When the Dust Settled

by Jeannie Meekins

  With the image completed, Gillespie leaned back and looked at it. Wright turned his head to one side and looked at. Then turned his head to the opposite side and looked at it again. He scratched his head and frowned.

  “Well?” Gillespie asked.

  “I guess so. Looks right,” Wright decided.

  Kowalski and Red exchanged worried looks. They still had a long way to go yet.

  An image of Yorktown was harder. Red had difficulty remembering the ship’s firepower. Trying to piece it all together left a lot of blanks.

  “At least my memory’s complete,” Wright smirked.

  Red glared. “Achilles is a tug compared to that carrier.”

  “We’re not here to argue,” Gillespie reminded them, fully aware the engineering disputes hadn’t resolved.

  Comparing the two ships with the restrictions of Bismarck still gave them room to adjust. The engines would need complete overhauling to handle the increase in power that would be necessary. A knowing glance between Kowalski and Gillespie showed that they both remembered how fragile the engines really were.

  It was Kowalski’s turn to take the initiative. “We’ll overhaul secondary and emergency systems as well.”

  Gillespie nodded.

  “Can the ship run on backup and still have enough power to do these modifications?” Kowalski asked Red.

  “I dunno,” Red answered, scratching his head. “If we realign to the main power grid, we could tap most of the power while the main engines are offline. As long as we don’t get any unexpected surprises.”

  “Give me a list of supplies and I’ll see what I can do,” Gillespie took a notepad and pen out of an inside jacket pocket and passed it to Kowalski.

  Kowalski scribbled quickly and checked it with Red, who added a couple of items.

  “You’ve got under two hours,” Kowalski handed the notepad and pen back. “Where are you going to get all that from?”

  “That’s my problem,” Gillespie glanced at the list then tucked it back into his pocket. “I’m going to need you with me, Mister Wright. And have someone on standby in the transporter room. Some of this stuff might be awkward to move.”

  “How’s he going to manage that?” Red asked Kowalski, as Gillespie and Wright left the room.

  “I honestly don’t know,” Kowalski shook his head. “But he’ll get it somehow. Do you want a hand with the backups?”

  “Nah, it shouldn’t take too long. But you can run a check to make sure all systems are connected in.”

  With a plan in mind, they headed to engineering. The ship would be leaving dock with the main engines offline. As long as she was operating normally by then, it wouldn’t matter.

  * * *

  John had logged his flight plan and received approval. Giacomo, McReidy and Tan were on the bridge; the ship waiting for clearance.

  “Traffic control to Bismarck,” the main screen switched on to show the controller. “Clearance granted. Permission to switch engines on.”

  John switched on the intercom. “Engineering, are we right to switch on?”

  “Sir, Gillespie and Wright aren’t back yet,” Kowalski called over John’s communicator.

  “Where are they?” he demanded.

  “I don’t know,” Kowalski growled. The echo of his voice indicated he was in a small area. “They went to pick up a few things.”

  John didn’t want to have to look for Gillespie. If he wasn’t back when the ship was due out, it usually meant he was in trouble. “Giacomo, stall until I get back.”

  “Yes, sir,” Giacomo answered.

  John headed off the bridge and Giacomo looked up at the main screen. “We’ve got a small delay,” he apologised.

  John had no idea where to look. As he stormed down the corridor, he felt a sense of urgency. Gillespie’s methods were not always legal. More than once, he had found the man in a jail cell.

  He headed to the transporter room, knowing a lock on Gillespie’s communicator would give his whereabouts. As he neared the room, he had to slow, making way for a procession of crewmen carrying boxes and crates. The larger crates took four men to carry. John noted that Wright was with them as he pressed up against a wall to allow them past. Above it all, he could hear Gillespie’s voice.

  He crept to the doorway where Gillespie was supervising his “supplies”.

  “Engineering… Medical…” Gillespie compared every item to his list, instructing where it needed to go. “Weapons…”

  Gillespie flinched as Case crunched a box into a wall.

  “Careful with that! There’s explosive caps in it.”

  “Sorry,” Case apologised, adjusting his grip on the box and squeezing his way down the corridor.

  Gillespie caught John in his peripherals. “Oh, hi, Commander. Sorry we’re a bit late.”

  His light mood did nothing to dispel John’s temper. “Where have you been?”

  “Shopping. I had a few things to pick up. Careful with that,” he instructed as a long cylindrical object covered in a tarp was wheeled out the door.

  “Don’t tell me that’s a torpedo!”

  “Just a little one.” Gillespie held up one hand, showing John a small gap between his thumb and forefinger, indicating a small object.

  “You stole a torpedo!” All John’s instincts were right. Gillespie should have been in jail.

  “I didn’t steal it,” Gillespie defended himself. “I just… borrowed it.”

  “And when did you intend giving it back?” John’s temper flared and he held up his hands in defeat. “No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know anything about it. Just… get organised and… We’ve got clearance to leave and flight control wants us out.”

  Moving faster than the crewmen, he picked his way past them. He heard Gillespie call after him.

  “Tell McReidy I’ve got some of that shampoo she likes.”

  He raised a hand in acknowledgement and continued on his way. It was almost a relief to get to the bridge. At least things were normal there.

  John took the captain’s chair. “Flight control, we’re underway.”

  “Flight control acknowledged.”

  “Giacomo, take her out. Remember we’re on backup so she’ll probably be a bit sluggish.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  John switched the screen to the bay doors behind them. The airlock door opened.

  The ship disengaged from the dock and rose slowly. She inched in reverse alongside Canberra, turning a smooth one eighty when she was clear and gliding into the airlock. The door closed behind them, the outer doors opened and Bismarck slipped out of the bright bay into the dark beyond.

  “McReidy, Gillespie said to tell you he picked up some stuff for you,” John mumbled half heartedly. In the quiet of the bridge, his words travelled clearly to her.

  “Tell him thank you,” she smiled.

  As they cleared the station perimeter, Giacomo increased speed. The ship groaned loudly and responded slowly. The lights flickered, but held.

  “Engineering,” John called over the intercom. “Have we got light speed?”

  “I hope so,” Kowalski mumbled. “I mean, yes, sir, of course we have, sir. Give it a few moments for the power to kick in… Are we right, Red?”

  “Just about,” Red’s voice slowly filtered through. “Just as soon as I… there… that’s got it.”

  “Any time you’re ready, sir,” Kowalski told John. “Before you do, you might want to engage dampers. There could be a lot of vibration.”

  “Engage dampers,” John ordered. “Stand by for light speed.”

  Giacomo made the necessary adjustments. “Standing by.”

  “Go for it.”

  The ship groaned heavily and rocked. The lights held. The dampers steadied her, the noise died down. She was soon travelling with normal regularity.

  John knew his official orders would be locked into the captain’s personal computer in his office. There was no great hurry to read them. They weren’t going anywhere in a hu
rry until the main engines were back online.

  Back to top

  Chapter six

  Giacomo was in charge of the bridge when the alien ship came out of nowhere and fired at Bismarck. Gillespie detected it at security, but it fired before he could finish informing the pilot. The ship swayed violently. Giacomo hit the red alert button. The siren blared, calling the crew to battle stations.

  “Red alert. Shields up,” he ordered.

  “Direct hit on engineering. Shields are down to sixty five percent,” came the reply from McReidy at the helm.

  Giacomo froze for a second. All his well thought out strategies disappeared. McReidy anticipated his order and began employing manoeuvres as he spoke. The ship, shown clearly on the main screen in front of them, turned to face them and fire again.

  “Engage basic manoeuvres. Lock all weapons onto target. Fire when ready,” his orders came. “Kowalski, I want shields!”

  Kowalski’s voice coughed through the intercom. “Shields won’t hold… They’re draining more power… than they’re holding.”

  The two ships fired simultaneously. A direct hit on the bridge penetrated the shields. With reduced force, it struck helm control and navigation, which blew up in McReidy’s face. The blast sent her backwards out of her seat, an arm instinctively raised to protect her face, and she hit the floor heavily. Smoke poured from the console. The screen went blank. Giacomo was now blind to what was happening. He was soaked in a cold sweat.

  “Alien ship has moved location,” Gillespie informed him.

  “Keep weapons locked and return fire,” Giacomo ordered.

  McReidy was back on her feet, rubbing a sore shoulder. She lunged at the now useless helm; the ship was immobile. The console had stopped smoking; the fumes still stung her throat, causing her face to screw up. Hartford lay motionless across the navigation console, his eyes closed. The ship shook violently, and everything went black and silent.

  “Congratulations, Giacomo,” John’s voice boomed through the darkness. “You just blew us all up!”

  There was no immediate answer.

  “Lights.”

  The computer came back on; the bridge returned to normal, all systems were fully operational. Hartford opened his eyes and lifted his head, struck by a sudden coughing fit. McReidy spun her chair around, reaching for her shoulder again, and glared at John, who stepped fully into view from beside Gillespie’s console.

  What had happened on the bridge had no effect on the rest of the ship. Kowalski’s reaction was simulated, as were the bridge explosions, but with such an intense reality that it was almost impossible to believe that it was not real.

  “What was I supposed to do?” Giacomo asked helplessly, his pounding heart returning to normal.

  “What could you have done?” John repeated slowly. He sat on the corner of Gillespie’s console, allowing Giacomo to keep the captain’s chair. He looked around to the crew. “Any suggestions?” he asked hopefully.

  “Yes, blow up someone else’s console!” McReidy shot back.

  There was silence while everyone thought of a proper response.

  “Send out a distress signal?” offered Ensign North from communications.

  “Are you asking me or telling me?” John wanted to know. “You won’t have time to hesitate.”

  “Try to make contact and talk our way out of it,” suggested Hartford.

  “That might be all right for you,” Giacomo was defensive. “You could outtalk a Meropian.”

  “Settle down.” John could feel the tension rising. “You’ll all get your own turn. Right now, I want you to work together.”

  “Move a lot quicker,” was McReidy’s answer. “Once the shields are down, you’re a sitting duck.”

  “True, but I was watching. Don’t anticipate orders.”

  “But we had to move. We’d have been killed.”

  “That was Giacomo’s decision, not yours. You start anticipating my orders and you’ll be the one who gets us killed.” John’s tone was more abrupt than he intended. It silenced the crew. He turned back to Giacomo. “Mister Gillespie gave you a clue.”

  Giacomo was still silent, his face twisted slightly as he tried to figure it out.

  “He told you the alien ship had moved. How did he know it?”

  McReidy was about to answer when John raised a hand and silenced her. “Hartford…? North…?”

  Neither of them knew.

  Giacomo’s face screwed up as though he should have known.

  “Gillespie,” John continued.

  “All engines and weapons emit a unique signal that can be tracked by communications, or even engineering if the bridge is destroyed –”

  “McReidy.”

  “With the helm destroyed, the ship can still be flown from engineering,” she finished.

  “Always know the status of your ship.” John’s tone was not condemning. The simulations were to learn from. “Shields went down. A good engineer will only tell you what’s wrong, not what’s right. Kowalski is a good engineer.”

  “So, what is the correct answer?” Giacomo asked.

  “I don’t know. These are Canberra’s simulations, not mine. The result depends on your actions. I only substituted their vitals for ours.”

  “Well… what would you have done?” Giacomo wanted to know.

  John had no hesitation. “Outgunned, shields failing, nearest starbase out of range… I’d have run for it.”

  “He who fights and runs away –” began Gillespie.

  “Lives to fight tomorrow,” John finished. “Computer, co-ordinates of simulation on screen.”

  The screen showed as before, only the alien ship was missing.

  “Do you know where you are?” John asked Giacomo.

  “Yes.”

  “Move image ten degrees port.”

  The computer complied.

  “There’s an asteroid field!” Giacomo shouldn’t have been surprised; it was vaguely familiar. “It’s about two million kilometres away.”

  John nodded. “Display alien ship. Recognise it?”

  “A Sagite cruiser.”

  “Correct. Weaknesses?”

  Again there was silence.

  “It can’t match us for speed,” John answered his own question. “Now get out of my chair.”

  Giacomo moved quickly.

  John took his chair. Something was troubling him and he allowed his thoughts to wander. It was something about Canberra, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. McReidy interrupted him. She was getting good at that.

  “Can I make a request?” She was back at navigation, having given the helm to Giacomo.

  “What is it?”

  “During that simulation, the helm was slow to react. I found it difficult to manoeuvre. Is that normal, because if it is –?”

  “I know. I’ve got it on my list. It takes a bit of handling at the best of times.”

  McReidy turned back to her console.

  “I’m sorry,” Giacomo whispered. “I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt.”

  “It’s okay. I just landed a bit awkwardly,” she whispered back.

  They need not have worried about whispering. John’s thoughts were far away – back to Canberra. There was something he had noticed when he substituted Bismarck’s details into the battle program. Canberra was bigger, she had more firepower – at this stage almost anything had more firepower. She carried a large number of fighters, her speed… That was it! She was slower. She had a maximum speed of almost ten per cent less than Bismarck; yet he knew she was not the slowest ship in the fleet.

  He had never thought about it before but now he wondered why Bismarck was so fast. The engine overhaul had increased efficiency, but only a negligible increase in speed. It suddenly occurred to him that it must have been Captain Decker’s doing. He had always believed the ship deserved better; that she had never been allowed her full potential.

  Subconsciously, John had already taken on that job. Given enough time Bis
marck would reach that potential – the best ship in the fleet. And she would need the best crew to run her.

  * * *

  Canberra had an extensive list of simulations, ranging from single to multiple attacks, hostage and ambush situations – almost every confrontation that could be thought of. All bridge crew were given the opportunity to command, the situations picked at random.

  McReidy aced her first test. Gillespie took a couple of tries before succeeding, as did Tan. Even Humphries eventually managed to score a win. Giacomo froze every time. No matter how he prepared himself, how many solutions he came up with, he always froze at the vital moment. John didn’t push him; he wasn’t worried.

  Simulations were run for all other shifts. Even though he could have delegated someone else, John was always present at the simulations. He kept careful watch. Sometimes, the crew involved were not aware of his presence unless he chose to reveal it.

  He found faults in their performances. Some had become slack in their duties. Gillespie had failed once because of incorrect information given to him. It seemed the crew needed as much of an overhaul as the ship. He was working them hard; he knew that. Somehow he couldn’t slacken off. Not yet.

  Ensign Wright was giving extensive weapons lectures. The torpedo Gillespie had acquired had been pulled apart. Most of the crew were not familiar with it; the engineers felt they could build them in their sleep. That was their next task.

  Bismarck needed a complete upgrade. It would take them weeks to reach the jump gate and John figured that was about all the time they had.

  Phasers were tuned and targeting systems recalibrated. Simulations were one thing, but when real practice at the remnants of a comet tail had more misses than hits, the entire system was recalibrated. The hits that were accurate barely had enough force to disrupt a fighter let alone destroy one.

  The crew were trying and John tried not to show his frustrations. He spent as many hours helping to upgrade the ship as he did on the bridge – possibly more. A shopping list and a few hours on Kuiper and Gillespie and Wright had scored a treasure trove of supplies. One of the cargo bays was transformed to build and store weapons.