktown spent six months along that perimeter. None of the civilisations were that advanced. An attack of this enormity could only have come from outside our galaxy.”

  “That does appear to be correct,” Mark added.

  “An extragalactical invasion?” Simpson asked.

  “Taking out everything in its path,” Bustlethwaite repeated thoughtfully.

  “Then we must do something.” Powers was back in control. “Tell Emperor Komodo we will match his six ships. I will speak with him directly once this meeting is over.”

  Mark was dismissed. It didn’t matter; his role was finished. “I will pass on your message.” He strode quickly from the room.

  Powers was deep in thought. The room waited for him. The admiral knew where every ship in the fleet was – or should be. He scribbled some notes, switched on the console in front of him and tapped away in the silence.

  A brief consultation with Jordan on one side and Simpson on the other had both men nodding in agreement.

  Powers looked up, zeroing in on John. “Madison,” he spoke civilly, but begrudgingly.

  “Sir?” John couldn’t avoid looking at him.

  “Bismarck is yours for now –”

  John couldn’t stop the smile that covered his face.

  “I need some scouts out there and I don’t have another captain to spare.”

  “But, sir, we’re five crewman short,” John blurted out.

  “Keep the Magellan crew. You’ve got a first officer and an engineer among them. You leave,” Powers checked his watch, “in twelve hours.”

  John didn’t want to point out that still left them short and Powers was now talking to the frigate captain Manning.

  John decided that the ship was being considered an expendable risk. He would later find out that he was wrong. Powers knew what he did not. Bismarck was one of the fastest ships in the fleet. She would arrive in the area days before the bigger ships. Hopefully, with her small size, she could avoid what they would not.

  Back to top

  Chapter five

  John’s first job when he got back to Bismarck was to check the weapons capabilities. What he found did not satisfy him. He also realised he had no personnel fully trained in their use. He checked the computer banks. There must be an operating manual in there somewhere. There was, but it only covered what he had learnt at the academy. Since then, he had had very little practical use for them. All that was about to change. And if the rest of the crew knew as little as he did, they were all in serious trouble.

  Powers had given him twelve hours to move out. The crew’s twenty four hour leave would end in seven. He saw no reason to cut anyone’s leave short.

  McReidy’s silence as he contacted her and informed her that she was staying on Bismarck told him exactly what she thought of the idea. Kowalski was delighted and Gillespie was reticent.

  John contacted all senior officers and relevant department heads and set up a meeting on their return. That gave him time to do some homework. A bit of background research might help, and it suddenly occurred to him who may have some answers.

  The bar was deserted. Soghra was doing an inventory. A load of new supplies had arrived and he would check every individual bottle to ensure he hadn’t been cheated. He had learnt the hard way that aliens were not always treated as equal as humans and had developed a cunning that would have pleased Gillespie.

  “What brings you down here, Commander?” Soghra asked without looking up from his invoice.

  “I’d like to talk,” John answered, unsure of what he wanted to say.

  “Talk. You are not disturbing me.”

  “Are they still trying to rip you off?” John changed the subject.

  Soghra sighed heavily and put his invoice down. He leaned on the counter and looked up at John. “You did not come down here to discuss my invoices. And since it appears I will not get any work done with you here, what do you want?”

  “You’ve travelled a fair bit, haven’t you?” John tried to sound casual.

  “I’ve done my share.”

  “Ever been out of the galaxy?”

  “Once or twice.”

  “Where to?”

  “Where would you like it to have been?” Soghra was smart enough to know John’s interest was more than casual.

  “Where would you say we stand at the moment? Compared with your own observations?”

  “Commander,” Soghra began slowly. “I have been alive for more than one hundred of your years. During that time I have seen great advances in your people. But I have also seen things that you have not yet dreamed of.”
r />   John was quiet.

  “Does that answer your question?”

  John nodded. “Yes… I believe it does.” He could feel Soghra’s eyes staring right through him. Spying a case of scotch, his tone lightened. “I’d check that scotch over there,” he nodded towards the case. “They don’t like letting that stuff go.”

  This time it was Soghra’s turn to act defensively. “Lieutenant Gillespie assured me it was top quality.”

  John smiled. “In that case, it probably is.” Having said all he wanted to, he turned to leave.

  “Commander?”

  The tone was hopeful and John half turned back in answer.

  “Next time, maybe you could bring that lovely female back. She does brighten the room so.”

  John ignored the comment. If it was meant to get under his skin, it didn’t. It surprised him the attention that appeared to be lavished on McReidy – Soghra, Nickolai, Powers. If he had bothered to notice, it was no more than a lot of other female officers had to contend with.

  Back to the bridge and he accessed Kuiper’s computers for a full weapons analysis. A quick scan told him it would take days to learn all he needed to know. Bismarck’s weapons were basic, her defence systems not much better. She could not withstand the type of attack he expected.

  He tried to figure out how he could update the systems. A complete refit would be ideal, but he didn’t have the time or the crew. Instead, he went back to basics; something he always did when he had no answer. He looked again at what he had. This time, he settled on what he could make out of it. Knowing he was short of time, he downloaded all the information Kuiper would allow into Bismarck’s computer.

  What he really wanted more than anything was a top class engineer. “I wish I had Delaney,” he muttered under his breath.

  Anthony Delaney was the one man who could make the impossible possible. John smiled as he remembered how he had rebuilt Magellan after the engine core had melted. With nothing but emergency generators barely able to sustain life support, he had managed to recrystallise the core and coax the engines back to life.

  Along with Sean Daniels, the three of them had caused Admiral Powers much grief and embarrassment. It had only been the support from the Betelian emperor Komodo that had saved John from the court martial verdict. Complete isolation from his friends and exile to Bismarck had been his only penalty.